You know how sometimes you’ll make a mistake, and then said mistake gets stuck in your head like a bad commercial, repeating over, and over, and over, proving how totally incapable you are?

Isn’t that just an absolute hoot?

Mm-hmm. Not so much, eh? I don’t think so either.

Mistakes stand out in our minds. We remember them  — well — and for good reason. If we didn’t learn from our mistakes, it would probably be difficult to, you know, stay alive.

And while it’s good for us to remember that time we almost got run over (so we don’t step into oncoming traffic again), it’s not so good for us to constantly ruminate over the time we said something to our boss that made us sound like we didn’t know what we were talking about.

That silly thing we said doesn’t actually matter, but we think it does. More than that, we often insist on making it mean something. We didn’t just say a silly thing; no. We said a silly thing, and our boss must think we’re incompetent, and we’re probably going to get fired any day now, and why did we open our mouth anyway, and we should just resolve to never speak again because nothing good ever comes from talking at work.

I’m kidding; of course. But I know what I’m talking about, because this is the sort of doomed, diving spiral my brain tries to take all the time. If you’re human, I’m guessing you can relate, even if your brain happens to be more gentle than mine, or more cruel. It’s just so easy to tumble down this path from tiny mistake to catastrophe.

Which is why it’s really useful to be absurdly intentional about noting the things you’ve done right — today, this week, or in the past century.

We don’t remember the fact that we successfully drank this morning’s coffee without spilling it on ourselves. We assume that we should just do that with ease, and we take it for granted. We don’t remember the fact that our magnificent spelling abilities flummoxed our third grade teacher. And we give ourselves no credit for the fact that we jog around the park a few times a week (miracle of miracles!) without breaking any bones.

So, yeah, maybe you faltered over your words in that meeting. But think of all the other things you did right, just in the past 24 hours!

You got out of bed. (Who cares whether it was when the alarm went off or after five snoozes. You got up!)

You showered successfully. (High five to you, extraordinarily clean-bodied human!)

You brushed and flossed. (Stop it! You’re blinding me with your pearly whites!)

You made yourself breakfast. (Do you know that there are millions of highly intelligent New Yorkers who don’t know how to do this? You are so far ahead of the curve!)

You got to work. (Without getting in an accident! Without injuring yourself or others! And with your hair looking mighty fine, I’ve gotta say.)

You managed to communicate compassionately with several people who seemed bent on infuriating you by email. (Equanimity is the name of your game!)

You put your kids to bed, and they were totally still alive. (Extra special buckets of bonus points for you, Person Who Not Only Kept Herself Alive All Day, but Also Some Tiny Humans!)

You read a page of a book. (Your genius is taking my breath away, dear reader!)

You ate some chocolate, and enjoyed it. (You’re basically Buddha, as you have cultivated the enormously complex skill of knowing what you want and giving it to yourself without guilt!)

You fell into bed. (The workings of your brain astonish me. Your marvelous brain, that knows when its body is tired and appeases it!)

Do you see what I’m saying? You perform hundreds, probably thousands, of complex, commendable tasks each day. You do so with aplomb. When you tally up all your many miraculous doings against those few miniscule wrongdoings, the wrongdoings finally (finally!) pale in comparison. As they should.

Because — my GOD! Look at all the times you did it right!

. . .

Comments: I’d love to know, my dears, a few of the things you’ve done right today. Or yesterday. Or in the last month.

After this post, a lovely somebody asked this question on Twitter: “Do you think it’s really possible to kick the media out of our brains?”

Within that succinct question, I heard a nuanced inquiry:

Do you think it’s possible to actually like the imperfect self you see in the mirror, while living within a culture that consistently and systematically sends us messages that we are unacceptable as we are, and that we need X product to reach an unattainable standard of “beauty”?

Here’s my short answer: Yes!

Of course, my long answer is much longer.

I don’t believe that it’s natural to hate what you see in the mirror. In another culture, in another time, I don’t think despising our outsides (or our insides) would be the norm. Self-hate is time-consuming. It’s distracting. It’s soul-slaying.

Our minds are built to seek out what is wrong in a situation. To an extent, our survival depends upon this trait. However, when we mis-apply this tendency (as, perhaps, a majority of us do), seeking out what’s wrong with ourselves drives us mad. In a world where every twinge of discomfort is labelled wrong, nothing can even hope to feel right. We focus our critiques and paranoias on ourselves, kind of like someone under a curse who unwittingly stabs herself.

So who welded the knife, placed it in our hand, and forced us to pierce our own skin?

The ad industry.

The advertising industry is built upon the practice of convincing consumers that they need a product. As a result, ads often hinge on the assumption that we are unacceptable as we are. Because if we were content with what we had and how we looked and felt, if we didn’t see improvements to be made, our society would halt. Because capitalism depends on the exchange of goods, and these days, we’re bartering our self esteem.

It’s not all the ad industry’s fault. Some ads don’t depend on you hating yourself. We also live in a society where the ad industry’s claims are supported. It’s a regular practice in some not-so-distant cultures to greet someone by saying, “You look good! Have you lost weight?” I’ve also heard it’s pretty commonplace these days to call someone lazy, whether that someone is yourself or another human.

The dominant culture in the modern world assumes that we’re not okay the way we are. So of course we search for flaws to “improve upon” when we look in the mirror.

But there’s hope: We can cultivate the skill of seeking what’s right in a situation, or in ourselves. We can intentionally create our own supportive culture of family and friends where we see what’s already perfect instead of what needs tweaking. We can gaze upon our bodies with the soft eyes of adoration. We can give ourselves a break instead of pushing ever-harder. We can practice being kinder, and kinder, and kinder still.

And when we can’t manage self-kindness, we can forgive ourselves, and tell ourselves we understand, because forging this gentler path can sometimes feel like trudging uphill through ten feet of snow in a blizzard.

The thing I most want to say today: Being nice to yourself is the most important thing you can do, especially in those moments when you catch yourself being mean to yourself. When all else fails, extend compassion. If you can’t find compassion for yourself, try to extend some compassion to the part of you that can’t extend compassion to yourself.

And if that doesn’t work, maybe just tell the media to go screw itself.

I’m curious to hear from all of you: do you think it’s possible to kick the media out of our brains? If so, how?

*That photo? I took it in Portland at Stumptown. It’s Nicole Lavelle‘s art. Isn’t it stupendous?