(no subject)

[johnpalmer]

On a good day, when my heart was filled with love, and my head was clear (i.e.: undepressed):

I think that, if a child gave me a scribbled drawing, saying "I made this for you", it would be a beautiful picture.

I think that if a child tried to clean up a mess, even it was a bigger mess afterwards, it'd touch my heart deeply.

I think that if a child sang me an off-key, nonsense song, it'd bring a huge smile to my face, and I'd say that the child sang beautifully.

I was reading a Live Journal entry, and a thought came to me.

If you love yourself, as dearly as you might love a child who earnestly and happily tries to be nice to you, you should accept your limitations and faults, as easily as you'd accept the limitations and faults of that child.

And, as angry as you'd be at a nasty critic who'd hurt the feelings of children who are doing their best, I think you should be that angry at the internal critics who'd do the same thing to you.

So if you wanted to sing a song, for yourself, and stopped, embarrassed at how terrible you'd sound - even if no one was listening - maybe it's time to turn a sharp eye at the voice that told you not to sing. Maybe it's time to say "don't you *dare*! I don't care if it's the worst singing of the worst song in the world; you have no business hurting that person's feelings! *I* wanted to hear that song, sung out of sheer happiness, and a desire to make *me* happy as well!"

It's not just singing, of course... there's a lot in life where folks end up not giving themselves the same break that they'd give to someone else they loved, who they believed was doing their best.

I hope, the next time I hear the self-critic starting up, I'll be as ready to protect myself from unwarranted nastiness as I would be ready to protect another. I hope the same holds for everyone who reads this, who has their own nasty self-critic.

Comments

[griffen.livejournal.com]

This is beautiful, John. May I add it to my memories, and link to it in my LJ?

[johnpalmer.livejournal.com]

Yes, you can link to it or add it to memories. I'd like to know more people would see this... it was an idea my brain seized and said "John, this is important... follow it!"

[meallanmouse.livejournal.com]

:: follows link from griffen's LJ, and also adds to memories ::

[kightp.livejournal.com]

*yesyesyesyesyes*

(I'm so glad the LJ logjam broke long enough to let me see this today, love.)

I'm adding it to my Memories, too. Would it be OK if, once in a while when you're having one of those not-so-good days, I just e-mailed you the URL as a reminder?

[boojum.livejournal.com]

I like this. It's very similar to a quote I've been rolling around in my mind for a while. (From _The Sparrow_ by Mary Doria Russell. Page 80 of the trade paper version, end of chapter 9.) The Jesuit Father General is talking to a physically and mentally battered priest (Sandoz) who just spent the last six hours trashing his body for psychological reasons, trying to push past limits imposed by his physical condition. He says "'If you treated anyone else as you have treated yourself during the past six hours, you would be guilty of assault,' he told Sandoz flatly. 'This will cease. From this moment on, you will show your body the respect it deserves as God's creation. [...] You will care for your own body as you would for that of a friend to whom you are indebted.'" More words to throw at internal demons, hopefully.

[claire.livejournal.com]

Glad I saw this today - it helped. Thank you.

[eleccham.livejournal.com]

I would do well to remember this. I am definitely my own worst critic.

[iamjw.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I believe I'll be joining those who put this in their memory files.

A while ago in a.c., I was bemoaning my own particular demons. I picture them as a little man (why male I don't know - most of my critics growing up were female) who pops up in the back of my head to jabber nastiness at me. A friend in a.c. gave me a virtual 6 foot long red plastic inflatable hammer, with which to play whack-a-mole with this little man.

It helps - if only because the image of the hammer itself is so wonderful.

I often wish that the child I was had been trusting enough and open enough with others to let the adults in her life know what was going wrong with her. I suspect they would have reacted with compassion, and tried to alleviate some of the her suffering. Not all, I'm sure, but some at least. I was not, after all, raised by monsters. She needed love, that child, and more specifically she needed the outward manifestations of it - the hugs and touching, the gentle words. She didn't get them - or at least not as many as she needed, and I so wish I could go back and give them to her - or if I could suspend disbelief long enough to do so. She was an interesting child - self-assured, outgoing, introspective.

The good news is that recently I've been excavating bits of her, redeveloping those characteristics in myself. I'm not exactly sure when fear took over my life - but I find myself more and more willing to face those fears these days - and more and more satisfied with the results.

So....I'm learning to forgive the adult me her faults in order to allow the child me to bring forth her strengths.

And so it goes....

[dandelion-diva.livejournal.com]

*Thank* you. This is beautiful...I'm going to write it in my paper journal and send it to myself in mail, so I'll always have a copy when I need it. I hope you read it when you need to be reminded, as well. *smile*

*HUG*

Gessi

[bassbone.livejournal.com]

Someone posted a link to this in a comment after a rather depressing entry in my LJ. Thank you. It helped.

[caltastic]

I feel a little strange here, and a little shy. Isn't that funny? You've known me most of my life, and I'm a little shy posting a comment and attaching my link to it, knowing that you'll go click on the little button that has my name on it -- and see that there isn't anything of substance in my journal at all. Oops. :)

LiveJournal is such a strange place. I was looking at the information for a friend of a friend, and I saw that they had 'johnpalmer' linked. "Huh. I wonder..." And so I looked. And I found this, and I read it, and just these few lines here were so YOU that I had to read everything, like some creepy voyeur.

It made me think about being fifteen, and learning how to roll dice -- and being sixteen, and trying to learn calculus -- and being seventeen, and STILL trying to learn calculus -- and being eighteen, and being a stark raving ass. Then I thought of the Realm of Chaos and Ranma and your chili -- God, you have no idea how much I miss your chili.

And then I thought about the last thing you said to me, at Bill and Rosie's wedding -- you told me how brave I was, and that you were proud of me. That was when I started to cry.

I'm sorry that I've forgotten my calculus. That feels like I've failed you, somehow. I'm sorry that I've forgotten how to keep in touch. I'm sorry. For so many things.

I just wanted to let you know that even your memory is still one of the dearest friends I've ever had. Thank you for that.

Amy

[johnpalmer.livejournal.com]

Well, I can match you "I'm sorry", especially at the moment. First question was "respond in email or journal?" and the second was "What do I want to say?" and then I got all caught up in joblessness and job hunting and trying to learn skills because I've been stuck at a job that was essentially the networking equivalent of "night watchmen". Mind you, I was a *very* well paid night watchman, but it wasn't until I noticed that Microsoft was coming out with the next version of Windows Server that my skills were *REALLY* badly out of date, and I had to change jobs to get some experience at doing something real. So... now I'm trying to get an MCDBA in a frightfully short period of time (six weeks for the core exams is my goal), and I decide to go back through my entries...

And feel that all-too-normal "you forgot something important that you didn't want to forget" feeling.

I hope you have email notifications turned on, so I don't have to decide which email address to try.

And I hope you know, deep down somewhere, that I never stop loving people... so I still love you. Love changes, and finds the best type of love that fits, but it doesn't end. I still remember you, warmly and fairly often, and wish the 'far off place' you'd moved to was in the Pacific Northwest, rather than "down south".

(Erm... what with "never stop loving", and all, this isn't a "I'm pining for you" letter, just a "boy, wouldn't it be neat, now that I moved to Seattle, to find someone I'd lost track of had moved here too!" )

I hope things are going really well for you.

[caltastic]

No worries; I don't even think you have anything valid for me anymore, since GCFN cancelled my account. My current address is listed on my userinfo; I check that regularly. Drop me a line, if the mood strikes you, and we'll catch up.

It's good to hear from you. Really, really good. Thanks.

Thank You

[kylakae.livejournal.com]

John, I saw your name today on another a.c. patrons page and remembering you from way back when I happened across this post. I'm thankful I did as I needed it today. Thank you!