Episode 6: On guilt, shame and love stories

In which our protagonist gets over herself and discovers self-compassion for Valentine’s

“Happy Hallmark Heart Day!” cries the cynic in me, the one who spent most of her life single and lathered in self-loathing. Dear reader, I promise this will not be a letter of hateful cynicism, but I do feel a need to paint the scene before I get to the crux. 

My self-worth issues started young. It wasn’t for lack of a loving home life, but I just never really fit in anywhere. I always felt like a square peg in a round hole, and of course when you don’t quite conform as a child or a teen you have a target on your back, above your head, flashing neon signs pointing all around you that scream “Here! Take out your adolescent frustration on this one!” School was… not fun. But I survived. I survived, and hit university, convinced that it would be different and I’d have friends and a social life and finally get to understand what the TV told me being a teenager was all about.

Reader, I did not. 

Nor did I have a free and easy 20s. It got to the point where I just assumed if someone spoke to me or was nice to me, they must want something from me. I was part people-pleaser, part cynic, part hermit. I was always out, because working as a music reporter on a newspaper kinda demands you be out a lot, but I was usually out alone, in a corner, trying not to draw attention to myself. 

I fled to London in my mid-20s, ready to reinvent myself and start again - but those ways of living were ingrained. I was too scared of putting myself out there in any sense of the word. I claimed I would be the crazy old cat lady of Hackney; I kept myself to myself. I wouldn’t have even noticed if anyone showed any sign of interest in me for friendship or romance. I had convinced myself I wasn’t worth it, and no one was interested in me for anything other than what I could do for them. 

When you spend your formative teens and 20s being told by society and the media that you should be dating, you should have a group of mates you spend all your time with, that share-housing is a laugh, when your brain is fed all of these visions, and yet you look around you and see nothing but a solitary existence, well… The shame is overwhelming.

Conquering the cynic within

And the guilt - the guilt that you could and should be doing something about this. The guilt of knowing if you’d only take that risk, put yourself out there, ask for what you need, that someone or something might appear, and yet not feeling able to put that first foot forward in hope. The shame, and the guilt, leading to the hiding away and the ignoring life and losing years to apathy. 

So forgive me if I’m somewhat cynical about this day of “love” - whether you call it Valentines or Galentines or whatever - but let me tell you, and me, this: it gets better. 

I did take that chance just after my 30th birthday, and I put myself out there. I met a lovely young chap via online dating (thank gawd it was pre-Tinder; I don’t think my self-worth would’ve handled that!), and he literally saved me. He saved me from myself, and from the world, and gave me the strength to face my issues head-on. He is the most patient man in the world, and the most supportive. We don’t really do movie-style romance, but it doesn’t matter and I don’t care. We have huge amounts of fun, and keep each other entertained endlessly. He is my best friend and I couldn’t imagine being on this journey to myself without him. 

Off we head to Ghostbusters at Secret Cinema in 2013

But not everyone is that lucky. If I could talk to that girl of 15 years ago, I’d tell her one thing: you don’t need anything but inner strength and the conviction that you are enough. Because I was enough then, and I am still enough, and I always will be enough. I wish I knew it then, but I’m ready to accept it now.

We hear a lot about self-love these days, less so in the 90s. Self-love is still, for me, a step too far. I’m reaching for self-compassion first. I’m here to forgive myself for succumbing to fear and guilt and shame, and to wrap myself in a warm embrace of acceptance. 

In fact, research shows us that self-compassion is actually healthier than self-esteem. 

Don’t buy shit; be kind instead

Modern life is designed to make us feel inferior, that there is always someone more successful, skinnier, smarter, more beautiful, more brilliant. It’s designed to make us buy more shit to make us feel better, and to keep us on the wheel. We tell ourselves that if we could only find more self-esteem, we wouldn’t need the shit - we would feel confident, strong and powerful in ourselves, and that would fix everything. 

As Dr Kristin Neff, the mother of self-compassion, writes on her blog: “The pursuit of high self-esteem has become a virtual religion, but research indicates this has serious downsides. Our culture has become so competitive we need to feel special and above average to just feel okay about ourselves.” However, this leads to both a sense of isolation and separation, and is, she says, responsible for the narcissism epidemic

But we’re only human, and nobody’s perfect. Life is bound to go awry, we are bound to make mistakes, and failure is always an option. By leaning into self-compassion, we take a non-judgmental acceptance of painful emotions and are kind to ourselves, rather than harshly self-critical. It’s a much healthier way than the constant negative tape recording of my faults that has been playing on loop for the last few decades, and it’s a practice I’ve been working on for a while now.

There is no masterplan for you; life is what you make it

I recently stumbled across a quote from the novelist Leigh Bardugo that got my blood pumping. At the Miami Book Fair last year, she said this:

“There is a myth that this career, this creative life, belongs to a different human being… In fact, I think those myths are predominately created to hold people back, particularly women. You’re only valuable if you’re young. You’re only valuable if you’re the smartest person in the room. You’re only valuable if you’re pretty. You’re only valuable if you’re thin. You’re only valuable if you’re able-bodied. You’re only valuable if you accomplish THIS by this particular age, if you hit the bestsellers list, if you sell a novel, if you have an adaptation made. 

“It’s all BS,” she continued. “It’s all designed to make you feel bad so you don’t achieve. So, I’m here to say you need to ignore that. That you are in a war with the existing culture that we have that does not want you to make art. And your job as an artist is to make art when no one cares and when no one is looking.”

I don’t know if mid-20s Lauren was ready to hear that, but I can certainly tell you it struck a chord with early-40s Lauren. The guilt of not achieving what you’re “supposed” to have achieved by various ages has had me stuck in a spiral of shame for too long. I’m ready to forgive young Lauren for not believing in herself, for feeling she wasn’t worthy. I know the steps I need to take towards my authentic self, and I am now ready to do the work. My mantra is clear: I can often feel inferior, but I know I’m successful, sought-after and loved. And that’s a big - no, a massive step for this human.

Thanks for being on the journey with me, and happy heart day to you.

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The week ahead 🗓

I’m still in course-a-palooza mode, but it’s helping to lift the brain fog and keep me in some form of routine without the stress of client deadlines looming over me. I really want to get back into achieving stuff though!

• Courses:

  • I’m back with Drs Alice Tarbuck and Claire Askew for Toil & Trouble, learning more about witchcraft. (Side note: they’ve just announced an introduction to Tarot course that I immediately signed up for; details here.)

  • Nightmare Fuel, the horror writing class I’m taking with Autocrit, finishes up this week. I thought I’d be fine staying up to do a live class at 11pm twice a week, but the first time killed me for days so I’ve been playing catch up ever since. It’s totally opened up my story, though!

  • Also finishing up this week is Write to Thrive with the lovely Jo Bell. It’s been brilliant to journal my way towards self-compassion with her. (Sign up for her newsletter here; in case you can’t tell, I’m a big fan.)

  • I’m one week into Comparison-Free Me with the inimitable Lucy Sheridan, shedding my expectations of others’ expectations and learning to trust myself. (Lucy’s book is fab; get it here.)

• Event: I can’t wait for Damian Barr’s Literary Salon interview with Russell T Davies and Ruth Coker Burks. They’ll be looking back at the 1980s on the LGBTQ+ community and reflect on the relevance those untold stories have today. Damian is a great host, and this is sure to be an enlightening evening. (Tickets still available here, with 10% of every ticket sold going towards the Terrence Higgins Trust.)

• Work: I need to sort out some websites and create a survey to inform my new coaching practice. I might just ask for your help with the latter next week!

• Routine: And of course, I aim to continue my daily practice: morning pages, 15 minutes of meditation, 10 minutes of stretches. I also need to add “walk” to that list, but it’s been too darn cold lately...

• Writing: I’m writing a piece for a forthcoming 26 project which is proving tricky, so wish me luck please. I’m also hoping to brainstorm my way back into the novel, but I’ve got a busy brain week so I might get the courses out of the way first! 

• Finally, join me and hundreds of others at Writers’ Hour every week day: 8am GMT, EST, PST and AEDT

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On the stereo 🎧

Monsoon, by Nikki Slade

“What’s the name of that chanting lady we see at Latitude?” I was desperate. I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me, but I really needed a dose of the uplifting, spiritual positivism I felt last time I saw her perform. Google reminded me: Nikki Slade is “pioneering western style Kirtan leader and natural voice facilitator”. She often is first up on a weekend by the lake at Latitude, and it’s always beautiful. I’m missing festivals, so badly, so listening to this brings back wonderful memories of live music in the sun.

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Off the shelf 📚

Waking the Witch: Reflections on Women, Magic and Power, by Pam Grossman

Such a powerful, powerful tome. Pam Grossman uses the lens of the witch character to examine both her own life and society’s attitudes towards women throughout the centuries. It’s enlightening, it’s eye-opening, and it’s empowering. “Show me your witches and I’ll show you your feelings about women.” Indeed. Discover more here. 

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Visual confirmation 📷

Thinking back to NYE 2019/20, the last time we had a couples’ night out in central London. (Thanks, #plaguelife.) It was a trip to the theatre, and we couldn’t deal with the drunken yoof when we reemerged into the open so jumped on the tube home and were in our PJs before midnight. Rock and/or roll indeed.