TGIF :: On Self-Grace

Weekly drop #26 || Accepting, learning from, and ultimately appreciating prior versions of ourselves

Thank you for reading. I am grateful for your support, your reactions that help my newsletter be more discoverable, and for your communications letting me know something I’ve shared here has impacted you in some way.

Early in my travels last week, my dear friend Andrew texted me this photo with the following note “Found an old watercolor pad and this was tucked into the pages. ❤️ Such a beautiful shot.”

~1998

Taken by a photographer-friend on the porch of a vacant home in the Presidio of San Francisco sometime in the late 1990s, we’d spent the afternoon experimenting with him as the stylist and me as the model.

In our early twenties, we navigated post-undergrad confusion, juggling jobs and tuition, driven by optimism, dreams, and homemade martinis. The world seemed so big, the life ahead so long, and my place in it all still so unclear. A perfect weekend day was spent sleeping off a hangover, lingering over brunch at a sidewalk cafe, then meandering through the city on foot, window shopping, thrifting, and perusing fashion magazines.

The old me.

When I opened his text, instead of warm recollection of a shared memory, I experienced a flash of frustration and shame.

This is a photo of the old me. I am different now.

The image is of a version of myself I’ve fought hard to leave behind: slouched posture, baggy black clothes chosen to conceal by body, and a puffiness I fought for years (finally relieved of in my forties when I started choosing water over wine). The jewelry I’m wearing even stung of characters safely packaged in life chapters volumes ago.

It isn’t about the picture.

I considered this more deeply in my many hours alone “on the road” last week. Why be so dismissive of a past? Why deny a prior version of ourselves? What is it that sparked such emotion for me on this? I had a similar experience a few weeks prior while complaining to a family member about consequences of teen drinking that hit particularly close to home. “You were doing the exact same thing at that age, Cecily,” he asserted. Right. Ouch.

Dawn @Iona, Saturday

Reflecting on other memories that make me feel similarly, they are all of things that were said or done when the emotions of the moment took over—raising my voice, ending a call abruptly, impulsive decisions at Big Life Forks. The beauty of these recognitions is the awareness around how we might do it differently equipped with what we know today, because, growth. Isn’t that the point?

Eventually (almost a week later), trying to keep it light, I responded to Andrew’s text with “Feels like multiple lifetimes ago!” to which he aptly responded “Kinda was for both of us!”

His response softened me. He’s right. We’re both different.

ClearLife and Self-Grace

We are impermanent, dynamic creatures, always evolving. For anyone on a ClearLife journey, changes can be significant—relationships, careers, appearances, and how we spend our time are impacted by shifts in our consumption habits. It’s no wonder that I often see and hear members of this community bristle at prior actions, decisions, and wholesale versions of ourselves—just like I did when I received this otherwise sweet 25-year old photo from a dear, well-intended friend.

The opportunity is to give ourselves some grace—accept, understand, learn from, and forgive ourselves when looking back—whether years or hours. Most of the time, we were doing our best with the the tools and circumstances we had in each moment.

Shame

This was a pillar of the earlier years of my own ClearLife journey. It took a while, but years after my mother tragically died of an alcohol-related cancer, I finally shed my anger and disappointment in her and started to really empathize with, love and ultimately forgive her.

She was doing her best.

This realization came with a life-rocking wave of compassion and love for my mamma, feelings I wish I’d had when she was still alive, so I could share them with her directly, looking in her eyes, holding her frail, always manicured hands.

Yet, this sensation had barely settled in when next arose a rush of shame: How could I have been so hard on her, not just loved her the way she needed to be loved?

1974

With even more time, I’ve been able to extend this same compassion and love to myself. Yes, I could have been more kind, more empathetic, more capable of loving her the way she needed to be loved. Yet, like her, I was doing my best with the tools I had at the time. This kind of awareness has the power to inform how we accept, love, and support people today.

Practices for Self-Grace

Hopefully, we all have memories of things we said or did that don’t fit with the today-version of ourselves, because we’ve evolved since then. When we are reminded of something we are not proud of, or feel shame around, we have a choice. How we react to something in the rear view mirror (shame vs. empathy, for example) impacts how we show up in the drivers’ seat today. The opportunity is to be as compassionate as possible towards that prior version of ourselves, be grateful for the awareness that has arisen therefrom, and embody the learning.

A few other ideas for self-grace:

1. Embrace impermanence. We are always evolving. We can accept that as the years pass, more aware versions of ourselves are showing up. We need all of that change to lead us to what’s next.

2. Accept the lesson. We may not like the way we responded to something (and this could be as minor as how we said hello or goodbye to someone recently), but we can almost always (1) attempt to repair and (2) handle a similar situation differently next time.

3. Know perfection is a fantasy. Many of us are our own worst critic. The things we see as messy or problematic in ourselves are also what make us human, relatable—and lovable. Lessened attachment to how things should be means more levity and presence in the moment, and ultimately more connection.

Connection

My friend Andrew and I see each other a lot less these days, primarily thanks to the thousands of miles stretched out between us. Yet, knowing him, he may have intuited that this image was some kind of whisper or medicine I needed in this moment. Instead of deleting it (my first impulse), I just saved the photo, not because I like it, but because I want to be reminded of this notion of self-grace.

And, I now feel a certain tenderness for the girl in the image. I want to reassure her: We are going to be alright. I want to thank her for charging through life as she did to help me get to today. I want to hug her and tell her she doesn’t need to hide herself or pretend to be so tough all the time.

Maybe she’d tell me the same.

Love. ❤️

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Miscellaneous….

Podcast: On Being with Krista Tippett… I might be the last to discover her, but wow. Everything about how she approaches a topic, a human, and a moment is a work of art in curiosity and words. I encourage a listen to some of her seemingly countless episodes discoverable here.

Intrigued by… I met with the hardworking humans behind Alcohol Justice yesterday, advocates and organizers seeking to reduce alcohol-related harm with efforts such as community education and legislative action. I am moved by their efforts while equally stunned by the obstacles they face, funded by Big Alcohol. #following

Sangha Saturdays… continue tomorrow with our first in-person gathering in Mill Valley. Directions will be sent to those who RSVP’d yes later today. There are 1-2 more spots if anyone is inclined to join us. You can indicate interest here. The next zoom version will take place on Saturday October 14th.