Regarding that whole, praline-filled, three-serving chocolate bar I consumed. All in one sitting. When I find myself in deep self-judgment for things such as this, I can be quite toxic toward myself. “Where’s your discipline, Jan?”
Oh, the sheer ease of diving into my life’s negative crevices rather than increasing the focus on life’s positives. Did you know that even teeny positive experiences are significant brain boosters of our mental health? I mean, I ONLY ate one of the two available three-serving chocolate bars! Just one. (You go, girl!)
Overreaching on my chocolate consumption, not washing and recycling every single recyclable container, not changing my car’s oil every three months, or not being perfect tend to lend themselves to my ongoing riff of, “What’s wrong with you, Jan?” Can I find solid ground in my heart for being a good human being who’s also (oh, no!) imperfect? Finding balance for that eternal seesaw?
You bet! How?
Fred Rogers, that’s how. You know, the late Fred Rogers from “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.” The guy who always wore the same red cardigan and sneakers. Every time you saw him. One of our more heart-full 20th-century philosophers. “My ear is open like a greedy shark to catch the tunings of the voice divine” (or, in this instance, Mr. Rogers’ voice. I don’t know, maybe they’re the same?)
An epistle on the nature of being human from the late Mr. Rogers:
“Sometimes people are good,
And they do just what they should.
But the very same people who are good sometimes,
Are the very same people who are bad sometimes.
It’s funny, but it’s true.”
Mr. Rogers spells “relief” for me. Big-time relief. His words are a get-out-of-my-own-jail-cell card for being imperfect (which, of course, is part and parcel of being human). But, wait, wait, I need more tools. I like tools. Having tool(s) — plural — offers me a greater sense of security. If not that option, try this one.
Options? Here’s a goodie; another get-out-of-Jan’s-jail-cell-card. Self-compassion. Oh, gosh, that sounds so highfalutin, so academic. Well, let’s play around with the wording. What if I just offered kindness to myself? Does that sound more doable, less highfalutin? YES! In common language, being nice to Jan. I like it.
Returning to the devoured, three-serving chocolate bar. It was just one bar and you’ve been experiencing choppy waters lately, Jan. Maybe, I should have had two? And if you’d had two, it would not have been the end of the world. YES, let’s use the phrase “It’s not the end of the world” as an ongoing measure for self-judgment. For example, I did not recycle a yogurt container and a plastic bag. Yes, there’s still a faint internal “Eeek,” but it really isn’t the end of the world. Deep sigh of relief.
A sample of bigger life challenges. OK, I’ve been consuming a considerable amount of dairy which exacerbates my arthritis and, let’s face it, my arthritic knee is really complaining. Just a reminder, Jan, you’re doing the best you can under the current trying circumstances. This consumption will cease soon (and it’s not the end of the world). All right!
By George, I’ve got it! Yes, I will always continue to seesaw on the perfect-imperfect axis (you, too?), but with the forgiving assistance of Mr. Rogers’ words, my new mantra, “It’s not the end of the world,” and offering kindness to myself, I’m on my way!
Jan Hutton is a retired hospice/hospital social worker who believes in living life with heart and humor. She has happily lived in Chatham for 20 years.