Archives for category: Mindfulness

Kindness Considered

September 19, 2014 //

I met him in the waiting room of my private practice office, a bright eyed preteen, a patient of one of my colleagues. He started talking to me as soon as I passed through the front door. He wanted to play a record for me, an actual vinyl record, on a record player he carries around with him the way another child might always have a smartphone with him. He was very enthusiastic, not so much about the music per se, but the way the record player produced the sounds. During that meeting, over a year ago, he also told me that the big tropical plant that’s in the corner of the waiting room needed to be re-potted. He explained that it was root bound and needed a larger pot. I told him that I agreed and planned to re-pot it.

The first visit was over a year ago. He has reminded me to re-pot that plant every time I’ve seen him. When I don’t see him, he often asks my colleague to write me a note letting me know that he watered one of my plants or that one of the plants has a new leaf. In the winter, I told him that I would re-pot the plant once it got sunny so we could do it outside.

It took me awhile to get all of the re-potting supplies to my office but I did it last week. I asked him if he wanted to help and he enthusiastically agreed. On Monday, I asked my colleague when he would be back to see her. He was scheduled to come in on Wednesday. He used to come in every Tuesday, which was a clinic day for me. Wednesday was not. I asked her for the appointment time and saw that I had no appointments or meetings at that time. I told her that I would come into work so that he and I could re-pot the plant together.

The plant had been given to me by our building landlord. It was too big for his apartment. It was obvious that he was not familiar with growing houseplants. It was placed in an ovular pot with no drainage hole. The main problem, however, was the fact that the opening of the pot was narrower than the rest of the pot. We would have to break the pot to get the plant out. I grabbed a hammer and drove to my office.

A couple of minutes after I started setting up the supplies outside of the front of the office, I heard his excited voice, “Elizabeth, perfect timing! I just got here!”

We were able to borrow his mom’s sunglasses for eye protection. I taught him how to carefully use the hammer to break the clay pot into pieces without destroying the plant. He worked carefully and systematically. We got the plant in the new pot, surrounded it with new soil, cleaned up the mess, and brought the plant back indoors.

His mother came out briefly and said, “I wish I had a camera. I’d take a video.” She knew how much her son loves plants. She could also see what a wonderful time he was having. His daily life is not easy and he is particularly stressed about having just started middle school. He had the best time helping me re-pot that plant. I am guessing that he will look at it proudly every time he comes to the office. Yes, I came in on a day I don’t typically work in the office. But my small act of kindness, which took up no more than 45 minutes of my day, made a difference in the life of a child.

Small acts of kindness can mean a great deal to other people.

And sometimes they require use of a hammer.

Tags children, minfulness, practicing kindness

Categories Mindfulness

The Sliver

September 10, 2014 //

Some problems are to be solved. Others cannot be solved and are to be accepted.

Today, my mood matches the weather outside, gray. It may rain today and it may not. It could go either way.

I feel discouraged today and fairly sad. Not horribly so, not a torrential downpour so but still cloudy.

Many of my expectations about the business side of marriage, dividing responsibility, having routines, making decisions and then implementing them, are reasonable ones. Ordinarily, they are not too much to ask.

But I’ve been a marriage for nearly 25 years during which these expectations have never been met despite the fact that my husband and I adore one another and are smart, resourceful people. And I have no reason to believe that our lives will become less complicated any time soon or perhaps ever. Similarly, I have no reason to believe that either of us is going to change in any major way that will make this teamwork, which I have so desperately wanted all of these years, happen.

I am not without spontaneity in my life. I like new experiences. I like having fun. But it is not fun to be spontaneous about the stupid, boring parts of daily life. The stuff that just needs to get done so that there is time for fun and life is not just spent figuring out the same mundane tasks every day. Habits, routines, and rules are helpful because when they make sense, our brains don’t have to work so hard and we also have more free time.

I find that a substantial amount of my thinking time is spent on making these rules and habits happen. Twenty-five years of this thinking and it’s not happening.

I believe that I am one of the most reasonable people that I know. I am proud of how hard I have worked to live a life that is coherent and makes sense. That may seem silly but for me, it has opened a path to great joy, creativity, and happiness.

Ordinarily, my expectations of a marital partnership would be reasonable. But my marriage is not ordinary. In most ways, it is extraordinary, with incredible depth, humor, shared values, and passions. No one and no partnership can be strong in every area. We are not strong in the mundane aspects of daily living. I mean sometimes we do a better job than others but it nearly always requires a great deal of effort, regardless of the outcome. In contrast, we don’t have to work at laughing together, appreciating nature, or expressing interest in the world around us. That stuff is easy. Dishes are hard. Finding the broom because it was moved and not put back in its place is hard. Finding clean towels is difficult. Giving up on the idea that these things will someday change is difficult.

If you asked me whether I would rather have the marriage I have than one that ran like a well oiled machine but was lacking in passion, companionship, and laughter, I would so obviously choose the marriage that I have. Every day, I choose the marriage that I have. I have a wonderful husband.

Today, I realized that in my quest to feel better about myself as a wife, I have to give up these expectations. It is understandable that I want them. But it is unreasonable and irrational to continue expecting things to change. I don’t yet know how to do this. This is not the first time I have had this thought. But it is the first time that the thought has been different than just giving up.

As I have been writing this, it has changed in my mind from a loss to a sliver of opportunity, an opening to a different path.

Tags household division of labor, Marriage, mindfulness, unsolvable problems

Categories Marriage, Mindfulness

Trapped in the Present

September 9, 2014 //

When I was in graduate school, I watched a video in class about a woman who due to brain damage had permanent anterograde amnesia. This is the loss of the ability to create new memories. Every time her husband entered her hospital room she greeted him like Penelope greeting Odysseus. “It’s been so long! I’m so happy to see you!!!!” There were hugs and kisses and more hugs and kisses. And if he as so much as left the room to use the restroom, the whole thing started over again.

This woman knew enough about the past to know that this man was her husband. It was pretty close to “living totally in the present” without her greeting him as a stranger every time she saw him.

Taking the husband’s perspective, the interchanges looked painful and exhausting. His wife clearly adored him but how could they move forward? Clearly, they could not. In time she would be distracted by the vision of herself in the mirror. With time, she would not recognize herself due to aging. And the same would be true for her husband. Time would pass and she would be confused by his appearance and then likely, view him as a stranger.

Making memories together is important in a marriage. It is a shared history that is constructed together. For day to day life, the logistics of life, it is crucial to have routines and shared understanding of not only the division of labor, but of what tasks are needed in order to run the family, the marriage, and individuals lives.

I have a very good memory for routines, agreements, and history. It is a strength that I have and that the rest of my family does not. With my daughter, her flightiness, her memory problems, her statements of “I did not know I was not supposed to do ______” despite countless conversations and experiences to the contrary, is frustrating but after all she is a child and furthermore, MY child.

My husband also forgets the mundane aspects of life. The agreements, the logistics, etc. I know he does not do this on purpose. He is a loving and a hardworking person. But sometimes, every day seems like starting over from scratch. We have a shared history, a deep and loving history together as a couple. We know each other and like each other. We’ve had wonderful vacations, traditions, and family traditions. We have a MEANINGFUL and RICH life together. But when it comes to daily life, the mundane stuff we all have to do, or even the less mundane agreements we have about parenting or communication, it can be like starting over. Like a whole new day when I want the old day, yesterday, when we made a plan together. Today, I did the dishes, for example. I also made dinner. I did not know who was supposed to do them but didn’t want to fight about it. So, I just did them because I didn’t want to start from square one, as a couple.

It can be exhausting. It can be guilt-inducing because I know that my husband loves me and his family. I can feel resentment because I work hard to communicate and at times, it just doesn’t seem to matter what I say or do or what we communicate to each other. I am also trying hard to move forward to live in the present. But living in the present when the recent past does not always exist is much harder than it sounds. When I provide the same rationale over and over for the same decision that I thought was already made, I get perceived as a “nag”. I totally understand why I come across that way. But I am also in an understandably frustrating situation. And he is, as well.

We are intensely working on our marriage; we are trapped in the present. Eventually, the present will be an illuminating and freeing place.

Right now it is hard.

Tags amnesia, brain damage, Living in the present, Marriage, mindfulness

Categories Marriage, Mindfulness

The Center

September 5, 2014 //

As a young girl, I remember my teacher telling us about solar eclipses. I was eager to learn more. We were going to have one. I had never seen one before or previously known what it was. This is also one of many times as a child, I was cautioned of the dangers of looking directly at the sun. We made pin-hole camera type contraptions that would allow us to view the event indirectly.

I have been applying my mindfulness practices to examining my deep irrational fears of being a bad wife. This is a fear at my very center and it hurts my heart. Looking at it has been like looking into the sun, scary with the potential for great power and insight. Looking into the sun causes damage. Looking into the center of oneself can also unearth damage but instead of being permanent, it can also open the way to healing, resilience, and strength.

Right now I am at the unearthing damage part. It’s pretty hard. It’s a bit disorienting. I need more time than ever for quiet contemplation. I did not think of this when I went on vacation recently, what it would be like to be with my family 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I found myself very anxious, feeling simultaneously vulnerable and aware of my own destructive powers to lash out and hurt others. Don’t get me wrong, parts of vacation were wonderful. But I had some difficult times. I found that I did better when I took breaks from my family to write my blog on the public library computers. I think my family appreciated the space from my anxious emissions of unpredictable solar flares.

I felt considerably less anxious after I returned home but as is typically true, John and I are working to re-connect with each other. We are both empathetic and sensitive people. Just as our moments of happiness are highly contagious, so is our anxiety, anger, and sadness. Our daughter is the same way. Fortunately, we all love and like each other and will rally to get things back on track.

I have been disappointed in myself. But today I remind myself that it is difficult to look into the sun, even if only looking at the edges as are visible during an eclipse. I have found that in the past, as I’ve examined my thoughts and feelings about other issues, time and time again, through mindfulness, I get an objective distance while still feeling connected to myself.

Many years ago, John and I camped in Shenandoah National Park. We happened to be there during major meteor showers. I had never and have never before seen anything like it. We laid down side by side both looking up at the sky, full of stars, moving stars, cascading stars, tumbling stars, one after another. Many of those stars were as powerful as our sun. Many were likely more powerful than our sun. But the distance allowed us to look right at them, fully engaged with the wonder, the power, and the beauty of the sky.

That is the image on which I will meditate. Perhaps some day, looking at myself will be like gazing at the heavens, looking up with wonder, the appreciation that not all can be understood in this life, and that this is the way it should be.

Tags facing fears, Marriage, mindfulness, Nature

Categories Marriage, Mindfulness

Carpe Coach Fare

September 2, 2014 //

While I was on vacation, I was mostly “off the grid” meaning that I had neither phone nor Internet reception. I did discover, however, that I missed my writing time immeasurably. So I ended up going into town a couple of times during the week to blog from the public library computers. I was allowed an hour’s access each day, which was enough to write a post, without proofreading, and to check my email.

A few days ago, I noted an email from one of the professors at my Ph.D. program at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. It was an invitation to a party, which was primarily a retirement party for my doctoral adviser, Joe Lowman, but also a reunion of sorts for former graduate students. The date for the event is October 25th. I live a considerable distance from North Carolina. It’s on the other side of the U.S. from me.

My first thought was, “Oh too bad that I can’t go to that.” John said, “You should go!” I told him that it would be too expensive in terms of money and time away from work. He reiterated his support.

Today, I started looking at frequent flier fares. I don’t fly a lot but I have one of those credit cards that earns frequent flier miles. I looked up my miles. I had over 100,000! Then I looked up the fares to NC. There was only one outgoing flight for which I could use my miles. It wasn’t a lot of miles or money but it was only one flight. I also saw that I had 24 hours to cancel it without penalty. So I booked the flight from Seattle to Raleigh, NC and back again. It cost a third of my miles plus $36.

I am typically loathe to make plans so quickly. Also, my work schedule usually makes this impossible. However, October is very slow for my practice. I complained all last October about this. “Whaaaaaah! Whaaaaaaah! Whaaaaah! Where is all of the business? Nobody loves me!”

After this, it got busy as Hell. There is a seasonality to my work.

I often say that one can have time or money, but not both. This seemed like an opportunity to have time, spend minimal money (I have lots of friends who would house me for free), and reconnect with people who were and are very important to me.

But people, I don’t usually work this fast. I need time to PREPARE for my trips. There are plans to be made! There are mental preparations!

Then I remembered. My original doctoral adviser, retired early and then died a few years later, from breast cancer. I never saw her again after she retired. You know how kids love their teachers? I loved Betty Gordon. I really did. She was wonderful, a really wonderful person, teacher, researcher, and psychologist. After she retired, I asked Joe to be my adviser. He agreed. I was initially leery since I did not know him well as a research adviser. He was excellent. And as a person, Joe is the person we all want to be when we grow up! He is very energetic, a life long learner. When I was at UNC, he decided after 30 years to take up the tuba again. He actually marched in the university marching band for a year! And on University Day, Joe, who also had a dramatic flair, dressed as Sigmund Freud.

I have passed by opportunities before because they seemed too fast. When an opportunity comes up quickly, it seems like it is “cheating” to take it. Like it is undeserved.

This time I thought, “Why not? When will I get this opportunity again? I haven’t been back to Chapel Hill in ages.”

So I am going.

Tags Decision-making, reunions, taking opportunities

Categories Mindfulness

The Cancer Lens

August 29, 2014 //

One of the things I like about my camera, is that I don’t have to change lenses. It is a point-and-shoot, not a fancy camera. I find that I take the best photos when I am actually carrying a camera. This sounds silly but my little point-and-shoot fits into my purse as well as into the zippered pocket of my hiking shirt. (Yes, there is such a thing and I wear it over a t-shirt or around my waist.)

My camera has one lens and because of this it is much lighter. But I can’t see as much with it.

In my daily life, I feel that I am constantly changing lenses, the way I see the world. Sometimes, it changes so quickly that I can’t get a good view of anything, just constant changes, blurs of different colors and no definite shapes. These are very difficult days, among the most difficult. It is on these days that I feel frozen for anywhere from a few minutes to a day or two.

I added a cancer lens to my bag a couple of years back. Before the diagnosis, it was a general purpose lens, called, “bad medical stuff that is unlikely to happen but I get it checked out just in case”. And yes, I knew about the one out of eight figure for breast cancer in U.S. women. That’s still the minority and that’s a lifetime incidence, too. The percentage of cancer diagnosed at age 46 is considerably lower.

Then I found myself at age 46, diagnosed with breast cancer and having what would be revealed as four small invasive tumors, of low grade, meaning that tests estimated them to be relatively slow growing.

The cancer lens puts cancer at the center of view when it needs to be there. For me, it was the time of active treatment, which also coincided with continued assessment through scans and pathology reports, the latter occurring after each of my three cancer surgeries.

Now I am considered a “survivor” and my cancer lens keeps the possibility of cancer in the periphery. I have been told that I have excellent peripheral vision, both literally and figuratively.

My energy continues to return. There are so many legitimate reasons that reduce the energy of a breast cancer patient, chemo, oral medications, repeated surgeries, stress, working to make loved ones feel better, etc.

The cancer lens is also one of those things that can wear us down. Thinking about cancer, every day, even if only for a moment. I see many women worn down by the fatigue of cancer and I believe that this is a very real part of the burden.

The cancer lens can also bring things into finer focus, though. The preciousness of life, the motivation to treasure moments and to appreciate them. This is where people get into this whole, “cancer is a gift” thing. And yes, I agree that it is not a gift. But having a life threatening illness forced my hand to cope with my life and take care of myself better. The way I have dealt with cancer, by and large, has been a gift I have given to myself.

This week, I’ve had a hard time with anxiety, despite the fact that I am on vacation. I am somewhat disappointed with myself, to be totally truthful, but I am working toward acceptance of the fact that I am a very anxious woman at times and this is one of the times, right before the beginning of a near school year and my daughter’s birthday, when the business of my life can overwhelm me.

My friend, Nancy, also a psychologist and a breast cancer survivor, spent a few hours together earlier this week. We spoke of our friendship. Nancy remarked that even though I have dealt with some heavy problems as a parent and a person, she does not worry about me the way she might worry about her other friends. I actually feel the same way about her. Nancy is very smart, very kind, and very real. She is a very clear thinker. Most of the time, I think I think very clearly, too.

Clarity is a powerful tool. Clarity means seeing things head on, the possibilities and the certainties. It is at times frightening, at other times just the tool needed to dig through a very deep problem, and at other times, absolutely liberating.

I am real. Sometimes that is hard for people, including me.

Tags anxiety, Breast Cancer, clarity, fear of cancer recurrence, photography, realism

Categories Breast cancer, Mindfulness

Are you ready to frolic?

August 28, 2014 //

“Are you ready to frolic?”

I overhead the question, spoken in a gentle male voice, from a nearby campsite. After I turned my head toward the source, I saw that a father had asked his young girl, who couldn’t have been more than 17 or 18 months old, this question. She said something about “froggie”. He father responded, “Yes, let’s have froggie go frolicking with us, too.”

Camping brings forth images of enjoying stately woods in solitude, like one’s own personal communion with God. Unless one is a backpacker, this is typically not the case.

I am on vacation, camping on Orcas Island, which is part of the San Juan Islands in northern Washington state. We are extremely close to British Columbia, Canada. The islands are only accessible by boat. Some of them are accessible by public transportation, that is, the Washington State Ferry System, which is the largest of its kind in the U.S. It takes a good part of the day to get up here and there are very few campgrounds. We are staying at one of two on Orcas Island, the other being a dozen sites on Obstruction Pass, which are “walk in” (camp equipment is hauled down a mile long trail to the campground) and cannot be reserved ahead of time.

I reserved our campsite eights months ago and even that far ahead, most of the spots were already taken. So, the campground is a busy place. It also happens to be located right on the main road. Now, Orcas Island is far less densely populated than say, Manhattan Island, but car traffic is heard from our little campsite in the woods. We have also had visitors. A little dog named, “Nacho” has visited three times since he arrived yesterday, along with his family, who hung both a U.S. and a Seattle Seahawks flag outside of their tent. Earlier this week, we had a number of visits from a blond toddler with big brown eyes. He just observed with curiosity, whatever we were doing in the seconds until his father, a gentle and patient Israeli man, walked down to scoop him up and take him back.

Campgrounds are typically a home base for outings into the wild or at least the wilder. Nonetheless, communion with nature can even be found in a busy state campground. (Tip: In the U.S., National Park campgrounds tend to be prettier and more secluded than state campgrounds. However, state campgrounds often have showers.) In our few days here, I have seen the green mountain in back of Cascade Lake, visible from our campsite, the sun glistening on the water. The nights have been clear and dark. Two nights ago, I saw the constellations and the Milky Way.

I hear people complain a lot about car camping around here because of the people “spoiling” nature. And honestly, sometimes people can really be annoying in the woods. But to me, hearing a father asking his little girl if she’s “ready to frolic” is a most gentle gift.

This is the gift of the next generation learning how to love nature’s majesty and surprise.

And froggie gets to join them, too.

What could be more natural?

Tags camping, mindfulness, Parenting, Teaching children about nature

Categories Family, Flora and Fauna, Mindfulness, Parenting

Lightbulb

August 23, 2014 //

With my strong reaction to the “there’s nothing wrong with you” Facebook posts, I knew that I had some thinking to do. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with my strong reactions per se, it’s just that when the intensity of my emotional reaction to things surprises me, it is often because I’ve hit a sore spot.

I have come a long way in accepting my imperfections. I am mostly okay with myself as an individual. I am aware that despite my faults and mistakes, I am a very good mother.

To be perfectly frank, I have complained a great deal in my life about my husband’s sensitivity to criticism. Although my complaints are not entirely unfounded, something else is also true. When my husband complains to me or criticizes me, it hits a very tender part of my heart. The part of my heart that wants to be a perfect wife. I’ve long thought that I am a good wife, maybe even a very good wife. But it is the role in my life in which I fall down the most frequently.

I am actually pretty good at taking critical feedback, in general. I had music teachers that poke and prodded and talked me through every note. I had writing teachers that had me change every single word. I’ve had patients and their family get quite mad at me. In my friendships, I would much rather be told that I am doing something that concerns or bothers another person than to just be left guessing. A former boss of mine actually told me that responding appropriately to specific negative feedback was one of my strengths as an employee. That was a truly horrible work situation, during which I experienced the onset of my first of two depressive episodes.

I haven’t gotten depressed in over a decade and I am a happy person. But part of me feels like my heart is about to be shot whenever my husband criticizes me. It doesn’t happen every time, or even the majority of the time, but it happens enough so that it is a problem. My perfectionism is gets in the way of solutions and communication, two things that build a healthy and close marriage. I put a lot of stress on myself to be the “better person” in a relationship, to function better, to need less, and to give more. That’s appropriate for a mother. It’s also appropriate for a psychologist. My parental and professional relationships are not supposed to be reciprocal. But my husband is my a partner and a peer. Being the “better person” is not an equal relationship, nor is being dependent.

This is a work in progress, people. I am a work in progress.

Tags Marriage, perfectionism

Categories Marriage, Mindfulness

Something’s wrong

August 19, 2014 //

It has happened so many times over the years that I don’t have a particular patient in mind as I write this. My first contact with a family is usually the mother of a patient. We usually talk on the phone for anywhere between 15-45 minutes so that she can get information from me and a sense of whether I am competent. And I get information about whether the referral is appropriate for me as well as a head start on honing the focus of my assessment. Mom usually tells me a list of concerns about her child. Things that don’t seem right. Things that seem harder than they should be. I am a child and adolescent clinical psychologist. Parents don’t want to meet with me if they think there is nothing wrong.

However, parents often tell their children, in front of me, “There’s nothing wrong with you.” It is meant to be a reassuring statement. It is not, even when it is said in all sincerity. (“There’s nothing wrong with you. The problem is that your school does not know how to teach you.”)

When a parent says this, it is damned confusing to a child or a teen. I mean little kids have fun when they come to my office. I play with them and mix in silly questions like, “If you had three empty swimming pools and could fill each with a different food or drink, what would you put in each one?” I also ask about things they would change about themselves if they could, questions about painful feelings, and other more heavy questions. Interviews with young children are not so much about questions and answers as how they interact with me and whether I can get a flavor for their personality and general cognitive level.

The other kids know. They know that they are struggling in school. They know that they are not getting invited to birthday parties. They know that they are getting yelled at by their parents. They know that their grades are bad. The older ones know which teachers actively dislike them.

This way of communicating sends the message that to have something wrong with oneself is too bad to speak of and must be avoided. It is a layer of non-acceptance that can make happiness very difficult. The confusion of being told that “nothing is wrong” when it is patently obvious plants the seeds of externalizing blame and/or internalizing shame, neither state being compatible with taking responsibility for one’s own life. Is it so bad to say something like, “Everyone has things they are good at and things they have to work on. You have a hard time making good choices sometimes. We will help you with this.”

This is part of the reason that the message I saw on Facebook the other day, “There’s nothing wrong with you” got me fired up. It is a seed that can grow into much unhappiness. I see so many wonderful people in my professional and personal life who struggle with perfectionism, never being satisfied that they are worthwhile and good people. I see very successful and outwardly happy people who I can tell, due to my own empathetic skills and life experience, seem like they are faking it. Pain has a way of bubbling to the surface, even when well hidden.

My own perfectionism, which has waned over the years, seems so unnecessary now. The part that remains is fairly stubborn but I will keep working on it. I know that parenting cannot stem the tide of the influence of our culture. But parenting matters and it matters a lot.

I try not to be preachy in my blog because I have tried to focus on my own personal experience. That tone is the most healthy for me. I was kind of preachy yesterday. But that’s okay. You can handle me being fired up every once in awhile. I also did not want to make my blog into a “psychologist’s blog” including advice. But today, I would like to share what I think is the very most important way to teach our children self-acceptance.

Work on your own self-acceptance. I have decided that not only am I not perfect but that perfection is a goal that is unworthy of me or of my family.

I deserve better. And so do you.

Tags mindfulness, Parenting, self-acceptance

Categories Mindfulness, Parenting

Nothing wrong

August 17, 2014 //

I had an entirely different idea for a post today. Then as I was closing Facebook in order to write it, I saw another one of those inspirational quotes that has come to make my skin crawl. There were examples of how potentially negative attributes have positive implications, as well. The ending of the quote was, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Why do so many feel it necessary to say this? I believe it is very unhealthy.

Everyone and I mean everyone has faults. Lots of personality qualities have both positive and negative implications. The positive implications don’t erase the negative or vice versa.

Why do we need to convince ourselves that we are somehow perfect?

We aren’t. It’s a lie. It’s an utter and outright lie.

The problem is not being imperfect. The problem is not accepting that we are still good and worthwhile despite imperfections.

There are lots of things wrong with me. There are mostly things right with me.

There are ugly things about me. There are mostly beautiful things about me, and I’m not talking about pretty.

There are dishonest things about me. I am mostly honest.

There are selfish things about me. I am mostly fair and generous.

If I have to tell myself that I am perfect to feel better about myself, how will I ever look at myself honestly, trust myself, value myself, and grow as a person?

Finally, let me put it this way. I am a clinical psychologist. My job is to help children and teens be happier and healthier. I know of no effective treatment that involves my telling my patients lies or teaching them to lie to themselves.

Honesty is the best policy and a keystone of self-acceptance.

Tags emotional honesty, imperfection, mindfulness, self-awareness, self-worth

Categories Mindfulness