CRINGING

"To think that once I was the same man did not embarrass me..."

I have a definite marker when I begin going down. I find myself remembering things that make me cringe - what I said or did wrong, opportunities I couldn't make good on, times I tried to get away with something, people I wanted to know better who didn't want to know me. I have a list of them, my top ten, and when they begin coming into my mind, I recognize them for what they are, barnacles attached to my deepening depression. 
     Sometimes, I have enough distance to ask myself why I draw down this evidence for my own prosecution, but that distance doesn't quite neutralize them. I still feel the sudden upheaval in the belly, the flush of shame; those memories still have the power to make me cringe. 
     Over time, I've found ways to stop rehearsing all those incidents that make me feel shame. I've made another list, this one of things I've done right, the times when, without thinking, I said or did the right thing, when I had the courage to walk up to my fear, when I reached out with kindness. Above all, I've worked to cultivate compassion for my very human weaknesses, misguided efforts and illusions. I try to embrace them, willingly embrace all the good and bad with gentleness, so that I no longer see them with those value judgments. I see only aspects of my being, steps along the way, the grains of sand that have spun the beauty I see in the world. 
     I fall away from that embrace sometimes and one more time a memory will make me cringe. But I know what it feels like to be kind to myself and I always try to work my way back.