Tara Cousineau, PhD

Clinical Psychologist, Kindness Warrior

Self-Compassion

Finding Inner Momentum

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If you are human, and I imagine you are, there are times when you have just really had it.  With a friend. A family member. A co-worker. The world. You may even get judgy. Like, why can’t he just move on? Why does she make it so complicated? Why are they doing this?  As if, somehow, they can magically read your mind and do the right thing.

Yeah, well. We can get caught under our own spell. And the truth of the matter is you will miss out on the things that are actually ok, the tiny beautiful moments in a day, and noticing that right now you are fully alive. I have found that one of the most helpful things with life’s hassles is to simply breathe. Breathe in some peace and quiet. When you notice your reactivity, try taking a deep inhale for yourself and a long exhale for the other. As Rabbi Rami Shapiro writes in The Sacred Art of Loving Kindness, “It is a way to take upon oneself the pain of the world and transform it into love.” Remember, even the difficult, exasperating people in your life are struggling. This doesn’t mean it’s ok to be on the receiving end of an insult. Boundaries are important. But it can help to imagine this person when they were small, maybe before their own challenges or conditions took hold. Glimpsing a sweet soul, deserving of love and belonging (as we all are).

The image I like to hold in this mini-meditation is of a see-saw or swing, with a childlike quality of putting in the effort to get going and then relishing the momentum.

It takes a few tries for the rhythm to kick in. And then… freedom.

Sit quietly and comfortably, perhaps with a hand on your heart.
Breathe in and out in a comfortable way.
As you breathe, bring to mind a sense of warmth, comfort, and ease,
or whatever you need in the moment. Inhale this soothing feeling.
Then bring to mind a person who is struggling and needs compassion.
After you inhale a comforting breath for yourself, on the exhale offer
the other person feelings of kindness, caring, comfort, and ease.
Then return to yourself, breathing in warm sensations.
Then switch back to the person you are visualizing.
In an even flow of in- and-out- breaths,
receive and give warmth and kindness.
Like a see-saw.
Back and forth, back and forth.
One breath in for me, one breath out for you.

Give it a try. Peace.

Love Thy Neighbor

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I joke when I say I belong to the church of Mr. Fred Rogers. People close me know how much I admire the late great TV host and often send me quotes, vids or articles about him. So when my husband and I went to the local community theatre to see the new documentary Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, it was as much about being a flock member of his media ministry as it was much needed relief from the recent weeks in our country. Images of children separated from their families and behind wired fences is nothing short of a battle cry for compassion, care and reason. Of course, children the world over are suffering in unconscionable ways. Somehow it hurts more when it’s closer to home and under our country’s watch.

We need you Mr. Rogers.

I was three years old when the first season of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood aired. I was five when I got a FAO Schwarz stuffed animal for Christmas, a spotted leopard named Rango. To me he was a kindred spirit to puppet Daniel Striped Tiger and he soaked up buckets of snot and tears. Decades later Rango was adopted by my youngest daughter, although not with the same passion I once held as a lifeline. Even one glance at the now floppy cub, who is relegated to a bookshelf, infuses me with a love so big that I grin with gratitude every time.

Fabulous reviews about this Rogers documentary abound and you will simply have to see it for yourself. It is a salve for our times. The subtitle is “A little kindness makes a world of difference.”  We all know that’s true. It’s just harder to implement on a moment-to-moment basis as seems warranted now.

When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch. That deep part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, and justice that proves more powerful than greed. – Fred Rogers

Mr. Rogers didn’t creep me out like some say. I was the perfect age for his pace of teaching and doctrine of love. I needed calm and consistency in order to deal with big questions I could only feel rather than understand when my family was breaking apart. We might all benefit from slowing down enough to listen to our own hearts and hear our own breath.

Fred Rogers’ kindness was fierce and compelling, soft and hard, timeless and true. He respected children: their vulnerability, imagination, and curiosity.  He believed that what mattered — an enduring empathy and respect for the human condition — in all its variations, was also “invisible to the eye.” This is the subtle caring that inhabits the spaces between and within each other. I imagine this belief was also a nod to the 1943 children’s book, The Little Prince, that also impressed me so:

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Mr. Rogers showed us that there is good in this world and we can be part of it: Love Thy Neighbor. Love Thy Self. His numerology was: 1-4-3.

I  L-O-V-E  Y-O-U.

This is heart work. We need his legacy and light to speak loud and clear. It’s up to us.

Your fellow lightworker,

Tara

More Matters in Kind

Finding the Awe in You

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When I was 20 years old and in crisis, I climbed Mt. Kenya with a group of wayward young adults in an outdoor leadership program (that I saved up for by waiting tables and cleaning motel rooms one summer). Essentially, I had to get as far away from home and Africa seemed like a good enough distance.  

The head guides, a young married couple, gave us some basic instructions and reprimanded those of us who snuck in toilet paper in backpacks. We hiked up slowly in order to acclimate yet quickly discerned the complainers in the bunch. Once at the top, we were randomly put into teams for the first venture of getting back down to basecamp and voted for who would lead each team. (Anyone with camping experience?)

It turned out I was on the losing team. We got very lost. We didn’t follow the map; we had boiling blisters from unbroken hiking boots; our bodies hurt; we froze at night and overheated during the day. Over two days we fought, cried and laughed. It was both painful and exhilarating. It seemed like I was in some kind of paradise conjured from my imagination, but it was real.  Avatar had yet to be conceived and filmed. This was some secret spot on planet earth and I was a mere creature in it. I understood the true meaning of awe.  

awe

Noun [aw]

an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc., produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful.

The other two teams, who quickly found their way down the straight dirt path in a half day, missed the beauty of the ravines, a surprise encounter with a baby elephant, the glorious flowers, bamboo thickets, the fragrance, and dappled light.  It was one of the most formative and spiritual experiences in my life.

There are no straight lines if you want to grow your soul. It does help to have a guide and some basic tools, but more often than not the wise guide is inside of you. You are it.

There are no straight lines if you want to grow your soul.

Climbing that mountain may be a cliché for life or an overused metaphor. But that’s because it’s apt. I literally had to climb a 17K foot mountain to see the simple truth: I was ok after all. More than ok. I was stronger than I had believed.

We don’t have to go anywhere at all to discover this humbling truth. But sometimes we need to go great distances within ourselves to get perspective. And sometimes we have to begin all over again. And again.

That takes courage and patience.

It’s the same thing with self-compassion, a skill I practice and teach.  Being kind to oneself can be unchartered territory at first. But with guidance, a spirit of adventure, and emerging faith and goodwill, self-compassion reveals the beauty that has been there all along, calluses and all.

Matters in Kind 

  • Check out the Greater Good Science Center Awe Quiz. Awe is a relatively new area of study. Awe has been linked to kindness, humility, focus and better health.
  • Read Chapter 17, The Naturalness of Being, in my book The Kindness Cure.

 

Photo Credits:

Cagatay Orhan

Tim Foster

Picture Your Loving Self

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The little girl in the framed photo is holding a Siberian husky pup almost too heavy for her little body. She has dark banana curls and is missing her two front teeth. The teeth were lost after a face plant on a marble coffee table a year earlier. Like a gymnast on the parallel bars, she had been swinging her body forward and back like a pendulum, her little hands grasping the carved mahogany arms of a couch and chair placed kitty corner to each other. She had been warned not to do that, of course.

The old photo rests on a small cabinet in my home office in a lovely frame set against the backdrop of a wall painted with a lavender hew called Misty Memories. My eyes scan this photo every day, along with a few photos of my daughters at various ages and other reminders of the vulnerabilities and joys in life. I’ve included my small self in my morning ‘centering practice’ for so long that I’ve virtually forgotten the original intent for placing her in my view:  Self-compassion.

What are some things you do to take care of yourself when the world seems to be falling to bits and pieces?

That’s a question I was asked recently by two amazing moms, Leslie and Tesi, founders of the Mama Bear Dares podcast. As I thought about my own life, the most tangible answer I could offer was having this little picture in my view every day. When I look at it I give an internal bow to that child who was so full of light and love and who overcame so much. It’s also turned into an acknowledgement of gratitude. It’s as if the now-me and my smaller me can wink at each other, our mutual gaze strung by delicate threads of resilience across the decades. And I always smile.

But the kicker is this: I don’t mention this practice in my book. This blind spot took me by total surprise. I have suggested this ritual to women who seek my counsel countless times.  I even suggest they find photos of themselves at various ages 3, 12, 25 and so on. For some women, this is difficult because of all the pain, shame, or regret their past can trigger. But that’s precisely the point. Loving ourselves can be very hard to do. In fact, there is so much resistance to this idea that I put my own photo out many years ago. I wanted these women to see that I do this, too.

When I shared this idea Leslie and Teri teared up. It captured their attention. Their original question was about coping with the plight of humanity but we ended up talking about self-care. It can be challenging to care for others or to find one’s bearings when the latest calamity hits your life or ambushes the airwaves. We can fall under what I call a SPEL:  Self-Protective Empathy Lethargy.  The overwhelm can shut us down and make us want to crawl under the bed. That’s where I used to hide as a kid. This is a natural and human response to threat or fear. As a way through we need to find ways to calm the fear. “Compassion for others begins with kindness to ourselves,” says the meditation teacher, Pema Chödrön. Many wise people insist that in order to love and care for others, we must first love and care for ourselves.

Love Includes Everyone, So Count Yourself In

Love me first? It’s a true paradox.  Self-kindness doesn’t just spring out of nowhere—it arises from being physically held by another person from the moment you were born. Envision the quintessential image of a mother with babe in arms, perhaps a memory of holding your own infant. Physiologically, a bonding process is unfolding within that image—eye gazing, rhythmic breathing, beating hearts, cooing sounds—sealing the human connection. Or imagine a beloved pet like the puppy in my photo. For me that photo is a double shot of mojo. I’m sure I didn’t even realize it when I chose to frame it for my little office altar so many years ago—before I even had a clue about the powerful emotional and physiological effects of self-compassion practice.

Such tenderness is inherently relational and has been part of our neurobiology from the start of life. But we don’t always have loving caretakers around when we need them. Sometimes we need to imagine ourselves enveloped with tenderness. Indeed, self-compassion has strong physiological elements. You can give yourself an inner hug, or embrace yourself with folded arms, or place a gentle hand over the heart. This is how you can ignite your body’s natural ability to soothe. That’s why having a photo of your smaller self can be so healing and nurturing. To seal in this self-care you can add in a personal affirmation that is authentic and true to your experience in the moment. It can be as simple as “I am strong.” “I am loveable.” “I’ve got this.” For the skeptic, you might try: “Even if this feels weird, I will be kind to myself.” Sometimes using self-talk in the third person can be helpful: “You sure were cute, kiddo.” “You are worthy of love.” “You can count on me.” The practice is meant to ignite uplifting feelings of love, tenderness, trust, protection, and well-being in relation to yourself.

When it comes to helping others just start close to home: the home of your own heart. The more you practice kindness for yourself, the more resilient—and compassionate—you become for others.

You can listen to Mama Bear Dares podcast here (Episode #146) as well as many other great conversations with women.

Learn more about my book, The Kindness Cure: How the Science of Compassion  Can Heal Your Heart and Your World.

For any one who pre-orders a book you can also get some extra goodies, like meditations downloads and affirmation images for your devices — after all we do need reminders!

Pretty Pleasers and the Power of No

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Small Girl with Laptop 123rf 8606285_s

 

Before she left my office the young woman exclaimed,

I’m getting better at the self-compassion part, but I need to work on the people pleasing part!”

I meet lot of pretty pleasers in my work. I’m a recovering one myself.

As a group we are also perfectionists and pride ourselves on a strong work ethic, high standards for quality, and a willingness to help others. We are do-gooders.

Yet, here’s what I see in the young women who seek me out. They have cultivated a sense of worthiness primarily from their achievements, often reinforced by good grades and recognition by teachers, parents and coaches. Their self-esteem rests on the judgment of others. For the most part, the judgments handed down have been positive, even if fraught with anxiety to perform. It’s been motivational for them to a degree. For the most part these girls are inspired by the potential end result of their hard work. They experience a physiological “high,” or dopamine hit, when they’ve done well or get recognized. This achievement-orientation becomes a behavior pattern; it usually starts early in childhood and it can be addictive. It can also be at the expense of feeling joy or finding meaning in the effort put into the work.

Then these young women get in the wider world and are smack against the harsher truths of sloppy roommates, manipulative boyfriends and mean bosses (not to mention maturing bodies, and the challenge of self-care without the nurture or structure of a home or campus). Things don’t go as expected. It’s a shock to the system. All of a sudden these women wonder, “What did I do wrong? Nothing I do seems to make a difference.”

I worry about this with my daughters. This week I sat in one of those trying athletic award banquets, honoring every sport team and the student athletes who have earned their varsity letter or other special awards for exceptional grades and athletic records. It’s very all-American and lasts for hours. On the one hand, it is amazing to see the students’ devotion to sports and teamwork, which can be a boost to any young person’s self-esteem with the right coach and conditions.

On other hand, I know that less than 5% of these kids will ever play a college sport, and I worry that the skills one would hope to transfer to other areas of life – such as team spirit, commitment, and leadership – have a greater sticking power over the need for top ranking, records and wins. My daughter was disappointed that she, a mere sophomore, wasn’t called out for the same statewide achievement as a graduating senior on her team had been. I reminded her that she knows what she accomplished and the effort she put in, and that’s what counts. Yet the oversight by her coach was a wound none-the-less.

Then another young woman asked me this week, “Why do I care so much what other people think?”  Yet another said, “I just can’t say No to people. I just feel too guilty.” I found myself giving a little tutorials on our culture of performance and perfectionism. In fact, I now hand out photocopies of Brené Brown’s wonderful delineation of the difference between striving for excellence and perfectionism. I want these women to walk away with it and tape it to their mirrors or fridge doors. I believe my girls (my collective girls, which include my daughters and my clients), need constant reminders about the difference. Here is the quote for my readers to print out if you don’t have Brown’s book, The Gifts of Imperfection (paperback page 56):

Perfectionism is not the same things as striving to be your best. Perfectionism is not about healthy achievement and growth. Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the blame, judgment, and shame. It’s a shield. Perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us when, in fact, it’s the thing that really prevents us from taking flight.

And the part that really hits home on the subject…

Perfectionism is not self-improvement. Perfectionism is, at is core, about trying to earn approval and acceptance. Most perfectionists were raised being praised for achievement and performance (grades, manners, rule-following, people pleasing, appearance, sports). Somewhere along the way, we adopt this dangerous and debilitating belief system: I am what I accomplish and how well I accomplish it. Please. Perform. Perfect. Healthy striving is self-focused—How can I improve? Perfectionism is other-focused—What will they think?”

This week I also had three clients (yes, 3 in one afternoon!) lament about situations where they felt powerless, misunderstood or fearful they might be rejected. They have a terrible time saying “no“ to people. One later emailed me in an “emergency ” for tips on how to make “graceful exit.” These women have the Please-Perform-Perfect virus. It is culturally contagious.They are not alone.  So now we practice saying “no.” Out loud.

No, thank you.

No, not this time. Sorry!

No, I just don’t have the bandwidth right now.

No, I can’t stay late tonight.

I can’t go, but thanks for thinking of me.

No, this is out of my area. We need more help.

No, I’ll take a cab, thanks!

No, I need my downtime this weekend. Another time.

No, that’s not my style.

No. We can agree to disagree on this.

Try it for yourself in front of a mirror. Out loud.

Of this whole list, the first little two-letter word is the hardest. No. Instead, these young women get caught up in explanations and excuses. Sometimes they concoct elaborate fibs to avoid disappointing others. It makes everything worse because then they feel like frauds. Then they get mad for feeling fake because that’s not who they are deep down.

The simple expression of “No” can be debilitating, indeed. So then we work on other ways to say “No” without the long twisted excuses. Pretty pleasers need to practice acknowledging their limits and to state their needs with the fewest amount of words.

Setting boundaries is one of the most difficult things any person can do. We hear enough no’s growing up. No, don’t’ do this or that. No, you’ll get hurt. No, that’s not right. No, you didn’t make the team. We cringe from the word No. (The intense physiological reactivity to hearing the word “No” has been shown on brain scans, too.)

When my lovely young client said she’s better now at self-compassion, what she meant was she was more mindful of her self-critic and being kind to herself when she finds herself beating herself up. That she recognizes her need to work on the people pleasing part is in fact a result of her new awareness. She’s ready to move through her vulnerability and fear of disappointing others when she says no. Here’s her next lesson: Setting a boundary IS an act of self-compassion.

It’s just a new kind of practice.

Planting Seeds of Self-Compassion in Childhood

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Chick with Head Under Wing - 123rf.com

It’s difficult as a mom the bear witness to a child’s grief.  Recently, my little one – little at least to me – was diagnosed with deteriorating bone condition in her elbows. It means she can’t do her very favorite sport, gymnastics.  For reasons, still mysterious to me, Josie has been jumping since I found her hanging by one arm off the side of her crib at 10 months old.  One tumbling class after another sprung her into the throws of competitive gymnastics. She has spent at least one-third of her life in a gym. If I calculate the time it is over 10,000 hours. She’s not even 14 yet.

Josie in Flight ©Tara Cousineau 2014But the wear and tear proved too much on her arms, such that the impact of tumbling stopped the flow of blood and nutrients to her elbows and the bones started dying. A bird with broken wings. Surgery is in her future. In spite of the pain, she just competed in her last state championship meet in a very limited way (for the team!) and eked out one last medal. It took a lot of courage.

We had a long drive home in the dark and in silence. There were muffled tears. If I tried to speak, she’d “shush” me. Shhhhh!

Then, after a long while she began telling me about news story she had heard recently – about a man who was creating prosthetic limbs for children in Africa. Indeed, these were for people whose arms had been blown away in war or maliciously butchered off so they could not stand up against the warlords. “The man was making this one kid a set of new arms with fingers,” she reported. “So the boy could pick things up and eat with a fork.” Then she remained silent.

Baby Chic with Egg Shell 123RF Stock PhotoI didn’t know quite what to say. I was just trying to hold back my own grief about the inevitable goodbye she have to make to her coaches and her gym family in the upcoming week.  And here she was, in two sentences, giving perspective to her life in the bigger scheme of humanity. She was suffering yet she could appreciate, and identify with, the plight of others far worse off than she.

Really, there was nothing more to be said.

Kristen Neff, PhD, a leading expert on self-compassion describes three attributes: mindfulness, self-kindness, and common humanity.  Essentially, self-compassion involves the ability for a person to hold in awareness one’s own suffering – without judgment; it means being able to direct kindness, warmth, and understanding toward oneself; and finally, it entails the ability to experience one’s pain as part of a universal human experience. We are not alone.

There are teachable moments every day, even in long drive home.

 

Bird's Nest with Robins Eggs

 

 

 

A Gift of Self-Compassion: Parenting Your Inner Child

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Girl on dad's shoulders - Version 2

This is one of those way way back stories. It takes place in a small family room set up for my sister and me. It was a nook of sorts and had a black and white TV. Family lore has it that my first words were “I Love Lucy!” learned in that very space. There is no doubt in my mind that this could have been true. After all it was once a place where our family of four gathered to watch the Ricardo’s antics with reverence. It was the last place we could be found together before my parents finally divorced.

It was also the “playroom” where we played with dolls, built blanket forts, and colored. One day I was there with my best friend, Heidi. My first true friend. I met her at kindergarten orientation with Ms. Francin. We were paired together and it turned out we both lived along winding Old West Mountian Road. Later it was her dear family who showed me a different kind of home life.

This one day Heidi and I had gleefully discovered a new painting technique. We dipped our brushes in the murky watercolor set and whipped them. Back and forth, back and forth. We splattered tiny rainbow polka dots over the white sheets of paper in front of us. It was thrilling.

I didn’t learn of Jackson Pollock until I was grown up and every time I see a painting of his I think back to that fateful day. It resulted in one of my first clear memories of shame. My mother came in with a look of horror, followed by a litany of screams and German cuss words. She pulled me aside and spanked me in front of my new friend. I was confused. I was red hot.  Heidi froze in place. When I looked at the wall behind me I discovered that we had indeed “ruined” the walls. I instantly felt like I was a terrible little girl for having spoiled something of value belonging to someone I loved. And I had an unwitting accomplice.

The artist in me shut down.

Toward the end of the 6th grade, when I was about 11, we had to try out for the junior high chorus. I had loved singing as a young child. Apparently, I could blurt out the German lyrics of many a childhood lullaby. But I had become a shy girl in public. There were too many problems at home. Heidi had moved far away the year before. And while the school day was a reprieve, I held my breath for most of it. I barely spoke in school and when I was asked to sing a song in the concrete corridors of Barlow Mountain Elementary School – just in front of the gym doors where others could hear me – I became mute. The next year I ended up in music appreciation class with 20 obnoxious boys.

The singer in me shut down.

When I was in my first college English class I wrote a personal essay of what I thought was the triumph of overcoming the hardship of my postwar upbringing and of being the first child in my extended family to go to college. The classic story of a first generation American. The teacher gave me a C+ and told me visit the counseling and writing centers. It was the C+ that crushed me.

The writer in me shut down.

My childhood experiences are not uncommon. So many of us know intimately the empathic failures of the adults in our world. (Forgive them for they no know what they do). My mother was not a mean person. She was overwhelmed. The chorus judges were not bad people. The English teacher was green and didn’t know what to do once he got piles of personal stories. But who has that perspective as a kid?

Every one of us has closed off part of our selves because we learn in many small ways over a long time that who we are is never good enough. We have learned the language of comparison, judgment and perfectionism.

Yet I know that the little artist in me had some sense that I had self-worth for I grew up to love art and fashion. I know the singer in me has not died for my crooning in church moves me to tears – even if I get choked up and can only finish a hymn in a whisper. I know the writer in me lives in some small and big ways for I would not have been able to dabble with this blog or write a dissertation.

Now that I have my own girls I am mindful of my words and actions on their vulnerable hearts – I know I have failed them and will fail them. I also know something else. It is my instinct to nurture them the best way I know how. But it is a gift to also care for the child within myself even as I age. How can I not see my younger selves when I see my girls at their tender ages? It’s inevitable. For all the hurts I may have endured, something far greater and more beautiful persists. That is the courage to create, the willing to sing out of tune, and the commitment to speak my truth – on paper, in person, in prayer. I practice compassion for that shy, yet feisty girl.

A brave girl.

I bring her with me and let her know that all is well. I love her. She has been a great teacher. I carry her on my shoulders in triumph and together we go forth with whole hearts.

 

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It is a privilege and a gift to be a candidate in Brené Brown’s The Daring Way™ method, a training and certification program for helping professionals who want to facilitate Brené Brown’s work on vulnerability, courage, shame, and worthiness. We are a community of wholehearted practitioners who believe in the power of owning our stories, and who recognize that vulnerability is our most accurate measure of courage.

Additional Resource:

Download Dr. Brown’s Parenting Manifesto. Read it (1) for yourself as a parent and (2) in parenting your inner child.

http://brenebrown.com/downloads-badges/

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Fame, Fortune and the Fallacy of Self-Esteem

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Listening to musicIt’s that time of year! It’s the blind auditions for The Voice. Of course, my 13-year-old rushes through her homework and begs to watch it. I admit The Voice is entertaining. It takes the old talent formula one step farther by not having a visual of the contestants—to rule out the entrenched cultural biases on appearance, beauty, style and stage presence. It’s supposed to be a more fair approach—and in some ways it is.

But the end game is the same. People win and lose.

Hey, I don’t mean to be a party pooper. Or, as my daughter likes to tout every once in a while, “Gee, Mom, don’t rain on my parade!”

The Cost of Fame

But here goes my rant. We have come to a moment in our culture where the most important value cited by many preteens, according to one survey by the Children’s Digital Media Center at UCLA, is: Being Famous. We are now a culture of ranking, rating, and rewards. The current generation of young adults is referred to as Generation Me. It is the most narcissistic group since researchers have assessed personality traits in the population. And each younger generation is more self-absorbed than the preceding one. Some argue that American’s obsession with self-esteem has gone too far.

Now, I have to admit as a shrink, I believe it has.

We want our children to feel special, worthy and to succeed. We want to protect them from harm’s way, from disappointment and failure. These are important values. In fact, school systems and coaching programs have instituted self-esteem programs in their curriculums and personal development approaches. My girls both have so many ribbons just for showing up to dance or camp or whatever. In fact, kids today grow up accumulating a lot of stars, stickers, and plastic medals. But at what cost?

What is self-esteem?

Self-esteem is a global self-evaluation of one’s worth.

It is a self-judgment. Our culture has fostered a belief system, which has trickled down into many educational venues, that by handing out rewards we will boost children’s self-esteem. This is in part in as reaction to previous parenting approaches that were authoritarian and punishment-oriented. But we’ve gone to the other extreme. Our culture has constructed messages and programs around the notion that we must protect children from experiences of failure. As a result, children learn that self-worth is based on how well they do at something (or not).

I regret not having my girls in the Brownies or Girls Scouts. Earning badges for actually learning a skill by working independently or in a group is a worthy endeavor. I did it as a kid. Many of my female friends did, too. That was before Title IX and all the wonderful opportunities for girls’ sports programs came into being (of which my daughters have benefited). But still.

My most profound experience was when I was 18 and on a leadership course where I had to lead a disgruntled group of my peers – across the Masai Mara in Kenya. I had to learn to deal with conflict, confront bullies, read a topical map (no GPS), and instill a sense of collaboration with others. I was scared S@#$less. But it was a defining experience. The reward? Getting to our destination with no calamities, with enough supplies, and group brainpower.

Self-esteem programs by and large are not correlated with positive outcomes. The very premise is wrong. The problem in part is how people measure “self esteem” – using by a measure which is global in nature (Rosenberg Self-Esteem Scale) – which assesses feelings of confidence without assessing how or why a person feels that way.

There are just as many bullies, criminals and prejudiced people with high-self esteem as there are with low self-esteem. The only consistent correlation is that people with high self-esteem tend to also report feeling happier.

Our culture has gotten it backwards. Self-esteem doesn’t foster success and achievement. It’s the other way around. Learning by trial and error, and in fact through failures and disappointments—and overcoming them—is what helps a child develop the grit, resilience, and stick-to-it-ness that leads to a sense of self worth. Self-compassion researcher, Kristen Neff, writes about the problem with the concept of self-esteem:

High self-esteem is NOT associated with being a better person, just with thinking you are!

The Benefit of Failure

We need to let our kids fail, make mistakes, and then learn to deal with the consequences, repair the mistakes, and learn from the experience. Better to let this happen within the support and understanding of family, friends, and teachers, rather than on the public stage (which is where many kids want to be in order prove themselves and most will never get there). The healthy path to self-esteem is not to use indiscriminant praise and prizes. Children come to believe they deserve praise and admiration no matter what they do. Rather, our role is helping our children feel worthy because of who they are, such as the kindness they bestow, problem solving skills, creativity, and the courage they have.  These are moments that occur in the small acts of daily living in which children are connected to—and in service—to one another.