I stared at the shiny white walls glowing from the bright light hanging above my head. Wrapped in a paper-thin cotton gown, I clutched the opening at my chest, baffled by the fact that someone still hadn’t invented a more comforting cover-up. As I waited for the dermatologist to arrive for my annual skin checkup, I questioned my decision to leave my phone in the car. Learning to stay present is important to me, but today I preferred a distraction.

After nearly 30 minutes of trying to meditate while listening to staff answering phone calls, I grew restless. That’s when I looked down at my feet. Ugh, I thought to myself as I twisted my toes this way and that. I should have gotten a pedicure. My feet are a mess. I held my hands out in front of me and splayed my fingers. And I hate this arthritis in my hands. It makes them look so old.

As I lifted my legs searching for suspicious age spots on my shins, a surprising inner voice commanded me to stop.

Knock it off, Cheryl, it ordered. You’ve been beating your body up for decades. Is this what you’re going to do for the remaining years of your life?

The impact of that question surprised me. I leaned back against the headrest and let out a frustrating sigh. Fault-finding was a well-honed habit, something I’d learned from my Mother who no doubt learned it from hers. We were generationally masterful at spotting physical flaws.

Did I want to keep treating my body like an enemy at this stage of my life? Had it done any good? Did naming flaws motivate me to fix them? Did I feel more loved under this kind of scrutiny and judgment?

No. Never. Not at all.

I stood up, grabbed a notepad and pen from a nearby counter, and wrote the following to myself:

Your body is a blessing. Your hands have written love notes, birthday cards, blogs, and books. Your feet have carried you to meet more beautiful people and places than you can even remember. No more criticism. Only love. Please keep this promise.

After the appointment, during the long drive home, I thought about how well-trained we are at judging ourselves and how this behavior becomes so unconscious and automatic that we don’t even notice it anymore. But this week I did. I caught myself, and I’m ready to lay these old habits to rest.

Some things must die before we do in order for us to age well.

Join me this week for a Zoom gathering on Wednesday, 3/25, at 3pm ET/12 noon PT, to talk about what needs to end so we can live well in our wisdom years. If you’ve been with us on Zoom before, you’ll get the invite. If not, you can register here.

Love,

Cheryl