Confessions of a Lousy Judge….
I had the blessing of observing a new day birthing itself as the sun rose over the frigid UT outdoor pool this week. As I rested between sets, I became aware of the chatter of my egoic mind and how it differs from the quiet of my Deepest, Truest Self. The water calms my overactive nervous system that, more often than not, has been triggered by the memory of some past assault. Feeling the water, following the lone black line, rhythmically breathing, and being fully conscious in the moment quells most voices waring in my head… or so I thought.
I had just completed a particularly difficult set and, panting, rolled over on my back to catch my breath and attempt to recenter myself. As I floated in exhaustion, I heard myself say out loud, “Stop judging.” A voice deep inside me called me to stop the negative rhetoric that unconsciously is a constant companion. That momentary outburst shed light on how frequently I am judging others and myself.
It was time to pause.
Time to contemplate the source of this judgement and its frequency.
Dr. Brene Brown in her book I Thought It Was Just Me: Women Reclaiming Power And Courage In A Culture Of Shame, says: “Judging has become such a part of our thinking patterns that we are rarely even aware of why and how we do it. It takes a great deal of conscious thinking or mindfulness to even bring the habit of judging into our awareness.”
Last week I shared I tend to say “I am anxious” far too often. Since sharing that personal piece of information, I have been querying myself as to why. I have gone deep investigating what is on the other side of that statement. What am I really saying when I lean into a friendship and share that intimate secret?
After much breathing and centering, I realized I am afraid of judgement. The anxiety is a physical symptom of a fear that I am not “good enough.” Whether that takes the form of fast enough, deserving enough, successful enough, thin enough, smart enough, pretty enough, young enough, it all boils down to fears of being not good enough. These are all symptoms of lessons inflicted with each hit, emotional assault, or inappropriate touch. I can still hear my father saying,
“You’ll never get anywhere, Bess.
You are too fat, Bess.
You are far from smart enough, Bess.
Who do you think you are, Bess?………”
Dr. Bessel Van Der Kolk in his book The Body Keeps The Score says: “Traumatized people chronically feel unsafe inside their bodies: The past is alive in the form of gnawing interior discomfort. Their bodies are constantly bombarded by visceral warning signs, and, in an attempt to control these processes, they often become expert at ignoring their gut feelings and in numbing awareness of what is played out inside. They learn to hide from their selves.”
This is hard to admit, but here goes. I’m afraid to even show who I am to myself. I don’t like to look in the mirror, or weigh myself, or get undressed in front of other people. I’m fearful of social situations and parties because someone might learn something unflattering about me. Sigmund Freud would have a field day with me. My egoic mind has constructed such a deflated image of me and is working overtime to ensure I don’t find my way back to acceptance and compassion. And because my egoic mind is so unkind to me, it also lashes out to others around me, in the form of critical judgement and defensiveness.
Dr. Bessel Van Der Kolk goes on to say: “As long as you keep secrets and suppress information, you are fundamentally at war with yourself…The critical issue is allowing yourself to know what you know. That takes an enormous amount of courage.”
I began to observe how often I am judging others or myself over the course of a day. It is sobering. I express anxiety ahead of perceived judgement. I judge as a preemptive strike against being judged. Even after I judge, I don’t feel “better than”. What a vicious cycle. A cycle of words that my mind is constantly circulating. A cycle of words that are the mental landmines planted from the hurts of my past.
These stories I tell myself as a protective mechanism are not Who I Really Am. Who I really am is more than this physical being occupying space.
Franciscan priest and founder of “The Center for Action and Contemplation” in Albuquerque, NM, Father Richard Rohr said recently in one of his daily meditations: “We each have different faces and different colors of skin; some of us have hair, some of us do not; some are tall, some are a little shorter. If we are living out of the false self, all we can do is measure, compare, evaluate, and label. That is what I call dualistic thinking, and it is where our world lives. Many people think that all they have are these external costumes—but when we put on the eyes and mind of Christ, we have a new pair of glasses. We can look around and know that the world is filled with infinite images of God. Isn’t that a nicer world to live in?”
And wouldn’t that be kinder on all of us?
I have been taking stock all week of my moments of judgement both of myself and of others. I have a very long road to free myself of this “habit,” but becoming aware of this cycle has reduced the number of votes I give “not good enough” in one form or another. I have also been able to experience joy in moments where I have only ever experienced anxiety. And that is a big victory.
Compassion for self is a practice. Just like learning a new skill or getting better at a sport or musical instrument, it is practice, practice, practice. Each new day, with each new breath, practice observing what stories your mind tells you versus what your deep heart tells you. One at a time. Just one at a time. Like my coach is always telling me: “Take it one lap at a time. One lap at a time.”
I leave you with Father Richard Rohr’s daily meditation’s inspiration: “I hope we are all moving in the direction of knowing who we really are, letting go of our preoccupation with how we look or measure up. As we come to a deeper acceptance of our True Self, we know our identity comes from God’s love, not from what other people think or say about us.”
Let us be reminded to listen to the voice of our heart and not the words of a judgmental mind and add this to our ever-growing vibrant green toolbox.
Until next time, friends.