Tiny Buddha's Guide to Loving Yourself: 40 Ways to Transform Your Inner Critic and Your Life (17 page)

Then the question came around to one of my nieces, and she answered with a big smile on her face, “Myself!” Wow, what an answer, I thought. If only I had that kind of wisdom and self-love at that age. I was so proud and happy for her that she saw herself through such a beautiful lens. Her answer started to make me think. How many of us have spent endless hours and years trying to find
our true love, the one who will finally find us and make all that time we waited worth it—ultimately, our soul mate?

Could it be possible we have been searching for a connection that has been within us the whole time, as my niece pointed out? What if we took that term, “soul mate,” and looked at it from my sweet niece's eyes. What would we see? Maybe we would see that a soul mate is not always someone else; it does not have to be outside of you. It could be the meeting of your soul and self within you.

Sometimes, we spend so much of our time waiting and searching for someone else to fill us up and love us that we forget how much love we already have inside that is patiently waiting to be released. We could find that missing piece if we turned inward and remembered how special and beautiful we are in our core. But, more often, we forget how to release this innate gift and fall into our own joy and divinity. We forget to connect to our power within ourselves. When this happens, we usually end up giving our power away and allowing someone else to define us. We allow ourselves to be seen through others' eyes, and eventually, we forget what we look like through our own.

If we search for our missing half, our soul mate, in another person, we inherently believe we are not complete without someone else. We convince ourselves we are not whole, and we can never be whole until we find our true love. I believe this false notion allows us to ignore our true potential and avoid taking responsibility for our own love and happiness. We end up using precious time trying
to learn, accept, and love every possible mate, while dismissing the opportunity to learn, accept, and love ourselves.

Sometimes, we are quick to welcome all the “beautiful” and “good” aspects of ourselves, while avoiding the “bad” and “unacceptable” pieces within us. Would we do that to our true love, our soul mate? Or would we see and accept them for who they are?

I don't think we will ever be able to love ourselves until we acknowledge all our different aspects—the “strong” and the “weak”—and start treating ourselves with compassion instead of judgment. A puzzle needs all its pieces in order to be complete.

Now, I am not saying the only soul mate we can ever have is ourselves. I believe we can have different variations of soul mates, some being people who touch us profoundly and understand us deeply. But if we make a strong connection with ourselves, we will be able to live from a powerful, authentic place. From here, we will be able to identify our other soul mates more clearly because we truly know who we are and can see who inspires us to be more of our truth.

So, where do we find this amazing soul mate? I think it is the meeting place of pure divinity and humanness within us. Soul mate can be defined as the reunion of our lost self and found spirit. Only when we learn to love and accept ourselves are we able to receive love and acceptance from someone else. We must first feel it from within to understand and recognize it from without.

So, the next time you catch yourself wishing to be with that one person who could complete you and make your life perfect, remember: your wish could come true. You might just need to borrow my niece's lens so you can see more clearly. The mate of your soul is already here. It is you.

1. Use the mantra “I am loved” if you feel the urge to cling to other people
.

Start recognizing if and when you feel a need to cling to people. Notice the emotions and fears you experience and recognize that you can change them. Researchers Mario Mikulincer and Phillip Shaver, who have studied what they call “security priming,” suggest closing your eyes and visualizing the experience of being loved and cared for. Tell yourself, “I am loved,” and you will slowly train yourself to feel the type of reassurance you're seeking from others.

2. Challenge your fears around love so you don't end up settling for an unhealthy relationship
.

Do you fear that being alone means you're unworthy? Do you fear that you'll lose your current relationship if you're honest about your desires or needs? Do you fear that you might not find someone else if you walk away from a relationship that you know isn't right? Fear—with its need, insecurity, suspicion, blame, and worry—is a barrier to genuine, unconditional love. Once you recognize your fears, you can challenge yourself to act in spite of them, one fear at a time, so that you can open
yourself up to a healthy relationship when you're ready and the time is right.

3. Identify your core values and priorities to better know, understand, and love yourself
.

It's all too easy to lose ourselves in relationships and blur the lines between us and other people—especially if we define ourselves in relation to them. Get clear on your top values and priorities, those things that create the foundation of your life and contribute to your sense of wholeness. That might include family, charity work, and time with friends. Now look at your current schedule. Are you honoring these things? If not, how can you start?

4. Treat yourself as you want a partner to treat you.

Are you looking for someone to compliment you, support you, and see the best in you? Are you waiting for someone who will love you unconditionally? Do you dream of finding a partner who will value you not in spite of your flaws and struggles, but because of them? Recognize when you do the opposite of this with negative self-talk and the choices you make, and then shine a light of compassion on your darkness, in the way you hope someone else will. This way you won't come to your relationships from a place of lack, with a void to be filled; you'll show up complete, prepared to give as much as you take.

R
ESEARCHERS HAVE ESTIMATED THAT WE EACH SPEAK AROUND
16,000 words each day. But that number pales in comparison to all the things we don't say. We want to tell people when we're hurting, but we're afraid of looking weak and inferior. We want to share our dreams, but we're afraid of being questioned and criticized. We want to open up about our beliefs, but we're afraid of being judged and rejected. Deeper than all those fears is our need to genuinely bond with each other—not just on a superficial level, but based on our actual thoughts, beliefs, feelings, and even fears.

We need to feel deeply connected to other people, fully seen and appreciated by them, and secure in those relationships. We can have a million and one acquaintances, but if none of our connections feel intimate and meaningful, we will ultimately feel alone. There's actually some interesting research that shows we tend to value physical possessions less when we feel loved and accepted by others,
because relationships can provide a sense of comfort, insurance, and protection. They truly are the most valuable things in our lives. In order to create these connections, we need to let our guard down—to stop worrying about impressing other people or avoiding their judgment, and show up as we truly are.

This kind of vulnerability can be terrifying, because you never know when you show someone your authentic self how they will receive it. You can't be certain they'll respect and honor your truth. You can't know that they will appreciate your perspective and offer you compassion and understanding. And you can't be sure that they'll respond to your openness in kind, sharing themselves with the same courage and sincerity. All you can know for sure is that the benefits of opening up far outweigh the disadvantages of staying shut down. Naturally, some people will stay closed off, but it's worth the risk of feeling vulnerable to find the ones who won't.

Still, so many of us limit ourselves from forming those deeply satisfying, close-knit bonds because we want to play nice, or fit in, or feel in control—or maybe because we have no idea who we really are. We're always learning, growing, and evolving, and it can be challenging to feel a secure sense of self when addressing the various parts of ourselves we'd rather change or deny—it's challenging, but it's not impossible.

If we make the effort, we can discover who we are beyond our roles and distractions. We can understand the feelings, thoughts, and needs that lie beneath our masks. And we can embrace both
our darkness and light with an appreciation for our complexity and humanity. Countless Tiny Buddha contributors have addressed these questions on the site, sharing their experiences and insights. Some of those include . . .

by Julia Manuel

Don't think you're on the right road just because it's a well-beaten path
.

—U
NKNOWN

Growing up in Appalachia, women always had grace, class, and sweet iced tea in the refrigerator for unexpected visitors. They smiled when called ma'am or darling and kept an immaculate home. Many Appalachian women also abided by two rules:
it's impolite to say no
, and (my mother's favorite adage),
be as nice as you possibly can be, and everyone will realize you're the better person
.

For me, this translated as always say yes and play nice. I thought this equated to being compassionate and sensitive. What's that? You're stranded on the side of the road four hours away during an ice storm? I'll get you. You want to be intimate on the first date? I don't want you to dislike me, so okay. You think I'm hateful, unworthy, and a crybaby? You're probably right.

I played nice for so long that laughter turned to appeasement, confidence turned to tolerating harassment and verbal abuse, kindness turned to obligation. As I allowed others to treat me unkindly and without respect, living soulfully became impossible.

I always thought that I kept everyone at arm's length with a smile on my face because I didn't want to be hurt. In reality, I was so angry with myself for those specific moments of being run over that I willingly began playing the victim. It became easier to sabotage myself and continue down that road than to work hard and become a strong, outspoken, vivacious woman again—which wouldn't unfold until years later, after spending the night in the middle of nowhere.

In 2009, I left my Appalachian roots behind and hightailed it to the West Coast with my fiancé. But there was an unexpected pit stop in Marfa, Texas, population 2,000, where I changed course forever. Splitting the long drives cross-country, my fiancé slept as I descended onto this plateau of immeasurable prairie grass hemmed by stately mountains. The sunset was hypnotic, a brilliant rust so unfamiliar as it slipped off the horizon. There was nowhere to hide. I was breathless and exposed.

Sitting by the motel pool in the dead of winter, the urge to cry was unbearable. But I didn't know what to tell my fiancé, so I fought it. I was enraged, and for a long time I'd diverted my attention to blogging, drinking, eating, and sleeping; but in a one-horse town on a Monday night, the only people for miles are nuns, and I had to look at me.

I couldn't remember the last time I was truly happy and laughed genuinely. Once again, I was angry that I had deprived myself of that. Then a flood of memories came back when I was strong, truthful, confident, and beautiful. Those traits were still there. Standing
alone amidst tumbleweeds and dust devils, watching the Marfa mystery lights with a thermos of bourbon, I finally heard myself. Never in my life had a physical moment connected so intensely with a spiritual one.

We resumed our drive the next morning, and I was exhausted. Once our cross-country journey ended in San Francisco, I didn't know how to be nice to my fiancé for two months, because my only thought was, “Who am I?” I was paralyzed. I spent every day huddled on the floor between the bed and the wall pouring over job ads, trying to find anything that would give me a role to fill. I had no idea how to be myself.