I don’t have many vivid memories of childhood. For whatever reason I’ve always been terrible at recalling the fine details of my experiences. I have vague, blurry impressions of them and I know how I felt in general but that tends to be as far as the recollections go.
I do however, have a few that stand out in sharp contrast to the myriad of murky memoirs that fill my collective consciousness and this is one them. It was a warm spring day in fourth grade and I was standing on the blacktop at Murray Elementary in Dublin California. We had just run laps for PE and there had been some sort of contest attached to it – like the winner(s) would get to go on to compete in a race against another school. I was standing next to two teachers who were chatting about a student named Gina, remarking on her running ability and who she was as a person. At one point, one of them said, “She runs with her whole heart”. A simple, seemingly insignificant statement, but It was uttered with such reverence – such awe – that I remember looking up into the teacher’s face and then out on to the track where I saw Gina; gazelle like and graceful with her long slender legs – glorious with her mane of lustrous chestnut hair fanned out and flowing after her. She pumped her arms with vigor as she took long, leaping strides and I saw it too… She ran with her whole heart.
The next thought that came into my mind was that I wanted to be like that. I wanted to have those teachers look at me the way they looked at Gina and say those things about me too. But more importantly and much less consciously than the former, I wanted to think of myself like that. The jealousy I experienced at that moment was so potent, so intense, I almost burst into tears right there on the blacktop. Like my eight year old self understood what “running with your whole heart” meant; what it would take – the dedication, discipline, sacrifice, the hard work – but beyond these and most importantly of all: I knew, even then, that this would require extreme self acceptance. Because you see, what I saw in Gina – even though I couldn’t name it then and have only come to recognize now – was that she radiated with self love. It was genuine, pure, and passionate. And what I understood, at a cellular level, was that I wasn’t going to be ready for that for a very long time.
Now you may be thinking, “really? – calm down, a nine year old doesn’t have that kind of drive or self acceptance – and if she does she’s certainly not aware of it. And nine year olds don’t know themselves at a “cellular level””… On the surface you’d probably be right. I don’t recall that Gina had ambitions of becoming an elite runner, and I have no idea if she was already practicing radical self acceptance in the fourth grade. And I certainly couldn’t put into words what I was experiencing. But it was and is a moment that has had a profound impact on my life; something that I’ve kept coming back to again and again. And what stands out beyond anything else is was that she was beaming with self love. That’s what I saw in her on that day, in that moment, and that’s what I envied. That’s what I knew I didn’t have… yet.
Because, you see, even when it seems like you don’t know yourself – you know yourself in a way more intimate and vast than perhaps we will ever have the capability of understanding – and sometimes you just understand things about yourself and the world that you can’t explain. Like how, twenty-three years later, when my husband and I had first tried to conceive a child, I woke up early in the morning to run to find I had gotten my cycle. And how half way through that run I collapsed to the ground in tears because some part of my soul?, mind?, being?, body? (all of them) “knew” that this was going to be a long and trying journey. And how in that moment there was fear, and doubt, and hurt, and a recognition of the sorrow and trauma that was to come. How there was also deep shame, a belief that I had caused this, that I had let myself down yet again. How life is unfair and what had I done to deserve this? How there was a disgust for who I was. And honestly, in that moment – hands and knees to earth, barely able to catch my breath – I doubted if I would ever be ready. I doubted if I could or even wanted to weather the storms to come. I doubted that I would never be able to love myself enough to show up and try.
My nine year old self felt the exact same way that warm afternoon all those years ago.
It’s sad, this realization. It’s beyond sad. How can we not love who we are? But it’s all around us, all the time. If you’d asked me at any point in my life if I loved myself I would have been quick to answer in the affirmative – maybe with more conviction at certain times than others. But that affirmative was a lie, a cover up. I didn’t love my whole self, not truly.
And here’s a truth about that truth from someone much more in tune than me:
“You can’t change for the better, in a lasting and meaningful way, unless it’s driven by self acceptance.”*
I read this as, you can’t improve your life, live to your full potential, accomplish all that you want to accomplish, dare greatly, be vulnerable – if you don’t practice radical self acceptance. Now this isn’t just about thinking positively about yourself and moving through life thinking that there’s nothing to improve on because you’re the shit! – which you are! – But rather, it’s about accepting and respecting yourself enough to tell yourself the truth, the whole truth, the real truth about why you are the way you are and why your life is the way it is. Then it’s about confronting that truth and using it to help you cultivate the discipline you need to have in order to improve and change the things you’re unsatisfied with.
Now going back to my IVF experience – obviously I did try. I faced the truth. I found the courage and the love that I needed to help me confront that journey and overcome. I was on the path of self acceptance. But it hasn’t always been that way. At various times in my life I’ve flirted with “the path”, putting one toe in to “test the waters”, not liking what I felt, and then sprinting away at mach speed. At others I’ve danced on it for a time only to shimmy right off when the going got tough. And then there’s been the times when I’ve circumnavigated it to such an extent that it seemed like it was never there to begin with. And it was during those times especially, that I ascribed to, and believed, in two fundamental lies that society has convinced me were truths:
loving yourself for who you are = bad
and
anything that is hard = bad
Think about it.
We are told to love ourselves, to embrace who we are, but not too much. We are told that we are perfect the way we are and yet we live in a society that is driven by appearances and expects us, nay wants us, to believe that we are never good enough. We are bombarded by images of what the perfect person looks and thinks like, and how we should become this – but at the same time are told that it is unattainable – because frankly it is. And on the flip side, if you do try to emulate those forms and deign to love who you are…? How dare you! You’re a narcissist. You’re unbecoming. You’re so full of yourself.
I have to interject on myself here… as I write this I am fully aware that my experience as a female has greatly impacted my perspective on this issue (more to come in another post), but it applies to men too.
And has far as hard being bad goes. That shit is systemic as well. Life is hard. Harder at some times, easier at others… hard for all, absolutely harder for many… but overall life is fucking hard – for all of us, in our own unique ways. And in extremely privileged societies, there exists a culture whose fundamental goal is to turn us away from the hard, harsh reality of our existence and dull our senses as we move life.
When we are in pain – and that’s what not loving yourself is, pain – we too often try to avoid or even “fix” it by doing things like running away or hiding. We attempt to anesthetize and desensitize in any way we can. The obvious is by using alcohol or chemicals to numb ourselves to reality – but it’s so much more than that. It’s: The endless hours of scrolling through our phones; The mindless TV we consume; The retail therapy; The unhealthy foods we eat; The making life so busy that we don’t have time to think or move through it with purpose; The excuses we conjure up for why life is the way it is; The perfection seeking that ultimately leads to apathy. I am guilty of all of these and more, and what’s important is not that I’ve indulged in them, but what’s important is that they’ve all been used as crutches by me to avoid the reality, the hard, the truth of my life.
So, what’s The truth? The truth that I didn’t and haven’t wanted to face? The truth I’ve been running (insert irony) from since that day on the blacktop?
The truth is this: I have continuously and routinely failed to run with my whole heart.
Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t have the discipline to follow through. Because I’ve been complacent. Because I haven’t loved myself enough to show up and make it happen.
That. Is. A. Fact.
It’s taken me thirty-four years of living life and I am elated to tell you that is fact no more. At the time I write this I am proud to say that I am living a life brimming with self acceptance and self love – a life on “the path”; fully aware that loving myself doesn’t mean will I love myself all the time – that I won’t stumble – that I won’t fail. Fully aware that narcissism and complacency have no seat at this table. Fully aware of what self acceptance really is: a super power that is allowing me to face the truth of my life in ways I have never been able to before; a driving force that is gifting me with the discipline I’ve been so desperately seeking all these years.
So here’s loving ourselves for who we are.
To facing our unadulterated and unabashed truths.
To leaping gazelle like and graceful through the seasons of our lives.
To nourishing and growing radical self acceptance.
To running with our whole hearts.
Not for others, but for ourselves.
If you’re interested in any of this, in my journey, my story, check back weekly (that’s super scary to say, but I’m saying it). Much more meandering musings and kuhlhuman thoughts to come.
Stay savage friends and Get. It. Done.
*Astute words from the amazing Brené Brown – Seriously this chick can do no wrong – quoted from “The Tim Ferriss Show” Podcast #409: Brené Brown – Striving versus Self-Acceptance, Saving Marriages, and More
Beautiful! ❤️
❤️