Earlier this week, I took a master class in the Calm app on radical compassion, taught by Tara Brach. She talked about “the trance of unworthiness,” a nearly constant state of self-judgment, fear and doubt that a lot of us, if not all of us, live with every day.
For you, the trance might be a little punk whisper saying you don’t deserve to take a 30-minute walk until the laundry is folded, or of course that recipe you tried didn’t work. They never do. I usually come to in the trance when I step on a scale or forget the girls had pajama day, which was rescheduled because of a snow day, which was supposed to be a makeup day for parent-teacher conferences, or some such other earth-shattering observance I neglected to put on the Google calendar.
I won’t spoil the rest of the class for you in case you ever decide to explore Tara’s work for yourself, but there was something she said during the course that I haven’t been able to shake since I heard it. She asked, “Who would you be if you didn’t think something was wrong with you?” I’ve heard similar prompts. “Who were you before the world told you who you should be?” for example.
It’s such an interesting question to explore. Who would you be if you didn’t think something was wrong with you? What would that look like? Feel like?
The other sobering piece of that question is that it forces you to confront the things that you think are wrong with you, and we all have them. I know so many people who, when prompted, could generate an entire notebook of shortcomings about themselves, but maybe just a few lines of positives. We all think we’re riddled with flaws.
I don’t know about you, but my anxiety about the world has never been higher. Things feel fragile and shaky, and it has hurled me into a dark inner dialogue. If, God forbid, something were to happen, did I live as my truest self? Did I chase joy? Did I explore and stand in awe as much I would like to? Did I love as hard and honestly as I could? Or did I squander my experience imprisoned by my perceived imperfections?
Our society is interesting, in that we put so much emphasis on the grind. Being busy is seen as a badge of honor and respect. Being thin because you have discipline, or you scheduled yourself right through lunch isn’t a red flag. I’m as guilty as the next person when it comes to prioritizing work over a walk or idolizing every body shape but my own. But isn’t constantly striving for what we are not just another form of keeping ourselves busy? Preoccupied with negative thoughts? Sauntering along in the trance of unworthiness?
If no one told me or showed me or suggested that I needed to be smaller, more organized, make more money, have a bigger, cleaner house, put my children on the travel team, get on tiktok, make a reel, read 50 books a year, wear midrise skinny jeans, meditate every morning, give up coffee for matcha, exfoliate, sleep more, do more, be more, keep every single ball in the air without missing a six-month dental cleaning, who the hell would I be?
In the last two years, one of the most spoken terms has got to be, “You’re muted.” And, to be honest, that’s a little bit what the trance of unworthiness feels like to me. Like I’m muted. I’m so busy trying to maintain what I have that I’m not really reaching for what I want or think could be.
If I channeled the energy that I exhaust stewing about petty exchanges, my body, my to-do list, relationships that no longer serve me in a healthy way, into big love, big adventures, big, deep, life-giving breaths, I think I might start to break the trance. I might find my voice again.
The truth is – and I’m speaking to myself here, too – there’s nothing wrong with any of us, aside from our belief that our flaws make us unworthy or less lovable.
A body is just the shell of a soul, and it’s that soul that matters. A house is just a shelter for a family, and it’s the love under the roof that matters. Money is a means to more, but it can’t buy the joy that makes it all worthwhile. The measuring stick that we use to gauge beauty, success, and status is subjective. I can define when I feel beautiful, successful and happy.
Self-compassion is hearing the negative, dark voice inside and then offering a counter perspective. A kinder perspective. I’m working on it, being nicer to myself and refocusing my energy. Life’s just too short to walk around in a trance. Let’s wake up.