How Realism Led Me on the Path to Self-Love & Self-Care

Let me start by saying that I know that self-love and self-care just seem like two popularized hashtags overused on all social media platforms. I am honestly guilty of doing just that. But it would be remiss of me to not share how I've used these two simple concepts to alter my life for the better. Before I get there though, I have to explain exactly how I upgraded into this seemingly positive, seemingly wise, and seemingly optimized version of myself.

I spent a long time wading in the abyss of self-doubt and low self-esteem. In fact, if you knew me personally you would probably be surprised to find that I only just recently identified the source of my self-sabotaging patterns of existence. Of course, my recent Instagram and Facebook posts may suggest that I have otherwise always been a long-lived monk living amongst other spiritually low-ranked human beings. (Self-proclaimed guru that I am now). But I find that my social media posts can only attest to the impact that truly loving and caring for myself over the past year has had.

So, where did my journey of healing and self-actualization begin? How did I get here?

"What is necessary to change a person is to change his awareness of himself."

---Abraham Maslow

When we live, we feel and get through the things that happen to us in life. That's essentially existence. There is no escaping the external events that naturally play out as we go through the daily motions of living. What is a little harder to endure are the internal events that should be triggered by these external events. I am where I am now because I spent a lot of time internally reflecting on past events and gaining the clarity I needed to have a stronger awareness of myself. Through the years I spent going through my memories and analyzing any resulting traumas, I came to this final conclusion:

The source of all my self-doubt and low self-esteem overwhelmingly stemmed from my mind's leanings towards idealism.

You're probably wondering now how idealism plays into a self-sabotaging dynamic. I can tell you that at the very core of idealism is the expectation of perfection. It is the building block to the all-or-nothing thinking that strengthens negative thoughts. It is also the feeding ground to creating unrealistic standards and unhealthy judgments of the self.

I can recall one of the very first disappointments I'd experienced that challenged the idealistic views I had of my life. Around the time I was in the 2nd grade, I came face-to-face with a disappointment so great that it changed me.

I didn't know much about life beyond what was drilled into me at church and through images I drank in from media, so, as far as my naïve mind was concerned, my life was perfect. I grew up within a two-parent household - a married one, at that. (Which was very uncommon where I grew up). Our home may not have been the best, but my parents provided what they could. And I was very close to my father.

My dad and I are both funny. When I was younger he'd laugh at the silly things that I would say and do. There'd be times where he would go out of his way to teach me self-defense techniques to protect myself if he wasn't around. This made me view him as someone utterly flawless.

Until the day I discovered he wasn’t.

I came home from school one afternoon looking for a snack and decided to look around in our kitchen. I could only reach the lower cabinet at the time, so my young mind logically decided to check there first. When I opened the cabinet, there in a black, plastic bag wrapped up and neatly tucked away to the right side ever so secretively, was a bottle of Vodka. Before I could put it back, my dad walked-in and discovered that I had found his secret stash. Before he'd taken it back from me, he asked me not to tell my mother; we went on throughout the rest of the day as if nothing ever happened.

I can't fully articulate the significance of that moment. I just remember that the things I didn't understand before finding that bottle suddenly made sense because I'd discovered two things. The first, that my dad was an alcoholic. The second was that my dad kept things from my mother. I knew from that day on that the perfect life I thought I lived was not as perfect as it seemed. Once I made that discovery, it was as if the veils of perfection began to peel back to reveal a reality that I wasn't prepared to face.

Looking back, the biggest disappointment for me that day wasn't just the lifting of the veil of my fantasy life. It was also the inability for me to see my dad with the same eyes I once did. It took me years to realize that I never could get over the fact that my dad could not live up to my ideal. And this disappointment would go on to permeate everything else I viewed in life.

Beyond that initial disappointment, other disappointments I experienced throughout life reflected the same theme: idealism vs realism.

I would uphold within my mind a certain standard of what I believed a person or an institution should be, to only then be disappointed by the reality. Instead of accepting that things aren't always going to be perfect, I would immediately write the person or institution off. It was very much black or white in thinking. Very much all or nothing. And very much a vicious cycle of let-down.

When it came to my relationships with others, I expected them to be flawless in every aspect of my ideals. If they were a friend, I expected them to uphold my idealistic views of a friend. If they were a boss at work, I expected them to be as flawless as the leadership views I held in my mind; any misstep would call into question their value, which almost always created unnecessary tensions.

The judgments I passed onto others weren't always rigid, but they did tend to alter my perception negatively. I would often find myself subconsciously looking for others to redeem themselves before I would consider them worthy again.

The way I treated myself was in no way better.

The standards I created for myself were actually far harsher than the ones I created for others. At least with others I was inclined to reconsider a past judgment call on their imperfections. For myself, every unfulfilled expectation became an internalized warfare that played on my potential and my self-esteem. I didn't care that being perfect was impossible. My unrealistic standards of perfection were there to satisfy my belief that achieving the ideal was absolutely possible.

But what it really boils down to?

I didn't want to admit that nothing is perfect. Admitting that meant absolving my dad for disappointing me and finally forgiving him for letting me down. For the longest time, the illusion of the ideal was so much better than admitting that truth. That my parents aren't perfect. That I am not perfect. That nothing in life, including life itself, is perfect.

The great news is, I have finally accepted that. I am healing in ways now that I couldn't achieve before admitting and accepting these truths.

Right around the start of the pandemic, I'd finally accepted the reality of the life I lived over the years. The mandates to stay mostly home, left me with time to think of ways I could begin to heal the damage I'd caused myself and others by chasing my ideals. There wasn't much I could do in the area of my relationships with others so I started with what I could - myself.

I say affirmations daily now. My diet is better than it was before and I exercise regularly. I was never big on getting dressed up except for actual occasions, but now I find that there is something significantly soothing with getting dressed to impress myself for no particular reason.

It's a strange and foreign ritual this self-love and self-care routine. But it also feels so familiar. Like coming home.

I can't forget to mention the amount of patience and grace I give myself now that I've accepted the reality of imperfection. Because truth is, there are days I don't give myself love and care. There are days I still think in absolutes. There are days where I escape into the fantasy of my ideals and imagine a world of perfection. But I am better now at reminding myself not to dwell.

Realism is raw - -sometimes ugly, and at times, way less than what I'd hoped for. But I've found me again. And if I had to choose between myself or a perfect world where I lose myself, I'd answer to the one who posed the question:

I don't want to dwell in either extreme.

Now tell me, is that in any way less than ideal?