Confessions! Me, myself, and I

After visiting teaching and shopping and some serious dress twirling this morning, the Dancer is taking an exceptional nap. Therefor, I have time to write a confession today.
The question of the day is: (I still get a little excited when I type those words. Some little part of me is jumping up and down and saying, "Ooh, what is it? What is it, Tapper?" The rest of me is looking at her with one eyebrow raised and a faint scowl.)

Do you think you are kind to yourself?


I think this is easy. I say yes. I think I'm really kind to myself. I just took a thirty minute bath and I am delightfully pruney. But then Jungle Jane laughs at me on the phone and says, "Why are you so hard on yourself?" That always baffles me. I don't feel like I am hard on myself. Maybe she knows that I would never tease anyone else as mercilessly as I tease myself.
But I must say that I am never offended when Myself laughs at me. (Good-bye, Grammar. Hello fun with the English language.) I knows that Myself is just having fun. And at the heart of the matter, Me, Myself and I get along pretty well. We might ridicule a teensy bit, but it is out of love. We would rather laugh than cry and life seems to demand we do at least one of those things.
I really believe in being your own friend.
Not your own Yes Man or your own Fan Club or your own Devoted Follower. (You know what I'm talking about!)
Just your own friend.
A friend tells you to knock it off when you go too far. A friend tells you to tone it down when you get too loud. A friend tells you to take up space when you shrink into the corner. A friend tells you you can do it when you can. A friend tells you you can't do it when you can't. A friend roots for you, but doesn't worship you. A friend puts up with your flaws, but doesn't encourage them.
That is the kind of friend I try to be to myself.
When I am down - no kicking allowed. I hate watching people hate themselves.
When I hit a wall I look inside and say, "We're gonna get through this, Tapper. It's just a bump."
When that pep talk doesn't work and I decide to cry and hate everything, some steadier part of myself says, "Just cry it out, Tapper. It's okay to feel bad. You'll pull it back together."
So do I make fun of myself?
Daily.
Do I regret my mistakes?
Fully.
Do I get sick of myself?
Often.
Do I push myself to be better?
I hope so.
Do I like myself?
You bet.
Am I kind to myself?
Me and I say , "Yes!"