I naively believe that self-love is 80 percent of the solution, that it helps beyond words to take yourself through the day as you would with your most beloved mental-patient relative, with great humor and lots of small treats.
I love reading Anne Lamott. Her books are tonic for the weary soul. They make me laugh and cry—and usually both at the same time; and they give me permission to be flawed and complicated and erratic and wrinkly and not always the most loving mother/daughter/friend/wife. Mostly, Anne Lamott reminds me that being human is messy, and life is messy, but we can get through this with great humor and lots of small treats.
And, most important of all, self-love. Not the perfect version of ourselves we imagine that still has a flat stomach and never bears a grudge, but the real version that get offended and cries and still has nightmares and quirks and secretly fears most family gatherings. That one. Yes, love that one. Now. And not tolerate, like certain family members we’d be happy to see less of, but really really love–like your child or greatest love or best friend, or puppy. Really love all the parts of you that make you–you.
I agree with Anne Lamott; I think it is 80 percent of the solution. So rock your amazing self! Give yourself permission to be who you are and fill your life with good friends, great loves, great humor and lots of small treats.