Forgive yourself

Sometimes, things break for a good reason. (Image by Mabel Amber)

The other day, I didn’t leave the house.

This happened for a mix of reasons: Covid. A high of 19 degrees Fahrenheit with 20 mph winds. A busy schedule of Zoom meetings. And then, the coup de grâce: I didn’t feel like it.

Listen, I know that sitting is as bad for you as smoking, or whatever they’re saying to try to scare us these days. And exercise and fresh air is important to me. But sometimes, I don’t do what’s best for me. I don’t have the energy or the gumption or the desire. So I do…other things. Or nothing at all.

This is a problem if it happens every day, I suppose. But the worse problem is the guilt. The pain of letting myself down, falling short of my ideals — it causes way more suffering than a day of indolence ever did.

I know because I used to do that to myself all the time. I had a set of rules I had to live by, and if I messed up, I felt bad about it. Sadly, I allowed these bad feelings about myself to interfere with my self-concept. My very identity got wrapped up in whether I was, say, going to bed on time or eating right. Once I made a mistake, I was damaged goods. Might as well go all the way to the dark side, staying out till 3 AM eating cheeseburgers and french fries.

I have to say, based on my boring life right now, that sounds kind of fun. Ah, to be young. But looking back, I know that the way I felt the day after such shenanigans was not fun, and I didn’t have the skills to forgive myself and move on. I was stuck.

In time, I learned to have more compassion for myself and others. I learned to see shades of gray where there had once been only black and white. I learned to enjoy myself without being self-destructive. I learned moderation. And I also learned, on a very practical level, that one day is not that big a deal. I didn’t have to wallow in my failure or unworthiness. I could simply continue living my life, happily and imperfectly.

A day or two after that recent cold, blustery day, I stepped out into the sunshine of a slightly milder one. I tromped around town, taking meetings on the phone and running some errands. By the time the day was done, I’d walked seven miles, just because I felt like it.

I could have overthought things. I could have agonized over my exercise habits and felt the shame of being so lazy. But no — I just went for a walk. The me of one day made one choice, and the me of another day made another choice. And neither choice was right or wrong or good or bad. I was fine. I am fine. I skipped the self-flagellation part.

It can be so hard to pick back up on the meditation practice or the housework or the creative project after we drop it. We might think our inconsistency has to mean something about who we are and what we’re capable of. But all it means is that we are human. We didn’t ruin anything, and we have not become worthless or unlovable. There’s nothing to be guilty about or ashamed of.

We aren’t always going to be at 100% and keeping up perfectly with everything. In fact, we’re not always going to even be at a B-minus. As my friend Alyssa put it, “Sometimes self-care looks like eating a whole bag of chips at 11:30 because at least it’s food, forcing yourself to take a shower, and going to bed and trying again tomorrow.” We all get to have a reset button that allows us to screw up, laugh at ourselves, and move on. We all deserve that.

Tim Ferriss has often asked his guests, “If you could have a gigantic billboard for millions of people to see, what would you put on it?” I know what mine would say. It would say, “FORGIVE YOURSELF.” It is so heartbreaking to see people — especially the adolescents I’ve worked with over the years — tie themselves in knots emotionally because they feel like they’ve already failed so badly there is no point in going on. They don’t know that the pain they are putting themselves through — the shame that they are beating themselves up with — is far worse than whatever transgression they committed. If they can learn to let go, forgive themselves, and learn from their experience, they are going to be okay. So will I. So will you.