The Simple Mantra That Makes a Big Impact on Your Self Esteem

In her new book, mindfulness and self-compassion researcher, Shauna Shapiro, Ph.D., offers a personal story with raw honesty of how a daily morning practice helped shift her perspective and move forward after a painful loss.

Eleven years ago, I went through a painful divorce.

I was hurt and alone. The damage was irreparable and the choice to leave was inevitable, but I still felt like a failure. No one in my family had ever divorced. My grandparents had been married for seventy years; my parents forty. All my aunts and uncles had thriving marriages, my sister was (and still is) happily married to her college sweetheart, and my brother had just gotten engaged to the woman of his dreams. Marriage in my family was sacrosanct.

The prospect of upending my life was terrifying. But that was nothing compared to my fear of how the divorce would affect our three-year-old son Jackson.

Despite my fears, I packed up everything I could fit into my tiny car, buckled Jackson into his car seat, and drove to Marin County, California where my grandparents lived. I needed to be close to family. And Nana and Grandpa were my home.

Once we’d crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and exited at Sausalito, we passed a small apartment building with a “For Rent” sign out front. I could tell just from the outside that it was out of my price range, but they were holding an open house that day, so I figured I’d take a quick look around. The owner, a large man with striking features and ebony skin, answered the door.

He warmly greeted us: “I’m Ishmael — ” and then, observing my face more closely, and my car out front with all my belongings visibly packed into it: “Looks like you’re having a tough day.”

I told him I’d just left my husband and was looking for a place to live. And then, much to my surprise, I burst into tears.

His reaction I will never forget. “Young lady, sounds like you need a break. How about if I reduce the rent and you pay cash for the first six months?”

He had no reason to help me, but he did. We worked out the logistics and he introduced his nephew, who would be my landlord. As I left, he gently said, “Remember this when you can help someone else get back on their feet.”

I never saw Ishmael again, but I will never forget his kindness.

A week later, a soft beam of sunshine woke me. I blinked my eyes open, taking in the bare walls surrounding me. I was lying on the floor of our new apartment with Jackson snuggled in my arms. We had no furniture, so I’d zipped together two sleeping bags to make a little nest for us. As the rising sun filled the room, I could feel my love for Jackson filling my heart. It gave me strength to keep going, one small step at a time.

Yet over the next several weeks, with each step forward, I seemed to take two backwards. I was adjusting to life as a single parent, juggling child care, and commuting three hours roundtrip to teach at the university. My life felt overwhelming. This was not how I imagined things would be. I felt exhausted and hopeless.

I was trying so hard, but each morning I’d wake with the same aching pit of fear and shame in my gut—my monkey mind swinging between ruminations about the past: If only I had . . . and fears about the future: How am I going to handle it when _______ happens?

I couldn’t seem to shake the self-judgment and the sense that I had failed. There was no space for self-compassion. No space for self-kindness. No space for joy.

Friends, family, and colleagues all saw the pain I was in. Many offered support and ideas.

One of my meditation teachers suggested I begin each day by saying, “I love you, Shauna.” I immediately balked. Yuck! It felt so contrived, so inauthentic.

She noticed my hesitation and suggested, “How about simply saying, ‘Good morning, Shauna’?” Then, with a wink, she added, “Try putting your hand on your heart when you say it. It will release oxytocin — which, as you know, is good for you.”

She knew the science would win me over. The next morning, when I awoke, I resolutely put my hand on my heart, took a breath, and said, “Good morning, Shauna.” Much to my surprise, it felt kind of nice. Instead of the avalanche of shame and anxiety that usually greeted me upon awakening, I felt a flash of kindness.

I practiced saying “Good morning, Shauna” every day, and over the next few weeks I began to notice subtle changes — a bit less harshness, a bit more kindness. Little did I know that this small practice would lead to big changes.

One Sunday morning, I was out for a walk in our new neighborhood and passed an old basketball gym. I was surprised to hear loud music and laughter pouring out onto the street. What could be making so much noise at 8 a.m. on a Sunday?!

I saw a man who danced as if his soul were choreographing every movement. I asked where he had learned to dance like that. He responded with one word: Esalen. When I got home I immediately Googled “Esalen” and learned it was the very same retreat center in Big Sur, California, where my father had taught when I was a young girl. And, in yet another coincidence, they were holding a dance workshop the following month — during the week of my birthday.

This would be my first birthday without my son, as he was going to be with his father at a long-scheduled family reunion in New York.

I decided to go!

Driving through the gates of Esalen, the first thing I saw was a magnificent garden with eight-foot sunflowers, rows of lettuces and dinosaur kale, and the lush fronds of a banana tree — a kaleidoscope of color. Even more extraordinary were the hot springs, on a rocky cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

The next morning was my birthday. I woke just before dawn and headed straight for the hot springs. Cool mist from the ocean mingled with steam from the springs, blanketing the world around me. I eased into the steaming waters. The sky was starting to lighten, announcing dawn’s arrival.

I put my hand on my heart, preparing to do my “Good morning, Shauna” practice. Something about the magic of the place, the enfolding arms of the water and the mist, evoked an image of my grandmother; and the next thing I knew, I was saying, “Good morning, I love you, Shauna. Happy birthday.”

The dam around my heart gave way and a flood of love poured in. I felt my grandmother’s love. I felt my mother’s love. I felt my own self-love. A sense of peace flowed through my body.I wish I could tell you that my life has been a bubble of self-compassion ever since, and that I’ve never again experienced shame or self-judgment. But of course, that’s not true.

What is true is that I continue to practice. Every morning, I put my hand on my heart and say, “Good morning, I love you, Shauna.” Some days I feel awkward, some days I feel lonely and raw, and some days I feel profound love. Whatever I feel, I keep practicing, and every morning, this pathway grows stronger.

THE FULL PRACTICE 

Good Morning, I Love You

I always do the “Good Morning, I Love You” practice first thing when I wake up. While lying in bed, I place my hand on my heart and take a moment to simply feel the connection; to receive this tender gesture of self-care.

Place your hand on your heart. Focus on your palm. Feel your heart pulsing through your chest.

Feel how your heart is taking care of you, sending oxygen and nutrients to the trillions of cells in your body. The heart knows exactly how to care for you — you don’t have to control it or even think about it. Simply receive the nourishment.

When you’re ready, take a breath, and say, “Good morning, [your name].” or “Good morning, I love you, [your name].”

Notice how this makes you feel. See if you can bring kindness and curiosity to however you are feeling. There is no right or wrong way to feel.

Trust that you are planting the seeds of presence and compassion for yourself and that these seeds will grow and strengthen the neural substrates of self-love.

Send these seeds of blessing out into the world, offering the phrase “Good Morning, I Love You” to anyone who comes to mind.

Recognize that we are never just practicing for ourselves. Everything we do has echoes in the Universe.

If we create a habit of greeting ourselves with love each morning, these first moments of our day can transform the rest of the moments of our day, our lives, and the lives of others.

Excerpted from GOOD MORNING, I LOVE YOU: Mindfulness and Self-Compassion Practices to Rewire Your Brain for Calm, Clarity and Joy, by Shauna Shapiro, PhD. Sounds True, January 2020. Reprinted with permission. 

This excerpt was featured in the February 16th edition of The Sunday Paper. The Sunday Paper inspires hearts and minds to rise above the noise. To get The Sunday Paper delivered to your inbox each Sunday morning for free, click here to subscribe.