“Rockbottom has become a solid foundation that I built my life.” ~JK Rolling
Most people who know me will say I am incredibly kind, loving and empathetic. They know me as a safe person who can share me anything. What they may not know is that I am incredibly judged and unkind to myself.
As for others, I see light and love. I see the confusion and fear behind their misguided behavior. I see mistakes as learning opportunities. For myself, I used to watch… a stupid girl who should know better, better, better, if I dare to say it.
That even meant writing. It’s a strange combination to love and accept others so deeply, but not love yourself the same way. I sometimes wonder if the ability to truly see the greatness, potential, and beauty of others is related to the fact that they were not seeing themselves.
I have always wanted to treat myself with the same love I have extended to others, but instead I have set different sets of standards myself. A path that is free from mistakes, pain, or pain. A path where everything works according to the plan. My plans have always been simple. Do the right thing, follow the rules and make sure I can maintain control.
That’s what I did. I played safe and small in many areas of life, avoiding mistakes, conflicts and harsh judgments of myself.
With friends, I stayed quiet when I had different opinions. In romance, I tried to be easy and straightforward. At work, I took the most careful route. I did it the “right way” – thoughtful, careful, safe.
So everything worked out according to the plan, right? It’s wrong – it’s not what happened. Because life will never “plan” for anyone of us.
Appropriate Case: When a discussion with one of my close friends ended with a disagreement, I felt it had stabbed my heart and led to a free fall of tears. It’s not a difference of opinion that hurts, it’s the real self I am with her, and perhaps she didn’t accept my true self.
This brought a feeling of abandonment. Was it safe to have another opinion? Will I be pushed aside or can I share something I believe is true and still be loved?
I now know that the pain I felt after her abandonment is not just the end of our friendship. It was all the time I gave up myself. When I chose to accept the approval of others and blame myself when things didn’t go well, rather than accepting that pain was inevitable in life, and that doesn’t mean I’m doing the wrong thing.
When my dream job went to someone else, I felt the stab of rejection and played everything I might have said or wrong. I thought up all the reasons why I wasn’t qualified and not a participant. Being such a tough judge, I was able to see all the reasons why they hadn’t chosen me, but there was no reason why I was still worth choosing. Before I knew it, I agreed to their choice.
I chose to put other people’s emotions first. I sympatheticly considered their perspectives without considering their own perspectives.
This realization hit me hard during the treatment session. I grew up when my family had to move suddenly, talking about how difficult this is for everyone, but I struggled to express how difficult it was for me and quickly moved on to a larger picture.
That’s when I realized I needed to slow down my experiences and emotions to show myself the same compassion I had expanded to others so easily. It was no longer either, but it wasn’t easy. Because, rather than hiding it, I had to sit in the pain of being my true self.
It gave me a sense of control and I always blamed everything that was wrong in my life. If I had been a problem, I wouldn’t have had to sit in the pain of life’s unpredictability.
In fact, I hate some of myself and didn’t know why until recently. The quality I had the most sloppy was my concern. Rather than celebrating my choices, I ended up overly analyzing my choices and comparing them to others. For example, when I was invited to teach a class at university, I refused.
Much of my struggle comes from my sensitive and creative nature. I was a sponge, soaked in the details, and saw things from every point of view. This gave others a gift that they could relate to and support on a deep level, but it was also rethinked and self-compensated.
For example, in my 20s, I was scared of myself and didn’t understand myself, so I stayed in a relationship that I didn’t feel right. When it ended badly, I blamed myself for not knowing what I couldn’t know until I learned through experience.
The inability to love my true overall self – including my past and past experiences – was not wanting to accept pain at the heart of it. It hindered my growth and led to suffering. It kept me small, stuck with a negative cycle of rethinking, comparisons and anxiety.
In therapy, coaching groups, and my writing, I began to share stories that were once embarrassingly hidden, and my inner hatred slowly faded away.
I shared many times that I was confused about my feelings and struggled to be kind to myself. Over time, I began to see my mistakes from another lens, not as a judge, but as a witness to my younger self. I felt different – like the closed door in my heart opened.
I began to see myself as something worthy of love and when I allowed myself to become human just like everyone else, I was able to be compassionate with myself. I also began to realize that not everything that was causing the problem was my fault. You don’t have to beat yourself just because things can’t “plan.”
My friend shared a philosopher about flipping a big rock and finding darkness, mud and insects running around while underneath the rocks, exposed from its hiding place. That’s exactly what I feel. Every time you share honestly and expose your heart, fear and embarrassment, the warm sun shines and those little nasty insects disappear.
I know that despite my imperfections, I also deserve love. I’m still worth it, but I have to believe it. It was a lot of tears to get there. A lot of embarrassment and confusion. Lots of motivation and courage.
Looking back on this reminded me of my strength and ability to overcome difficulties. Then another strong awareness came to me. I am powerful enough to survive any storm and will not trade this particular storm anything in the world.
Pain, difficulties, or dark nights do not trade in learning to accept myself for the perfect plan I originally wanted.
Recently I received an email from a reader saying, “Thank you, write me.” I sat silently and cried.
I always dreamed that someone was telling me that, but this time it was different. It was like I really felt it in my mind. At that moment I believed that my words were worth it. I believed that I had value. My own mind finally had space for me.
Orly about collection
Orly Levy is an intuitive life coach and writer. She provides guidance for sensitive souls who struggle to see their gifts. Through her one-on-one program, she guides other programs to release blockages, reconnect with intuition, and meet “What Is Is” to discover true peace. Visit her virtual house with tools, schedule free sessions, and follow her on Instagram.
