Despite my successful memorization of New Age-y aphorisms about being present and loving oneself, I struggle quite a bit with self-acceptance.
Our culture celebrates clenched fists, tightened jaws, fierce competition, and, to a certain extent, self-judgment. If you’re “pushing yourself,” an undeniably virtuous thing, you’re presumably having to judge your behaviors, and your definition of what it means to be doing “enough,” that artfully amorphous term.
This framework is what encourages many of us (hi!) to lock ourselves in a cycle of self-loathing.
I didn’t do enough today. I ate really gross shit last week. I don’t work out enough. My writing sucks. I procrastinate too much. &c.
The intention behind self-loathing for many of us, I think, is protection. Beating up on ourselves can become a convenient refrain, a way of reminding ourselves of the desire to fulfill [x goal] Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger (Daft Punk!).
e.g. If I beat up on myself for how many french fries I ate last night, I will prove to myself that my goal is to be healthier. Hopefully, I will even choose to eat a salad instead today.
Of course, feeling shitty about yourself is a shitty motivator. Myriad studies have actually proven this (such as this recent one), and have also proven the benefits of self-compassion. When we meet ourselves where we’re at—no matter how “successful” we are in practice—we enable ourselves to achieve more. IT’S SCIENCE.
But truth be told, the line between self-acceptance and laziness isn’t always clear. My ongoing struggle in therapy is to figure out when I’m enacting positive behaviors, and when I’m rationalizing self-destructive behaviors. I can be quite convincing, I’m afraid. #DENIAL.
For instance, this question comes up a lot in my meditation practice. I like to meditate every day, and consider it an important ritual for my spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical well-being. But because I also have a tendency to over-schedule myself and hold myself to too many standards, my “requirement” to meditate every day sometimes feels like a chore. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it’s not—and it’s something I have to “push myself” to do.
Say I get caught in the rain during my commute after a long-day at work. Upon arriving home, I may not want to meditate. I may want, instead, to drink a beer and binge eat french fries. While that decision may not be capital-H Healthy according to some static definition of Self-Care, it may be a healthy decision for me in that moment.
But, alternatively, say my long day at work involved a lot of ruminating, and stewing in negative thoughts. Meditation might be exactly the thing I need upon coming home—either in addition to the beer and french fries, or instead of it (plus some other dinner option). The hard thing is that it really depends on the situation, and my specific FEELING about what would be self-caring in that particular moment. Unfortunately, living in an EMBODIED WAY and trusting our intuition isn’t something our culture applauds us for, either.
Long story short, sometimes “pushing yourself” is an act of self-care, and sometimes it’s the stark opposite. “Pushing myself” to meditate when I’m tired might be a fantastic idea on one day, and an unnecessary form of “punishment” on another. As I have said before, can sometimes be an insidious coexistence of self-awareness and denial in the mind.
The most important thing is taking a step back from all the mental clutter, owning your shit, and making decisions independent of it.
What do I mean by “your shit”? Well, put simply: our thoughts—our sense of what our experience is like outside of what it feels like in our bodies. Ask yourself, “What are my go-to ways of narrating my life?”
In my case, I tell myself the story every day that I am Type-A, hard on myself, and overly-analytical. This narrative is pretty accurate, factually-speaking, but it has also led me to some pretty destructive behaviors. For example, I spent many years smoking pot around the clock, because “I deserved it.” “It made me chill out—and even made me smarter.” If I could achieve everything I wanted (straight As, regular visits to the gym, social interactions, etc) while still being stoned all the time, I was deserving of self-acceptance.
In hindsight, I was rationalizing a bad habit. Whether or not I dismiss my many years of denial as “lazy” isn’t really the point (experts would probably suggest avoiding negative labels). The more important takeaway is the power of storytelling. We are capable of creating the right dramatic scenario in our minds to support our behaviors and thought-patterns. And it’s up to us, too, to recognize that—and make changes anyway.
What I’m saying may not sound particularly encouraging, but the bottom line is that the knowledge we hold in our bodies often has way more wisdom than what is in our minds. When I actually allow myself to feel EMBODIED, rather than relying on a story of what my experience is like, my sense of what self-care means is flexible and intelligent. Sometimes, self-care is running. Sometimes it’s smoking weed. Sometimes it’s simply saying “It’s OK that I smoked weed even though I am trying not to self-medicate.”
Rarely, if ever, is self-flagellation a productive decision.
So, if you’ve eaten too many french fries and feel like shit in your body, perhaps you’ll eat something green tomorrow. But I would hazard the guess that saying “It’s OK that I binge ate french fries” will make you feel much better in your body.
It takes quite a bit of courage to say “It’s OK.” Try it. Push yourself.