I have a long history of being unkind to the person I know best.
I’ve belittled myself. I’ve called myself stupid. I’ve shamed myself for being ugly. I’ve screamed at myself in my head for making self-destructive decisions. I’ve constantly criticized my blindness when I haven’t noticed problems in time to fix them. Every time I have been less than perfect, I’ve been there to shame myself about it.
Even though this behavior has been with me for as long as I can remember, I didn’t realize what I was doing until recently. And this realization has started giving me compassion for myself in a way I’ve never known.
It’s taken me many years to piece together the mosaic of who I am and how I became what I am. One moment in a psychologist’s office about 15 years ago was a key moment in that process, though.