#181 – And when I caused the harm?

A former client once told me that, as a toddler and young kid, she used to bump her head against the couch whenever she made a mistake. Like many people, she believed self-punishment was the way to greatness.

It's not. If you have harmed someone, how does inflicting harm on yourself help them heal? Wouldn't that merely fulfill their low desire for revenge?

Instead, I grow courageous every time I choose to forgive myself. By accepting my own mistakes as mistakes and not as signs of an evil nature, I let go of the need for validation from others.

When my sister accused me of having used her to get what I wanted, I had to face the possibility that she was telling the truth and I was, indeed, an egotistical manipulator.

After days of self-inquiry, I came to the conclusion that my actions didn't stem from hand-wringing malice or dollar-sign-eyed greed. They came from the fact that I'm not perfect. In other words, yes, I made a mistake, but it was honest and well-intended.

Either way, I needed to work on forgiving myself. Knowing that it wouldn't change how I felt about my actions, I didn't beg my sister for forgiveness – it seemed clear to me that she needed to do her own inner work.

So, every day, I devoted hours to practicing self-forgiveness through RAIN meditation:

First, I recognized what I was feeling (the R in RAIN):

• the fear that I'd caused her very serious harm
• the fear that she had an undiagnosed personality disorder, which would have made my actions even more harmful
• the shame for not having been able to pull off what I said I would – my imperfection
• the sorrow for her suffering

Second, I worked on accepting these feelings without judging them, saying "yes, this belongs," as Tara Brach teaches (the A in RAIN).

• yes, I have fear
• yes, I have shame
• yes, I have sorrow

Third, I investigated even more deeply what was really going on (the I in RAIN).

When I asked myself what was triggering those feelings, I realized it all boiled down to one thing: I wasn't perfect, which, in a very young part of my mind, seemed to disappoint everyone around. That was what I needed to forgive in myself – my lack of perfection.

Fourth, I asked this very young part how I – my mature self – could nurture her (the N in RAIN).

This very young part felt that her lack of perfection was a source of disappointment for the world and she just needed me to reassure her that she was okay. That it's okay to not be perfect. That she didn't need to be perfect in order to be loved.

What will you forgive yourself for even if no one knows about it?

Love,

Carolina