It’s a well-established truism that we are our own worst enemies. We hold ourselves to standards we would never expect our friends and families to uphold. How much advice do we dole out, but fail to take for ourselves? For example, we tell our friends to love their bodies, flaws and all, yet chastise our own stretch marks and belly pooches, saggy skin and wrinkles. We provide others a shoulder to cry on, but berate ourselves for being emotional and overly sensitive. We tell the women in our lives that they must take care of themselves first if they are expected to take care of others, but fail to heed our own words. And, it’s not that we are being insincere. It’s just that when it comes to our own lives, there is a great divide between what we know to be true intellectually and what we practice in our hearts. Why? Fear. Fear of being less than perfect, of being flawed and weak, and therefore, unloveable and unworthy.
But, it doesn’t have to be this way. I think we all know perfection is impossible, so what if we gave ourselves permission to be less than perfect? What if we gave ourselves permission to feel all of our emotions, the anger and frustrations, as well as the love and compassion, and everything in between? I have found over and over again in my life that when I acknowledge my emotions and fears, my shortcomings and perceived imperfections, when I give them a name and hold space for them, only then can I work and move through them. The more that I struggle to suppress and bury them, or judge them, the greater hold they have over my life.
Here is an example that seems minor and insignificant, but which has been a real struggle for me mentally–running. I have been running fairly consistently (with breaks during my 3 pregnancies) for over 20 years. I have never run long or far, or had a particularly easy or loving relationship with it, but I do it for the way it makes my body and mind feel. Until recently. About two years ago, after the best running spell of my life where I was logging five days a week at longer distances than I had ever done before, I stress fractured my right foot. My running came to an abrupt halt and has never really recovered. After I healed physically and started jogging again, my body just wouldn’t cooperate. Even after two years, every run has been a struggle, where my body feels lethargic and achy. I will come home in tears and ask myself repeatedly, why I keep subjecting myself to the torment. I have threatened to quit numerous times, because why do something that I’m not enjoying and is causing me so much angst. But, something keeps preventing me from throwing in the towel. So finally, I asked myself what would happen if I gave myself permission to be less than perfect? What if I gave myself permission to walk if I needed to [something I would have seen as a sign of weakness (in MYSELF) before]? What if I gave myself permission to “only” run/walk a mile with my daughter if that’s what the day called for? For really, what do I have to lose? My choice is to be miserable and/or quit altogether, or accept that my body has changed and it’s okay?
I decided to experiment for a few weeks and what a difference this consent has made! I gave myself permission to listen to my body. Now, I walk when I need to and only run when I want to. And, the funny thing is, now that I have allowed myself the flexibility, I find that I am needing it less and less (kind of like a rebellious teenager- make something illicit acceptable and it suddenly loses its appeal!). And, most importantly, I have found joy in running again, joy in the relaxed expectations, joy and gratitude for my body exactly where it is on any particular day, and joy in my free will.
This idea of permission applies to emotions, as well. In American culture, expressing our feelings (especially “negative ones*” like anger, hurt, fear, sadness and grief) is seen as a sign of weakness, so we tend to suppress them. And, since emotion is energy, when trapped inside the body it wreaks all kinds of havoc: we get sick; our relationships suffer; we lash out or withdraw; we act in a destructive manner either to ourselves or others; we, and those around us, suffer. But, what if we allowed ourselves to really embrace these feelings? What if we gave ourselves permission to acknowledge, name and express them? Willingly bringing this energy to the surface allows it to gradually dissipate and lessen, instead of suddenly exploding under prolonged pressure. Try it. The next time you feel angry, instead of pretending everything is okay or lashing out, allow yourself to sit with it. Say, “man, I am really, really pissed, and I need time to be pissed!” Allow yourself the space to feel it. Then, watch what happens. By giving yourself permission to process your feelings, you will most likely be able to see them more clearly and rationally, and be better able to formulate a response or action to move the situation forward. Acknowledgement is freedom. It is really hard to hold on to something that you have suddenly given the wings to fly.
Granting permission is not meant to be a “get out of jail free” card or a free pass out of all discomfort and difficulty (for this is often how we learn our greatest lessons!). It’s not a way to rationalize lazy inaction or lingering inertia. And, it is not an excuse for being a jerk. Rather, it is a way to acknowledge, accept and embrace our humanism. We are all messy, flawed and unpredictable beings, and if we accept this of others, we must too accept this of ourselves. As with any habit we are trying to break, cutting ourselves some slack takes practice. Practice makes imperfect. Permission granted.
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