I'm Done Beating Myself Up

On choosing self-love today – Valentine's Day – and every day

Photo credit: Kelly Sikkema via Unsplash

Today is Valentine’s Day, that Hallmark holiday traditionally dedicated to romantic relationships and represented by hearts and a heinous color combination of red and purple. This year, however, it’s got me thinking about a different relationship: the one we have with ourselves.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been my own worst enemy. I’ve been the best at beating myself up, raking myself over the coals for any and every little thing. A simple mistake or mishap like missing a turn while driving or mixing up the timing for an event is enough to send me into a shame spiral. Even if something isn’t my fault – even if it isn’t anyone’s fault – I’m the first to blame myself.

Growing up, school taught me how to put pressure on myself, how to shame myself for achieving anything short of perfection. I quickly learned to equate grades with self-worth, a belief system I internalized and took with me into corporate America, where money quickly became the equivalent of grades. This, you can imagine, became problematic when I ultimately suffered a layoff, something I’m honestly still healing from as a result.

As if earnings, whether grades or dollars, aren’t enough, I’ve learned through society that my body also determines my worth. I’ve picked myself apart in the mirror since middle school, wishing something were smaller, fuller, or more like “theirs,” be it my friends or models in the media. I’ve never just looked at myself and been satisfied with how I looked, even when I was in “great shape” or had clear skin. I’ve consistently convinced myself I’m not enough simply based on how I look.

Despite having recently written and reflected on body image and aging, I find myself still struggling with this same mental trap over and over. Just the other day, as I was going through my skincare routine before bed, I caught myself criticizing the crows feet that are now forming at the edges of my eyes. My first thought was that I need an eye cream or maybe even Botox, but then I stopped myself. I remembered why they are there, what they signify. They exist as living proof of the joy I’ve gotten to – and continue to – experience in my life. I thought about everything I’d done in the last couple days, how hard I laughed with friends, with my husband, how big I smiled every time I my dog did something cute (which was/is constantly).

It got me thinking about my inner critic, how I’ve gotten her more under control, but still have more work to do. It’s made me curious: Is there a reason why I keep getting stuck in these negative thought patterns? Is there some sort of twisted comfort in it? After all, we are creatures of habit, we have a tendency to choose a known pain over an unknown freedom for a fear of, well, the unknown.

But what would happen if I chose self-love instead of criticism? What if I did more of what I did the other day in the mirror and chose to see the beauty in myself, in my experiences?

Better yet, what would that feel like?

I have a hunch it’ll beat beating myself up, so I’m willing to give it a try.