Out of Love: Finding Your Way Back to Self-Compassion

By Marianne Ingheim

We all tell ourselves stories about who we are. Many of these stories are self-critical and disempowering. Through the practice of self-compassion, we can rewrite these stories and become more authentic and powerful versions of ourselves—transforming not only our own lives but also the lives of those around us.







In short and personal pieces, Marianne Ingheim tells the story of how the practice of self-compassion has changed her life in ways big and small, helping her unlearn harsh self-criticism, survive multiple tragedies, and live more authentically. In the wake of a breast cancer diagnosis and her husband’s suicide, she discovers the power of self-compassionate storytelling and finds belonging within herself—and in doing so, she learns how to manage anxiety and stress, how to be authentic in relationships, and how to let go of comparison and be truly creative.







Through stories and journaling prompts, Out of Love: Finding Your Way Back to Self-Compassion aims to inspire readers to unlearn the self-critical patterns holding them hostage—and begin to live a happier, more courageous life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: She Writes Press
• Release date: May 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781631526961

Marianne Ingheim

Marianne Ingheim is a Danish-Norwegian American writer, teacher, and PhD student at California Institute of Integral Studies. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. For more information, please visit www.marianneingheim.com.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1:

Beginner Blues

YESTERDAY I DID SOMETHING I’ve been wanting to do for ten years. All these years I didn’t do it because I knew I wouldn’t be good at it at first, and I like to be good at things—perfect, preferably. The problem is we’re usually not perfect at something we’ve never tried before. We usually make mistakes. I don’t like making mistakes. I don’t like being a beginner.

But I do like learning new things, so I forced myself to set up an appointment to do this thing I’ve been wanting to do for ten years.

When I walked through the door of the dance studio for my first lesson, I was terrified. I felt awkward and uncomfortable in my body, as I usually do, but even more so in this situation. Why was I doing this again? Oh, right. To feel more at ease in my body and gain just the slightest bit of confidence when it comes to dancing.

My dance instructor was so proud of every little step I learned, and at the end of the lesson, he gave me a big hug and said, You did the hardest part: walking through that door. Now, why couldn’t I have that kind of compassion for myself?

Turns out, self-compassionate people are more likely to be motivated by a desire to grow than to avoid criticism. This is what psychology professor Carol Dweck calls a growth mindset versus a fixed mindset. People with the fixed mindset believe that human qualities are set and unchangeable, while people with the growth mindset believe these qualities can be cultivated through effort. People with the fixed mindset tend to be concerned with doing things well from the start and avoiding criticism and failure, while people with a growth mindset are more concerned with learning and less discouraged by criticism and failure.

I’m not here to be perfect;

I’m here to grow.

The good news is that even if we tend toward a fixed mindset, this isn’t fixed! We can learn to be more growth oriented—through mindfulness and self-compassion.

Did I dance perfectly in that class? No, far from it. But I had fun learning, and that, after all, is why I think we’re here: to learn. We’re not here to be perfect; we’re here to grow. Compassionately reminding ourselves of this can help ease those beginner blues.

What do you want to do but have been afraid of doing because you think you might not be good at it in the beginning?

CHAPTER 2:

Stories We Live By

MY MAIN FEAR IN LIFE is that I’ll be an utter failure and won’t accomplish a goddamn thing. My talents will have been wasted on me, and I’ll have served no purpose whatsoever.

I’ve received many gifts from my family and ancestors, but this fear of failure, this story of inadequacy—well, it’s not one of them. My grandmother used to say I’d been given great talents, so a lot was expected of me. I didn’t think I could fulfill her—or anyone’s— expectations of me. My fear of inadequacy expresses itself in many ways: I’m a worrywart, I catastrophize, I focus on the negative. My so-called planning is disguised worry, and my overpreparing is a fear of being incapable of dealing with whatever happens: Be prepared for any scenario, any outcome. Work hard, don’t be lazy, or you’ll end up a bag lady. Fear, fear, fear.

Story is one of the key ways in which we make sense of the world. When an event happens, we make up a story about it in order to understand it. And the particular story we tell ourselves and others is influenced by the stories we were told as children—many of which were limiting, fearful, self-critical stories. It’s not our fault we believe in them. They’re all we’ve ever known.

The not-good-enough story is one I’ve believed since childhood. It’s a core belief that has influenced decisions I’ve made as an adult and, thus, the trajectory of my life. While it’s comfortable in the sense that I know it well, it isn’t a story I want to keep living by. So, through the practice of self-compassion, I’m unlearning and rewriting my story—and that’s taking time, since the story is so ingrained in me. I practice. When something happens, I choose what story I want to tell about it. For example, if I make a mistake, I can tell myself the not-good-enough story or I can tell myself the I’m-learning story. If I have a thought like, I’ll never finish this, I can choose to look at the facts—I finished high school, I finished college—and remind myself that I can finish this too. If my inner critic starts saying I’m going to mess up this relationship like all the others in my past, I can choose to reframe my situation: My previous relationships didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, but I’ve learned a lot from them. Nothing was a mistake, just a learning experience.

Victim stories keep us imprisoned; they keep us from following our dreams and passions. Often our victim stories and passions are linked. For example, my core victim story is that I’m not good enough, and my passion is to help others see how they are good enough. A key part of self-compassion practice for me has been unlearning my victim story and writing an empowering alternative. It doesn’t mean I reject everything I once held to be true, but it does mean making a profound paradigm shift. I honor my past and my ancestors while creating a new story that fits