Kindness

I can’t remember when I started being hard on myself, but it is safe to say it was long ago. I had high expectations. I was often successful, but never seemed to quite measure up to my insane personal ideals.
And so I was always disappointed in myself.
This negative internal dialogue was difficult. It caused me extreme anxiety. Along the way I found that a few drinks would shut that damn voice up. And it did, for a while.
Eventually it just got louder. And some time in the last few years I knew that the drinking was causing the voice, but I just didn’t know how to stop it. And I could not handle listening to the voice. So I drank more, spiraling deeper and deeper into self-loathing and depression.
So I kept trying to fix myself. To prove things were ok. Maybe a thinner me would be happy. Maybe if I filled my spare time with exercise I wouldn’t need to drink to turn off the internal dialogue. I shopped. Look – I can afford expensive things. I MUST BE FINE.
I only ate meat and vegetables. I swore off all sugar, including fruit. For years. I even switched to vodka and water to avoid drinking calories. I alternated between worrying about money and spending too much. But any little slip, a cookie here, and I beat myself up. Nothing I did was right. None of these things fixed the unhappiness inside. And I began to believe that happiness was a lie. That life was to be endured. That monotony was my lot in life. I became more and more brittle.
Last year, in one of my last attempts to fix myself, I joined an online nutrition program. In fact, it was really a life coaching program that used habits to encourage change. It is called Precision Nutrition and it is AMAZING. I was introduced to the concept of self-compassion. It sounded good. Be kind to myself. I tried, but deep down I knew that alcohol and self-compassion weren’t compatible for me. Maybe I didn’t deserve self-compassion. Maybe I was just a bad person. I was always so disappointed in myself.
I also read Brene Brown’s book the Gifts of Imperfection.
Here was acknowledgement that trying to be perfect was killing my soul. That maybe I would be ok if I just stopped worrying so much about how others thought about me and only focused on how I thought about myself. That I needed to love myself to heal.
As the year went by I made may plans to moderate that I never stuck to. And finally, on Dec 1, I put down the wine bottle for good.
I fell into a deep depression in early sobriety. To get through those days I wrote myself a note. It said – You are enough. Just as you are.
When faced with decisions I consciously did what felt good for me. I was kind to myself. I took some time off work. I started going to yoga, where I felt supported and nourished and could cry. I stopped going to the gym, which suddenly felt like punishment. I ate cake and ice cream if I wanted to and I didn’t feel guilty.
And every day I started to believe those words more and more.
Those words kept me going. They helped me remember that I am a person worthy of love and happiness and kindness. And the only place I can get those things from is from me. They were always there, inside. I had just forgotten.