Learning to like yourself
Is pushing back against discontentment the ultimate rebellion?
This voiceover is an audio version of the newsletter below. As always, it’s unedited so probably features some stutters and re-starts. If you like/need to listen to these posts I hope you enjoy it.
Before I get into today’s letter, just a quick note to thank you for your feedback on the monthly mini-workshops. By popular demand (and because I love writing about this stuff) I’m starting with the RITUALS workshops.
Starting on June 16th, I’ll be releasing a mini-workshop (15 minutes-ish) on the third Sunday of every month for the rest of the year.
Together, we’ll explore a really practical, highly focused topic each month. Think:
Single-tasking
Unplugging
Rhythms
Tilting
Noticing
These workshops will be for paying supporters, so if you’ve been considering joining, now might be a good time! For AU$5/month or $50/year you can get instant access to all my previous workshops and online retreats, as well as many Sunday letters sent over the last three years.
As the catalog of retreats and workshops grows, I’ll be increasing my subscription fee slightly for new supporters later in the year, so if you want to jump on board now, you can save a little money.
(As always, please only consider becoming a paying supporter if you’re in the financial position to do so comfortably. Thursday letters, the plodcast and quarterly 1% experiment updates will always be available to everyone.)
And now, on to today’s letter! It was a chewy one to write and took many hours of wrangling. I hope I landed somewhere helpful. 💚💚
Last week I wrote about a tiny, brief rebellion I waged against my iPhone. I’ve dropped the paywall for a few days if you’d like to check it out here, but in short, I realised my phone was applying a ‘beauty filter’ to videos and photos automatically, and, well, it pissed me off.
Many of you responded to that letter with frustration and relief. Relief that you weren’t the only one getting angry at these tiny attacks on our self-esteem, and frustration that it was something that needed to be considered at all.
But it is. Because, as many of you shared, you’re often made to feel odd when you opt out of these so-called norms. If you choose not to dye your hair, choose not to use Botox or fillers, choose not to filter your photos with a smoothing effect, you’re made to feel like the weird one. It’s not that anyone was judging people who do those things, but that you felt judged for not doing them.
I guess that’s what makes it rebellious, though.
There’s a quote by artist Caroline Caldwell that used to do the rounds on Instagram. You might have seen it:
“In a society that profits from your self-doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act.”
I like this quote, and I believe in it. But what does it mean, to like yourself?
It speaks of contentment and enoughness, yet so much of what we’re exposed to every day is designed to promote the exact opposite of that.
We’re taught to compare, to judge, to feel vaguely less-than, to look at all the things we don’t have, to find the gaps, to measure ourselves against the Joneses and come up short. Even when we look around and know there are much, much bigger reasons to be discontent in a world that is heart-breaking, unjust and unfair, we can’t help but feel those smaller ones keenly. To be aware of their prickling irritation, like ants under our skin.
And make no mistake — this is a strategy employed by those who stand to gain from our vague feelings of discontentment. Because in that state, we’re more malleable, more open to manipulation and marketing. We’re more likely to listen to the voices trying to convince us — to buy things, to change our behaviours, to become the better version of ourselves.
It’s hard to like yourself when all you see are reasons to feel…unsatisfied.
So, how do we go about liking ourselves? And how can we do that on days when our comparisons or self-doubts take over? Or we glimpse our strangely smooth face in the selfie camera and it makes us wonder, “Is that what my face is supposed to look like? Is that what I should want to look like?”
I used to think I needed to get really loud about pushing back on this stuff. I mean, I wrote a book about it a few years ago; I wrote a letter about it last week; I’m writing about it again now — obviously I have some big feelings. But I’ve realised there is also a gentler way to push back on some of these norms. It’s simple, and bonus: It feels good.
Make room for joy.
Over the years, I’ve learned that these discontentments hold less power over me when I simply make room for joy.
Learning to like ourselves is not a linear process where first we like ourselves completely, then we find happiness and satisfaction. What’s more, we don’t have to like everything about ourselves in order to start.
Joy is available to you, right now.
You might need to get out of your head (or phone) to find it. But it’s there for the taking.
You might find it in tiny details around you — little delights and wonders and moments that slip by, ripe for the noticing.
You might find it in bucking the norms you’re supposed to stick to — in the silver in your hair, the mess of your kitchen, the folds of your belly hanging softly over your jeans.
You might even find it in the very act of saying no:
No, I will not be made to feel bad about myself.
No, I am not so easily broken down into desirable and undesirable parts.
No, I will not align my self-worth with someone else’s notion of beauty/success/value.
Saying no — to hair dye or fillers or filters or whatever small choice feels right for you — might seem insignificant, and in some ways, it is. Your hair, your face, your laundry pile — you and what you offer the world are far more important than any of those. But it’s also making a large statement, because what you’re really saying is:
I like myself enough to say no to this.
I like myself enough to find contentment, right here.
I like myself enough to be enough.
And who knows what you might say no to next?
What do you think? If we learned to view discontentment as a tool wielded by marketers, influencers and corporations trying to profit from us by promising better, faster, hotter, skinnier, more convenient, more time, more leisure, more more more, could we view joy and delight and awe as a shield strong enough to protect us from it?
As always, thank you for being here and making The Tortoise the most delightful corner of the internet. If you’re new here and want to join the fun, please subscribe below. Or if you’d like to become a paying supporter ahead of the price rise, you can do that here too:
Here’s to more joy, more gentle rebellion, more learning to like ourselves just as we are.
Take good care,
Brooke xx
Thanks for this post Brooke. It resonated with me as I always feel I’m the odd one out not caring about a lot of the nuances that make up society today. I’m constantly struggling to not fall into the flow of the tide with everyone else. I just can’t be bothered trying so hard. I’d prefer to be covered in dirt in my garden than getting my nails done at the salon. Maybe I’m accepting it more as I get older. I’m about 10 years younger than you, and I think now being in mid thirties I’m just starting to care less and less about keeping up with the Jones’ and trying to find peace with that.
Love your emails and podcast! X
Once I understood that I wasn’t broken, that I didn’t need fixing, that I had everything I need inside of me, I didn’t have to try at liking myself. It just happened naturally.