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The first tenderness, an introduction

…in autumn you realize: the greatest bravery is in being translucent like glass

All that fragility, lightness, signs of others' imprudent fingers,

The greatest generosity – is to gift inner warmth amassed,

True maturity – is in being able to trust, remember, be afraid;

It is customary in our lands to come back in autumn,

The time of absence has passed.

Ksenia Zheludova ¹

Eight years ago, my life changed dramatically.

In the space of a month, I filed for a divorce, returned to my mom's home, and changed job. The first change hurt, the second one burned with shame, while the third one became an epic challenge: in my little cosy swamp, a rowing contest began.

I got lucky. I joined an editorial team that was going to create a start-up project for women on a major internet news portal in Belarus, TUT.BY, winning my place over a crazy number of other applicants. In the next two and a half years, I worked like Carrie Bradshaw: writing bold news stories about relationships. Those narratives, full of irony, banter, and reassurance, implied that I knew everything about men. When I met my future husband, I realized after a while that I knew nothing about them. My swagger was meaningless.

And it was precisely because when we broach the subject of real, living people, there is no absolute and constant knowledge, and every year spent side by side changes one's worldview. What seemed normal before, ceases to be so, and what was once perceived as a wonder, becomes humdrum. Conclusions and lessons of the past stop being treasured like a museum masterpiece, artifacts from your personal hall of military glory. Where once they served and protected you from harm, now they prevent you from moving forward.

Three years after my divorce (to the day actually) I got re-married. Some more time passed and my husband and I bought a house with a wonderful garden, and we moved from Minsk to the suburbs to listen to apples fall and grass grow.

We became parents.

I continued to write about love and relationships, but more and more often I felt like I was losing the thread of my topic, like sand slipping through my fingers, like it was asking me to leave it in peace. I came to the conclusion that I no longer want to write about love. Other worries seemed more significant, more poignant, and demanded more attention and strength. What is love for… what could I say? “If something changes, I'll let you know”.

I was tired of worrying about love. Tired of scrutinizing relationships, as if they were mistakes on a dictation assignment (do you pair words “family” and “home” with “want” or “have to”?), tired of thinking in perspectives (“Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?”),² tired of asking questions, the answers to which are unclear for me, but which I know already I'm still not going to like.

I realized that the only person who would never abandon me and whom I'd never have to dance around for – is me, myself, and I. I have no need to doubt my own desires, nor to prove to myself the truth about my own pain: for me, everything is exactly the way I feel it.

I can trust myself.

I can count on myself.

Nobody will ever love us the way we want – they will love us whatever way they can. Our dependence on other people and their changing moods doesn't make us happy – it makes us convenient. We are so used to adapting and acting as a buffer, to controlling our inner resentment and turning our anger into a silence that it inevitably leads to an explosion. The moment it all goes to hell is only a matter of time.

It is completely exhausting to think for others, feel for them, and predict their reactions. It is also quite useless: to live the life of others instead of doing something beautiful of your own.

It is boring and bleak to live in a world where your cheerfulness depends on how well you adjust to someone else's view of you. It is all right to end relationships and quit jobs that do not bring you value anymore or jobs that you cannot devote yourself to anymore either. It's not because it will be more exciting or interesting with other people or at another place, it's simply because here, at this particular place, it definitely won't be exciting or interesting anymore.

It is normal to be quite overwhelmed by the question (often put to celebrities) “What's your highest and most significant achievement in life so far?”. It's normal to look beyond the voice asking and quiz in return what right they have to ask; moreover, what have they done with their lives so far.

In the world where I celebrate myself, I no longer wait for someone to come and take care of me, I create my own joy. I take myself by the hand and lead myself to where I can feel the things I long for – the trustworthiness of “my people”, the taste of hot shish-kebab, or a sense of light-headedness after a fresh haircut.

In the world where I celebrate myself, I tell myself: I will get to this later, this will be done a couple of months from now, and this one I will never do, because for some things never is the best time possible.

Sometimes it seems like you are so used to being G. I. Jane that talk of some evanescent tenderness to yourself seems so illusory, like childish make-belief, that no one cares to tell you and if they did, you don't have time to listen. Yet I would like to take on this task and start this conversation, because in years of existence of the blog Gnezdo.by I have received a ton of letters from people telling me they're living at the very edge of their capacity, that they sleep three hours a day, work to the point of exhaustion, and take care of others until they themselves break down. None of these stories ended well. There is a point as to why there's a meme on the internet that says “No task is impossible, there are heart attacks at thirty”.

Let the time you spend with this book be an opportunity for you to sit down and get cozy; to listen to yourself and find out how you deserve to be treated and what treatment is unacceptable for you; to discover what you can accept and what not; what brings joy to your life, inspires, amazes, fascinates you, and what leaves you enraged. Listen to yourself, don't let anyone interrupt or devalue what you're about to hear.

Tenderness to yourself is always a journey, not just a strong-willed decision or a promise once given. This journey has no destination point on a map and will not lead you to a better version of yourself. Rather, it will lead you to a point where you refuse to play your own supervisor, critic, and judge, and choose to trust that you are normal.

This means exploring with kind curiosity all your “can-not”, “do not wants” and “will not do's” and not to go with the flow, or against it for that matter, but rather go where you need to go.

You are not eternal. No, really, you aren't.

Let me share all I know about tenderness to yourself and you decide the reason why this book has made it to your hands.

What will we talk about? About the right of each and every one of us to feel the way we do – and not be ashamed of it. About priorities, and what to do when others try to tell us how to live our lives.

About ageing and why it's not worth being afraid of it, and about money and mind patterns that prevent us from panicking and setting a fair price for our work and not feeling guilty for spending your own money on yourself afterward.

About how to celebrate life by having what we have and stop believing that you are not good enough, or wrong, or that you must fix yourself immediately.

We will explore the topic of tenderness to your body: how to stop fighting for it and with it and how respectfully to accept its story. We will take a look at the material things around us. It cannot be underestimated how a place that reflects us can be a source of support and help.

And, of course, we will talk a lot about how to interact with the world coming from a principle of tenderness to yourself: to assert your right to think differently, to stop playing games like “guess what I'm thinking” and “guess what I mean”, and to start asking what you need, to protect what's important, to say “no”, get closer or further away without hurting each other, and always to remember context.

I will tell you about the value of “your own pack” and – kind-mirror people. I will share some principles for getting organized in informational chaos. These principles are based on being mindful of your heartaches and will tell you the miraculous effect that settings like “Mute” and “Cancel subscription” can have.

At the end of the book, you'll be offered a challenge of tenderness to yourself. 31 days of tasks and practicals that will help you to get to know yourself better, dot the i's and cross the t's and find out what you will get out of it.

I am not one for conjuring up castles in the air. I am only going to talk about the things I have tried and lived through myself. For sure, my experiences are not universal and shouldn't be viewed as instructions to live by. Listen to yourself, note when words that you read awaken familiar thoughts (“Oh, it's the same with me!”), but search for your truth yourself. Believe me, you can't miss it, something like a car's parking sensors will start to beep inside you, louder when you get to the core truth.

Ideas are like seeds: if you will feel that what you've just read causes itching and tingling then it means that the seed has fallen on prepared soil and will soon start to sprout. If you like what grows, hug yourself and celebrate. If you don't, then don't take misfortune close to heart. Remember that even if an attempt falls through, it doesn't necessarily mean it was all in vain.

I wrote this book so that you would be able to open it on any page and feel your shoulders start to relax, your breathing become easier and your head gets lighter.

And tenderness towards yourself will fill your body up to the brim like a warm wave.

The second tenderness. Feelings

You bring him a little tenderness in the palm of your hands

Putting them together like a little boat;

He giggles and slaps your hands up from below;

No, it doesn't hurt, why would it, no,

Something like this will not impair;

And yet the tenderness is shattered beyond repair.

Ksenia Zheludova

My needlecraft teacher at school was a big fan of Louise Hay³ and instead of explaining to us how to make our rows of stitches straight, she would send us to the fitting-room one by one, to sit in front of the mirror and repeat one hundred times looking at yourself “I love myself”.

We were thirteen. We knew nothing of love and even less of ourselves. So, all the assurances that you just need to “love yourself” – and your belly fat along with pimples will magically disappear and boobs grow larger – seemed senseless and odd.

Many years would pass before I would start to understand at least a little about love. Before I would be able to rid this word of all the superficiality attached to it, of all literary clichés and other people's stories associated with it. Before I would discover what it is like to lose someone, stay all alone, or be the one to leave first. I would yet find out what it is like when your world begins to shrink and starts weighing you down and you begin to feel dead on the inside: how wonderful it is to have you all; what a pity that I don't need any of you.

Many more years would pass before I would begin to understand the concept of self-love, start accepting my own feelings and naming my fears; before I would start saying “I am afraid” when I was, instead of playing a tough-looking heroine with her knees trembling under the table.

Age really makes a lot of things easier

To be precise, it is experience that we accumulate as we age

We understand our parents better when we become parents ourselves and feel the burden of having to take care of our family, especially when the money runs short and a job is nowhere to be seen.

We understand that a child's worldview and the worldview of an adult are two completely different Universes. So, instead of getting stuck in the hurt caused by people from the past and viewing yourself as a victim, it would be more tender to yourself to just accept what never had a chance to happen, to shed tears over what you did not get, mourn what wasn't lived through, and finally close the door on trying to find all those why's. Memory can lie to us and skew the facts. You may keep a grudge against someone who had no intention of hurting you, because “they gave you everything they could, and what wasn't given – that was not available at all”.⁴

In my opinion, it is very important in every person's development, to cut the phrase “I feel so because…” to “I feel so. Period”, and to try to find as many ways as possible to support yourself in the here and now, in the conditions and with the person you live in right now.

Feelings are neither ugly nor wrong

Tenderness towards you begins by giving yourself permission to feel everything you feel, regardless of what other people think, and not breaking those feelings down into good and bad categories.

Elizabeth Gilbert once wrote on her Facebook page⁵ that if we are feeling joy then it is truthful and real to us, same as our sadness, same as our love for somebody. No one will win if we try to convince ourselves that we're feeling something different. There is no better way to become whole than to live your own truth. By choosing less, we will be choosing something unfit for ourselves.

If you are feeling sadness then that's what it is for the moment, and there's no good in denying it.

You have a reason to feel the way you do: maybe something has upset you, maybe you have lost something (money, relationships, a possession, inspiration, your weekend plans, the love of your life), and you need to live through that loss, grieve and adapt to a change.

Grieving does not mean wearing black, inconsolably sobbing, and never leaving the room. To grieve means allowing yourself to acknowledge your loss. There's no way of knowing how long it will take you, but if you try to stop yourself from living through it, then it will definitely take longer than it otherwise would.

If this were the case, tenderness to yourself would mean reconciling yourself to walking around for some time with pockets full of sadness. It will pass when it can. It is okay, it won't kill you and for certain will not make you worse.

With that in mind, try not to lure yourself into “worrying for the sake of worrying” – in other words, panicking about whether we're all right just because we felt the “wrong reaction” to something: maybe we got jealous, glad of a friend's bad luck, upset or just sad and started whining – as is the current trend – rather than being proactive.

We are sad when we find ourselves unable to spread “positive vibes” the whole time. We are pained to admit that there are things that will always trigger us, which means that we will always react in the “wrong” way, not as we would wish to react, but rather coming from our personal well-being and whatever strength we have at that moment. Just so we're not reduced to tears on the spot.

This is a reality, so please breathe in and out and come back to yourself as soon as you sense you are starting to feel worried about the “appropriateness” of your feelings. You are all right, your worries are on a par with the moment. You do not have to be ashamed of them and try to feel different.

It's not scary to feel hate even once for your loved one – It's scary to not allow yourself to feel anything towards him except for love.

Feelings are always about “now”, and not about character. If you are feeling angry, it does not say anything about the kind of person you are but it might say a lot about what is going on. Perhaps, someone is breaking into your personal boundaries or denigrating something dear to your heart. Or maybe you feel overworked and your body has switched into red-alert mode, perceiving everything within your sight as a threat.

The same goes for fear. If you're afraid, it doesn't mean that you're a coward. Your feelings just overrule your thought process and you feel threatened before you can explain what is going on. There is a good saying for it: if something feels wrong, then it probably is.

If you're hungry, exhausted, or tired, don't expect Buddha-like calmness from yourself when you come across mess that your children have made. Your anger won't be proof of your bad character, it will only be a signal that right now you are at a low point.

Whenever we burden other people with hopes they cannot live up to, we face a conflict of expectations. A newborn has no idea that mommy needs some sleep. A husband cannot read his wife's mind and therefore cannot possibly know what she is keeping silent about. It is pointless to expect support and sympathy from a friend who is known for being critical. They all do what they do, not out of spite, but because they do not know better. It is not that they are bad, it just shows that something is wrong with our expectations (I would like to highlight that: expectations, not us).

Now, it is quite different when you are being told how exactly you should feel, or when you are judged for your reaction to something. “How can you be happy to quit a job? You are supposed to feel worried like all normal people do!”

I remember feeling a vivid rage, not grief as everyone expected (grief was present, but only as a backdrop) when my first husband and I started divorce proceedings. I don't think I would have felt that way had we “just” had different characters, or had our love vanished into thin air with the passing of time. I was enraged because I felt helpless watching something I treasured and had invested my time, efforts, and money into, methodically and inevitably collapse before my eyes.

However, I am absolutely adamant not to feel something just because it is deemed an “inappropriate” or unwanted feeling. (– “I love you”. – “Thank you”. – “Well, that wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for…” – “Thank you very much?”).⁶

You are saying “I am hurt”, and someone tells you “Not, you're not…”.

You are not hurt. You are not afraid. You are not feeling bad. You are not tired. It is all just your imagination, pull yourself together, get up. And you do pull yourself together once, twice, three times, four, five, eighteen times, forty-three. And that's when you start noticing how stoic and strong you've become, thick-skinned, almost armor-plated. And where something living and warm previously was, a cold emptiness now forms.

And one day, you wind up hearing yourself saying to someone else: you're not hurt; you are not afraid. You neither believe nor measure anything against yourself; the benchmarks are low, and the lack of faith paltry, but that other person who approached you with their woes is left sad and lonely and burdened.

I dislike it when someone asks “What happened”, and when they hear the answer, they ask: “Why are you so upset? It's not worth it!” Well, first of all, every person has a right to feel how they would like to feel towards what happened, simply because he or she knows best what can ease their pain. Secondly, that kind of response casts doubt on the person's ability to react appropriately to events, degrading them from a position of an adult with their own formed values system to the position of a child whose experiences are not enough to adequately judge what is going on. Thirdly, no one has a right to say “chill out” until they have walked in the other person's shoes. Only someone who has experienced a loss knows how hard it is to endure that. People do not grieve for fun.

It was Melody Beattie who wrote in her famous book on co-dependence Codependent No More: “Stop abandoning ourselves, our needs, our wants, our feelings, our lives, and everything that comprises us. Make a commitment to always be there for ourselves. We can trust ourselves. We can handle and cope with the events, problems, and feelings life throws our way. We can trust our feelings and our judgments. We can solve our problems. We can learn to live with our unsolved problems, too. We must trust the people we are learning to depend upon ourselves.”⁷

Quiet emotions

Sometimes emotional detachment is not a sign of exhaustion or a conscious suppression of feelings, but rather an individual, inner characteristic. You shouldn't blame yourself for not being emotional and shouldn't try to force yourself to experience reality in a more vivid way. “Quality” of emotions does not depend on the way one expresses them and is not measured by how high you jump for joy or how many gallons of tears you shed.

It is normal to love passionately and madly, it is also normal not to love that way.

Tenderness to yourself means learning to value your own set of tools, instead of being jealous of someone else's. Someone else might have a magnifying-glass that allows him to notice something significant amongst the small things. Another might have an axe that allows him to chop away the unnecessary. A third person might have a tape rule for measuring everything he comes across, and a fourth person might be equipped with ink for blackening up the picture. It is normal if your own toolkit lacks an emotional amplifier. It is not a deficiency, but a peculiarity.

For most of us, it's an extra credit question that allows us to feel negativity without doing anything about it, be it fixing ourselves or feeling ashamed. We're not afraid of feelings per se, but rather the risk of what we might do under their influence – badly thought through actions, razor-sharp words that might slip off our tongue. It's scary having to deal with the consequences later: spoiled relationships, lengthy disagreements, and the tattered reputation of a usually calm and friendly person.

Many of us are afraid to feel sexually curious about another person when we're in a stable, monogamous relationship, as if it would be akin to adultery and acknowledge problems in relationships. This is not exactly right. The more often we force ourselves to suppress our spontaneous interest in somebody (“don't you dare to look!”, “don't even dare to admire!”, “don't you dare to admit you like what you're seeing!”), the more likely it is that a long-restrained pressure will cause an explosion and infidelity will happen for real. We could also lose our passion for things in general, including towards our long-term partner. (“– Let's go to a bar! – No more bars. – Let's go fishing! – No more fishing. – Any regret you got married? – No more regrets are allowed.”)⁸

There are many decisions and concrete steps between sexual interest and cheating. It's ok to feel sexually aroused if that's all you take home.

One cannot influence the kinds of feelings that are born inside. You cannot force yourself to fall out of love or stop being hurt from betrayal at will. The good news is: you always have powers to cope with any of your feelings.

Not even one feeling can kill you because, if it could, they wouldn't exist in our nature at all.

As Anne Lamott once wrote, “But you can't get to any of these truths by sitting in a field smiling beatifically, avoiding your anger and damage and grief. Your anger and damage and grief are the way to the truth. We don't have much truth to express unless we have gone into those rooms and closets and woods and abysses that we were told not to go into. When we have gone in and looked around for a long while, just breathing and finally taking it in – then we will be able to speak in our own voice and stay in the present moment. And that moment is home.”⁹

Run, Breathe, Talk, Repeat

When you experience strong feelings, the most difficult part is remembering to breathe. When you feel adrenaline coursing through your body, you must continue breathing, consciously prevent yourself from freezing, and detach yourself from what is happening. In my experience, muscles remember numbness best, and it requires many hours of body-relaxation practices to soothe away those freezing effects that turn your body into a pillar of salt. (And on this topic, I am truly amazed by the Siberian salamander that lives in permafrost areas. This little, slow-moving newt can lie frozen in a cliff crack for decades (!), and when the sun shines on it again, it unthaws and gets back to its business, as if nothing ever happened. I envy that a bit.)

Damage from emotional “freeze” can be compared to the damage spring frost causes to young sprouts on a plunge bed. Water in plant cells turns into ice, cellular structures break down and we are left with a limp green mess where just yesterday squash was supposed to be growing. We are doing the same when we freeze the hurt, fears, and pain we have experienced: we are carrying icicles inside of us and cutting ourselves with them.

In The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, sisters Emily and Amelia Nagoski¹⁰ talk about the stress reactions our bodies experience when under threat. A wolf in a forest, getting through flight turbulence, a weirdly behaved stranger on the subway, or a brazen driver cutting us up on the highway – our bodies perceive all of these as a threat and immediately start to pump the stress-hormone levels up in order to help us safely get away from such situations.

According to the Nagoski sisters, if you want to be healthier and happier it is absolutely essential to break the stress-reaction cycle, not just in your mind, but by performing active responses. This basically means that telling yourself “I was afraid, but it is ok, let's forget about it and move forward” – is a bad idea. Don't think for a moment that you could calm trembling hands, shivering knees, ringing in the ears, heart pumping like crazy, stomach in knots, high blood pressure, and tunnel-like vision, simply by saying: “There, there, buddy, everything is all right now, relax.” That time when you were sitting and smiling, and on the inside you were bubbling with rage, or when someone yelled at you and you were afraid to talk back because todo so would have triggered even more aggression, in each instance your body experiences as much stress as it would inside an elevator when the safety cable snaps.

In Nagoski's words, the most efficient way to end a stress-reaction cycle is to perform some physical exercises. It serves as a sort of “signal to your body that you have successfully survived a threat and it is safe to be in your body again.”¹¹

Long before I came across this information, I used intuitively to turn to movements and sport to get rid of tension and get a hold of my anxiety. You are probably doing the same.

…I vividly remember long bank-holidays in May when I would be overwhelmed with a horrible identity crisis: it didn't just feel like I was out of it, but like my whole self was melting in the sun and solidifying into an ugly, formless mess. Am I in the right place? With the right people? Where am I heading towards? Why is everything so hard? Tons of questions with zero answers.

While everyone was out enjoying shish-kebab, picnicking outside the city limits, I would be smoking cigarettes, dressed in my pajamas, and writing work documents. I would take work home for the weekend because I didn't know how to stop, nor would I allow myself to stop. I was nearly burned out at my job as editor-in-chief, exhausted by work pressure, loneliness, and the fact that it had been a year and a half since my divorce, and I'd had no luck to speak of with any new relationships.

Apples, chestnuts, and bird-cherry trees would all be blooming dopey-sweet, while I clicked away on my keyboard, trying to fill up my inner emptiness by consuming condensed milk and five-to-six packs of ice cream at a time. Inevitably I gained weight and I hated myself for it. I was eating to make myself even angrier, make my inner conflict even worse, I'd reached a point of no return, turned myself inside out, time to die and be reborn as a new, different person that someone at least will need.

…Late at night, when I was already asleep, I received a message from my ex-husband. He'd written to say that his new woman was his personal eighth wonder of the world and that he was in love and “ oh-my-God-so-happy, you can't even imagine how great it is.” My heart skipped two beats, and a tear slowly slid down from my left eye and into my ear.

I realized that even my little self-destruction, pity-, hate-swamp has its boundaries. So, one warm, May night, in the midst of leaf-rustling, wine-drinking, and falling stars, I reached my personal lowest point.

I woke up at 4:30am the next morning, took a piece of paper, and frantically started scribbling my own “manifesto.” Straight from the shoulder, in the beautiful block letters (almost caps lock) of a straight-A student, I wrote everything I thought of myself, my life, and my perspectives. “Nobody is going to solve your problems for you. Nobody is going to come and save you, because is there an end to your miseries at all? Nobody is interested in the vivid range of your depression – and when it comes to it, nobody should be interested, goddamn it. So, pick yourself up, put on your running shoes, and run. Run until you drop from tiredness, and when that happens – start crawling to your home.”

I got up from my bed, put on my running shoes, stroked my cat who was wondering what was going on, and ran off. Huge chafers made love and fell onto the asphalt with a rustling sound. The dawn sky was so clear and blue that it hurt to look at it.

Running became a way to get the blood going and keep evil thoughts at bay. Sometimes I would run to the point of exhaustion to not give myself a chance to start crying. For eight months straight I would put on my old pink jogging pants that had been in my closet since I was a teenager, I'd put my headphones and music on, and set off for a daily marathon along the road.

To avoid being alone in the “cheap desperation of darkness”, I'd sometimes drag myself out by the scruff of the neck for a run in the thick, hot night air. Сhoke on your tears and nag all you want, but keep moving forward.

Three kilometers in, my tears would dry out, in four – the self-nagging stopped, in five – the pain would disappear. Ten kilometers were a killer: I'd get home, crash down on the floor and lie there listening to the sweat dripping from my pores, drenching the rug, softening concrete slabs, getting into the earth, mixing with groundwaters to set off together somewhere far-far away, where everything is plain and simple.

The night is always darkest before the dawn, and sport can really help you tackle stress.

“One thing we know for sure doesn't work: just telling yourself that everything is okay now. Completing the cycle isn't an intellectual decision; it's a physiological shift. Just as you don't tell your heart to continue beating or your digestion to continue churning, the cycle doesn't complete by deliberate choice. You give your body what it needs, and allow it to do what it does, in the time that it requires.”¹²

What else can we do to resist the rush of feelings? Try to follow some of my advice below.

Blow gigantic soap bubbles. It is a wonderful way to concentrate on breathing and calm yourself down by slowly breathing out.

Shake yourself to not be shaken. When I feel my muscles turn to stone from stress, I try to relax them by shaking. I turn on music, close my eyes, catch the rhythm and become an ancient woman dancing under a full moon by the fire. At that particular moment, I don't even care how my butt looks (spoiler: like Jell-O). I am not a huge believer in esotericism, but let me tell you that not a single meditation, massage session, or fitness class has ever brought me such speedy recovery as shaking off my troubles in the middle of my kitchen in my red house pants.

Name what scares you (name it to tame it). Try to define as clearly as possible what exactly you're feeling, what is it like, and how does it feel in your body. The more overtly you can identify your feeling, the faster they will go. Imagine waves sweeping forth and retracting back to the sea. They kiss sand and your feet, but leave you ashore, alive and unharmed.

Jump if you have been afraid. After you've experienced stress, draw a line under it by performing any physical activity you can think of. It might seem like a crazy thing to do, to lock yourself into an office restroom and do twenty high jumps, but by doing so, your body will recall that it is safe to be you, and you'll release all that pent up tension.

A note of tenderness to yourself

1. You have the right to feel whatever, whenever and as long as you need to. There are no wrong, ugly, or inappropriate feelings, all of them are true to you.

2. Only you can decide how to live through your emotions – the level of their intensity and how they manifest themselves (granted, they are causing no harm to people around you). Suggesting you “forget and relax” is stupid advice and no support at all if that's all the advice someone can give you.

3. Asking yourself “Did I like that?” is way better than asking “What have others thought of me?”

4. Do not challenge yourself when you're hungry, tired, or lacking sleep. Better take yourself by the hand and walk to a place where you can get some peace and quiet, tea and sandwiches.

5. Do not demand a firework of emotions from yourself. Sincerity is not measured by loudness, and gratitude does not require any special effects. Rise and shine as much as you can, and that will do.

6. You can always say: “Please, stop yelling at me.” And if someone tries to make you feel guilty, know that you can discard it in the same way as you would annoying flyers, from your letterbox straight to the bin. “No, thank you.”

The third tenderness, priorities

…talking, not baulking at a question, not peeking into an answer;

getting used to the toil of defining your aims, honing a preference;

knowing that what has been called the truth stops being that

the moment you say it out in the open.

Ksenia Zheludova

Every time I say “yes” to something, I know beforehand how many “no's” it will cost me. Starting with the no's that I will have to tell myself.

Setting priorities is not the same as setting boundaries. Priorities define the order of precedence while boundaries are measures of what is permissible.

One needs to set priorities to understand what requires devoted attention and what one should spend time and effort on first of all.

Without a hierarchy of goals, it is easy to stretch yourself thin like a smudge on the blotting paper that spreads to all corners.

You could squander yourself to nothing, and not get any joy out of the process. You could find yourself falling into a state of frustration when, for example, you can't put a finger on what is it you want (wouldn't it be nice to want to start wanting!) or when you're constantly suffering from a lack of sleep but, at the same time, find yourself with eyes wide open at five in the morning, sitting in your bed and staring at the ceiling. You keep hoping that the weekend will come and save us all, but it comes and goes as life speeds by.

When there is no goal hierarchy, our energy is spent on whatever's close at hand, and not on important things. In addition, a great chunk of energy goes into worrying about why we're falling behind on everything. It's important to set priorities:

– base your recovery time on what's been expended to achieve the goal, and not on what's leftover. This way you can switch your head off, stop constantly clock-watching, stop thinking about productivity, and stop feeling guilty for doing nothing. I like that they call it dolce far niente (“sweet doing nothing”) in Italy, or םישוע םייח (“making life”, enjoying life) in Israel, or me time in English-speaking countries; have enough strength left to experience joy, laugh heartily, and see the funny side in general (all jokes can get on your nerves if you're exhausted); have enough resources to take care of yourself in times of crisis a financial cushion and a trusted and long-standing supportive circle of friends.

– If you don't get to say to yourself “This is what is important for me now, and that one is not” then you will drown in daily chores, and another six months will pass before you realise. And once again, you will be left wondering what is wrong with you not to have noticed.

We are acknowledging and showing respect for the limited availability of our resources by setting priorities.

If we are conscious of why we are doing something, it is easier to endure hardships because of intrinsic motivation. Exercising free will itself – knowing which burden to carry and what price to pay – could turn us from a little origami boat in a creek into a happy, yellow submarine.

First things first

I have made a list of different possible priorities. Take a look at it, and you'll find it easier to make one of your own.

Relationships priority (kids, family, friends, acquaintances). This is when you're prepared to put your work to one side to meet a friend or to make it to your kids' school performance. It's when you agree to help on your colleague's moving day despite your knee hurting. It is when you send a hand-written postcard and not a short “Congratulations!” text with a flower emoji. It is when you know for sure what actions could upset a friend and do all you can to avoid it.

Recovery (rest) priority. This is not rushing to clean your house when you're tired, even if you know that your mom, mother-in-law, or other guests are due at any time. This is not starting a third work project and not accepting a sixty-eighth client because five hours of sleep a day is definitely not enough and on that little, you start forgetting your name. Recovery priority is asking your husband or your child to watch TV with headphones on because you need some peace.

Priority of pleasure. This is going for a run or to the gym not because you need to lose weight, but because you like physical activity. It's when you choose a dish on the menu because it is what you want, and not because it has fewer calories or is considered a healthier option. It is when you refuse to buy something that's unpleasant to touch, or hurts your eyes to look at it, irritates you with unpleasant sounds, or is “good for you, but tastes bad.”

Money priority. This is when earning as much money as possible is more important than a lack of sleep, or weekends, and spending time with your family and friends. It is when faced with the choice of two jobs, you choose the one with a bigger salary. It is when you stay with someone you do not love because he supports you financially.

Job/Career priority. This is when you work longer than your contractual hours in order to exceed a plan or complete a project ahead of deadline. It's when you adhere to the sometimes unspoken company rules so as to move up the career ladder. It is when you hire a babysitter to watch your kid while you are at the office, or when your phone is on 24/7 because “there might be something important” or a phone call might come in from a colleague in in another time zone.

Safety priority. This is when you thoroughly read a document before signing it to understand all the possible risks. It' when you have a financial safety cushion that you never touch. It is when you refuse to be a co-signatory for someone else's huge loan, even if a friend is the one asking. It is when you stick to the speed limit, even on an empty highway with no cameras around.

Priority of a shared goal. This is when you and your colleagues work non-stop to deliver a project on time. It is when you and your partner are willing to live on what one of you earns while you put away the other's earnings so you can save for a house together. It is when you decide who will take maternity leave and who will continue providing for the family.

Priority of inner peace. This is when you decline an invitation to a family dinner so you can avoid listening to why your way of living is wrong. It is when you avoid doing anything that will create a fear of tax offices or other official authorities, or taking calls from unknown numbers (we are talking about fear precisely, not about a conscious decision to ignore them), or meeting someone because you owe them something.

By defining what is most important for you and what comes next you are strengthening your guts and making sure both your feet stand firmly on the ground. No matter what comes next, you will always be able to rely on your true and trusted system of priorities to adapt to new challenges and changes that come your way in the method most kind to you.

What else could support you in defining priorities except common sense? You should follow an inner feeling of childish joy and excitement. It might not be present at all times (to be honest, I don't even know if it's possible always to feel it) but you need to feel it from time to time.

This feels like itching at your fingertips from letters that are about to emerge into words and become a text that will be beautiful from the first moment you imagined it, to the period at the end of the last sentence.

This is what we feel when it is not yet love, but is already sympathy, interest, a heart-pounding, unpredictable, exhilarating certainty, and not a coincidence. And your heart pounds stronger, bolder, and in its true tone. And you realize that you have but moments before fully illuminated fireworks start in your head along with an inner feeling of celebration.

Poems, artworks, photography, texts, best conversations – all are born out of a feeling of luck and goosebumps running through your body.

If a thought of something awakens an inner light in you, and interest and curiosity are born out of it, take it as a sign that you need to turn that way. As Barbara Sher wrote: “Our hearts have their own taste buds.”¹³ We can trust them.

Yes, the process of saving up for your own place is boring, but don't you get butterflies in your stomach thinking about what a cozy renovation you will make in it? You'll hang such nice curtains there! And won't it be satisfying to place all your books on shelves there, knowing that you'll never have to pack them in boxes again and move. You'll brew a tasty cup of tea, get yourself cozy in a chair, and sit watching the first snowfall of the year covering everything outside while, down to your core, you'll be feeling that you are finally Home.

The second thing that may help you prioritize is meaningfulness. When you realize the brevity of life, you'll start to hunger for a sense of purpose. You suddenly discover that you do not want to take part in projects without a clear and certain outcome, some tangible value that you can conceive like freshly scrubbed floors. You don't want to join meetings that gather just to sit round the table and watch diagrams and pictures. You don't want to write documents that go against your values, even if someone offers you good money for it.

No money can sate the hunger for meaningfulness. Where there is meaning, there is joy, and it is more difficult to burn out, surrender halfway or start feeling like you've come to a dead end.

We do not have that much time to allow ourselves to go against the grain and spend ourselves imitating a life teeming with activity.

“There are other things more important for me right now”

There's a wonderful saying: “It's not a matter of time; it's a matter of priorities.” It comes to mind every time I hear “I'm sorry, I don't have time.” This phrase clearly means: “I'm sorry, I don't have time for you.” It's only to be expected, though, given how limited our communication resources are. Friendship is based on periods of surplus inner strength, like having a fully charged inner battery for when you want to be around people, and not get away from them. In those moments, you and your friends are ready to connect and find a free slot in your schedules. (This is of course only true if your relationships are not as close as they are for the person you'll put everything else on hold for. Or for situations when “mom, my head is stuck in a bucket.”)

It is extremely important to let yourself respect your priorities and not be ashamed of them. Don't feel any guilt about not wanting to give some of your energy to another person. Don't feel guilty about exchanging “I am a good girl” for “I am a girl that could be different but there is something else more important for me now.” My health. My sleep. My children. My career. My house. My opportunity to choose what music I dance to and with whom.

There is nothing wrong with priorities. They hinge around time and circumstances and they change when life changes. (Sometimes life changes for the better precisely because of properly set priorities.)

It's normal to focus on something that fills you with joy: to work as fast, as is convenient for you; to read books at the weekend, with the cat on your lap, rather than finish a presentation; to work for someone else instead of starting your own business. It is completely normal not to do something that kills you and not to want to “become stronger” at such a high price.

So, next time you catch yourself saying “I am sorry, I haven't got time” – you can bravely finish it in your mind with “because something else is more important to me right now.”

Or even say that out loud.

Difficulties in setting priorities

If you've been satisfying someone else's interests for a long time and in doing so have completely lost yourself, you might be experiencing difficulties. For example, it might seem now like you don't even know what you like because you're only used to reacting to something: answering questions instead of asking them; obeying instead of taking the initiative; going with the flow instead of where you need to go. Below, I'm going to tell you how you can get out of an amorphous state and reclaim yourself.

When it seems like life gets out of control

If you are just starting out setting priorities and taking into account your own self-worth, you might be familiar with feeling like you have no control over anything and no meaning; like you're running in a never-ending rat race only to get nothing in return. It's quite an unpleasant state to be in that can lead to learned helplessness – when the connection between efforts and result goes unnoticed and you give up and lose the motivation to do anything at all.

In this case, my friend, psychologist Pavel Zygmantovich, advises you to stick to making decisions every day when you get a chance. Don't resort to life-changing decisions, start small: decide whether to drink coffee or tea; to ride a subway or call a taxi; to wear a dress or jeans; to write notes with blue or black ink; to wash your hair or not; to do something now or later. You need this for your own sake so that you can trust yourself when it comes to ruling your life and determining what is going on in it. The more you practice making little decisions, the more confident you'll feel when the time comes to decide on something big.

Daunting phrases

If we were to listen to ourselves explaining why it is we're doing the things we do, we would hear the most curious things. Most often we would hear phrases like “I have to” and “I need to.” When you get a chance try to replace them with “I want to”, “I love”, “I know that I can…”, or “I have resources to…”, then feel how your body responds to those replacements.

When I say “I have to be a good mother”, I feel resistance and aggression (To whom do I owe this? Why? Is this an exam or something?). Quite opposite feelings arise, however, when I say: “I want to be a good mother”, “I love being a good mother”, “I know that I can be a good mother”, or “I know I have a resource to be a good mother.” I feel especially good from the phrase “I have enough time to be a good mother.” I want, I know, I can, I love, I have. There is a great deal of self-support in these words.

Fear of coming across someone else's displeasure

We are afraid to be called egoistic, know-it-all, snobbish. And any other words used to get under a person's skin.

Refusal to do something for somebody could go hand-in-hand with feelings of shame and guilt. You need to withstand and live through them. (Good news is: they won't last for more than a couple of days but you'll be left with something you have won over – your time and strength.) Be kind to yourself at that moment and remember that while you might feel sorry for someone with problems and hardships, you are not obliged to solve them.

What should you do if you're going to say “no” to someone because you have chosen to say “yes” to yourself and stick to your priorities, but at the same time you have no intention of closing the door on that person completely and are not willing to spoil your relationships with him or her?

Offer an alternative. For example, reschedule a meeting to a time convenient to you (when you'll have finished your project or when you'll have fewer burdens weighing you down in general); offer to do less work or just a part of it.

Help by offering other resources. You could substitute your participation in something by offering money or valuable connections. For example, give the contact details of another person who might potentially be interested in an offer.

Show compassion or support in words. By doing so you'll be acknowledging that you're aware of that person, that you understand their needs, and have heard their question. That they are not a nullity. It's horrible to believe you're invisible in this world. (As demonstrated by the words on the back of a postcard at the [St Petersburg Autistic Spectrum Disorder] Center's “Anton is here nearby” programme:¹⁴ “Can I hug you, please? If I don't, I'll die of misery.”)

A desire to control everything

This is a desire that is quickly followed by another problem – an inability to delegate things. This is a detrimental illusion that comes with omnipotence: you are not capable of taking everything on yourself. Chasing this unrealistic premise means willingly agreeing to an overwhelming level of anxiety and the prospect of burnout.

In this case, let me offer a set of priorities as someone who knows just how high the price can be for an oversight or a mistake. It might well be very important for you to return your clients' calls in time, but if you do it while driving, it might cost you your life.

The need to be useful everywhere

In my opinion, this is partially caused by a desire to gain approval and acknowledgment of your worth from those around you. You want praise and ideally to hear something like “What would we do without you! We daren't even go there!”

If you were to stop and wonder why it's important that you're be praised, you might discover a need for gratitude, acknowledgment of your efforts. You will recognize that you're happy to invest only where your work is going to be noticed and valued, not taken for granted. By prioritizing fulfillment of this need, you'll be saving yourself from inevitable burnout and vainly waiting for a dog treat from someone who only keeps empty nutshells in their pocket.

Crazy merry-go-round

Here we are talking about the sort of lifestyle where you have dozens of pages open in your browser, your mailbox and apps are filling up with messages marked “Urgent”, and your phone keeps ringing. You are have several books on the go all at the same time but as yet you haven't reached even half-way through any one of them. You can no longer filter what's important to you and what isn't, and the only thing you want is to switch off from everything at once.

How can you help yourself deal with being constantly bombarded by different tasks:

arrange your tasks in order of their deadlines and start by completing those with the closest “expiry date.” When agreeing to something always ask the magical question “When?” (When should I call you back? When will you send it? When will it be done?), as this will help to close mental programs running in the back of your mind in a constant state of uncertainty, devouring your brain's short-term memory.

turn off the notifications sound on your phone. You will hear calls coming in, but won't be distracted by tweets or Facebook messenger and you can start to review messages when it's convenient to you. Also, put your group chats on mute (school chats, parent chats, neighbours' chats) to avoid accidentally unleashing all kinds of hell.

do not force yourself to read the whole book if you've set yourself a goal like “read x number of books a year.” Read only those chapters that resonate with your inner pursuit of knowledge. Nothing bad will happen if you skip the boring parts – the author will not know and will not get upset.

do not be afraid to go over priorities with the person who set them for you (director, departmental manager). Let them decide what is more important to them right now. By doing so, your boss will be aware of which task you're working on today and which one you've shuffled to the back, and you'll stop him appearing at your desk asking: “Why are you doing this when I needed that on my desk yesterday?” (You'll be saving your mood from being spoiled for the whole day to come).

remember to use the phrase: “I need some time to think.” Yes, you do have the right to say that. Always.

A burning desire to have everything right here, right now

First of all, try to find out how long an offer you are interested in is good for. Many offers regularly come round again and aren't likely to disappear for good. This means you can either take part in it now or wait and do it in half a year or a year once you've read the small print (along the way, you'll also figure out if you still want it).

As a rule, questions to help you organise a list of offer priorities include:

“How long this will be available for?”;

“Of the offers that are about to run out, what is it that especially interests me?” (Identify what it is that makes you to “squeal and jump up for joy”);

“Do I have to be physically present or can I get what is important for me remotely?” (In the form of a recording, written materials, or a summary; for some people it would be enough to just listen to their friends' impressions to get the sense they've attended an event themselves.)

Also, before you add another “very important” task to your planner, check if you even have enough room for it in your life. Let me tell you a story.

My neighbour Lena once messaged me: “I have a young gooseberry plant. Do you want it?” Without giving it a second thought, I replied: “Yes, of course!” and cheerfully went to pick it up. When I got home, I spent a full twenty (!) minutes walking round my garden, holding a seedling in my hands, and looking for a good place to plant it. – It'll get ruined over here when my child runs around; over there – it might get destroyed when my husband mows the grass; right here – I cannot plant anything at all, as everything will get crushed when we replace the fence. We have an old, long-established garden where every little piece of soil has already been accounted for. I walked around again and again, and suddenly realized that I was angry and agitated – “Trouble comes to those who seek it.” I finally found somewhere to plant it, but I became one gooseberry-plant wiser. Now, before asking for more pills to cure greed, I check how many more of them I have left.

A note of tenderness to yourself

1. Set priorities to give your life stability, and to make you more comprehensible to others. There is nothing wrong with the words: “There is something else more important to me right now.”

2. Do not neglect to prioritise ahead of long and difficult periods (a lengthy project, pregnancy, maternity leave or post-natal return to work, getting a second degree, emigration, etc.). Think about how you will replenish your powers, and where you'll find peaks of joy that will motivate you to keep going. Give some thought to what you'll have to give up for a time (or forever), and make sure you “mourn” this loss ahead of time, and live through that loss in your head.

3. Keep in mind that your resources are not infinite and don't ask heroic deeds of yourself. Very few things are important. Let your priorities protect you from casual encounters with the wider world and confidently defend the values of the current stage of your life.

4. Take good care of your inner child. “Do not ask what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you alive, and then go and do that. The world needs people that feel alive.”¹⁵

The fourth tenderness, maturity

Grow up, but don't even think of growing old

Death exists, but that's all it is,

a tribute to the law of contrasts.

Don't try numbering the pages,

time will not obey.

It's up to you to remember words, names, and faces,

knock down walls, show borders disdain,

love until the heart expires,

and know it's all not in vain.

Ksenia Zheludova

My whole childhood I dreamed about growing up faster so as to gain “independence”. I sped (literally) into my first marriage, and before that – out of my childhood home, so great was my desire for separation, but back then, I didn't have the brains to figure out how to go about it without making life-changing decisions.

I always thought of the house where I grew up as a place where I could return if ever things got tough, a place where I will always be met with open arms. I sincerely believed in this until a psychologist told me otherwise during one of our therapy sessions.

The house of parents is the house of parents, mine will be the one I will create myself.

This thought smashed me to the core. It took me several years to completely comprehend it and to start growing up.

Ever since that time, I keep thinking about what it means to be an adult and whether I have the right to consider myself one. Formally – yes, of course: aged 35+, with a family, a child, a house, graduated from the University, employed, and paying taxes. Yet, it's still difficult for me to talk about myself as “an adult” without slipping into irony and jokes about being an “old biddy” and “finally got there.”

And that is scary because at my age I have seen enough to recognise the huge chasm between night terrors in childhood, the green immaturity of youth, and the calm confidence of a person who has lived a life, and not just read about it.

Off the top of my head, I can remember just a handful of people whom I regard as adults. They amaze me with their ability to articulate their thoughts clearly, work with their feet on the ground and a level head, handle their and other people's boundaries, laugh and cry from the bottom of their heart, refrain from public dissection of their traumas – a sort of public nudity laying bare the most delicate details of your life that I have never understood.

Judging by the range and number of coaching sessions advertised, there is a real demand for training aimed at re-nursing your “inner child” today. It's as if one might finally solve all the problems in the world and in one's relationships, if one could only get enough love, and hugs, and pampering for all the years that have passed. Like we've been standing on a pause button for a long-long time, and we're freezing in a chilly, parental wind – but now the button has been released, a girl with matches can return home where there will be a roast turkey, a huge Christmas tree, and grandma waiting, still alive. Yet only…

Mom and dad were thirty years younger then. The trees were tall. A different wheel of time was turning behind those windows of the past, with its own stories, perceptions of happiness, and heroes. Those people are gone, and we have changed as well. All that is left are blurry images in your head, a couple of bitter phrases that echo in your ears at night-time, and some unremitted resentments.

And there's nothing about how to be an adult

Being an adult is not about being a big kid trying to catch a spent childhood and having a whole bunch of complaints against elderly parents; it's about adults who don't have to try and find themselves simply because they've never lost themselves.

The topic of growing up is extremely important in the context of being tender to yourself, because it's about locating an inner fountain of support and acceptance, it's about anchors that come through ageing and experience, and it's about getting the mess together in our heads. Not because your mom has told you to tidy up, but because it's nice to live in a place that's bright and spacious.

What is it like being mature?

In trying to figure out why maturity is often scary, I decided to beyond simply “because adults are boring.” Qualities that are usually associated with children – curiosity and an ability to get genuinely excited about everything new – are not exclusively “children's” (in the same way that “melancholy” and “pedantry” aren't exclusively adults'). Emotions and character traits are not milk teeth which determine your age. So, being an adult is good, being an adult is ok, even if you have to:

Stare it in the face. You can no longer hide under your bed or play dead.¹⁶ You need to face up to reality and do something about it. Or rather, say: you can hide, you can play dead, but you'll pay a high price for such behaviour. In adult life, the principle “If I ignore it, maybe it will go away” is an off-key way of working.

Broaden your circle of care and responsibilities. Parents, children, friends, cats, dogs, house, car, childcare centre, fines, credits, annual rates on credit cards, renovations, flooded neighbours when there is a broken pipe in your house… It's like that well-known joke: “Adult life is so cool! You can party, drink and dance the night away as much as you want… on your way to your three different jobs.”

Take into account that time knows no mercy. If you have missed something then there is every chance you'll never be able to regain it because of factors outside your control and irrespective of the effort you are prepared to invest in it. Skin ages. You get your first grey hair. You need more recovery time after last night's crazy party. On second thoughts, to get to bed on time and wake up hangover-free looks more attractive than sex on a beach. Voilà – and you start protecting your knees, lifting weights the proper way, blow-drying your hair in the winter months, and looking to buy a coat that goes below your bum. Yogurt and kefir are easy to find in your fridge now, ointments for sprains are overtaking hangover cures, and the freezer is hosting bones for soup, not just ice for whiskey.

Do not lose your temper if someone has a different opinion. One of the key criteria for maturity is calm acceptance of others' opinions, which is especially fitting in an era of social media and “comments fights.” I like a thought I once came across by psychologist Ekaterina Boydeck¹⁷: a mature person doesn't get worked up because of another person's opinion. It does not awaken any emotions at all because it has no influence on a mature person's beliefs and calm assurance of his right to think and act in the way he thinks best. Another person's opinion only rubs you the wrong way if you're like a child in their company (in this case, the other person's position scares you) or an adolescent (in this case the other person's opinion will spark a desire to rebel and protest). However, when you feel on an equal footing with them, no matter what they say, it won't get to you.

One of the biggest challenges of the modern world is staying true to yourself when other opinions are offered, and not feeling guilty for avoiding a war of words over your take on truth, for not getting drawn into conflict and fighting to the death for your idea. To think differently, live differently, and raise your children with another set of values, doesn't necessarily mean having to watch the corpses of anyone at odds with you drifting along on the river.

Unfortunately, this kind of maturity is often perceived as internal instability and cowardice. Books we have read about growing up taught us otherwise: if you believe in something, be ready to stand up for it until you win – this is what brave people do, this is the behaviour of heroes. Being tender to yourself means detecting when someone is trying to pull you into a fight you have not chosen.

When you hear something that goes against your views and the beating of your heart, just say: “I have a different opinion.” If the willing isn't there, don't get into arguments and try to defend an opinion. You are not obliged to. You have every right to think otherwise, want something different, and to perceive something that resonates with you as the right thing, even if it sets you apart from the majority around you. And yes, you may fight for it, but only when you are ready to do so.

To keep silent when you think differently is not a weakness and not a betrayal of your beliefs. It is maturity: it's realizing that you can live in peace with your values without having to fight to make others share them.

To refuse to play to the “grandness of another.” Don't pay homage to someone you don't know just because they're older, or you think they've lived longer so should know better. Or because their title sounds unfamiliar and complicated, and they have a full-blown business and a menacing look.

Every time you catch yourself thinking this way, take care to remind yourself: do not elevate another person in your mind's eye, don't project your own personal and unsolved parent-related problems onto that person. That other person is neither big nor small, they are their own size, usually that of an adult. They might be better, wiser, and more competent than you. But equally, it is perfectly possible that they're not.

To separate from “us.” While you're getting to know your own adulthood with love and tenderness, set a rule not to bring your fears and worries (as well as care and advice that no-one has asked for) into another person's sphere of responsibility. Don't worry about the reactions of others. Do not substitute your feelings with those of another. Don't resort to emotions where words would do just fine (words are ideal for solving problems).

Building a life based on mature values, you realize that happiness is not in becoming one with somebody, but in separating from “us.”

Don't make your family or friends responsible for creating this feeling. It is already wonderful if they understand you, support you, create a safe and nurturing environment, believe in your endeavours and generally do everything possible to help your development and growth. This is their gift to you, not their obligation.

To realize what you have outgrown. Create and from time to time review a list named “I'm too old for this shit”¹⁸ which identifies things you no longer do because you have outgrown them and because they no longer reflect your beliefs about respect, tenderness, and loving yourself.

Yes, it is possible that you sometimes used to do things – accept certain treatment towards yourself or conditions – but that's all in the past. Right now, you have other more important things (like you, for starters). You understand yourself better, and at your age, you know for sure what you're not prepared to do anymore.

As an example, and for some inspiration here are a dozen notes taken from my own “I'm too old for this shit” list. Perhaps, you can find similarities with yours.

I'm too old for this shit:

1) listening to offhand advice from passers-by;

2) dressing up beautifully but not befitting the weather – no more nylons when it is freezing outside!

3) playing the “guess why I am upset” game;

4) buying stuff I don't need just because it was in a sale;

5) sending prayers instead asking directly: “How can I help?” or assisting if I want and am able to;

6) reading uninteresting books, watching boring movies right to the end;

7) being ashamed of my age and coquettishly asking: “How old do I look like?”;

8) keeping clothes that no longer fit me in my closet, hoping that one day I will lose weight.

Working through your points of “definitely not” is an important step on your way to developing tenderness for yourself, because they answer the question “How can I take care of myself?” It might be achieved by: not doing something that isn't okay with you; not agreeing with something that irritates you; not permitting others' behaviour that hurts you. This is not, as someone might try to convince you, a “caprice” or “being too emotional”.

The healthy behaviour of an adult is living without abuse, self-abuse, or abuse from other people.

When we start figuring out what we do not like and where our borders of “do not want” lie, we start accepting the right for other people to feel how they want to feel. (Or not to feel anything at all. Or to feel, but towards somebody other than us.) We are not spending our resources on trying to make them different, make them change their minds, open their eyes or to motivate them. They are adults and are responsible for their own choices.

I once had an experience where, for the first time, a guy wasn't “hooked” on me. In spite of my best efforts to be cute, smart, funny, and carefree, he felt nothing towards me. Prior to that, I'd thought that I was the only one allowed “not to fall in love”, to refuse someone and offer only to “stay friends.” But there it was, a man that I liked, a man I wanted to have a romantic relationship with, had made it clear that there was no magic, no chemistry at work and there would be no children together, in short – “thanks for everything and take care.”

To experience another person's “do not want” and stay sound is not easy. However, we should all learn from that so that when we come across resistance, our world doesn't collapse.

Learn to let go without drama. This is not about the famous quote: “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn't, it was never meant to be.” Rather, this is about what I learn every year working in my garden in the springtime. I shovel what seems like tons of cubic meters of soil, plant hundreds of seeds, and become a master in the art of accepting losses. All of this boils down to a very blunt but honest formula: “Something will kick off.” No matter how much I dance around it, I can only influence a part of it because, besides me, there are also snails, powdery mildew, merciless sun, frost, and little children's feet that pay no attention to what they walk on. The same thing goes for adult life: you can carefully cultivate your ideas, grow them in a “greenhouse”, protect them from winds, but at some point, something will inevitably go wrong and reveal the vulnerability of your efforts, if not squash them altogether.

However, this never means you should not try at all.

The bottom line is that “a mature person differs from an immature one in one thing: the immature person knows what he will do if he wins; the mature one, by contrast, knows what he will do if he loses.”¹⁹