If you are a regular visitor to my blog, you will know that self-love has been an oft-visited theme for the past two or three years. I have under numerous occasions extolled the values of self love in various contexts. After a certain part in time, there crept a smugness into my character that I have indeed mastered the ability of self-love.
To my utter horror I realised, that was far from the truth.
The recent complete collapse of the world I am familiar with served as a rude wake up call. I had been experiencing various pressures on various fronts. One fine day the teapot finally blew the lid off.
I was supposed to be the logical guru. My anxiety had ensured layers and layers of contingency plans Yet, the tsunami of terrible events had broken every dam, wall and shield I built across my heart.
It's easy to profess self-love when you are winning accolades, getting ranks and publishing short stories. Self-love is easy when you are surrounded by sycophants. Self-love is easy when you are recovering from a bruised ego.
Self-love isn't just that. Self-love is being kind to yourself when you know you break down completely. Self-love is accepting yourself when you are writhing in the throes of rejection. Self-love is believing in yourself when every other person thinks you are wasting your time. Self-love is simply being there when the thunderstorms of tears crash through your soul. Self-love is accepting your guilt as you recoil in horror at how you sabotaged a beautiful friendship.
When I was drowning in pain, meditation was a life-raft I clung on to. I was shocked at how cruel the voices in my head were. The major sources of mental pain were from within. Somewhere down the line, my perfectionism had become dangerous, my obsession with results downright deadly. The whispers of taunt that recalled every failure since childhood, the sneers of ineptitude echoing in my brain and the flashbacks of every mean thing ever said to me ricocheted in my skull. I would never be so cruel to my worst enemy and yet I was unforgiving and merciless to my own self.
I have started picking up the pieces where I left off. Whenever a sneaky cruel thought creeps in, I try to imagine if this were to happen to a friend what would I say. One of my friends told me, 'It is ok to make mistakes, why do you spiral into oblivion for doing so'. And that is what I tell my voices.
For all the pressures and ill words that exist in the environment, the most vindictive are the ones within. I am trying to develop a healthy relationship with myself. I am significantly calmer. In the end, it takes both practice and time, just like any other relationship.
In short, self-love is unconditional. It is with you in the best of times and the worst of times.
To my utter horror I realised, that was far from the truth.
The recent complete collapse of the world I am familiar with served as a rude wake up call. I had been experiencing various pressures on various fronts. One fine day the teapot finally blew the lid off.
I was supposed to be the logical guru. My anxiety had ensured layers and layers of contingency plans Yet, the tsunami of terrible events had broken every dam, wall and shield I built across my heart.
It's easy to profess self-love when you are winning accolades, getting ranks and publishing short stories. Self-love is easy when you are surrounded by sycophants. Self-love is easy when you are recovering from a bruised ego.
Self-love isn't just that. Self-love is being kind to yourself when you know you break down completely. Self-love is accepting yourself when you are writhing in the throes of rejection. Self-love is believing in yourself when every other person thinks you are wasting your time. Self-love is simply being there when the thunderstorms of tears crash through your soul. Self-love is accepting your guilt as you recoil in horror at how you sabotaged a beautiful friendship.
When I was drowning in pain, meditation was a life-raft I clung on to. I was shocked at how cruel the voices in my head were. The major sources of mental pain were from within. Somewhere down the line, my perfectionism had become dangerous, my obsession with results downright deadly. The whispers of taunt that recalled every failure since childhood, the sneers of ineptitude echoing in my brain and the flashbacks of every mean thing ever said to me ricocheted in my skull. I would never be so cruel to my worst enemy and yet I was unforgiving and merciless to my own self.
I have started picking up the pieces where I left off. Whenever a sneaky cruel thought creeps in, I try to imagine if this were to happen to a friend what would I say. One of my friends told me, 'It is ok to make mistakes, why do you spiral into oblivion for doing so'. And that is what I tell my voices.
For all the pressures and ill words that exist in the environment, the most vindictive are the ones within. I am trying to develop a healthy relationship with myself. I am significantly calmer. In the end, it takes both practice and time, just like any other relationship.
In short, self-love is unconditional. It is with you in the best of times and the worst of times.
