The Journey Back to Loving Ourselves

Reading Time: 4 minutes

By Michael Avery

When we glance back over our shoulder at the myriad events in our lives, some stand out for their solitary strangeness, others for their magic and mystery. They tug at our coattails, begging us to take another look with older, yet more discerning eyes. 

I’d been reflecting on a conversation from several years before regarding a dog and his unusual friend, when I suddenly realized it held a valuable lesson about self-love. 

The Big Rock

Like most people, I’ve struggled with loving myself for as long as I can remember. What did that really mean anyway? Was I supposed to love myself when I became frustrated, angry, or impatient? To be honest, I didn’t like myself much when those qualities came to the forefront. I wanted to shove them under a big rock, run away, and pretend that I’d played no part in abandoning them. 

Little did I know that I would need to retrace my steps one day, find that rock, tenderly remove those lonely, little dark creatures, and love them until they transformed into wonderful companions of light. 

The first step in that direction was taking full responsibility for all I had created. Then, I realized that the people who frustrated me most were playing a valuable role. They were reflecting back to me the parts of myself I had shoved under the big rock. 

Once I understood this, I was able to thank them for playing this role for me instead of complaining about their irritating behavior. I quit blaming them and stopped judging them harshly; our interaction was primarily for my benefit. It was all about the big rock and my journey back to love. Undoubtedly, they were receiving value from the role I was playing for them as well.

As I was explaining to someone how to recognize a Waking Dream with animals, I happened to remember a scene from several years before that held a real gem for me. I had only seen it as a heartwarming story at the time, but reflecting back on it now, I see that the encounter held a valuable lesson about self-love.

Until then, I was content to smell the pretty flowers; and, being young, it was easy to hop over the big rock in the middle of the garden. But time has a way of slowing us down. There is a silver lining to this grey cloud of age, however. Sometimes we discover important things we missed in our youthful exuberance. A “Waking Dream in Retrospect” told me that it was time to look under the big rock. 

Friends at Sunset

“This dog has the sweetest temperament of any animal I’ve ever been around,” gushed the lady with the huge, furry, Newfoundland dog. “He’s brought us such joy.” I could see that the woman on the other end of the brown dog’s leash was happy stopping outside the market to let kids pet Buster. He was roughly the size of a St. Bernard, with a jovial “eager to love and be loved” look about him.

Evidently, life had been kind to Buster’s owner, whose name turned out to be Barbara. I heard her say that Buster enjoyed the large, fenced back yard behind the new home she and her husband had built, not far from the store. 

Barbara’s dog was likely an extension of her willingness to spread joy to those around her. Looking back, I would guess that Barbara had come a long way toward loving herself. 

A boy and his sister, who looked to be about ten or eleven, were draped over Buster’s broad shoulders and running their hands through his thick, shaggy fur. I would have loved to do the same, but I was content standing behind them a few feet, listening to Barbara tell the kids about Buster’s new friend.

Buster liked to go outside and play in the yard by himself after an early dinner, which I assumed was substantial. One evening, with dusk fast approaching, Barbara looked out the window of her back door to see if Buster was ready to come in. 

She could see her dog sitting quietly near the middle of the yard, contentedly watching the sun set over the distant hill. Surprisingly, there was a small animal sitting next to him, also enjoying the sunset. Barbara couldn’t quite make out what it was but decided not to disturb what appeared to be a budding friendship.

After a while, Buster came to the back door wanting in. He had said goodnight to his new friend. The next evening, Buster took his place in the same spot in the yard and waited. This time, Barbara looked closer as a strange looking creature wiggled through some loose boards in the fence and sauntered over, taking his place next to Buster. 

“Buster’s new friend was a possum,” Barbara said with a smile. “They made an unlikely pair, but they both seemed content. They would sit side by side for a good half hour each evening enjoying the sunset. I was happy that Buster had found a friend,” Barbara replied, “even though possums aren’t known for their beauty or social graces.”

As Buster and his owner said goodbye to the kids and sashayed up the walkway, I thought to myself, What a wonderful children’s book that  would make. I also decided right then and there, If I ever get a dog, I wanted one just like Buster.

Upon contemplation, I realized the significance of my meeting with Barbara at the store. The bond shared between Buster and his possum friend was showing me that I needed to accept and integrate those aspects of myself that I had found too ugly and socially unacceptable to be worthy of love. 

I had to look under the big rock and welcome back those parts of myself I had been holding outside of love. To put it metaphorically, it was time to hug my possum. This would take me yet another step closer to fully loving myself.