I sat in my driveway with the phone on speaker, needing my hands to dry my cheeks. I think she could tell the tears streaming down my face were drowning my words, making it difficult for me to speak. But she had hit the nail on the head. This woman had been in my life for years and she knew me well. She is gifted in discernment and kind in practice. She authoritatively said to me:

“Be gentle with yourself.”

That’s when the dam of tears broke, there had already been a stream of salty drops, but the dam broke. She even had me repeat it,

“I need to be gentle with myself”

I had never thought of being gentle towards myself as something to practice. I know I am hard on myself, sometimes more than other times. I don’t know if it is because I am an internal processor so I hear my internal voice constantly. Or if I’m a perfectionist, even though I never thought of myself as being one. I never wanted to be perfect; I just wanted to be enough. When I was in high school and college, it felt like nothing I did or whoever I became was ever enough, leading me down the never-ending path of perfection. So, maybe I just diagnosed myself as a perfectionist toward myself. But whatever the reason behind the inner critic, being hard on myself is just another way my own words become stronger and more critical.

Words create impact. We’ve all experienced the weight of words and their damaging or uplifting effect upon impact. The problem for me was I became distracted. So busy disarming the powerful weaponry of other’s words coming at me, I didn’t realize my own were armed as well.

Distractions are tricky like that, they are fierce, sly and convincing. I’ve been hurt, devastated in betrayal and heartbreak over the words of others. And while I fought them off, some marched into my mind, dressed in ally clothing. Dressed in my own clothing. Disguised as my voice, but with the heart of the enemy because I wouldn't listen to him, I've been fighting him off. So, in order to get into my mind- he needed a mask.

Camouflaged. Speaking in critical, shaming accusations and lies. And I fell for a lot of them. I shook hands and agreed with them over the years. Sometimes their disguise failed and I rejected the critic. Sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes their words manipulated themselves into my mind's home.

Even if deep down I knew the accusations and shame weren't true, they became a sort of defense from pain. But a mock defense. Being hard on myself was in some ways me trying to protect myself from a piece of pain. Something I could control when I couldn’t control anything else. Even when I couldn’t control the pain imposing on my heart.

Being kind toward myself became part of the healing process to heal the wounds of words dancing around in my mind. Ushering themselves in as if it was their home. I did let the words come into my mind, but I didn’t have to let them stay there. I didn’t have to accept their stay, give them their own room and pay rent.

Sometimes the hardest thing we can do is be gentle on ourselves.

I began to demand the words I had been telling myself to get out and stay out. Demanding my worth and respect. Demanding the truth to prevail in my mind as it prevails in my life.

I’ve always strived and desired to be the best version of myself. Maybe there has been a lie whispered in there to tell me to keep fixing, doing or making better because I’m not there yet. Instead of resting where I am, allowing bettering myself to better me and not chastise myself.

Daily, and sometimes hourly, being compassionate towards myself:

Every time I get dressed in the morning and wish I was more toned or I just need to lose 5 more pounds. When I look in the mirror and see someone not pretty enough looking back at me, wishing my hair were thicker or cheek bones higher.

Every time I meet someone new and wonder if they think I am boring or fun, if they like being around me.

Every time I think of how inadequate my writing is or that I don’t have what it takes to go after this among the thousands and thousands of other people trying to do the same thing.

Every time the loneliness echoes in the halls like a pin drop in an empty room and the words tell me this is forever.

Every time I think I should be doing more. I should be more social, go out and meet more people. I should be doing something, filling up my calendar because I am in a new city and because that’s what you do.

…

In our truest and purest form, who we are is the most dazzling gift we have to offer the world.

Our laughter, our passions, ourselves. We’re told to be a little bit more of something so that he or she will like us, so we will be chosen and pursued, so we will be enough for the world to take notice. It’s a lie we have bought into and some of us have allowed the words of that lie to take up residency in our minds- repeating the lie as a whisper in our ear over and over throughout the day.

Be gentle with yourself. Crucify the inner criticism. Breathe in a new spirit of gentleness and compassion toward yourself. Become more of yourself than you’ve ever been before. You are enough and the world is waiting.