Grace for Me, Too?
I tell my kids daily that they’re loved, loving, and most importantly….lovable. It doesn’t matter by whom or in what situation, they are always lovable. Sometimes, in the moment, they’re… not being especially lovable, but their lovability is not a transient thing. They are always worthy of love (even when acting like fried turd nuggets).
I am working on applying this same care to myself, but fucking hell, it’s hard after 30 some years of being certain I’m never right, never good enough. It’s grace I’m looking for. I remember sobbing in church when they taught about God’s huge love (for me), being told (I’m) we’re perfect in His eyes- no matter what. Shiiiiiitttt…it hurts to be loved when your mind tells you you’re unlovable.
So slowly, tip-toey, I’m applying grace to myself because (gulp) I deserve it and want it. Love, mercy, and goodwill, not because I’ve done anything to earn it, but just because I’m worthy of it. Deciding I’m worthy requires the forgiveness part of grace, too. Forgiving myself for, I don’t know…I guess for being human?
I don’t know what it’s like to be in anyone else’s head, of course. I’ve always sort of assumed it’s the same as mine, but I keep learning that that’s not true. Not everyone has McDonald’s jingles from the 1980’s running in a loop, and not everyone second-guesses everything they say and do. In fact, some people just know that they’re awesome, apparently? Not all of our brains catch and sizzle when there are too many people talking, demands being made, emotions to sort out…sending pain to their guts, their throats, necks, butt, and back. Not everyone full-body pings whenever they feel like they’ve failed someone, when they didn’t know something, when they get something wrong. I gather that some people just float away from those moments a little wiser but NOT frozen in the audacity of their imperfection. (Maybe all those somebodies are men? I don’t know.)
Somewhere along the way I decided that, while not being perfect was OK and normal for other people, it wasn’t for me; that my gaps in knowledge were impediments instead of opportunities. I even hesitate to call myself a perfectionist because I’m messy, I’m weak, I’m overweight, I’m so obviously imperfect, it seems like I can’t even perfectionist right. Like even that is a title I don’t deserve. I need to try and hurt and struggle just a little bit more to earn it. Like I don’t deserve to heal because I don’t deserve to hurt. I have a pattern of not thinking I deserve my titles, even the negative ones. I’m not enough, I’m too much. The LEAST I can be is entertaining, pretty, sexy, helpful to the people around me, but when I feel I’m not even doing that right? Like if I gain twenty pounds during a pandemic and I feel like a Miss Piggy pool floaty…no, no, no, shame, shame, shame. The whole brain/body seizing thing happens. This time in my calves.
But I want to heal. I don’t want to hurt- inside or outside anymore. This love I hold from myself at arm’s length, it’s not serving anyone…and here’s the sea-change in my thinking…it’s not serving me, and I want to do right by myself. I am learning to believe that I deserve peace, beauty, forgiveness. Grace.
I learned along the way that for my perceived flaws, I owe retribution, contrition, smallness. I’m strung out on owing. I don’t want to owe anymore, and to fill that distance, I need grace.
Grace.
Grace.
Grace.
Recently, after I drove across the whole country and helped my family survive a pandemic, raising and teaching my kids for a year while working and writing a novel. I’m choosing to be proud of myself and grateful for my strengths, instead of focusing on the fact that I’m not making money or am chubby or whatever. I’m focusing on joy. Also, I decided to spend some money on me. Instead of just writing off my constant back pain to my inability to control my eating or my stress, I decided to get fancy massage/cupping/acupuncture.
I’ve been three times and two of those times I almost cried during the procedure. Not because of the physical pain- it only hurts in good ways- but because of what a gift it was to me, how loving I was being to myself.
It hurts to be loved when you think you don’t deserve it. And I’ve only recently decided I deserve to be loved by myself.
I’m dedicating some of MY time to writing, not just being at the beck and call of my kids. I’m getting power portraits taken. I’m writing all these messy feelings here without skipping and skimming because I’m afraid I’m taking up too much time. It feels weird to be selfish, to be self-focused, to be self-loving, it snags inside me. But with grace I will keep trying.
