Dearest Readers,
How are you doing in these challenging times? Our world is experiencing such unbelievable turmoil and unrest yet beauty and goodness continue to promulgate despite the great suffering around us. I hope you are finding ways to be okay.
Over the years, I have been sharing with you how perfectionism and control contribute to a feeling of “not enoughness” in my life and the healing practices that enable me to be enough. You’ve heard me say this inner work is an ongoing process and I continue to wrestle with insecurity and low self-esteem.
One of the most effective tools in my toolbox for battling the seemingly endless barrage of inner criticism is talking out loud to those negative voices (“Thank you for sharing, now f-off”) and speaking reassuringly to the part of me that needs encouragement (“It’s okay that things aren’t okay”).
For me, having a sense of humour about a situation is the ultimate goal and, if I can get there, evidence that I am doing well.
Recently, I re-posted an announcement for a talk I am giving at an upcoming event in my area. When I had first viewed the presenter’s original post, I noticed a pretty significant typo in the title.
My immediate response was to panic, stomach tightening and mind racing. What would everybody think??
Well …
Let them think it!
Do I actually believe I can control what everyone thinks anyway? (Okay, yes, I do. But this is an unsound belief.)
Instead of emailing the presenter to request that she take down the announcement, re-do the graphic and re-post it without the typo, I practiced a form of detachment, in this case, separating my self-worth from the mistake.
I decided to go ahead and re-post with the typo and make a joke about it. To my delight, many of the commenters also made jokes. One wrote about embracing imperfection and another expressed their preference for the mistake!
I can’t always make fun myself. Because I was laughed at and criticized as a child, there remains a very tender part of me that doesn’t find these things funny. But if I can reassure the more sensitive part and strive for detachment, I’m laughing.
From the fires of love,
Celia
