By Guest Blogger on May 10, 2010

How to Nurture Yourself & Be Your Own Mother

By Tama J. Kieves

I have had to learn how to mother myself. I love my mother more than ever before, but for many years I felt I got the short end of the umbilical cord. Like many of us, I didn’t get the movie mother — the tireless cheerleader, the fierce cub protector, or the one who listened deeply to all my secret places and saw colors in me that I had yet to see. That mother was on back order when I was placing my cosmic selection. Instead, I got someone who hadn’t read the manual and, I know now, deserved and needed a mother herself.

But I have become a great mother to myself.

It has taken years, mind you. At first, I took the sad track to the broken amusement park ride “It’s Not Fair.” But soon you realize that nothing has changed and ever will change. Yes, I’d wince when I meet someone who had a mother that was their best friend or they aspired to be like. I’d avert my eyes from that glow — like seeing something so beautiful and private that I could never have and wasn’t meant for me.

But it was meant for me. It was meant for all of us. Even if you have a great mother, it’s important and life changing to become that nurturing presence for yourself. It’s a practice like chess or yoga. You can get better at being there for yourself in ways that rock your soul.

I’ve learned to become a fierce advocate for my joy. I am still working on becoming a resourceful presence for my pain. I tell myself, “You can tell me anything,” and mean it. I no longer punish myself for feeling helpless, angry, jealous, or stuck, and I’m willing to fill a thousand journals with my feelings. I buy myself tokens to celebrate achievements, large and small. I whisper to myself in the crevices of emptiness between my bones, “I’m proud of and have so much faith in you.”

I used to think it was sad to have to be nice to myself, since I didn’t have a “real person” to do it. Then I thought it could even be destructive, as though the worst parts of me, liberated from criticism and threats, could grow like spores. But it turns out that I’m not reckless when loved; I’m soothed and healed. It turns out that when I don’t have to protect myself from my own self-judgment I’m not interested in indulgence and escapism. And lately, I see self-kindness as a matter of pragmatism and responsibility. I am called to be a steward of the abilities and gifts that only I have, represent the sacred love that comes through me, and tend my fire and keep it burning, creating one more source of light and warmth. As I take care of myself, I am one less broken soul, one more capable being on the front lines ready to tend to the wounded.

I’ve learned how to mother myself from many sources, for which I am grateful. I’ve learned from the forgiving eyes of therapists how to listen to myself with less judgment. I’ve learned from the tender gestures of friends and lovers how to buy myself grapefruit juice, treasure my impish smile, and say “Oh honey” in the hard times. I’ve been amazed by the spontaneous mothering I’ve experienced from total strangers, people who saw me leaning against a wall like a wild rose bush and gently tucked a trellis underneath my leaves and helped me find a stable way to grow. I’ve been saved, redeemed, and taught by the kindness of brief acquaintances who may have received something basic in return, but who loosened a dark primeval knot inside my soul. I’ve felt safer in this life knowing that mothers — beings of nurturing, kindness, support, and love — are everywhere and that I do not have to be related to be deeply connected.

I’ve also learned from wisdom paths like Buddhism and A Course in Miracles. I’ve learned to become a loving witness for others and in so doing become that witness for myself. I’ve learned to discover and listen to a sweet beloved inner voice that is mother, father, lover, creator, and an original intelligence with the power of ten thousand waterfalls, the softness of a puppy’s breath. I continue to learn that I am never alone and infinitely loved, though love may come from a line in a book or the fragrance of a garden.

Since I have committed to following my dreams, I deliberately set out to become my own advocate and cheerleader. I knew there would be cut glass, abandoned markers, questions, and locked doors upon the path. I have consciously created a voice of encouragement within myself that sees my bravery for daring and care about effort, not results. It’s this voice that keeps me warm with praise and puts cotton in my ears when dark stories are told. It’s this voice that keeps lists of encouraging signs, scraps of evidence in my favor. It’s this voice that will scream from the bleachers when I die, “Way to go dear one. You gave it everything you had. It’s been a great ride!”

The beautiful thing about becoming this presence to myself is how much it’s enabled me to gift others with this love, to be that generous stranger for another, to be that lightning rod for my friends, family, clients, and students. I’ve turned some of my private ache into public service. I have even learned to mother my mother, a rag tag child herself, lost at sea in judgments, opinions, and injuries I will never completely know. Sometimes I do not feel appreciated or seen by her, but I am always appreciated and seen by me.

This month, think of nurturing yourself as your responsibility. Buy yourself a small gift or token of gratitude and support. Thank people in your life for their tenderness and kindness. The world is full of dynamite mothers, including you.

Tama J. Kieves is the bestselling author of This Time I Dance! Creating the Work You Love (How One Harvard Lawyer Left It All to Have It All!) and is a sought-after speaker and career coach who has helped thousands worldwide to discover and live their true work in the world. Visit her at www.ThisTimeIDance.com and sign up for free inspiration and support through her monthly e-newsletter or download her Free Transformational Report on “Finding Your Calling Now.”

 

 

   
 

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