Around Christmas seems a good time to talk a bit about generosity. I like to think that, successfully or not, I am someone who always tries to be generous and patient with others. I am a great bestower of benefit of the doubt. I hand out second and third chances like I have an endless supply. And I will always, without fail, try to understand someone else’s behaviour rather than judge them for it.
In the most basic of ways, I also like to be generous with those I love and care about. Hunting out Christmas and birthday presents, for example, presents a challenge that I relish - trying to come up with gifts that are thoughtful, meaningful, and will make someone smile. Hell, recently I spent way too much time researching how to cobble together a plastic figurine out of disparate parts, just to create a physical embodiment of a really strange in-joke. Almost glued my fingers together in the process of making it, too. It went down well though, so all’s well that ends well.
What I have realised, however, is that whilst I’m endlessly searching for ways to be generous to others, I don’t really allow myself the same kindness. I am, and have always been, my own harshest critic - my own worst enemy. My curious and emotional brain will forever replay memories or experiences and find ways to fixate on the littlest things that I perceive to have gone “wrong”. It won’t linger with the same loving attention to detail over anything I might have done well.
A couple of recent experiences encapsulated this over the Christmas period. In a silly, superficial way, there was the Christmas dessert fandango. (Yes, I just wanted to use the word “fandango” there). We had an unusual and unconventional Christmas in the Cave household this year - still lovely, still family-filled, but with slight deviations from tradition. One of these deviations included a scrapping of Christmas cake, Christmas pudding, and mince pies from the menu, and a passing of the baton to me to create a fitting end to our unconventional feast. Somewhat naively, I opted to bake a tart I’d never made before (aaah, rookie error…). Whilst my family were unwaveringly kind, complimented the flavour and even - in my Dad’s case - went back for seconds, I couldn’t focus on the positives. All I could see was the slightly under baked pastry…the grainy texture from the almonds…the slightly split filling. And I could not find a way not to beat myself up about it, try as I might. Don’t get me wrong, no tears were shed over the tart - but it niggled away at me in a way it really shouldn’t have.
On a less superficial note, this past month has not been without its emotional ups and downs for me either. It finally became apparent that, after a 2 year long relationship filled with “will we, won’t we” off again-on again tension with my significant person, he will never actually love me the way I love him (I am aware that this makes me sound like a sad sack, and I’ve dealt with that already, don’t worry). On coming to terms with this, I tortured myself with the question “why aren’t I good enough?” I honestly couldn’t stop thinking it - even though it's a question that has no good or satisfactory answer. It didn’t even occur to me that my default position could - and probably should - have been “Well I am good enough. If he can’t see that, I should stop worrying about why and just move on”. My go-to stance is never generosity towards myself.
I’m sure I’m not unusual here. I don’t know why it’s easier to offer flexibility and kindness to others than it is to yourself. Perhaps it’s an ego thing - we feel we ought to hold ourselves to a higher standard. Or perhaps it’s the complete opposite - patting ourselves on the back, or pointing out our strengths, makes us feel uncomfortable.
There isn’t an easy solution to this. I sincerely doubt anyone can just flip a switch and start bestowing generosity upon themselves. But maybe, when I’m thinking about changes I want to make in the new year, I’ll pause for a minute and remember to add this to the list. Over time, and with a bit of practice, maybe I’ll learn to forgive myself for the things I had no control over, to ease up on myself for the mistakes I’ve made, and to take stock of the good things I’ve managed to achieve. Maybe we could all do with a little bit more of that in our lives.
