12 Ways to Love Yourself according to Louise Hay

12 Ways You Can Love Yourself Now by Louise Hay

Learn helpful tips for self-love

I have found that there is only one thing that heals every problem, and that is: to love yourself. When people start to love themselves more each day, it’s amazing how their lives get better. They feel better. They get the jobs they want. They have the money they need. Their relationships either improve, or the negative ones dissolve and new ones begin.

Loving yourself is a wonderful adventure; it’s like learning to fly. Imagine if we all had the power to fly at will? How exciting it would be! Let’s begin to love ourselves now. 

Here are 12 Commandments to help you learn how to love yourself:

1. Stop All Criticism.

Criticism never changes a thing. Refuse to criticize yourself. Accept yourself exactly as you are. Everybody changes. When you criticize yourself, your changes are negative. When you approve of yourself, your changes are positive. 

2. Forgive Yourself.

Let the past go. You did the best you could at the time with the understanding, awareness, and knowledge that you had. Now you are growing and changing, and you will live life differently.

3. Don’t Scare Yourself.

Stop terrorizing yourself with your thoughts. It's a dreadful way to live. Find a mental image that gives you pleasure, and immediately switch your scary thought to a pleasure thought.

4. Be Gentle and Kind and Patient.

Be gentle with yourself. Be kind to yourself. Be patient with yourself as you learn the new ways of thinking. Treat yourself as you would someone you really loved. 

5. Be Kind to Your Mind.

Self-hatred is only hating your own thoughts. Don't hate yourself for having the thoughts. Gently change your thoughts.

6. Praise Yourself.

Criticism breaks down the inner spirit. Praise builds it up. Praise yourself as much as you can. Tell yourself how well you are doing with every little thing.

7. Support Yourself.

Find ways to support yourself. Reach out to friends and allow them to help you. It is being strong to ask for help when you need it.

8. Be Loving to Your Negatives.

Acknowledge that you created them to fulfill a need. Now you are finding new, positive ways to fulfill those needs. So lovingly release the old negative patterns. 

9. Take Care of Your Body.

Learn about nutrition. What kind of fuel does your body need in order to have optimum energy and vitality? Learn about exercise. What kind of exercise do you enjoy? Cherish and revere the temple you live in.

10. Do Mirror Work.

Look into your eyes often. Express this growing sense of love you have for yourself. Forgive yourself while looking into the mirror. Talk to your parents while looking into the mirror. Forgive them, too. At least once a day, say, "I love you, I really love you!"

11. Love Yourself . . . Do It Now.

Don't wait until you get well, or lose the weight, or get the new job, or find the new relationship. Begin now—and do the best you can.

12. Have Fun.

Remember the things that gave you joy as a child. Incorporate them into your life now. Find a way to have fun with everything you do. Let yourself express the joy of living. Smile. Laugh. Rejoice, and the Universe rejoices with you!

It's Okay Mummy

There is no stability, life is constantly in a state of flux. In fact, we are all made of blubber, the whole world is made of blubber and anyone that says otherwise is blubbering!

September has rushed by and I'm ashamed to be writing the first blog for the month now, almost at the end of the month. But deep breath, it's been a challenging month and i need to be more kind to myself, so it's okay!

"It's Okay," two tiny words that mean so much to my little boy. "It's Okay" means that everything is okay with the world as he knows it. As adults, we don't often realise just how small our children are and just how big the world is to them. They rely on us to be their map of the territory, their compass, their companion while navigating new and every challenging but oh so exciting and sometimes scary terrain.

Whenever Shabd and i have a tiff, through his tears and crying he always manages to tug deep into my soul, with his big brown imploring puppy-dog eyes, sobbing "it's okay mummy" over and over to me until i reaffirm "Yes Shabd, it's okay." Two simple words that lets my little boy know that all is well in his little world.

How i wish someone would tell me "it's okay" - that yes, my little world imploded on me 9 months ago with the cancer diagnosis; that yes, weekly chemotherapy is not pleasant; that yes, being operated on twice just weeks apart is gruelling on the body; that yes, having to uproot my family so i can have radiation is frustrating; BUT, IT'S OKAY! And i wish i could believe it.

These past nine months, I've often been called strong and inspirational. I feel i have been neither. I have been a tough mistress to myself, driving myself hard, refusing to accept that my body would or even could fail me, despite the obvious indications that it has! I've allowed myself no indulgences, no forgiveness, no kindness, no compassion. I've turned drill master and ordered myself to get on with it. This was not the place nor the time for tears.

I've come to realise what a great injustice and disservice I've committed to myself. Instead of nurturing me, when i needed it most, i punished myself.

So, after much reflection, this being my birth month, and as we all know one tends to be more pensive around ones birthday, I've come to the great realisation that (drum roll please) i need to nurture my inner child! After all, i would never allow someone else to treat a child the way I've treated myself.  Dare i go as far as to say that this behaviour borders on abuse! How dare i deny myself kindness, compassion and love.

When did i stop nurturing myself? When did i stop saying, "It's Okay" to myself? Are these questions important enough to be brought up for close inspection under the spotlight? I might not have been doing this self-nurturing thing right, but the spotlight is on me now...and i see the error of my ways. So instead of beating myself up and entwining myself further into this ball of self-denial, i chose rather to hug myself tightly, Shabd style, and say "It's Okay Varsha, It's Okay."

Pearls are for Tears

I once read somewhere to never give someone pearls, since pearls are for tears. If this is true, then i must be swimming in pearls. I've cried an ocean on this journey, i cried a stream this week alone. These were tears of joy, tears of frustration, tears of laughter.

Shabd started daycare this week, he goes from 08h00 to 12h00. My heart ached at parting with Shabd, at realising that my little baby was becoming a "beeg" boy now and taking this step meant that he was entering the "real" world. At school, he would have to stand up for himself, speak up, share and learn the rules of engagement. I cried a river that morning. I dropped Shabd off with Miss Sherry, got into my car and cried so hard it hurt.

Shabd absolutely loves staying with Dipika masi and Desh masa. They have gone out of their way to ensure he's comfortable and happy in their beautiful straight out of Top Billing home. They've borne, with great dignity, Shabd's little intrusions into their once sacred and private bedroom. They bravely grit their teeth when Shabd lets out his ear splitting howls and screams. In a mere week, Shabd and i have turned their neat little haven upside down, and they've remained the perfect hosts; genial, loving, caring.

It's been tough for both Shabd and I being away from Papa. We've grown very close. All rules, for this year, were suspended pending full recovery of mummy. Thus, I'm ashamed to say that Shabd has become quite the spoilt child and throws many tantrums.

My child give credence to the phrase "Terrible Two's". The thing is, not knowing any other two year olds, I'm not sure if Shabd's behaviour is normal for a two year old, is it adjusting to the change of moving to South Africa or is he simply spoilt.

Now, I'll tell you why this is important in my little world. Understanding why Shabd is throwing a tantrum will guide how i deal with the tantrum; ignore, hug and cuddle, or discipline. I've read so much on line about tantruming and about yelling (i have been known to join the tantrum parade from time to time). And the advice always points to either:

1. Ignoring the tantrum thus the child realises that throwing tantrums doesn't get him attention and there are more constructive ways of getting attention.
2. Hug and cuddle the child as the child does not have the vocabulary required to express himself and is thus feeling frustrated by this.
3. Discipline the child by means of the "naughty chair" or something to that effect so that the child learns that his actions have consequences.

Now call me overly cautious if you must, but I'm just not sure which punishment fits the crime. Simply because all to often, I'm not sure what the nature of the crime is! All tantrums look, sound and feel the same to me. There are tears, screaming, head banging or body wriggling and a pained look in his eyes. None of these rather conspicuous actions give me the least clue as to the reason the tantrum is happening. So how do i apply the right sanction? For the love of all toddlers out there, how does one know?

As to the advice on averting a potential tantrum; the theory being (and i stress on the word THEORY here, since I'm not convinced it can be done) that if a parent is able to catch the signals of a tantrum still brewing, they can take steps to stop the tantrum before it becomes full blown. 

After many hours of observation, and thought, and more observation, i have only one question, "Are you people psychic?" How do you recognise the tantrum signals? I have to admit, i don't get it. I often ask myself if i am the most obtuse mother alive? Hmm....one for the Lunch Mommies for sure.

Tantrums or not, i wish i could take all the pearls in the world and throw them into the deep dark ocean. Seeing my child's eyes flooding with tears is like having a sharp barbed wrench being turned in my heart.

Pizza! Yay Pizza!

Last night, Papa came home and instead of kicking his shoes off and sinking into the couch to cuddle with Shabd, he declared that we were going out for dinner, as a family, just the three of us. What a special and unexpected treat! I felt as if i was given a birthday present. There was no dilly-dallying, no uhms or arhs, no give me a sec, just lets go for dinner to Beau Bassin.

So off we went, the three of us, Shabd singing at the top of his voice, to Mani in Beau Bassin. Mani is a quaint little pizzeria. The atmosphere is cozy and the staff welcoming. Joyce greeted us with a big smile that widened considerably when Shabd asked Aunty Joyce for pizza please!

Going on our vast previous experience of Shabd being quite an excitable little boy, we were armed with the iPad and prepared to whip it out at the first signs of trouble; our objective being to have a fun family meal together, by hook or crook.

Never in a million years would we have thought that the occasion would not rise for us to bring out the ultimate weapon of distraction. Nay siree. Shabd was the model of a toddler (and here i mean in the positive sense, cute, engaging and all that!). He politely nagged Aunty Joyce for pizza, dancing a little jig, hands in the air, "Way!!! Pizza!! Thank you Aunty Joyce!"

"Make it cold Mummy" and with that he gobbled up his pizza. We were surprised to say the least. Shabd has never before eaten pizza, on account of his lactose intolerance. We've been slowly introducing lactose into his diet, he's reacted positively and negatively to different items. And so the experimentation continues. 

Shabd was polite, calm, relaxed and engaging all through dinner. Politely asking me to vacate the bench i was sharing with him, so he could have more space to stretch and play. There was no screaming, no running around wildly, no trying to escape outside or up the steep staircase. Shabd was in his element. He was happy and content. We just looked on in wonderment, neither of us wanting to point out the obvious, for fear of breaking this magic. For magic it must have been. 

Having dwelt on this further, i find it amazing just how perceptive children can be. We leave for South Africa on Saturday for a two month sojourn and unfortunately Papa cannot accompany us. Each of us, in our hearts, have a tinge of sadness at being parted for so long. Having cancer has deepened our connections with each other and we will miss the comfort of each other.

I worry how my men will cope. Papa rattling around in our big empty house. Shabd being away from his superhero. I am comforted knowing that both in South Africa and Mauritius, there is family plentiful with love abound for my boys. And Grace whispers to me not to worry so much, but to take care of myself and trust.

Papa says i should take a page out of Shabd's book. He loves watching the Three Little Pigs clip and instead of being afraid of the rather scary looking big bad wolf, he points out to Papa that it's actually a dog. And he's not afraid of a dog. Them being so cuddly and soft and warm. Perception is important, turning the scary into the not so scary sends out positive energies out to my son. 

So while my heart is heavy at leaving Papa behind, and i know Shabd will miss him dearly. The next part of our adventure takes us into loving arms of my family and friends. The incessant care of Dipika masi and Desh masa, the home cooked goodness of Ba, and the playfulness of Kamal and Trishul mama. Not to mention the many cousins and aunts and uncles and grannies and grandpa's that like a wave will carry us through this part of our journey, with love, laughter, smiles and joy.

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf,  big bad wolf, big bad wolf?" or since Shabd prefers watching this clip in French, "Qui craint le grand méchant loup, méchant loup, méchant loup?"

A Time For Every Season

Everything in life has a season. Here, I notice little shoots and buds pushing their way up through the rocky, hard, unforgiving land.

There is a season for everything. A season to heal, a season to dance, a season to cry and a season to rejoice.

Shabd has come through a very stormy season. He's faced many challenges, the biggest of which was saying goodbye to his nounou Lysie. The woman who has nurtured him, hugged him, kissed his boo-boo's better, nursed him, loved him as if he were her very own grandchild. With her departure, the season of storms was upon us.

We often see the dark clouds gathering inside of our little boy. We've weathered quite a few storms with him and being human, we've learnt to adapt and thus calmly steer through the storm.

Late last year, we were in the season of growth and change, of uncharted territories and new discoveries. We were starting a new life in Dubai. We were set. We were ready for whatever windstorm that dusty desert blew at us. We had each other and we knew that those bonds were strong enough to face any storm. Together, we were certain of that!

Little did we know just how strong those bonds are, nor the colossal storms we would have to steer through. Little did we know that by steering through these storms, we would discover so much richness in ourselves and in each other.

And as I sit here, in our little study, writing these words, an old song by The Byrds wafts slowly up.

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die

A time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal

A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down

A time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones

A time to gather stones together

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

The Reluctant Indian

My child has the privilege of being a multinational by reason of parentage; South African mother with Gujerati roots and a Mauritian father with Bihari roots. This equates to a melting pot of cultures, customs and languages. On any given day, one will hear English, Afrikaans, Gujerati, Creole and French in my house. And Shabd, in his own astounding manner, has found a way to assimilate all these languages, adapting himself to his given audience.

Shabd has always enjoyed music. Be it strumming the guitar, banging the djembe, blowing into the recorder, fingering the piano or singing the hundred tunes neatly stored in his little head. He seems to have taken the same liking to languages, quickly picking up nuances in pronunciation and accent. He can quite convincingly say, "Sies man!" as if he were a South African. Or look for his father in French, "Papa, ou etes tu?" (Papa, where are you?). Or greet his Ba in Gujerati, "Namaste, kem chor?" (Namaste, how are you?).

As a mother, i'm in awe of his ability to assimilate so many languages having had no formal introduction to them save hearing the languages, some often and others only occasionally. And as a mother, i realise this view might be just ever so slightly biased. This does not diminish from the wonderment of hearing him speak 3 different languages within one 2 minute conversation.

Growing up, i was quite the reluctant Indian myself. My parents, being good and conscientious Gujerati's ensured i went to Gujerati school and hindu Sunday school. We children were forced to attended classical music and dance concerts. I even studied Bharata Natyam for many years. My mother and Chandrika masi (my mother's best friend) always spoke of India with such passion. It was their motherland. I never understood their fascination nor patriotism to India, until now. 

I am a South Africa with Indian heritage living in Mauritius. I have a 2 year old son and i want him to know all about my culture, customs and language. I want him to at the very least be able to dance garba (a traditional Gujerati folk dance), understand basic Gujerati and Afrikaans and be comfortable in a kurta. Most of all, i want him to know that he comes from a rich parentage, full of colours and grace. And that is something to be proud of.

Tempests, Tantrums and Terrorists

I'm going to come right out and say it. No siree, I will not sugar coat this, not even with fat-free sprinkles. A child at the age of two has the power and ability, I might add, to completely and utterly eviscerate a mother. They have no pity. They take no prisoners. Come to think of it, a two year old toddler is very much like the atom bomb that went off in Hiroshima; small and lethal!

One minute, we're all plodding along, Mr.Sunshine beaming down on us, rainbows in the sky when suddenly, boom, out of nowhere the bomb hits! A ginormous mushroom cloud blocks out the sun and the rainbows cease to exist. The rest, a you well know, is history.

Shabd has an uncanny ability, I tend to think it comes from the musical gene he inherited from his father's side of the family, to hit just the right note. Now this is not a lovely, tra la la - Sound of Music -  note. No. It's a high pitched, the world might as well have come to an end note. The type of note that can incite any well meaning and mostly patient mother to pull her hair out in sheer desperation.

Now, there are two things that are in rather short supply in my home at the moment. The first is hair and the second patience during those high note poor me wolf howling's. The end result I'm afraid is TWO toddlers in the room screaming! And by two, I reluctantly refer to the aforementioned well meaning and mostly patient mother.

Fear not though, for help is at hand, in the form of well-meaning advice from the Lunch Mommies. "Ag man, we all lose our temper. He's just testing his boundaries. Don't worry. Don't be so hard on yourself man! Relax. Now the first step is to breathe!" And what follows is a flurry of tit bits of experience and advice. Followed by the all so famous disclaimer all mothers are guilty of employing (yours truly included); each child is different!

I've come home with some easy strategies that I can adopt immediately. And some introspection that is being asked of me. Sometimes, we need to accept that the child is just the child. And an age old spiritual adage comes to mind; "I am that I am."

Shabd, like all children (cancel universal disclaimer here) has an innate predisposition to be happy and joyful and full of giggles and smiles. He will act up. He will display his frustration and anger and annoyance. He might not have the full communication repertoire required to ensure these emotions come across in a manner that is neat and tidy, but tell me this, have you met many adults that can?

And we've come full circle to that introspection bit that I've circumvented almost this whole blog and incidentally most of my conversation with the Lunch Mummies. How to be less toddler-tempest-like and more mummy-gentle-summer-breeze-like in the face of a full blown cyclone.

I have the ability to centre myself. I have the power to create sunshine and rainbows and calm Shabd down. I also have the endurance to last out a storm, God knows I've had plenty of experience in that department. Only I can do this. Only I can choose to act more mummy and less toddler. And at the risk of sounding all Maya Angelou, the choice lies with me.

Being the realist that I am, I've also formulated plan B. So just in case I do am not so good at exercising my will to remain calm and collected in the face of a toddler tantrum, like all muscles I expect this will take some practice, "Who you gonna call? The Lunch Mommies!" cue Ghostbusters theme song here!