Mirrored

I watch her all the time, and I think, “I used to be like that, I think….but when? When did it happen? When did I change? What made it happen?”

She falls down, and with nothing more than a quick “uh-oh” (or “buh-boh,” as she says it) she is off and running again. She drops something, chuckles at her own clumsiness, and moves on. She knocks her block tower down or picks the wrong color or fumbles with her stacking cups, and forgets about the stumble and moves ahead with her day. I love that her youthfulness allows her to move on from her mistakes so easily, and I want her to always be that gracious and forgiving with herself.

I imagine that there was a time, many, many years ago, when I was able to do that. I only imagine that it is so because most toddlers, I think, go through a stage when they mess up so often that they have little choice but to accept it and move on. It’s just a part of life, and while I can’t remember being there myself, I assume that I, too, went through that. I suppose that I probably did, though I think I passed out of that stage earlier and with more gusto than most children.

The sad thing for me to realize is that the youthful “no big deal” attitude of my toddlerhood all too soon changed into one of perfectionism and self-deprecation. Where young children can bounce right back from a mess-up, I become bogged down and dwell on the shortcoming. Where little kids can use their mistakes as a springboard to help them learn something new, my own mistakes are, too often, like a weight strapped to my ankle, holding me back from anything good and promising.

I long to be forgiving of myself and even half as gracious with myself as I am with others. I long to see my own mistakes and shortcomings – real or perceived – not as failures, but as inspiration to drive me forward. I want to learn that for myself, so that I can live in freedom and truth, but I also want to learn that for her. I never want her to learn self-defeat and self-hatred from me. I don’t ever want her to see my reactions to my mistakes and follow me down the road of insecurity that I’ve always traveled. I don’t want her to think that it’s normal to beat herself up for little flaws or accidents. I don’t want her to be impossibly hard on herself and set unattainable goals of perfection because that’s what she saw me do. I don’t want her to think it’s a bad thing to be proud of herself when she accomplishes something because she is so used to feeling bad about herself. I want her to see herself with grace and forgiveness and love, so I am promising her and myself that I will always strive to see myself that way. She will learn what she sees, and as she watches me, I want her to learn good things.