It’s taken me a lot of work to learn to love myself. I often describe myself as a “recovering perfectionist.” I can be hard on myself. My expectations are high. I’ve often felt like my voice doesn’t matter.

As a Christian, I’ve shouted from the rooftops about how much God loves us (meaning all of you) but I’ve had a hard time believing it for myself. That sounds so sad to say, but I know many people have felt that way too, because they’ve told me. After all, we’re taught to put others above self.

In Philippians 2:3, Paul says “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.”

I understand that the point is for us to imitate Christ’s humility, but I wonder if we’ve taken that message and used it as a weapon against ourselves.

Several years ago, my spirit brought me to the river that meanders through the acres of forest behind our home. That river’s name? Mount Hope. Overwhelmed and completely depleted, it was there that I first learned to sit with myself before I even knew what that meant. As a constant “do-er,” I didn’t understand this stillness that my spirit was calling me to. But I’d later understand that this moment was the beginning of a transformation for me as I began to sift through all of the chaos and overthinking and expectations that ran through my mind. It was like pulling items out of a backpack, taking a good look at each piece to determine what I still needed to carry and what I could leave behind.

This “thing” that’s causing disruption, can I set it aside?
This expectation that doesn’t feel right, can I loosen its grip?
This problem I can’t solve, can I let it go?

It was the first time I dug deep to find out who I was and what I wanted; an unexpected act of self-love. I’m doing the same thing now as I dive deeper into my faith – sifting through what I’ve been taught about God, deciding what beliefs stay and which ones I can let go. But this time, I (mostly) know how to listen to myself and trust her. The Christian faith has often discouraged us (women) from trusting ourselves, because “our hearts can lead us astray.” That’s one belief I have set aside. In my experience, that message has mostly been used to silence us. But Jesus told us to love God with all of our hearts, souls, and minds, so he doesn’t actually call us to check our hearts at the door.

As I do this inner work, I find myself re-reading the gospels to remind myself of who Jesus is. After all, we are Christians, not Paulians and sometimes I think Christians place the words of Paul over the teachings of Christ. They make Paul’s words an idol. In the past few years, part of my practice has been to read different translations of the Bible. I’m inspired by Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of the Great Commandment:

Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’” Matthew 22:37-40 MSG

As Christians, we are conditioned to put others before ourselves. But that’s not actually what Jesus commands here. Of course I believe in the sanctity of community. Of lifting one another up. Of helping where we’re needed and making the world a better place. I believe in being on the receiving end of that love, too. All of that is holy work. We were made for healthy community, connection, and belonging. But we can honor others as the unique people they are – created in the image of God, while also honoring ourselves, created in that same image. I think we forget that.

Love others as well as you love yourself. Not more than, not less than. As well as. It’s not enough to love our neighbors – we must learn to love ourselves, too. Only then can we better understand how to love those around us.

Perhaps that’s what is missing in this world full of fear, anger, heartbreak, and injustice. If we were kinder to ourselves, would we be kinder to others? If we were gentler to ourselves, would we be gentler to others? If we extended more compassion, grace, and forgiveness to ourselves, would we do the same for others?

I suspect most people avoid this kind of work – to learn to genuinely love ourselves. I mean, it’s not exactly easy. It’s much easier to scroll, to numb out, to escape; to be consumed by work or to focus on “fixing others,” or even “helping others.” But perhaps we all need to abide by the sacred calling to sit with ourselves. Only when we get quiet enough can we hear the still small voice that guides us.

I’m not an expert by any means, but these are some of the self-love practices that have been helpful to me:

Practice gratitude. Make a habit of writing down three things you’re thankful for each day. In these days of human suffering, heartbreaking headlines, and half-truths, we can start to feel pretty low. But there is always something to be grateful for, even if we have to squint our eyes to see it.

Practice the reframe. For those of us who tend to fall into negative thought patterns, or who have perfectionist tendencies, reframing our thoughts is key.

Thought: I can’t do this.
Reframe: I can’t do this yet, but I’m still learning.

Be gentle to yourself. Drink water. Eat a nourishing meal. Have an epsom salt bath, take a nap, read a book, light a candle. Speak kindly to yourself, as if talking to an old friend. Forgive yourself for past mistakes and learn from them, vowing to do better next time.

Engage in joyful movement. If you can combine this movement with the outdoors, even better. Walking and yoga are gentle exercises with tremendous health benefits. I once took an outdoor yoga class on a llama farm!

Accept the compliment.
Friend: “You look so nice today.”

Resisting response: “I washed my hair today.”
Better response: “Thank you!”

Take time to be still. Meditate, spend some time in silence even if it’s just for a few minutes. It’s a noisy, messy world; we need to regulate our nervous systems. Don’t know where to start? Try this Meditation for Self Love.

Set boundaries. Learn to be okay with disappointing others. Honor others yes, but honor yourself too by asking yourself what you need.

Get outside support if needed. Find a therapist to talk to. (I acknowledge the privilege here in saying this. Not everyone has access to good healthcare and skilled therapists often don’t take insurance.) Talking with a friend and/or finding online support can be helpful too.

Spend quality time with yourself. Make time to engage in activities that bring you joy. Go on a “date day” with yourself: visit a museum that inspires you, find a new hiking trail, take yourself to lunch. It doesn’t have to cost a lot of money; you just have to be alone.

Learn to let go. For those of us with squirrely brains, this one can be a challenge. It has been life changing for me to ask myself the question, “What do I have control of here? What is my responsibility in this?”

What do you think? Have any of these tools been helpful for you? Do you have any other suggestions? I’m always looking for more tools for the toolbox!

I could barely get the needle beneath the yarn to create the next row. This was my umpteenth attempt to create a scarf, but my efforts had produced little fruit. My mother is a knitter, and my grandmother was a knitter, too. For most of my life, my grandmother rarely strayed from her reclining chair, but she always had a basket of yarn and her knitting needles close by – creating sweaters for children and blankets for babies, she was always working on a knitting project. Even in her later years when her eyesight failed her, she could knit by memory – my mother, roles reversed, helping her fix any mistakes.

When I started homeschooling my daughter three years ago, we thought it would be fun to learn a new handicraft. When we saw that the local library was hosting a knitting group, we showed up with eager hearts. The older women were gifted and skilled artists, far beyond our novice abilities, their years of experience on display in the intricate details of their work. But they were so generous with their knowledge, and patient with us as they taught us how to cast the yarn onto the needles and knit our first rows.

Of course, COVID hit soon after and those group classes were put on hold. Luckily one of the grannies in the group armed us with a book title. After class, she approached us quietly, as if on a stealth mission and whispered, “Stitch ‘n Bitch. You need to get your hands on a book called ‘Stitch ‘n Bitch.’ It will teach you all you need to know.” So naughty, this book. It was Stella’s delight to be able to try out the word “bitch” since it was, after all, in the book title. This is the bible of beginning knitters, and it indeed walked us through the steps of casting on, knitting and purling, and casting off. We pulled it out each winter, thinking that it would be a fun project to pursue on those long, dark, cold days.

For the better part of three winters, I attempted to knit this beginner scarf from the Stitch ‘n Bitch book, with varying degrees of success. The problem wasn’t the book, or the needles, or even the cheap acrylic yarn that splits with each stitch. The problem was me. I just don’t really enjoy knitting. As I wrestled with the yarn on that final day, I realized that I’m never actually going to wear this scarf, and I wasn’t enjoying the process. I realized that I could appreciate knitters and their craft, I could even support their work by purchasing their lovingly handmade items, but I was not actually a knitter myself. I bagged it all up, posted it on my local Buy Nothing page and said good-bye to it forever. It was a relief, really. This bag of yarn, this unfinished project taunted me each winter – an unfinished project that remained…unfinished.  I was happy to release it. Sometimes we try something new, to see if it fits, and then we realize that it doesn’t. Or maybe it once did, but it doesn’t anymore. It was liberating to come to the realization that I didn’t have to stay.

So, in case you need that reminder, too:

We don’t have to stay…
with that activity that doesn’t bring us joy.
with that relationship that threatens our peace.
with that social media page that causes us to compare.
with that habit that is having a negative impact on us or those around us.
with that “good” thing that is consuming too much of our time.
with that institution that feels unjust.
with that belief that we no longer hold.

We don’t have to stay.

Maybe there’s something we are being called to release? (Or at the very least set some boundaries around.) What is your spirit prompting you to leave behind?

Please don’t misunderstand me. I believe in staying. I pride myself on seeing things through and persevering – I don’t believe in abandoning things too soon. I don’t think we should just get up and leave when things get hard. After all, there are many hard things that are beyond our control. There are some hard things that simply cannot be set aside, they are knitted into the fabric of our days. I’m not talking about those things – I’m talking about the things we can control. Sometimes, as we grow and change and transform, things that once felt like home no longer feel right in our spirit, you know? Maybe that’s why yoga is really resonating with me this month – it reminds me to breathe, and to use the exhale to let go of what no longer serves. As my online yoga teacher says, “On the mat we move, we shift, we make adjustments. So it goes with life.”

I’ll admit that sometimes I’m slow to let go of things that perhaps should have been released a while ago. Sometimes I have a habit of staying too long, if not in presence, then in mind.  Is it stubborn hope? Pride? Fear? Maybe all of the above. I admit it’s hard to let go and a bit complex. It can be scary to move on to something new, to move into something perhaps completely unknown. And it’s often painful and disorienting to see the end to things, to lose the comfort of familiarity, particularly if some of those things were so special and sacred to us. But I think it’s okay to express gratitude for a season and then gracefully release it when that season is over.

Lately, I’ve been trying to shift my perspective to ask the question, “What is God inviting me to?” What could be next for us if we listened to the still small voice and left behind the things that are no longer serving us? What if we were brave enough to leave the comforts of the familiar to embrace something new? What new things could we learn? What new people could we meet? What new perspectives would challenge us?

Maybe we would take that class or learn a new skill.
Maybe we’d meet new people with new perspectives.
Maybe we’d exchange healthier habits for unhealthy ones.
Maybe we’d find more time for reading, walking, deep conversations, or yoga!

There has been a lot of loss these past few years. I don’t think anyone has been left untouched by it. But each new day is an invitation to live into something new, if we can just get quiet enough to listen to where God is leading.