The Discipline of Being Kind to Yourself

Another lesson life is forcing me to learn

I did it. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist.

On the first day of the New Year, before stepping into my first shower of 2016, I stepped on the scale, and prayed in the moments that followed that God would supernaturally reverse all my poor eating and exercise habits.

He didn’t.

Instead, the scale revealed a weight I haven’t been since after the birth of my first son.

In years past, the scary number staring back at me would have launched me head-first into a life of the gym and salads. This year there was no such motivation.

In fact, more than anything, I wanted a doughnut. Glaze, to be specific.

“Be kind to yourself.”

I could hear the words of a good friend echoing in my head as I lathered my larger than usual self in soapy suds that morning.

Last year was a pretty rough one, if we’re honest Christina. You did go back to work with your first baby not yet weaned and manage a two-hour plus commute every day. You did kill yourself fighting for work/life balance. You did fight through depression and anxiety and panic attacks and hey, you’re still here to write about it.

And since you survived a war, it’s only natural to have a battlescar or two. Yours are these bags under your eyes. Hair looking like “Who shot John?” (My husband hates when I use this euphanism, which is probably why it gives me so much joy.) And last but not least, a few extra pounds for the journey.

“Be kind to yourself.”

To be honest, it’s all I can do for the present. I couldn’t will myself to a gym right now if my life depended on it. This is who I am, where I am, for the present. And it’s okay.

They say accepting where you are is the first step to changing — or something like that. But what if accepting where you are is just the first step to accepting who you are? Being kinder to a you that will never measure up to all the ridiculous expectations of a society obssessed with the flawless, the perfect, the Photo Shopped?

Who’s to say whether I’ll lose these pounds in 2016? Maybe I will. But maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll succomb to breaking out my fat clothes and eating doughnuts for the next 12 months. I’m not making any promises.

But one thing I will not do: I will not continue to demand perfection of myself. I will allow myself to be human. And while I will certainly try to work on myself, and put my life back in order, I will be much, much kinder to me.

Because if I don’t, who will?