The Day I Stopped Hitting Myself

Brooke Takhar
Written by Brooke Takhar

This season Manulife is creating a movement of gratitude and paying it forward kindness during the Christmas season. We hope that by sharing our stories of #LifeAdvice and #gratitude we can amplify the conversation and encourage more people to think of sharing these types of kind gestures over the holidays. 

When we were little, my brother and I would play a super fun game called “Stop Hitting Yourself.” You know, where the stronger sibling overpowers the innocent cute sibling and makes them hit themselves with their own hand. A potent series of events that starts with hysterical laughter then quickly leads to wet screaming requests to “Stop it, or I’m telling Mom!”

I thought as I grew, filled out my acid wash jeans, became the woman I am today, buying those same jeans at Old Navy in the ‘Wink, Nod, Yep Helllllooo Again 1987’ section, that I had grown out of my self-flagellation stage.


As someone who blogs, I live and die by the love I am given. The words of encouragement and praise and silken comments on the posts I write absolutely grease my joints, and fan my flames, and shut up the greasy beast inside me that wheezes “Give it up girl. You’re the 17 millionth blogger in the world. And there’s a new Homeland on.”

When the love washes over me, I feel invincible. Words are fresh and fly out of my head and slot in tightly next to each other with a satisfying ‘click.’ I have something to say, and everyone wants to hear it. Write ON.

Then life railroads my writing attempts, or something I laboured over barely makes a breeze, and all of a sudden, I am nobody. I am wasting my time. There is nothing left to say but I’m banging that drum even after the party has long dispersed.

Go to bed Brooke, the Internet is closed.

Lynn Morrison, from The Nomad Mom Diary, and one of our Blunt Mom Editors, jumped on me one day when I was punching myself in the face with woe-is-me wails. I was passive aggressively moaning about quitting. I was letting self-doubt make me slowly furl up my petals and want to quit this hustle.

Wise words were poured out. I bathed in them.  She told me to settle down. Know my worth. Own that worth and take good sweet care of it. 

I can choose to believe the women I look up to when they stroke my ego and hair.

I can believe I am a writer; a good writer.

I can tell a story. I can write you a story, my story, and it is a good story that you will remember.

I can tell myself that any time spent pouting or sulking or self-doubting is time I could be writing. It won’t always be sparkling or land cleanly, but it always feels right when I hit Publish and close my laptop.

I can feel sharply that if I love it, that can be enough.

I can stop, realign my shoulders, and finally stop hitting myself.

Visit the Manulife blog for more details on what they are doing to share gratitude this month, or pop onto the #LifeAdvice hashtag on Twitter and start sharing the best life advice YOU have received! 

This post is sponsored by SPLASH Media Engagement on behalf of Manulife. 

@Manulife is asking you to spread some positive by thanking those in your life who have given you great #LifeAdvice. Take a moment to #PayItForward by thanking someone important to you.

About the author

Brooke Takhar

Brooke Takhar

Brooke Takhar is a Vancouver-based mama to one goon and busy body to all. She loves the Internet, glittery nail polish, over-sharing and teaching her kid outdated dance moves. If you really love her, you'll fight in public.

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