What is the first thing you say to yourself every morning? Is it kind? Here’s why it matters.
New Year’s resolutions feel like a setup, so I no longer make them.
But somewhat accidentally, over these first four weeks of the year, I adopted a new morning habit that stuck.
When I face the mirror first thing, I think: “Hellooooo Baby!”
Sometimes I just think it. Sometimes I whisper or say it quietly.
I always hear it the way Sammy Hagar or the Big Bopper crooners would sing it: With those middle two syllables in a deep bass tone and the last flying high. Sammy added a rocker shriek at the end.
Sometimes I forget and quickly catch up in the mirror in the mudroom on my way out the back door with the dogs.
Always, this silly little habit makes me laugh at my reflection, which smiles back at me. Maybe even giggles. It’s a pretty great way to start the day. Even when I wake up grumpy, this has been making me smile.
Smiling at the Sight
I read about a man who greets himself in the mirror every morning by saying “Heeeeey Buddy!” with warmth and enthusiasm. He is the husband of a friend of former First Lady Michelle Obama, who wrote about his ritual in her new book “The Light We Carry.”
At first, it seemed a little silly, and reminded me of Saturday Night Live character Stuart Smalley played by Al Franken, delivering daily positive affirmations and motivational messages into the mirror.
But then I read more.
The man’s wife says hearing him say this out loud every morning is the best way to wake up. (No report from my husband, who wakes up earlier and has yet to hear me whispering into the mirror.)
Obama’s essay then dives into this man’s choice to begin his day with kindness toward himself. She explores why the way we greet ourselves, our spouses and our children matters so much. Halfway through, I’m enjoying the book, as I did her first memoir. Both were Christmas gifts from my husband.
This daily habit is about love. Love for ourselves and a daily reminder to be sure the people we love know how much we love them by the expression on our face the instant we see them.
That’s how I fell in love with my husband the first night we met. I’d asked him about baseball. When he told me both his boys play, his face lit up. Done deal.
Doesn’t it feel great when someone’s face brightens when they see us? Why wouldn’t we want to be sure to give that to the people we love? To ourselves, too.
Obama quoted the late author Toni Morrison: “When a kid walks in the room, your child or anybody else’s child, does your face light up? That’s what they’re looking for.”
Morrison recalled looking at her own children when they were little to see if their clothes were buttoned, socks on, hair combed. These things all matter, just not as much as the expression on your face that the child sees, she says, and what that tells that child about what they got wrong instead of what they got right.
“You think your affection and your deep love is on display, because you’re caring for them,” Morrison said. “It’s not. When they see you, they see the critical face. What’s wrong now?”
Reflecting What’s Right
We are all bombarded with criticism and judgment, and it never feels good to be criticized or judged. (Held accountable? Yes.)
Judgment is separation from love, writes Gabby Bernstein in her book Judgment Detox, which makes a lot of sense to me. Here’s a piece I wrote about judgment and that book, and one about my own misjudgment of a very important person, Ms. Judgment. I was wrong.
I want my loved ones to feel loved the second we see each other.
So I’m making an effort to shift my focus to the joy I feel when I see my husband, or one of our grown kids (my two stepsons and two daughters-in-law) or our baby grandson.
I’ve caught myself greeting them with a face of slight panic because of my own self-criticism of what isn’t done. What isn’t ready. What’s still wrong. The house is not ship-shape or the vacumming isn’t done. Let’s be real: In this house — an old, cherished, fixer-upper with two dogs and the workspace of a creative who would rather be writing or building out content — the vacuuming is never “done” for more than five minutes.
Instead of my stress, I want them to see my face light up with love for them.
Because that’s a true expression of what I feel for them: Love. Joy that they are here now, and I’ll get to share some time with them. Relief that they are walking through the door, home safe.
Facing Down the Inner Critic
If you think about it, why wouldn’t we extend that love and kindness to ourselves?
We, especially women, are so used to looking in the mirror and critiquing our appearance. The hair. The makeup. The wrinkles. Our bodies. Don’t get me started …
We’ve absorbed this toxic crap from the culture. And we have the power to stop it, too. Do we really want to pass that onto our daughters and nieces and grand-daughters?
Do we really want to start our day on a critical note? To open the door to the inner critic?
Unchecked, that inner critic can do some real damage. “Negative self-talk” is “any inner dialogue you have with yourself that may be limiting your ability to believe in yourself and your own abilities, and to reach your potential,” according to this 2022 piece in verywellmind.
This 2020 piece in Psychology Today, “The Destructive Nature of Negative Self-Talk” describes the damage with some tips like becoming more aware and finding ways to move the inner conversation to a more neutral state, breaking the cycle.
It asks: “Can you develop a mantra you like, a poem, saying, or words from a song that comfort and inspire you?”
Maybe I did, thanks to Mr. “Hey buddy!” in Obama’s book.
Good Enough
I settled on “Hellllloooooo Baby!” because that’s how rock singer Sammy Hagar begins Van Halen’s album 5150. Those four syllables transport me back to being 16 years old, listening to Van Halen’s new album, through headphones on my Walkman and riding my blue 10-speed bike as fast as I could over to my best friend Linda’s house to hang out.
I still know every word to every song of that 5150 album. Every single note. “Dreams” was our high school senior class anthem. All these years later, “Hellooo Baby!” is how Linda and I greet each other, whether by voice or text.
Later, I’ll tell my Dad about this and he’ll say that’s from the Big Bopper in the ‘50s. But I will not believe him. I will not believe anyone but Sammy Hagar could possibly have sang it first — until today when I looked it up on YouTube.
For a few seconds each morning, I channel my coming-of-age mind full of time and dreams and possibilities.
My 52-year-old face can’t help but smile or laugh back, and lights up at the memory and silliness of the moment — a safeguard from eyeing wrinkles or taking myself too seriously and plunging into the to-do list instead of how beautiful the light is this morning.
Then — no matter how many different directions these wild and wavy silver hairs are going, or how many little lines I can count at the corners of my eyes, I see my essence. Light, life and sparks in my eyes.
I see a happy, content soul. Wiser now.
Still pedaling, not quite as fast, chasing dreams, eager to get a little closer today.
Many miles to go.
