Understanding the importance of being Real gave me a new perspective, what I would call a more Realistic point of view, which slowly changed me. I started by trying to quiet that endlessly self-critical part of myself, the part that dwells on supposed flaws. After all, no one is perfect in a mechanical sort of way, and it’s self-destructive to pick on yourself for being human. I also began to embrace the quirky pieces of myself—my interest in art and my sense of humor, for example—and realized that I could be loved just as I am.

Once you recognize the value of being Real, you can begin to see that you don’t have to live the way everyone else lives. When this truth dawned on me, I started to create a customized life that nourished my individual interests. I took art classes, put together my own little studio and began painting. I also began collecting found items—some were things people had left on the street for the garbage truck—and transforming them with paint or glass or bits of tile. In my own way, I made these cast-off things more Real. By giving them care and attention, I brought out their value. Gradually, everything around me seemed like it offered an opportunity for creative expression. In my kitchen I made a mural out of pieces of broken china. In my front hallway I stenciled swaying trees to mimic an aging fresco. In short, I began to feel happy being my Real self.

The self-acceptance that came with my attempt to be more Real made me feel less anxious and more comfortable in everyday life. It also affected the way that I viewed others. I became more patient and openhearted, and this immediately brought me closer to the people I love. This made sense. After all, if this new understanding gave me permission to be specifically myself, then I certainly had to extend the same permission to others. As part of this change, I became much more curious about what made people think and feel the way they did. So I asked, and the answers were extremely interesting. I discovered that everyone’s internal process was unique. I couldn’t assume anything about anyone. Just as we know that no two snowflakes are identical, so it goes with Real people. The variety is endless and delightful.

If the wisdom of The Velveteen Rabbit had been simply a personal revelation, and nothing more, it would have been a magnificent gift. After all, the story had given me a perspective on life that had calmed years of self-criticism and doubt. But over time I came to see that the concept of being Real might help other people to be happier and more at peace with themselves.

As a therapist, it was my job to help clients who felt emotional pain and were struggling to function better in their personal lives, their work and their relationships. Some of the people I saw had eating disorders,
obsessions, depression, anxiety and substance abuse problems. A few even practiced self-injury, cutting or burning themselves in order to stop feeling numb.

Though their symptoms varied widely, my clients expressed feelings that every one of us, if pressed, might experience at one time or another. They spoke of feeling lost, invisible and unimportant. They didn’t feel accepted and loved for who they were. And they felt both grief and the nagging sense that something vital was missing. Some described a physical sensation, saying they were “empty inside” or felt “like there’s a pit in my stomach.”

More often than not, the talking therapy worked. People came to my office, explored both their present and past, and with my aid improved. They developed a kinder attitude—I call it self-empathy—that allowed them to look at themselves less harshly, accepting their own flaws and limitations. They also developed new faith in their own unique personalities and values. As this happened, many of the symptoms that brought them into therapy seemed to fade.

I could use psychological jargon to describe the improvement I saw, but these terms are stilted, too formal and lack the poetry to match what I was observing. A better way to describe it is: they were becoming Real.
Becoming Real, it turns out, is the purpose of every kind of psychotherapy. It is living in the moment with the deepest respect for yourself and for others. It is a way of thinking that allows us to express ourselves and experience life—including its stress, conflicts, sorrows and losses—with grace, kindness and integrity.
Why am I so certain about the power of being Real? First, I experienced it in my own life. Second, I saw it affect the lives of my clients. And lastly, when I introduced the concept to my students at the college where I teach courses in psychology, social work and communication, they all found it to be inspiring, easy to understand and relatively easy to incorporate in their own lives. This was more than ten years ago. And in all those years, I have yet to encounter a single person who couldn’t see the value of this perspective and wasn’t helped by it.