Here’s the thing. I’m an asshole.
Some of you are just thinking “Yup. Affirmative.” But most of you (I hope, except for my army of silent haters) are saying, “Oh, hey, cut yourself some slack, girl” and will proceed to tell me many nice things about myself.
That’s awesome. I do it for other people, good people, who just don’t happen to be perfect. I’m quick to compliment little things and large things. I don’t like to see people cut themselves down, when they are wonderful, unique beings of light and love. Unless of course it’s myself, and that is a whole different story.
So, really – why do we say things to ourselves, that we would never tolerate someone saying to a friend? Why can we not accept that our imperfections do not mean that we are losers, or bad people, but simply complex, imperfect beings?
“We only hurt the ones we love,” right? Don’t we love ourselves best of all, deep down? We are the bluntest and most cruel to those who mean the most to us, because we are secure in their unconditional love and forgiveness. Self-criticism is self-love, to a point. It makes us strive to improve.
But sometimes, I’m just mean to myself. I’m an asshole. Gained five pounds? I’m a big fat loser with no self-control. Slipped off the wagon with the smoking? I’m a hopeless addict with disgusting habits. Drank too much at a party? I’m a borderline alcoholic.
None of these things are true. I make mistakes. I say the wrong things, blaze with temper at the oddest moments, make poor, impulsive choices at times. But I’m also a nice person, a socially conscious person, a person with a big heart and a great sense of humour. I’m artistic and stylish, attractive. I am both loving and loved, by many. Not all, but many. Enough, for sure. More than enough.
So, Namaste, Lynne. Your hair looks great today, and that charity idea you came up with is awesome. Thanks for all the things you do for others. Do some nice stuff for yourself. Here’s twenty bucks.