That may sound stupid. Perhaps it is. We’ve certainly been told ad nauseam about the benefits of doing the opposite.
The problem, really, comes in how we look at and embody love. Think of those you consider “loved ones”–parents, family members, spouses, children, etc.–and how you actually treat them. Too often we burden those we love with expectation, judgment, and recrimination. Loving us means they should do certain things in a certain way. If not, we treat with some manner of disdain, as though by loving us they have demeaned themselves in some way. Can an emotion couched in such attitudes be called love?
Some might say that is “tough love,” with the implication being there is a existing deficiency that can be healed by the calculated withholding of love itself. Essentially, tough love merely makes the expression of love conditional. Oddly enough, the concept of tough love first appeared in 1968, a year with an unfortunate reputation, and hard on the heels of the previous year’s “Summer of Love.” No doubt mere ironic happenstance. Tough love seems little more than a rebranding of what once might have been called discipline. Conflating the two, love and discipline, does a disservice to both.
But if we defer to Mr. Webster we see the incongruity of the phrase and its popular usage. Both the primary and secondary definitions of the word tough seem far more applicable in terms of actually, actively loving someone:
Tough
- Having the quality of flexibility without brittleness
- Not easily broken; able to endure hardship; firm
So would it be more accurate to say tough love is constant and unbreakable love? Would not constant and unbreakable be considered defining qualities of love?
To some degree it is a semantic game. However, in examining your relationships you may find a very different feeling between those you love and those you like. Often those we “like” benefit from a gentler interaction, a grace, that is characterized by acceptance rather than expectation, by openness rather than boundaries. There are fewer recriminations and fewer stipulations. There is less fear of loss. There is space. There is a good feeling. A well of goodwill. For those we like.
So perhaps liking ourselves is an entry point for a calmer, more full life, and a way of finding the patience with our foibles that we often lack. Until we can grasp, accept, and practice love that is tough and true, we can practicing liking ourselves (and others) with kindness and humor. Who knows where that might lead.
Comments or questions?