A little over a year ago I had a breakdown and realized I needed to taking better care of myself. Over the course the next few months, I found a therapist. I found an exercise regimen I could commit to. I found a new dentist. I scheduled an appointment with my doctor. I followed up with tests, procedures, and recommended actions. Slowly, very slowly, I started taking steps to take care of myself. I reevaluated some of the boundaries I had been holding. I said “yes” to a few things. I said “no” to a few more.

Christian Science teaches us that our physical health is a reflection of our thoughts. If your body is a mess, clearly your thoughts are not inline with God. Sometimes it is not your thoughts, it is hormones, or brain chemistry, or the fact you’re trying to do too much and you’re not actually able to, it is simply impossible. Sometimes it is your thoughts, but it has nothing to do with an arbitrary deity.

I’d love to tell you everything is awesome and my life is now perfect and amazing, but I had an anxiety attack over the overwhelming selection of canned tomato products in the grocery store the other morning, and came home and completely melted down over it. While I managed it better than Calvin’s Dad with the peanut butter, and did bring home what I was looking for, the tyranny of choice and the associated mental load was simply too much for me in the moment.

Thanks to polyvagal theory and up and down regulation I was able to finish my grocery shopping and have my tearful episode in the comfort of my home, and when I was done with that I sat and a little unhelpful voice chided me for crying over canned tomatoes.

Shut up unhelpful little voice, I don’t need that right now.

I’ve been trying to practice some level of self compassion for a while, and it is an on-going challenge. It is very easy to extend compassion to others, and yet, I find it incredibly difficult to offer it to myself. I suspect that is lingering CS programming, the “I am a Perfect Child of God” part of my brain that refuses to accept anything less than absolute perfection at all times. Part of me holds fast to the idea that I am perfect, but I’m also trapped in a messy flesh suit that requires maintenance, sustenance, and care. Christian Science does not provide a framework for the care of flesh suits, and when it does provide guidance the advice is best ignored.*

Instead of beating myself up over my canned tomato meltdown, I’m going back over my checklist of Things I Should Do to be Mostly OK, am I meeting my basic needs:

• Am I getting enough sleep/rest?
• Am I eating enough?
• Am I hydrated?
• Am I holding myself to reasonable/manageable expectations, or am I woefully over committing my time/energy?
• Am I actually exercising/doing my PT exercises?

I know when I don’t get enough rest I get cranky, when I don’t eat enough I get hangry, when I’m not hydrated I get headachy. When I over commit, I get overwhelmed. When I don’t actually exercise or do my PT, my body lets me know.

I know these things, AND YET.

If I’m being honest with myself, the answers are: No. Probably not. Almost certainly not. LOLZ. No. Am I going to take steps to work on this? Maybe? Should I? Yes.

Will I probably end up attempting to make some improvements and then fail and feel bad about it? Absolutely, but some of the improvements might stick, and that will be worth it. I’m also able to acknowledge all this, so I feel that is some level of progress. Talking about these problems does not make them more real, it means I am acknowledging they are a problem, and gives me the space to choose to do something about them (or continue to ignore them).

I’m human, and that’s OK, or it would be, if I was anyone else. I am still holding myself to an unrealistic standard, and I’m working on it.

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*Ignore all the parenting advice in S&H, babies are not amphibious, see Science and Health p. 556-7, and related post The Medical Context of Mary Baker Eddy’s Times at ExChristianScience.com