Yesterday while playing doubles tennis, instead of hitting an easy put-away shot for the winning point, I hit an unforced error. My immediate reaction was to berate myself as I’ve unthinkingly done too often in the past. But not so much now.
After considerable effort over a period longer than I would have liked, I’ve finally learned to muzzle these self-critical and game-corrupting impulses before they can detonate in a publicly repugnant display of self-flagellation. Now instead I question, analyze, or otherwise try to explain to myself why I made the error.
My rational efforts to search for a specific cause or plausible explanation puts the pin back into the self-excoriating grenade and replaces it with a thought-filled breakdown of my error. Most often, I find I wasn’t sufficiently focused and took my eyes off the ball or that I was poorly positioned when I took my swing. For me, these mindful efforts to explain my mistake provide a self-soothing suave that quickly heals the sting of my error and informs me on how I might prevent future mistakes.
On the other hand, after hitting the ball well, winner or not, I quickly reflect on what I did to make the shot. Then topping it off with a discreetly modest dollop of self-praise, I can double down on this personal blueprint of mine for safeguarding the relationship I have with myself, my fellow players, and the game. For my efforts, I frequently cash in on a discernable bump up in the quality of all three.
For many years, I’ve observed myself and my fellow tennis aficionados revealing ourselves—mostly unwittingly—during those tiny, rapidly passing but critical moments following an error or a winning point. A window quickly opens and shuts into the deeper relationship we have with ourselves.
For example, immediately following a missed shot or a ball hit well, an aperture briefly opens illuminating how we treat ourselves: Are we quicker to praise or criticize? And which of these comes easiest and most often? Is one more of a habit than the other? Clearly, these fleeting self-revelations can be informing, teachable moments.
Typically, they point to what we can do to upgrade our “mental hygiene” or the quality of our self-care whether we’re on the tennis court or under any number of circumstances where self-evaluations get triggered while “playing” the larger game of life. Surely, the world takes on a new and positive meaning when our “internal affairs” are in good order.
All that we experience, from how we play tennis to how we perceive ourselves in relation to others and the larger world, is first comprehended, organized, and assigned personal relevance and meaning by the cognitive processes of sensation, perception, interpretation, and memory.
These “Big Four” can be seen as the most basic, irreducible components of the psychoneurological scaffolding of the self. This is the very stuff from which the self emerges, gains a foothold, and then developmentally unfurls over our lifetimes. These four basic building blocks are in constant interaction with the activating environment, especially the relational environment.
They are fundamental to defining and assembling a self-identity of recognizably unique individual needs and feelings comprising who we are. So, from very early on, in a “relationship-dependent” way, the self takes on its character with its uniquely contoured traits, and importantly, its habits of relating to itself. Consequently, whether we are aware or not, we “speak” to ourselves in a continuously circulating self-dialog or “self-talk” that mimics how we were first related to, making the quality of these formative relationships paramount.
Yet these powerful, early influences were just a beginning not the finishing line to our evolving self. Nor did we have a choice in the matter—our early caregivers were “potluck.” Obviously, we didn’t choose them.
Nevertheless, their developmental influence is deeply “imprinted” within us, leaving us with a self-relationship that reflects, to varying degrees, the quality of these first or prototypical, caregiver relationships. In short, the quality of our early relationships—specifically, how we were “spoken to” --is reflected in how we now relate to ourselves.
Given the deeply embedded but nevertheless incomplete influences of our early relationships, how do we continue to climb the developmental ladder to achieve the best relationship with ourselves?
Start with these self-probing questions: How do I typically think about myself? Or what are my strongest, most salient, self-talk habits? To help with this, reflect on how you usually react after making a mistake or after doing something well. You can also ask yourself these related questions: How do I usually feel about myself following a mistake or after accomplishing something of value?
Your answers to these pertinent questions are important because the quality of our self-dialog can raise or lower our self-esteem. Moreover, our self-talk often gives rise to our emotions and behavior and can strongly influence how others relate to us. Simply, do unto yourself that which you would have others do unto you, and they probably will.
Consider what the care of an ideal parent might look like. In brief, from the moment the child exits the womb and enters the world, ideal parents task themselves with the obligation to identify, validate, and manage the child’s needs until the child eventually learns to do this on their own.
When parents do their job well, the child learns who they are because their needs have been understood, validated, and respected. Good parents also instruct their children on the optimal ways to manage their needs and feelings. Thus, the notion of ideal parenting informs us as to what ought to constitute ideal adult self-care which, in effect, continues the same work our parents only began.
Here are three basic steps for positive self-care:
A powerful and positive recipe for self-care consists of learning to more thoroughly and consistently identify, legitimize, and effectively represent our personal needs and feelings. This language of self-care speaks loudly, affirmatively, and effectively to both ourselves and others—as it should—because it is our most important relationship.
References
Johansen, R.N., Gaffaney, T. (2021). Need Management Therapy: A New Science of Love, Intimacy and Relationships. Bloomington, IN, Archway Publishing by Simon & Schuster.
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