Be Kind to Yourself
After my beloved husband of thirty-three years passed away, I was fortunate enough to have a professional therapist guide me through my grief. At first I needed her daily, but it gradually slowed to once a month. And last week, I graduated! (…with the understanding that if an unsuspected tsunami of sorrow consumes me, I’ll send an SOS). This wonderful woman yanked me from the roiling rapids of denial and anger, propped me up when I was too depressed to stand, and ultimately directed me to a life of my own. Her last words to me were, “Be kind to yourself.”
I wanted to have a neon sign implanted in my brain that glowed 24/7 with those words. I still have pals, and my pooch, but I need to know how to be my own best friend at the drop of a hat.
So with my new diploma, and my resolve to treat myself kindly, I did what anybody would do to show gratitude to their best friend: I took myself to Wal-Mart at high noon on the day before Thanksgiving.
The parking lot was jammin.’ I always park at the outer edge of the lot and walk—to avoid the sea of cars. But there was no avoiding it that day!
Be kind to yourself. Don’t succumb to auto-agitation.
I didn’t need much—just a few things to round out Thanksgiving dinner. The things I forgot to get the previous day.
Be kind to yourself. You’re entitled to forget something once in awhile!”
I quickly got in the first check-out line I came to, because it appeared to be the shortest—and she who hesitates waits longer. But alas, the woman in front of me had her grocery cart stacked to the moon. Hence the short line.
The woman looked at my scant provisions and suggested I go in front of her—but she had already begun to unload her groceries onto the conveyer belt, so I told her that was not necessary. I had plenty of time.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup! And it looks like you’re going to have a busier day than I am tomorrow! You need to get home!”
“Yes,” she said. “A big day. I have ten children all coming home for Thanksgiving.”
“Wow! You are going to be busy.”
“Oh, but the good thing is my oldest son, who is 35, is going to do all the cooking!”
And so it went. Exchanging tidbits about our children and our holidays.
Once she got the bill for her groceries, she jokingly thanked the clerk for keeping the total under $300. Then she loitered at the end of the counter, with the mountain of bagged groceries in her cart, while the cashier tallied my bill.
I pulled out my debit card to pay, but the kind woman with ten children intervened.
“I want to honor this lady,” she said—and handed the clerk cash enough to cover my bill. I was flabbergasted! This random act of kindness made my eyes water. I gave her an unsolicited hug.
All I can figure is that kindness can’t be contained. I could have been sour and surly, but I had “self kindness” on the brain. My therapist’s prescription to peace in my world—which, if done properly, appears to be contagious.
To the generous mother of ten children, Thank you! You altered the meaning of Thanksgiving for me.
And to the rest of you—be kind. To yourselves, as well as others. Surprising things can happen!