I made a breakthrough today.
More than three years ago or so, when my life began crashing down all around me, I made a decision to get whatever help I needed to change my life for the better. I found a skilled counselor who was a great fit, who also referred me to the naturopath that I still work with today. They both helped put me firmly on the path to a happier, healthier life than I had ever dreamed possible. I began the slow process of learning to stop feeling guilty for things I was never responsible for, trying to save people around me and really concentrating on taking care of myself, for the first time in my life. I put a newly developed, potentially life-threatening auto-immune issue into remission. I lost so much weight, it seemed like I had entered a whole different world, based on what I could do, what I saw in the mirror, how the people around me treated me. My paralyzing social anxiety eased to the dullest throb. I learned to really, really enjoy moving my body. Life-tranforming changes, all of them.
What I still had never really found was self-acceptance. Everything I have accomplished, all the things I've mentioned and all the other things I've ever done with my life seem to count for nought to me. I constantly worry if I am a worthwhile human being. I do not believe in my own merit in any realm. I struggle in my relationships, because I don't ever feel confident in my own decisions, values, boundaries. It goes on and on. The bottom line is, I never have been able to say that I love and accept myself, as I am today.
This has been playing out with my body a bunch. As my weight fluctuates, as I struggle to find the regimen that will take me to the next level, make mistakes, change my mind, I find myself thinking terrible, negative thoughts about myself. Calling myself names. Sneering at my new, fantastically thinner self for still having excess fat, for every weakness, every misstep. I do try really hard not to, sometimes I'm successful. Often not. I know this is not helpful.
Today I met my counselor out at a ranch. She has begun working with clients using horses to guide the session, and asked me to come out. She was certain this would be helpful for me, especially, for some reason. I was excited and nervous. The ranch was out in the east Cascade foothills, next to a calm lake, amongst a patchwork of tiny farms. The surrounding green pine forested mountains dissolved into soft grey clouds above. A beautiful and contemplative place.
I met my counselor at the barn, and she introduced me to her horse, I'll call her Alex. Beautiful Appaloosa mare, brown with a white blaze and sock with faint spots, gorgeous deep big brown eyes with white sclera, like a human's. Alex has a deformity that results in it being dangerous for her to be ridden. She is, however, spirited and smart. This is now her job. We talk about what this work is. How horses are intuitive, how they pick up on our emotions and can help us tune in to what we are feeling. This can be very hard, for me. I can see the possible value in this.
I am very slow and cautious in approaching Alex. I extend my hand as shown, but I worry that she will be startled by some movement. We both flinch a bit when I tentatively move my hand closer a few times. My counselor showed me how to gently groom Alex, and we both brushed her to connect, become familiar, calm. We then went out to the paddock and began the work.
I started talking about my body issues, my struggle to find a good way to eat, work out, and how I feel I am slipping from my path. Alex wandered off and rolled in the dirt. I trailed off from what I was saying and just watched. I have never seen a horse do this before, in person. Her big, beautiful, muscular body rippled gracefully as she playfully covered her newly groomed coat in dust and mud. I smiled, realizing that SHE was unconcerned with how she looked, only with being herself and having fun. Huge, powerful, besmirched, but still undeniably beautiful.
Alex wandered into the middle of the paddock, searched the dirt and gravel for something to eat. There was nothing there, but she did this for a long time. My counselor and I returned to our conversation. At some point, Alex wandered over to the better pickings by the railing and nibbled on some rich grass and clover beyond. My counselor eventually remarked on how hesitant I had been when I had first approached Alex. I explained that I had been extremely nervous, in fact, because I was worried whether Alex would even like me. I saw this look I know well cross her face. Now we were getting somewhere.
Why, she asked, would I wonder such a thing? I began digging out the reasons. I know that animals are very intuitive, that they sense the kind of person you are. That I don't feel like a good person. I have all these bad habits and problems. I wonder if they are just things I need to work on, or if they are unfixable character flaws. I realize, suddenly, that what I am actually detailing is my terrible, unrelenting perfectionism, and say so. Alex stops grazing and looks very attentive. My counselor asks me if I love myself. I say I want to. I then realize that I've been waiting for the time that I am a "better person" to love myself. When I am more "perfect." Just like with my body. That I am, body and soul, considering myself unacceptable as I am.
I begin crying. I start talking about how ridiculous that is. That I am, in fact, imperfect, just like every other human being, and will always be so. That no one could ever love themselves if they waited until they were their own ideal selves. That I deserve love, even my own love. I feel like I can breathe. So freaking relieved. I feel this deep sinking down into my core, my belly, in a good grounded way.
Alex then walks straight up to me, and begins to kiss and nuzzle me. I kid you not. I pet her and cry grateful tears and look into her beautiful eyes. This goes on for quite a while. I feel a great glow in my chest. I feel loved. Lovable. Accepted. On the inside and the outside. By both Alex and myself.
Eventually my counselor asks if there's anything else I want to talk about. I search about in my head. Alex disengages, wanders back to graze. I can tell it's because I've pulled back up into my intellect. We talk about this, how I spend so much time there, because it's so hard for me to get down into those feelings, that core, and feel, but it feels so good when I get down there. She points out that I probably did not feel loved growing up with all the abuse and abandonment in my family. That I got used to shutting off my feelings, living in my head, and trying to do the "right thing" to be found lovable, acceptable. Convinced that this was what it took. I concede that I could see how this could happen. I have sort of intellectually known all of this for quite some time. But somehow, this time, I could FEEL it. I always wanted to believe that I am not too flawed to love, but unsure. I suddenly really, truly understood the nonsense of that, for the very first time. She urged me to hang on to the visceral feeling of that realization in my body, my core.
When the time came to go, we went over and thanked Alex. She stopped grazing and gave me a sweet little snort and toss of the head. When I went to leave, she followed me to the railing and looked after me. I felt very grateful for the unconditional love I was given. It was just somehow very moving. My counselor urged me to hang on to this feeling, too, and I am trying.
I hope this doesn't sound too trite or woo-woo. I accept then that this is not an overnight victory, that I am going to have to slowly change 4+ decades of cognitive patterning and behavior around this idea. To fight to get back down into myself and out of my head. To relax and become part of the world and feel good enough for it. But still, I tell you, it was real, graspable progress. I want to write it down, and share it, and keep repeating it to myself until it becomes part of me. There really was something about being out there, about working with that beautiful, sweet horse that busted down a VERY resistant part of me.
So, to all of us struggling with ourselves, not feeling good enough, worthwhile, like we must become "better" to deserve love. Enough. We can strive to become better people certainly. But loving ourselves enough to see why we should take care of ourselves, and not get so caught up in some ungraspable perfectionist ideal of what we think we should be will help us tremendously in the meantime. Especially in letting go of unnecessary anxiety and negativity that can only stand between us and what we want. I can love who I am now. I can enjoy being in the world as I am, and still reach for what I want. It reminds me of all the Buddhist teachings I have ever read or heard. And something I read over at Mark's Daily Apple just today about Detachment from the Outcome. We can have goals, but being over-focused on them will get in our way. Keeps us from the joy of what is around us, here and now, forever and ever, if we let it. And I promise you, I will not. I am willing to trade in my perfectionism for love.
