May 3, 2020
Nothing is wrong with me. Wow. That sentence may have been the most difficult one yet for me to write, and we’ve covered some tough stuff this past year. Okay, technically it’s not harder to write, but it’s so much harder to actually believe it. Nothing is wrong with me. Yikes- that’s making me sweat a little. I know I talked about the importance of self-compassion in my last post, but to put this out there– heck, to make it bold and use it as the title– now that’s just a bit too much. My considerable sense of humor is predicated on the fact that there’s some-thing, lots of things, wrong with me. Hello, my name is self-deprecation. If I can’t put other people at ease by making fun of myself, then what good am I?
I’m a collector of labels. And I’m a fierce comparison shopper– didn’t get the highest grade? Not as smart as I should be. Didn’t win the student council election? Not as popular as I could be. Struggled to understand something in a meeting? I don’t belong here (and God forbid whatever you do don’t ask a question or they’ll find out). Crying and flustered? Too sensitive. Or how about this one– received some positive feedback? Nope. Not real. I’m an imposter (got lucky that time- but what about next time?).
I’m an abuser. I abused myself. I focused so much on perfectionism that I lost sight of my absolute, unshakeable perfection. I believed the lie I told myself that something was wrong with me (in spite of the love that was all around me, always). Even when everything was falling apart I still didn’t get it. I surrendered to the experts, to the support and guidance of those who knew the path ahead, but I still thought the work would lie in fixing myself somehow. Fixing my thinking, fixing my actions, fixing my words. So much letting go, but I still hadn’t released the heaviest rock in my pocket– the belief that I had to change who I was in order to survive.
But I didn’t have to change who I was. Instead, I had to learn who I was. It was a metamorphosis, but what I became was seeded by that which was always there inside of me, waiting. Nothing needed to be fixed. It all just had to be undone. Unlearned. Who I thought I was. Reset to factory settings. You can’t “fix” your thinking by using the same neural pathways that formed those thoughts in the first place. You can’t “fix” your actions until you know the difference between what you can control and what you can’t. You can’t “fix” your words without grounding yourself in the present moment– and stopping the “past-future-past-future” dance. You have to be still.
This is a pretty new place I find myself in– ironic, considering it’s been with me my whole life. So I’m writing this all down not just to share with you, but also to remember. The butterfly that was inside the caterpillar the whole time. My wings are still wet, but they are beautiful.
And by the way- there’s nothing wrong with you, either.
If you are interested in exploring more, here are some of the heroes/guides that have helped show me the way back to my perfect self: Martha Beck, “Steering By Starlight” and “Finding Your Own North Star” (https://marthabeck.com); Byron Katie, “Loving What is” (https://thework.com); and Glennon Doyle, “Untamed” (https://momastery.com).
And– if you’d like to explore more, but don’t want to do it alone, you can connect with me through my own coaching website, http://www.sarahpbaird.com. Small steps, together.
Swimming Upstream 