The Revolutionary Cure-All

Since I last posted, a few things have happened.

My dear grandfather passed away. He was 101. You never think the death of someone that age will shake you, but when it's someone you've known your whole life, it is deeply unsettling. However, it was most definitely time. Unlike my mum, who died way too early at age 63, and had so much going on, Grandpa was ready to go. He had often said so himself, and was calling out for his late wife in the hours before he passed on. May he rest in God's peace.

Speaking of death, the seventh anniversary of my mother's just passed. I try not to 'commemorate it' as it's not a day I care to think about too often. But oddly, it is carved more deeply into my psyche than her birthday - which is really the day I ought to be remembering.

Perhaps it's all because I seem hard-wired to be depressed.

And though I hide it from most except those closest to me, it has been getting worse - along with a crippling anxiety. I have the same conversation with myself almost daily. It goes like this:

I'm anxious.
You're just sweaty.
No, it's freezing. My heart is beating too fast.
So take an Ativan.
But, what if I get addicted?
That's possible.
What if I take the wrong dose?
Oh dear God...that would kill you!
What if it's really rat poison?
I'm pretty sure it's not
What if...
JUST TAKE ONE AND SHUT UP ALREADY!

A good chat with a mentor is a potent elixir in those sorts of times, and this weekend, I came away with the realization that I need to be a little easier on myself.

Interestingly, today I read that Kristin Neff, leads a field called "self-compassion". She says that "people who find it easy to be supportive and understanding to others, it turns out, often score surprisingly low on self-compassion tests, berating themselves for perceived failures like being overweight or not exercising."

Uh. Check!

And it goes to show that kindness EVEN FOR YOURSELF is the revolutionary cure-all.

One way this calls back sweet memories of my mother is to think of treating myself as she would treat me. She was not a big 'advice dispenser' and would hate it if I ever said she was. But of the memorable things she said to me when I was stressing out, and not eating properly, or sleeping well, was simply:

"Take care of your little self,"

The fact that she said, "little self" made me think of myself as her child. And now, to know the love and concern you have for your child, I know what she meant; she could no longer care for me, it was up to me, and would I please please be nicer to myself.

And the day I got married she said:

"Marriage is work. The only way to do it is to be kind to each other. Always."


Take care of your little selves.

You matter.