When I was in college, I went off to the mountains for a weekend of hiking with an older, wiser friend of twenty-two. After setting up our tent, we sat by a stream, watching the water swirl around rocks, talking about our lives. At one point, she described how she was learning to be ‘her own best friend.’ A wave of sadness came over me, and I broke down sobbing. I was the furthest thing from my own best friend. I was continually harassed by an inner judge who was merciless, nit-picking, demanding and always on the job. My guiding assumption was, ‘Something is fundamentally wrong with me,’ as I struggled to control and fix what felt like a basically flawed self. Click here to read more…
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