Loving me

“I want to be the best version of myself.”

I’ve read it, heard it, nodded my head in response.

Yes, of course I want to be the best version of myself. 

Recently, however, I’ve wondered. Do I?

What does that mean, “best” version? Would it be acceptable if I were the truest version of myself? The most vulnerable version of myself? The most spontaneous version of myself? The most present version of myself?

What if I just showed up, steadfast in simply being who I am?

Sometimes I am exceptionally intuitive. Brilliant, even, in my insights. “Wicked smart,” someone told me. (I quite liked that comment.)

Sometimes I am exceptionally dense. Dull, even, in my mental fog about a topic or a person or a situation. (And honestly, if you told me I was being rather dull today, I don’t think I’d be saying thank you for your truthfulness.)

Am I a better person when I am tuned in to my intuitive nature than when I am absorbed in the fog of past trauma? Do you like me better? Do you run away from being in relationship with me when I am furious to the point of ranting and raving for at least 20 minutes?

I no longer care to be the “best” version of myself. It implies another side of me that might come across as the “worst” version of myself. 

Today, I am a little bloated. It’s possible my waistband is a little tighter this morning. Perhaps I’ve enjoyed more helpings of certain foods lately. Does this mean I have indulged? Is this a sign that I must quickly restrict myself from further enjoyment of a particular food, even to the point of suffering? Am I a better person if my waistband is not so tight?

Lately, I’ve been considering a different set of questions. I don’t enjoy feeling the tightness of my waistband. I prefer a little more ease in the fit of my clothing. I could offer myself some time to inquire about this. 

Food has been a source of emotional comfort to me in the past. Have I been feeling a need for comfort lately? Is there something troubling me? Something I have been ignoring? Even avoiding? 

Have I been taking care of what other people need from me to the point of ignoring what I need from me? And if I recognize the “yes” in response to that question, then what do I need? What have I been ignoring? And how might I offer a time of listening to that being within me that is feeling sad or ashamed or afraid? 

I don’t need to start restricting my calories in response to my tightened waistband. I need to take the time to listen to the younger version of myself. The one who needed solace in a time of deep distress, the one who felt she was alone, the one who tried to do better in a world that measured her worth by being good. 

I am not alone. I have nothing to prove in order to be loved. I can be here for myself, standing alongside that little one who needs solace. I can solace her, until her breathing slows and her heart softens and the darkness dissipates.

I do not need to be “better” than I am. Or to be the best version of myself. There is no better version of myself than the person I am this very day, this very moment.

I am already all I need to be. Yes, still becoming. Still learning to find my own belovedness in the midst of life as it is. Sometimes bumpy. Sometimes confusing. Sometimes a little disconcerting. 

In the light of self compassion — authentic self-care — the tightened waistband is of little concern. It is a signal that I am needing something more. More time, more rest, more art perhaps. More listening. More noticing. I might choose to wear something with a different waistband for a time, while I settle into who I am in this very now.

I don’t need to be the “best” version of myself. Only the most loving toward the parts of me that need my attention.