I find, very consistently, that the less judgment I carry around, the happier I am. Judgment of others and judgment of myself, both. I’ve found that one breeds more of the other.
In terms of self-judgment, I’ve always been pretty tough on myself. I’ve mentioned my “not enough” syndrome in other posts. My brother and I had a running joke when I was just a little girl. He would say, “Lindy, you have a guilt complex.”
And I’d reply, “I’m sorry.”
It was a pretty horrible joke.
I found this on eBay. It made me a little nauseous seeing it again.
I got in the habit of saying “I’m sorry” at a very young age. A lot. I said it so often that a boyfriend in high school gave me as a birthday gift one year a little award-statue of Snoopy—who I loved—with a tear in his eyes and the words on the base, “I’m Sorry.” He told me he thought it was cute how I said it all the time. That certainly was a red flag, although I had a hard time recognizing them back then. And for a long time to come.
I realize I started this blog talking about judgment, and now I’ve segued to guilt and shame. They’re all related. They all live in the same house, along with fear and other things like insecurity and self-doubt and hate, lots of annoying visitors and cruel cousins.
I guess the opposite of judgment is acceptance. But with boundaries and self-care, a.k.a. LOVE. That’s important!
We’re not talking just blind acceptance.
When it comes to self-judgment, I have come a long way with acceptance and love when it comes to body image. I had a very poor body image for a long time. I was termed a “big girl” by my mother when I was little. She is blonde, blue-eyed and small-boned. I always thought of her as petite. I have brown hair and thicker limbs, a bit like my Russian grandmother. I bought into the image. Other terms I heard were “a little overweight,” “pleasantly plump,” “a little chubby.”
Also, she never called me pretty or beautiful. I was told I had a cute face and smile, but felt my body and coloring to her were a disappointment.
And what happens when you frequently hear such labels is self-fulfilling prophecy. I was often 10 or 20 pounds “overweight.” I developed my own personal eating disorder, emotional snacking and grazing. And I smiled compulsively until I was 41 years old. If she said anything more flattering to me in my youth or adulthood, which she might have, I wasn’t able to hear it. My inner voice and judgment were too loud and mean and stubborn.
I’ll never forget when I shed pounds in early adulthood, and my mother was going through her closet getting rid of clothes she never wore. Among them were these awesome, authentic early 1970s mini-skirts. She gave them to me, and they all fit. I couldn’t believe it! It was like an awakening. I thought of myself as so much bigger than her, but we were the same size. Exactly the same size. And I was an inch taller than her.
It was crazy what I did to myself as a result of that early labeling! I loved to dance. I still do. I dance every day, usually to hip hop dance videos on YouTube. My favorite is Hip Hop Fit with Mike Peele. A shout out to Mike! A great instructor. So much fun. My first dance recital was at five or six years old. I had taken a hula dance class and performed to Tiny Bubbles by Don Ho in a grass skirt and what I remember as a coconut bikini top. I was thankfully too little to feel any shame. I loved it!
Photo by Bernard on Unsplash
But by the time I was eight years old, body shame had squarely set in. I was taking tap dancing and modern jazz classes. The dancing was great, and I was pretty good at it. We had a culminating recital, however, and I still feel the utter shame of being the “biggest girl” in leotards and tights. I may not have been, but that was my self-perception.
I may expound on the poor body image theme in another blog. So many people suffer from it. These days—thanks to over a decade of therapy and self-work—I feel beautiful a lot of the time, consistently for the first time in my life.
We can grow and change, which gives me hope for humanity.
The problem, of course, is that fear makes us resistant to change. Which contradicts reality, if you think about it. Because life is constantly changing (a wonderful oxymoron, but true!). We get older, situations change, the earth around us shifts and grows and decays and sprouts. People are born and die. Nothing stays the same. You can count on change. I actually find that comforting.
But back to judgment…
When it comes to the judgment of others, I have found it very freeing to stop judging and expecting so much of others, which I’ve been able to free myself from only by freeing myself from self-judgment and self-expectations.
Think about driving without judgment of others. It’s great! It’s much more peaceful on the road when you don’t get mad at other people’s minor errors, at their irritated honking and road rage, tailgating, line-skipping or hazardous driving. The boundaries and self-care come into play in this scenario with lots of awareness of what’s around you, communication of your own actions (I’m big on turn signals!), not having to be the fastest car on the road, and giving yourself extra time to get somewhere so you can wait patiently for slow pedestrians and older drivers.
As I’ve learned to shed judgment, I discovered I was expecting too much of my husband without knowing I was. It was like I wanted him to make up for my shortfalls, like I expected him to be this knight in shining armor or something. I was easily irritated by small errors he made. When I realized this and was able to let it go, our relationship immediately improved. Of course, there was more work to it than that on both our parts, but letting go of the knight was a definite factor. And I love him being human and being himself. It’s much, much better than having this ideal he could never live up to. Just like I had an ideal for myself that I could never live up to.
I’m sure I can come up with a dozen more examples of judgment turned to self-acceptance, forgiveness and love, and of shedding the judgment of others. But suffice it to say, I’m not completely without judgment. It rears its head. I imagine—without researching it for once (though it makes me nervous not to) that being completely free of judgment is approaching Nirvana.
I just know it takes ongoing practice to let go of judgment. It’s the work of awareness that doesn’t stop. Of reminding one’s self that there’s a lot to love. Every day. Even on the worst days.
And, boy, it’s worth the work!
Worthy of Love, Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash copy