(I am excited to share with you Part Two of this three part series on cultivating "self-compassion." If you didn't get a chance to read part one of this series you can read it here) 🙂
The ironic thing about fear, is that what we fear, we either become or we judge. We either give into it or we criticize it. Inducing us into either a coma of anxiety and shame or worse; piety and blame. In a mere moment I found myself standing headstrong in self-righteousness for my knowledge of how to properly behave while demeaning the little girl I felt compelled to cover up and change.
I found myself so ashamed of “past” Kayla that there was no acceptance for “right now” Kayla.
And right now Kayla was just as broken as past Kayla. She just evolved that pain into performing - and it was debilitating. These two women, they were not separated, fractured, or split; they were intergraded, past and present, yearning for only one response: compassion compounded by tender truth. The true healing agents of mankind. It was in that moment of past and present clashing together into a beautiful conglomerate of chaos that I learned these two truths
1. Pretending I'm whole just to prove I'm worth acceptance not only prolongs the healing process; it poisons it.
2. The answer for my past pain wasn't more control, condemnation or set-annihilation; it was more self-compassion.
Embracing that little girl with all her trauma and crazy-making tendencies with the profoundly complex and mystifying maxim; that she is enough. As she is, right now. And always will be. She no longer has to prove, perform, perfect, or please...she is free to feel anger, hurt, and need.
Anesthetizing my past to proclaim “I am different” while despising my struggles in the present, could only last for so long. Self-animosity drove me to numb away grief in a variety of shapes and ways.
For instance, 10 years ago my vice was drugs, 10 months ago my folly was self-perfection.
But no matter the sedative to protect me from pain the outcome was always the same: self-implosion. And for me, self-implosion takes on the slow dismal stages of isolation, depression, and at it’s fiercest - suicidal leanings. And I don’t know about you, but I know for me, a life construed by self-hate and death wishes, no longer fits my being.
Here's why we need this; why I need this. Self-compassion is the antidote for the doctrines of perfectionism and dogmas of shame. It revolutionizes the way we engage and beholds the power to live unashamed.
Braving my way back to what was, and realizing that "past Kayla" with all her dysfunction and pain, was doing the best she could and "right now Kayla" is doing the same, has been liberating. Awakening the past, is no ordinary thing. But I know, my story, can only move from ordinary to extraordinary if I fully acknowledge its existence. If I willingly enter the arena. I can only kill my goblins and battle those beasts if self-compassion sweeps over the dust and debris; emboldening me to engage wholeheartedly.
To embrace my fear of “never enough.”
With valiant effort and unyielding advance, my arena is full of goblins and beasts, desperate to demoralize my value. A collage of savagery, torment, and trauma; indeed there is much to behold. Err will be present as I choose to fight through the brutalities and failures. But my worthiness will no longer be dictated by my inadequacies or defeats; my worthiness is not defined by myself or others.
It exists because I exist.
And I am enough.