I thought I loved myself.

To, like, a reasonable level, not a narcissistic level. Sure, I have my share of insecurities. Including speaking up. Failing. Looking stupid. My nose, my eyes… WHATEVER. Your usual been-brought-up-in-modern-society-and-barraged-by-advertising hangups. But deep down, I thought I loved myself.

Yet, just over a year ago, I was doing a Yoga with Adriene (SUBSCRIBE–you will not regret it) video and she said, “Move like your love yourself.”

My first reaction was I DO LOVE MYSELF, ADRIENE. WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!

Followed seconds later by… oh. OH. *cue light bulb moment* The rest of the practice, I focused on moving like I would if I loved myself. I was careful with my movements, gentle. I caressed my thigh a little in a transition and dug my thumbs into the arches of my feet in lotus. When I inevitably fell out of tree pose instead of the reflexive you uncoordinated dolt, I smiled to myself and said, Get right back in there, sweetheart. You’ve got this.

I got awful close to cloud 9 that day. Maybe I even perched there for a moment.

Soon after, I got pregnant and had a baby and got sleep deprived and my focus was all outward rather than inward. I forgot about moving at all, nevermind loving myself while doing so, blundering through the days with bleary eyes, changing diapers, nursing, rocking, reading–loving every minute of it. All my love poured out of me and into this little being.

As the days moved on and baby became more independent, I found more time for myself.

So, January 1st–in an effort to feel strong again–I joined in Adriene’s 30-day January challenge called Home. It’s been lovely. Just what I needed to start the year. And, what do you know, in one of the early practices, she said, “Move like you love yourself.”

I don’t know if it’s because of sleep deprivation or inattention or what, but lately my body can’t seem to avoid running into furniture. I see it; I don’t adjust; I slam into it. Resulting in many a bruise.

And so this time when Adriene spoke, I got a little teary. And later in the day, when baby was down for his second nap, in the moment between finishing the dishes and starting the laundry, the words came back. I had another lightbulb moment, just like the one a year ago, but this one with another layer.

I didn’t need to just move like I loved myself.

I needed to eat like I loved myself.
I needed to exercise like I loved myself.
I needed to rest like I loved myself.
…work like I loved myself.
…talk like I loved myself.
…and talk to myself like I loved myself.

I thought about everything I do for my baby because I love him. I feed him healthy foods so he’ll grow strong. I put him to sleep at the same time every night and down for naps so he’ll be happy and well-rested. I want him to grow up and be happy and find his fulfillment. I want him to follow his curiosity, indulge his creativity.

So why wouldn’t I want this for myself?

To be honest, I’ve been in a funk for the last month and a half. It’s a yearly thing to some extent, probably due to the short days and the busy holidays. But this year it also coincided with a book I quit writing halfway through just after Thanksgiving, and another from October that I need to rewrite from scratch. Both under a pen name that I’m not sure I want to continue.

Those two events back-to-back are not good for the psyche of a writer.

I found myself paralyzed, and I’m still in that paralysis, though this is a step forward. Just writing here. To myself, to whomever will read, it doesn’t really matter. I’m doing something for myself. I’m writing.

I’m not sure what’s next for me, though I feel like something’s hanging just outside my vision. If I lean forward–if I lean in–just a bit I might be able to reach whatever’s on the other side of the curtain. Yeah, I know, I just mixed the hell out of my metaphors, but that’s where I am right now. In one mixed metaphor jumble.

All this to say:

Live Like You Love Yourself.

That’s my phrase of the year. I’m going to follow my curiosity, challenge myself, sleep, be kind in my failures, take my time, stop rushing, eat well, indulge sometimes, do things I love, rest–all because I love myself. Damnit.

And when I inevitably fail, I’ll read my little reminder card and try again.