Over the years, I’ve written many words and spent many hours of my time teaching about being kind. It’s so important to me, this idea of kindness, that every day, when my sons leave for school, I hug them tight, kiss the tops of their heads (with the exception of the one I can no longer reach—I get his forehead), and say, “I love you. Remember who you are: Strong, kind, courageous, and mostly my son.”
But you know who got lost in this kindness teaching?
Myself.
I don’t mean to say I’m not kind to people. I work exceedingly hard to be kind, even in my interactions with difficult people. I fail like everybody else, of course, because I’m not perfect and sometimes I’m tired and people can be, well, people.
When I say I got lost in this kindness teaching, what I really mean is I will bend over backwards to be kind to someone else, but I have no problem beating myself up for the smallest, most insignificant things.
Just this morning, I went out for my weekly half-marathon run. I’d had a terrible run yesterday, the slowest 15 miles I’ve logged, ever. A sore hamstring has been plaguing me for the last week (I refuse to consider it might be an injury). So I was already beginning my usually-enjoyable half-marathon with some negativity. Don’t make this one like the last one, I told myself. Pick up your cadence. Work hard.
As if I hadn’t worked hard on that 15-mile run.
My self-flagellation worked for a while. I logged faster miles than I usually do on a Saturday morning 13.1. But that sore hamstring paid the price.
It’s been a week exactly like that. I step on the scale every morning, a leftover from weight-loss days, a precaution against gaining anything that will make me unhealthy, turn my runs into miserable slogs, and make my clothes feel more snug than I’d like…but mostly that last one. All week, I fell short of my goal. All week, I looked in the mirror, analyzed, pinched, turned, wrinkled my nose. All week I told myself, You have to do better.
Distraction ruled my work days. My sons’ school was damaged in the Texas winter storm, and my four elementary children were shipped off to three different elementary schools, one more than thirty miles away. The school district recently voted to lift the mask mandate, so now we had quadruple the COVID exposure, with more than 50% of students not protecting their fellow students by wearing masks. I’d write, think about them, worry, wrestle my attention back, think about them, worry, check my email to make sure their teachers hadn’t sent anything of concern, write, walk around, write, worry. Why can’t you just concentrate? I told myself. Why can’t you still your mind like you used to and actually get something worthwhile done?
Not good enough. Those are the words I tell myself the most. That’s not good enough. Your effort isn’t good enough. You’re not good enough.
Do I do this to anyone else? Maybe, in subtle ways, I do it to the people I live with. My expectations of myself often bleed into my expectations of my sons and my husband.
But I have never done it to friends. Acquaintances. Strangers.
Why? Because they deserve kindness more than I do?
Why are we so hard on ourselves?
I know we’re tired. I know we have expectations that haven’t panned out, for whatever reason. I know we feel disappointed, angry, sad, scared, frustrated, unproductive, unimportant, maybe a little bit hopeless.
But that’s no reason to criticize, belittle, and beat up ourselves.
We deserve better. We deserve love and kindness, too.
I challenge you this month to do one kind thing (at least!) for yourself every day.
Here are some things I’m trying:
1 Loving-kindness meditation.
I lie on the floor and focus on my breath for a minute or so, then begin the mantra, May I be well. Maybe I be joy-filled. May I be healthy. May I be strong. May I be kind. May I be courageous. Maybe I be loving and kind. May I be safe. May I be at peace. I end the meditation sending the same thoughts to someone I love.
2. Daily nap.
Between my daily writing sessions, I set a timer for 25 minutes and nap. Even if I can’t manage to still my mind enough to actually sleep, I make sure I don’t beat myself up about it. It’s not wasted time; I’ve stilled my body and the outside world and listened to what’s in my mind and on my heart for 25 uninterrupted minutes.
3. The end.
At the end of every work day, I close my laptop and say out loud, My work is done. Now I can rest. Not only does this send a clear message to my brain that work time’s over—don’t open that laptop or check email again—but it also creates the space to know that what I accomplished during my work sessions was enough.
I’d love to hear what practices you might pick up for yourself.
May you be well. May you be kind and loving to yourself. And may you be at peace.
