I had this dream. An embarrassing and mortifying one. Truly mortifying. A dream in which my behavior was seriously off the charts of my waking values system. Just off the charts…
I was startled, ok, stunned, remembering the dream. This is not the “me” I am now. I mean, when I was much, much younger, perhaps, but after all the years of therapy and working hard to be accountable to myself? No!
I still dreamed that dream. Even more scary was my concern that, perhaps, I’m not the person I think I am, today.
Nope, not an idyllic morning. Waking up startled, followed by a boatload (and I mean, a boatload) of self-criticism. If there had been any wooded hills hereabouts, I would have headed straight for them to soothe my judging heart with a deep dunk in nature. No hills. Anywhere nearby. Just paddling away in my own little sea of churning self-criticism. Wait, is that a shark fin I see heading in my direction?
Stop!
Do I need to do this to myself? (And sharks, to boot! Give me a break.) For the most part, I’m a caring human being, and like the rest of us, fallible and imperfect. (Come on, don’t tell me you’re not fallible and imperfect.) Nonetheless, trying to take some responsibility for those, untoward, dream-based images, streaming through my kind, and, yet, foible-based mind.
I don’t understand dream dynamics. Not well, anyway. I am accountable, though, for how I treat myself after remembering that damn dream. My current value system, breached in this dream, doesn’t embrace “let’s beat up Jan because she’s human and has foibles!” Even in a dream.
I don’t know if it was the several bites of dark chocolate, or (yes, I lied about no nearby nature) looking at the mama deer and her two babies in my backyard. Whichever. Something flipped inside me. I could do the healthy thing and offer myself some semblance of self-kindness. Yep, because, like you, I’m human and unpredictable, even to myself.
Once my focus turned to self-compassion, rather than condemnation, the dream’s capacity to feel toxic drained away. Literally. Oh, yeah, that ol’ self-compassion contingency. It’s a cheap date and I continually forget about it, much to my regret. A much preferred option to paddling in my own, self-created, shark infested waters. You know?
We DO know. Been there! And Any one of us could give you a second opinion of Jan. No bashing involved. Just love. Which works without words. There would be a lot of silence-- full of love.