It’s such a drag to be here when I should be having some me time. I need to do nothing, to just be. I need more time to complete myself, relax, accept that the universe will hold me while I do nothing.
Actually, I have been reading a lot of this sort of advice lately and, on the odd day, even attempting to follow it. If I love myself enough, everything else in my life will be fine and just kind of work out. One of the things I must not do is make a list, but there does seem to be a list of mindful activities that I should be doing: walking barefoot, communing with nature, some kind of yoga, putting pictures of all this on Instagram with glowy buddhist quotes. The hashtag #wellness makes me feel ill but there you go. Apparently I have to find something to appreciate that isn’t gin.
It’s a blessed shame then that I ever have to work and relate to other people. They simply interrupt my “flow” and get right on my spiritual wick. They are getting right in the way of my self-love, let me tell you, not that I want to judge. Judging is not compassionate, and compassion is yet another thing I am nurturing hard. It’s off the scale, my compassion!
Please don’t confuse my self-love with narcissism. I am merely doing what I am told and what I am sold. Self-love, sometimes now called self-care, is a kind of viral project that is marketed mostly to women online, in magazines, books, everywhere. If we are good to ourselves it preaches, good things will happen to us. This is not goji berries but soul food. We must learn to love the one person who might love us back: ourselves.
The philosophy of self-love works because it speaks to lack. Of course, it is sold to men, too, but then it’s more as management speak. These days, we all know a walking narcissistic personality disorder when we see one. It is called Donald Trump. His lack of empathy for others – even a baby – may summon up the rampant id of those who feel ignored but, God, it’s awful to watch. The grandiosity, the obsession with size, the insane egotism, is all too visible. So too is the fact that narcissism is an extreme defence against feelings of worthlessness. The narcissist’s love can never be requited, that is why they are so dangerous. It is why we use “narcissist” as an insult. Sometimes to insult a whole generation.
Look at millenials, say some, with all their selfies and constant need for “likes”. What can these folk know of love, those who post pictures of their sun salutations on a beach? “Look at me”, say these images. I am good inside and outside. And really flexible.
This kind of narcissism is wallpaper for a generation whose lives actually often don’t have the flexibility that my generation’s did. What bothers me is how this spiritual self-improvement is pushed to women as a form of passivity. We must not be so stressed, we need to prioritise ourselves, to nourish our divine feminine selves and we are advised to do this by people who can afford to.
On the bus the other day, I watched a young woman expertly feed a baby and a small child at the same time. “What a skill,” I thought, but she did not have a second to herself. I couldn’t do it, I felt, but I have done it. So all these endless lectures about being in the present and being attentive to every moment appear to dissolve in the often boring nowness of simply caring.
No wonder then that the gospel of self-love appeals to the young or the knackered. If our middle years are taken up by caring for others, then I suppose the concept of “serenity” is a revelation after the concept of “wine”.
For when it comes to making women feel not quite good enough, there is always a gap in the market. If things aren’t going our way in terms of jobs or relationships, perhaps we just need a better posture, or attitude or to explain ourselves to ourselves in light of childhood damage. God forbid we should ever say: “I studied hard but I didn’t get the job I wanted because the economy is screwed,” when we can meditate it all away. Or: “I can’t find somewhere decent to live, so let me clear some mind space and let that thought ripple through.” Or “men are treating me badly, this is something to do with my self-esteem, which only I can sort out,” and on and on it goes. The unhappiness of women must be individuated, personalised and then cured by not blaming others for our own stories. Accept this is what it is. Get in a downward dog and stay there. The key to a better life is to change your attitude to it, not anyone else’s.
Self-love is a revolution that promises transformation without disturbing anyone else’s power. Quite incredible really. This “positive self-worth” as it is called can help you harness your “inner CEO”.
You no longer have to apologise for being so awesome. Maintain your own amazingness.
All you have to do is breathe.
And believe.
