“Kindness is not just about how you treat others; it’s rooted in how you treat yourself.” — Londro Rinzler
I was a pleaser. I volunteered in scouts for everything they asked and volunteered at church every Sunday and for several years I coached soccer. I worked all day and then after the family went to bed for four more hours. Worried what people would think, I did not get tattoos and even wore the type of clothes people expected me to wear. I rarely did anything for personal rest or pleasure. I lived to serve others.
This is not healthy. I do not know how to be kind to myself. I do not even know what I want except I am certain I want my children back. Forcing myself to slow down, I no longer volunteer and I work less. There is now two tattoos; one in memory of my son who died and one for my living daughter.
I read hoping to find a magic salve for my soul but it alludes me. After living with pain, misery, and grief for 27 years, I cannot fathom what true kindness to myself would look like nor ever imagine it occurring. This scares me because as Londro Rinzler said, if I cannot be kind to myself, to heal the wounds enough to not bleed in public, how can I ever be kind to others? How can I function in the world of those who live?