Lessons in Self-Compassion from a Reformed Morning Person.
and surprising self-love lessons from self-portraiture
Back when I was a morning-person-in-training I had all sorts of hacks to ensure I was out of bed before the temptation to hit snooze kicked in. Some were kind, like freshly ground coffee prepared the night before waiting for me in the French press, along with an already full kettle waiting to boil. But most were brutal and a little punishing, like sleeping in my workout gear (jog bra and all) so there was no excuse to not make my way to the garage first thing for my hour on the elliptical.
Self-kindness was something I learned much later after I spent 30 days in front of the camera trying desperately to gain some control over my self-image. Looking at my content now many of you are under the impression this showing-up thing was easy for me from the start. You picture me zen-like in the hazy morning light sleepily setting up my self-portrait session in my white linen pj set - a scene that couldn't be further from the truth.
“I am always doing what I can’t do yet in order to learn how to do it” - Van Gogh
With every click of the shutter, I morphed from a poised forty-year-old woman to a timid thirteen-year-old girl awkwardly changing in the fluorescent-lit gym locker room, desperately trying to hide perceived flaws. I never aspired to be a flawless supermodel, perfectly poised for every snapshot. All I wanted was to feel authentically me, to stop shrinking into the background, and to start owning the space I rightfully deserved. But alas, in a world where even our gut bacteria seem to have opinions about our self-worth, maintaining confidence can feel like a Sisyphean task. Would I have given anything to look at that photo and remain unphased, unflappable…unbothered? You bet your moonstone.
At that time, I lacked the self-compassion skills to name a single thing I liked about those early self-portraits. Each photo was a black hole sucking the joy out of my being. All I could see were shortcomings, flaws, and all the places where I fell short, and failed to meet all expectations.
After my initial thirty days of self-portrait photography practice, I revisited those photos, bracing for the familiar sting of disappointment. But this time, something shifted. The harsh light seemed softer, filtering through the window like honey. My gaze landed on my image, not with scrutiny, but with curiosity. This woman, bathed in warm light, eyes sparkling with genuine joy, felt strangely familiar. A wave of calm washed over me, replacing self-doubt with a newfound acceptance.
It wasn’t just the photo that changed; it was how I saw myself within it.
“Look at that double chin,” my inner critic whispered, pointing at the photo. “No,” a newfound voice countered, “look at the laughter lines crinkling around your eyes, a testament to an unguarded joyful moment with your masks off and your shields down.” Each new positive detail chipped away at the negativity, replacing it with self-compassion and a newfound kindness for my image. It wasn’t a complete transformation, but a seed of acceptance planted, reminding me that I am more than my self-perception.
Embarking on my 30-day self-portrait project, I envisioned it as a means to finally conquer my insecurities and sculpt a more confident self-image. I meticulously planned each shot, hoping the camera would finally capture the "me" I yearned to see. However, the most transformative aspect wasn't perfecting the pose or lighting – it was the unexpected journey of self-kindness I stumbled upon along the way. Through the process of self-reflection fostered by these portraits, I began to dismantle the harsh inner critic and cultivate a more compassionate understanding of myself.
One of the most frequent things I hear is, “I feel like we’re the same person.” Maybe my story feels familiar to you. I'd love to know. Will you comment and share it with me?