This past week, I gave a talk, “Writing a Love Letter to Yourself.”

I was prepared with a well thought-out outline. I had discussion questions prepared and had examples from my own life that seemed relevant to get sharing flowing. I made an attractive pdf with favorite quotes on self-love to send as a follow-up the next day.

I wanted to make the point that self-care and self-love were not the same thing. A person could buy all organic veggies and might spend thousands on a spa weekend and still not love him or herself.

Honoring your own feelings and expressing them, not judging yourself, certainly not by someone else’s standards or agenda, and appreciating your own unique contribution and character is at the heart of self-love.

Very often, people seem to misunderstand that loving oneself is not the result of accomplishment. It’s not an issue of “deserving.”  Self-acceptance and self-regard has to come before much of anything can be accomplished. Brené Brown and many experts agree on this.

I felt prepared, yet, somewhat off-balance.

Richard Bach’s words were in my face all week. “We teach best what we most need to learn.”

I was prepared to stir my group into contemplating their own histories, habits and beliefs that challenged them to be kind and compassionate with themselves, but, in my own life, I was acting as if I didn’t know better.

Just the other day, I joked about my recent health trials with a gal pal.

“I feel like such as old lady.  My whole day on Thursday revolved around seeing doctors – and, of course, stopping at the drugstore on the way home.”

We both have older friends or relatives who greet doctor’s appointments with equal measures of bemusement and pleasure. They are upset at the thought of their bodies requiring extra attention and happy with prospects of having an audience to hear their complaints.

I had two problems: an ingrown toenail, or some such thing, on my left foot that made walking in closed shoes (even gym shoes) increasingly uncomfortable and pain around my right knee.  I had been soaking my left foot every night for over a week and visited a non-urgent care walk-in facility before getting confirmation that I needed to see a podiatrist right away.

The knee pain cropped up out of the blue. After two days of increasing pain, especially when I went up or down stairs, impossible to avoid when you live in a three-floor walk-up, I decided to go to a sports medicine clinic because they were able to see me the same day.

After x-rays on my right leg, I was told my knee was structurally sound but that I had arthritis around my patella. Less than three hours later, I saw the podiatrist and gave him permission to cut part of my affected toenail off.

As freezing rain came down at dusk, I picked up Voltaren ® at Walgreen’s.

Oh, I was upset with myself. During morning stare-downs at my bathroom mirror recently, I have been reminding myself that my hair is thinning, that gray strands have become noticeable in a shorter time between color rinses, that the lines in my forehead speak more about age than about mood or character.

I forgot that my action to seek help was a good thing, that the desire to be out of pain was worth the possible risk of being told I shouldn’t make such a fuss. I forgot that I made reasonable efforts to address my problems myself and listened to advice with my body to feel into decisions on what made sense for me.

I texted a friend about my dog having to be patient with me as the descent down my building’s front stairs for walks has been slower of late as I wanted to minimize knee pain. Then, I added, “I have to be patient with me.”

Life itself offers ongoing opportunities for reflection, for owning feelings, for recognizing progress — even if it is small.  Checking in with myself on whether I am being kind and compassionate with myself tells me more about my life than what I can see in the mirror

Recognizing that everything you experience is an opportunity for reflection, for self-understanding and self-love, is no small thing.