I don’t really talk about my happiness online unless I feel it serves a purpose beyond just being self-congratulatory, and it often doesn’t.
I am a lot more laidback than I was a few years ago. You might have noticed if you see me around on social media that I seem more relaxed, happier.
Then again, you might not, because I don’t think many of you have done a character study on my online behaviour (if you did, send your notes and social security number so I can compare and get a restraining order).
But it has been, in part, because I try to judge less.
Letting go of judgements
I have to work at it every day, to be honest, and I fail often.
(I also feel like it is very useful to be judgmental; we can sit around and rationalise and excuse and justify everything until we’re blue in the face but that is no way to live. Be accountable and let others be accountable. Anyway.)
But. I try to be less judgmental because it takes brain power that doesn’t lead anywhere. Judging others doesn’t serve me, and judging myself inhibits me.
Judging others doesn’t serve me
As smart as I think I am and as much experience I have with people and their bullshit, very often I need to fucking chill.
Nobody made me the fucking Oracle or Saint Pete passing judgment at the heaven gate, and I am as imperfect of a human as they come.
And so I work on not coming from a place of judgment.
I don’t come from a place of love, automatically. I don’t automatically understand or accept or appreciate the difficulty of someone’s choices or behavior. Sometimes neutral is all I can muster.
But I try not to come in as hard anymore. Judging others impairs me from understanding them or loving them eventually.
Judging myself
My own judgment only gets in my way. I judge myself so harshly when I’m bad at something, when I say something awkward, when I feel uncomfortable or out of place. I am afraid. I’m not afraid of other people, I’m afraid of my own harsh criticism of myself.
I was afraid to write my book because it would confirm I can’t actually write a book. I was afraid to edit my work because it confronts me with my flaws and amateurism at an actual, real book.
I’ve always been a little afraid to go try out new work outs and go to different studios because I’m afraid I’ll suck at new things and make a fool of myself.
The only thing that really helps me here? To breath, be in the present and do it. To keep doing it. Go to a yogastudio I don’t know, a fitness class I’ve never tried, dive back into a new project — and writing that damn book. Or a next one.
To take a deep breath, practice my non-judgemental attitude, and just go in.
Go to that new gym. Try that new thing. Open my chapter with notes. Edit. Write something new.
Life is easier less when I’m less judgywudgy
Less mental energy lost on useless things. More focused on things I can control, on important things.
More open-minded towards other people and towards myself, and the things I want to do.
It’s worth it.
*I come out of retirement for things I can’t stomach. Donald Trump, dirty cheaters and really high levels of stupidity. Momma always has room for one last job.
