Ольга Примаченко
Love yourself tender. A book about self-appreciation and self-care

A note of tenderness to yourself

1. Set priorities to give your life stability, and to make you more comprehensible to others. There is nothing wrong with the words: “There is something else more important to me right now.”

2. Do not neglect to prioritise ahead of long and difficult periods (a lengthy project, pregnancy, maternity leave or post-natal return to work, getting a second degree, emigration, etc.). Think about how you will replenish your powers, and where you'll find peaks of joy that will motivate you to keep going. Give some thought to what you'll have to give up for a time (or forever), and make sure you “mourn” this loss ahead of time, and live through that loss in your head.

3. Keep in mind that your resources are not infinite and don't ask heroic deeds of yourself. Very few things are important. Let your priorities protect you from casual encounters with the wider world and confidently defend the values of the current stage of your life.

4. Take good care of your inner child. “Do not ask what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you alive, and then go and do that. The world needs people that feel alive.”^[15]

The fourth tenderness, maturity

Grow up, but don't even think of growing old

Death exists, but that's all it is,

a tribute to the law of contrasts.

Don't try numbering the pages,

time will not obey.

It's up to you to remember words, names, and faces,

knock down walls, show borders disdain,

love until the heart expires,

and know it's all not in vain.

Ksenia Zheludova

My whole childhood I dreamed about growing up faster so as to gain “independence”. I sped (literally) into my first marriage, and before that – out of my childhood home, so great was my desire for separation, but back then, I didn't have the brains to figure out how to go about it without making life-changing decisions.

I always thought of the house where I grew up as a place where I could return if ever things got tough, a place where I will always be met with open arms. I sincerely believed in this until a psychologist told me otherwise during one of our therapy sessions.

The house of parents is the house of parents, mine will be the one I will create myself.

This thought smashed me to the core. It took me several years to completely comprehend it and to start growing up.

Ever since that time, I keep thinking about what it means to be an adult and whether I have the right to consider myself one. Formally – yes, of course: aged 35+, with a family, a child, a house, graduated from the University, employed, and paying taxes. Yet, it's still difficult for me to talk about myself as “an adult” without slipping into irony and jokes about being an “old biddy” and “finally got there.”

And that is scary because at my age I have seen enough to recognise the huge chasm between night terrors in childhood, the green immaturity of youth, and the calm confidence of a person who has lived a life, and not just read about it.

Off the top of my head, I can remember just a handful of people whom I regard as adults. They amaze me with their ability to articulate their thoughts clearly, work with their feet on the ground and a level head, handle their and other people's boundaries, laugh and cry from the bottom of their heart, refrain from public dissection of their traumas – a sort of public nudity laying bare the most delicate details of your life that I have never understood.

Judging by the range and number of coaching sessions advertised, there is a real demand for training aimed at re-nursing your “inner child” today. It's as if one might finally solve all the problems in the world and in one's relationships, if one could only get enough love, and hugs, and pampering for all the years that have passed. Like we've been standing on a pause button for a long-long time, and we're freezing in a chilly, parental wind – but now the button has been released, a girl with matches can return home where there will be a roast turkey, a huge Christmas tree, and grandma waiting, still alive. Yet only…

Mom and dad were thirty years younger then. The trees were tall. A different wheel of time was turning behind those windows of the past, with its own stories, perceptions of happiness, and heroes. Those people are gone, and we have changed as well. All that is left are blurry images in your head, a couple of bitter phrases that echo in your ears at night-time, and some unremitted resentments.

And there's nothing about how to be an adult

Being an adult is not about being a big kid trying to catch a spent childhood and having a whole bunch of complaints against elderly parents; it's about adults who don't have to try and find themselves simply because they've never lost themselves.

The topic of growing up is extremely important in the context of being tender to yourself, because it's about locating an inner fountain of support and acceptance, it's about anchors that come through ageing and experience, and it's about getting the mess together in our heads. Not because your mom has told you to tidy up, but because it's nice to live in a place that's bright and spacious.

What is it like being mature?

In trying to figure out why maturity is often scary, I decided to beyond simply “because adults are boring.” Qualities that are usually associated with children – curiosity and an ability to get genuinely excited about everything new – are not exclusively “children's” (in the same way that “melancholy” and “pedantry” aren't exclusively adults'). Emotions and character traits are not milk teeth which determine your age. So, being an adult is good, being an adult is ok, even if you have to:

Stare it in the face. You can no longer hide under your bed or play dead.^[16] You need to face up to reality and do something about it. Or rather, say: you can hide, you can play dead, but you'll pay a high price for such behaviour. In adult life, the principle “If I ignore it, maybe it will go away” is an off-key way of working.

Broaden your circle of care and responsibilities. Parents, children, friends, cats, dogs, house, car, childcare centre, fines, credits, annual rates on credit cards, renovations, flooded neighbours when there is a broken pipe in your house… It's like that well-known joke: “Adult life is so cool! You can party, drink and dance the night away as much as you want… on your way to your three different jobs.”

Take into account that time knows no mercy. If you have missed something then there is every chance you'll never be able to regain it because of factors outside your control and irrespective of the effort you are prepared to invest in it. Skin ages. You get your first grey hair. You need more recovery time after last night's crazy party. On second thoughts, to get to bed on time and wake up hangover-free looks more attractive than sex on a beach. Voilà – and you start protecting your knees, lifting weights the proper way, blow-drying your hair in the winter months, and looking to buy a coat that goes below your bum. Yogurt and kefir are easy to find in your fridge now, ointments for sprains are overtaking hangover cures, and the freezer is hosting bones for soup, not just ice for whiskey.

Do not lose your temper if someone has a different opinion. One of the key criteria for maturity is calm acceptance of others' opinions, which is especially fitting in an era of social media and “comments fights.” I like a thought I once came across by psychologist Ekaterina Boydeck^[17]: a mature person doesn't get worked up because of another person's opinion. It does not awaken any emotions at all because it has no influence on a mature person's beliefs and calm assurance of his right to think and act in the way he thinks best. Another person's opinion only rubs you the wrong way if you're like a child in their company (in this case, the other person's position scares you) or an adolescent (in this case the other person's opinion will spark a desire to rebel and protest). However, when you feel on an equal footing with them, no matter what they say, it won't get to you.

One of the biggest challenges of the modern world is staying true to yourself when other opinions are offered, and not feeling guilty for avoiding a war of words over your take on truth, for not getting drawn into conflict and fighting to the death for your idea. To think differently, live differently, and raise your children with another set of values, doesn't necessarily mean having to watch the corpses of anyone at odds with you drifting along on the river.

Unfortunately, this kind of maturity is often perceived as internal instability and cowardice. Books we have read about growing up taught us otherwise: if you believe in something, be ready to stand up for it until you win – this is what brave people do, this is the behaviour of heroes. Being tender to yourself means detecting when someone is trying to pull you into a fight you have not chosen.

When you hear something that goes against your views and the beating of your heart, just say: “I have a different opinion.” If the willing isn't there, don't get into arguments and try to defend an opinion. You are not obliged to. You have every right to think otherwise, want something different, and to perceive something that resonates with you as the right thing, even if it sets you apart from the majority around you. And yes, you may fight for it, but only when you are ready to do so.

To keep silent when you think differently is not a weakness and not a betrayal of your beliefs. It is maturity: it's realizing that you can live in peace with your values without having to fight to make others share them.

To refuse to play to the “grandness of another.” Don't pay homage to someone you don't know just because they're older, or you think they've lived longer so should know better. Or because their title sounds unfamiliar and complicated, and they have a full-blown business and a menacing look.

Every time you catch yourself thinking this way, take care to remind yourself: do not elevate another person in your mind's eye, don't project your own personal and unsolved parent-related problems onto that person. That other person is neither big nor small, they are their own size, usually that of an adult. They might be better, wiser, and more competent than you. But equally, it is perfectly possible that they're not.

To separate from “us.” While you're getting to know your own adulthood with love and tenderness, set a rule not to bring your fears and worries (as well as care and advice that no-one has asked for) into another person's sphere of responsibility. Don't worry about the reactions of others. Do not substitute your feelings with those of another. Don't resort to emotions where words would do just fine (words are ideal for solving problems).

Building a life based on mature values, you realize that happiness is not in becoming one with somebody, but in separating from “us.”

Don't make your family or friends responsible for creating this feeling. It is already wonderful if they understand you, support you, create a safe and nurturing environment, believe in your endeavours and generally do everything possible to help your development and growth. This is their gift to you, not their obligation.

To realize what you have outgrown. Create and from time to time review a list named “I'm too old for this shit”^[18] which identifies things you no longer do because you have outgrown them and because they no longer reflect your beliefs about respect, tenderness, and loving yourself.

Yes, it is possible that you sometimes used to do things – accept certain treatment towards yourself or conditions – but that's all in the past. Right now, you have other more important things (like you, for starters). You understand yourself better, and at your age, you know for sure what you're not prepared to do anymore.

As an example, and for some inspiration here are a dozen notes taken from my own “I'm too old for this shit” list. Perhaps, you can find similarities with yours.

I'm too old for this shit:

1) listening to offhand advice from passers-by;

2) dressing up beautifully but not befitting the weather – no more nylons when it is freezing outside!

3) playing the “guess why I am upset” game;

4) buying stuff I don't need just because it was in a sale;

5) sending prayers instead asking directly: “How can I help?” or assisting if I want and am able to;

6) reading uninteresting books, watching boring movies right to the end;

7) being ashamed of my age and coquettishly asking: “How old do I look like?”;

8) keeping clothes that no longer fit me in my closet, hoping that one day I will lose weight.

Working through your points of “definitely not” is an important step on your way to developing tenderness for yourself, because they answer the question “How can I take care of myself?” It might be achieved by: not doing something that isn't okay with you; not agreeing with something that irritates you; not permitting others' behaviour that hurts you. This is not, as someone might try to convince you, a “caprice” or “being too emotional”.

The healthy behaviour of an adult is living without abuse, self-abuse, or abuse from other people.

When we start figuring out what we do not like and where our borders of “do not want” lie, we start accepting the right for other people to feel how they want to feel. (Or not to feel anything at all. Or to feel, but towards somebody other than us.) We are not spending our resources on trying to make them different, make them change their minds, open their eyes or to motivate them. They are adults and are responsible for their own choices.

I once had an experience where, for the first time, a guy wasn't “hooked” on me. In spite of my best efforts to be cute, smart, funny, and carefree, he felt nothing towards me. Prior to that, I'd thought that I was the only one allowed “not to fall in love”, to refuse someone and offer only to “stay friends.” But there it was, a man that I liked, a man I wanted to have a romantic relationship with, had made it clear that there was no magic, no chemistry at work and there would be no children together, in short – “thanks for everything and take care.”

To experience another person's “do not want” and stay sound is not easy. However, we should all learn from that so that when we come across resistance, our world doesn't collapse.

Learn to let go without drama. This is not about the famous quote: “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn't, it was never meant to be.” Rather, this is about what I learn every year working in my garden in the springtime. I shovel what seems like tons of cubic meters of soil, plant hundreds of seeds, and become a master in the art of accepting losses. All of this boils down to a very blunt but honest formula: “Something will kick off.” No matter how much I dance around it, I can only influence a part of it because, besides me, there are also snails, powdery mildew, merciless sun, frost, and little children's feet that pay no attention to what they walk on. The same thing goes for adult life: you can carefully cultivate your ideas, grow them in a “greenhouse”, protect them from winds, but at some point, something will inevitably go wrong and reveal the vulnerability of your efforts, if not squash them altogether.

However, this never means you should not try at all.

The bottom line is that “a mature person differs from an immature one in one thing: the immature person knows what he will do if he wins; the mature one, by contrast, knows what he will do if he loses.”^[19]