Tiny Buddha's Guide to Loving Yourself: 40 Ways to Transform Your Inner Critic and Your Life (4 page)

Let go of the old stories. I have let go of my mother. I realized that I was heading down a path similar to hers, and this taught me to
feel compassion for her. I have released all the negativity that I held toward her, and now I just hope that one day she can learn to love herself. In order to let go, I needed to understand her. Because we were barely in contact, I had little information to go on. I collected everything I knew about her, from her childhood, her time with my dad, and the time she spent with me.

With all this information I recognized that my mother was a troubled woman who was unable to make real human connections. I sensed that she must have been suffering from some kind of depression or illness. By looking at her in this way, I could see that her leaving had nothing to do with me. Once I realized that our unhealthy non-relationship wasn't my fault, I was able to stop blaming her and hanging on to the victim story.

Once you stop telling the story, it has less power over you.

Choose not to hide from yourself. In the past, I tried to hurt and hide from myself, and all this did was make me lose myself further. By braving up and removing all the escape methods, I have found my raw being. Vulnerability is not a negative state. It is how we start our path. I have just started mine slightly later than most. By loving myself, I allow others to love me. I love myself because I am still here, and I can see my life changing around me. When I have moments of insecurity, I read through my journals, speak to friends, or throw myself into activities I enjoy, like baking.

Since changing my outlook, I have started working and have formed a number of great friendships. I have even gotten in touch
with my mother and told her that I have forgiven her. I don't think we will ever have a relationship, but I am okay with that. The important thing is that I have finally opened myself up to other loving relationships. We can only do this when we make peace with our past.

by Sam Russell

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional
.

—U
NKNOWN

I grew up believing that nothing I did was ever good enough, and this is something I still carry with me. It affects every aspect of my life: my hobbies, skills, relationships—even my understanding of my body, my appearance, and my mental health. I often think that I must have done something quite terrible in a past life to go through any of this, to not be good enough.

As certain as I've been of this, I've been sure that I wasn't responsible for these attitudes and beliefs. Other people did this to me, so I literally can't let go of the pain they caused. They hurt me too much—did too much damage for me to confront them, stand up to them, and forgive them. But blaming others hasn't helped me move on and become the person I want to be. It's helped me stay a victim, sure—and it's gotten me some sympathetic ears along the way—but it hasn't helped me get out of bed with a smile every morning for the past twenty-odd years. It's made me feel sluggish and sick to my stomach whenever the thoughts and memories worked their way into my consciousness.

There's no mystery to the way I think. Negative thinking is exactly that—negative. However, understanding negative thoughts is paramount to overcoming them. It's taken me a while to connect with the idea that the harmful actions of others has shaped my thinking; and it's taken me just as long to realize that it's time to let go. Change can come quickly, but more often it's a gradual process in which we endure and learn many lessons: I don't want to feel like this anymore, so I have to start changing my beliefs.

The first belief I'm changing: I'm a waste of time. Not true. I make a difference simply by being. I know I make a positive difference because I am mindful of my impact on the environment and do my best to reduce it. I support charities that are close to my heart with regular donations. My close friends wouldn't consider me a waste of time. Even though I sometimes find it difficult to believe, they do value my ideas and opinions, and they love my company.

The second belief I'm changing: Nothing I do is good enough. My ideas of perfection aren't mine—those ideas belong to other people. How can I ever live up to someone else's perfection? I can't. There are many things I can do with great success, but in order to make those achievements real for me, I have to define my own perfection: peanut butter on toast, growing my own fruit and vegetables, the smell of freshly baked vegan cookies, writing off the cuff and producing lucid prose.

The third belief I'm changing: I deserve pain. No, I don't. Nobody does. There's a difference between accepting responsibility
for how you think about hurtful things other people have done, and taking the blame for those actions. I've not done anything to deserve the things that have happened to me.

And the last belief I'm changing: I'll never be happy. Not with that attitude, I won't—but then, aren't I already happy? I may not have all the things I want yet, like my dream job, but I do have a lot of other things in my life that mean a lot to me: my friends, my home, my cat, my family, waking up to the river every morning, my floating garden (I live on a boat), my creativity. Happiness comes from the small things—it comes from inside of me. I don't buy happiness or find it or receive it; I make it, for others and for myself.

The fact that people sometimes hurt other people won't change. My beliefs that have left me open to suffering—
my beliefs
—will change.

Take a minute to think of your beliefs about yourself. How many of these things are accurate? Which ones belong to you and to you alone? If you find a belief that you question, explore it and find out where it came from, what it's founded on. Challenge it. Become true to yourself. When you change your beliefs, you change your life.

It's taking time to work through these things, and I don't expect to be finished by next Monday, but that's what I love about change and self-improvement—there's no pressure to be complete tomorrow. I can do it all at my own pace, in a way that suits me. I'm a work in progress. And that gives me a lot of hope.

by Sarah Louise Byrne

When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you
.

—A
FRICAN
P
ROVERB

If you've had any experiences where you had to keep your truth quiet, particularly as a child, it's time to reclaim it and value its power. By doing so, you will release energy, old shame, and subconscious blocks that may now be holding you back from living your life to the fullest.

It could be that you had lots of family secrets (which creates shame), or it could be that you were bullied and felt unable to confide in anyone about it. There are many circumstances when we have our truth kept locked in. If you feel unable to speak your truth, then you feel shame. It's nature's law.

When we become shameful of our truth, we end up cutting off, discrediting, and devaluing a hugely important chunk of who we are and how we show up in the world. This is true for me. When I was growing up, my parents had an emotionally abusive relationship, and I was sworn to secrecy about it. My parents wanted no one outside of the house to know what was going on. While my father had anger
issues, my mother always tried to keep the peace, so I decided it was better to not speak up or voice my feelings. Living under the same roof as them, it was impossible for me to not be affected by what was happening; yet I was unable to have my experience validated.

My parents were busy fighting, being in tension, or creating drama, and I was conditioned to not talk to anyone about our “trouble at home.” So my truth was released only to my journal and me. After my parents divorced, I moved on to college and started my adult life. I felt proud of myself for staying strong through all the tough times at home, for being an emotional rock for my mother, and for forgiving my father for not being the kind of dad I wanted him to be. But in my mid- to late-twenties, things started to shift. After a few career U-turns, I started to feel unsure, confused, and shameful.

Up until that point I'd always considered myself to be strong, independent, and able to make decisions easily, and I was, overall, really confident. I wanted to understand where this shame came from. When in my life had I felt shame this strongly? It led me back to when I was unable to truly have presence as “me” growing up—I was the girl who could only be a silent participant in an unhealthy household. When I was told to not talk to anyone about what was going on, it was as if I was being told that my truth, perspective, and feelings were shameful.

At first I felt angry toward my parents and any adults who may have known what had been going on but hadn't shown concern
toward my experience of the situation. But then, like a scientist, I detached and focused on how to release the shame. I could see that some part of me must still be carrying shame toward speaking my truth, and the only way to release it was to share it. So I told my story to a trusted friend (who is also a counselor). I made no omissions, and I quickly started to feel better. No one outside my family had known about what was going on, or what I'd experienced and seen. By telling someone outside of the family, I felt a shift—as if a spell was being broken.

Telling my truth did not make the sky fall down. It did not make me feel shameful. And it helped me see that while I'd been nurturing the brave, confident, no-BS side of me, there was a neglected side that needed to be seen—the lonely, frustrated, confused, and ignored side. Those “negative” aspects of ourselves are often the emotions we try to avoid, but as I began to validate them (“of course you felt isolated Sarah; the adults in your life were cutting you off from expressing yourself”), it helped me feel more compassion toward myself.

Feeling proud of yourself for your good qualities is one thing; being able to embrace yourself when you feel anger, resentment, or jealousy is another. And I learned that I have a right to feel all things. Just as it's okay to be excited, happy, and content, it's also okay to feel sad, nervous, and bored. Especially if you had an incident as a youngster where your “negative” emotions weren't given space to be expressed, it's important to be able to validate them now as an adult.

A lot of self-love work is about uncovering that hidden part of yourself and giving it light, room to breathe, and the capacity to exist. When we deny any part of ourselves, we are not allowing ourselves to be truly who we are. That's not to say we should broadcast all our vulnerabilities on Twitter or share intimate stories with people who we
know
are incapable of honoring our truth. It could mean seeing a counselor or airing it to a nonjudgmental support network.

When we realize we were “made” to keep our truths hidden by our environment or others, the first natural step is to feel angry, especially if this pattern of having to keep quiet took place as a kid or teen. Why didn't the adults in our lives do the right thing and give us space to be heard? Normally it had to do with their fears, insecurities, shame, and inability to face the truth for themselves. The important thing is to accept that they were
unable
to have done anything differently—to have provided you with what you needed.

Whatever you feel you needed (validation, support, safety to speak the truth), accept and make peace with the fact that you may never get these things from them. You can't rewrite history, and it may be likely that they are still, now, incapable of giving these things to you. What you can do today, right now, is begin to release the habit of self-repression that you may have learned from the past.

How do you do that? Start to shine light and love on your truth, whether that's turning your attention to your true passions that may have been ignored or taking baby steps to speak up on what doesn't
work for you. Often we swallow our own opinions or needs in order to “keep the peace.” It's time to take very small steps to rock the boat!

If you are subconsciously holding out for someone else to finally “see” you or love the real you, drop in with yourself and ask: “Do
I
see the ‘real’ me? Am I allowing my true self to be voiced, to be seen, to take up space?” Do you have spaces in your life where you can let your guard down and be authentic?

I've found that having my truths validated is hugely important, and this simple exercise is a good place to start: Visualize a kind, benevolent being (which could be a trusted friend or person you know, or your preferred idea of the universe/higher power/spirit) is with you, saying, “I love that you love.” Then allow yourself to list all the things you love! Write down what you come up with.

“I love that you love making art. I love that you love dancing. I love that you love to have fun.”

This always leaves me feeling reaffirmed and self-secure. It never fails to make me feel happy to be me. And it allows me to feel loved for who I truly am, not for what I do for others.

If you have repressed anger, frustration, or resentment (which is likely when we repress part of ourselves), find ways to healthily express it—for example, through a martial arts class.

Send love and validation to the aspects of yourself that perhaps your peers, family, and colleagues didn't or don't “get.” You have to expand to be
all
of yourself.

by Alexandra Heather Foss

Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful
.

—T
HICH
N
HAT
H
ANH

Beauty is a concept I struggle with—what it means, why it matters. I struggle because huge chunks of my life have not been beautiful. They have been ugly, marred by trauma, and accompanied by pain and anger.

We think of beauty and often visualize glossy magazine pages and wafer-thin models. We see beauty as superficial—eye color, hair texture, and numbers on a scale. We see beauty as something to be measured and weighed.

I don't see beauty that way. I see beauty as the grace point between what hurts and what heals, between the shadow of tragedy and the light of joy. I find beauty in my scars.