Mr. Rogers- It's All About Lovehttps://www.onemomtoanother.com/post/mr-rogers-it-s-all-about-love Life's Layers

Talking to my child (Words adapted from Fred Rogers and often spoken to my children.)

Me: I love you.

Child: (smile)

Me: Do you know why I love you?

Child: Why?

Me: Because you are you.

Mr. Rogers loved all of us “just the way we are.” His words of encouragement and philosophy of kindness reflected his unconditional, consistent, and sincere love. Fred Rogers taught us that the answer is always love.

“I think that those who would try to make you feel less than who you are . . . that’s the greatest [harm].” --Fred Rogers

This quote is profound in its layers of truth. The greatest harm is turning over our worth for others to define—allowing them to hand us our self-esteem in a box tied with a bow.

There were more than one time in my life when others caused me to think of myself as less than I was, but there is one turning point I remember clearly: the time and place I began to place more weight on the opinions of others than I did on myself.

In the 5th grade, I became aware of the “popular girls.” This awareness evolved into a desire to emulate them, and my desire became a quest to join their exclusive circle. I began to copy their fashion style and sense. I started pulling back my bangs with two barrettes—one on each side—and dropped my uncool friends in favor of cooler ones. Instead of beating the boys at tetherball during recess, I gossiped with the cool girls about people, what they wore, what they said, and what they did.

I would laugh when the cool girls laughed, never offering an opinion of my own but simply nodding yes to all their statements and beliefs while adopting their language—“groovy,” “far out,” “peace out,” and “keep on steppin’.” To this day, I credit my eye-rolling skills to their tutelage. By sixth grade, I had achieved part-time status in their group and devoted all my efforts to becoming a full-time member.

My quest came to an unfortunate end that year when the fashion choice of a pair of white go-go boots, intended to attract a certain boy's attention, was deemed “not cool," and I was “cut” from the group. I watched as notes, cootie catchers, and my attempts at smiles to get their attention were met with sidelong glances and smirks.

Although my tetherball arm got a workout once again, I would love to say I learned my lesson, wrote them off, found my one true friend, and became happy and comfortable in my skin forever. Sadly, I still had lessons to learn and self-esteem to find.

Throwing my boots to the back of my closet:

Inner voice: What were you thinking? Buying those ugly things?

Me: (shrugs). I thought they were cool.

Inner Voice: You don’t know what cool is. Stick to what everyone else is doing.

Me: (nodding in agreement) You’re right. What was I thinking? Why did I ever think I could fit in?

(Negative thoughts lay down another layer of belief that I am not good enough.)

Voices that diminish our sense of worth beat loudly. “We are less gifted,” “overlooked,” and “less fortunate” drum in our heads, laying the foundation for those beliefs to take hold and grow. To quiet those voices, we must acknowledge our capacity for growth, our ability to learn, and the unique gifts that enrich our lives and those of others.

Our esteem is influenced by how we process or interpret events at different times, drawing conclusions that aren’t often re-evaluated. Those under-processed conclusions enter our brains as facts and become the lies we believe about ourselves. These lies, formed by experience and trauma—interpreted by limited knowledge or a narrow perspective—become ingrained in our definition of our worth.

Negative voices often don't yield to logic, and while kind words and encouragement from others can provide some temporary relief, it isn't until we confront the lies that we can reevaluate the truth.

The most significant harm caused by my experience with go-go boots wasn’t the exclusion by the popular girls - it was how I allowed it to fuel my self-rejection.

Phone conversation with my son, Michael Anderson, LAMFT, about emotional healing:

Michael: If we are willing to be more gentle and curious about how we view ourselves—tolerate it enough to sit with our experiences, even if we can’t change them—we can take steps to do something different. We can ask, what if I am not inadequate even if I don’t feel it yet?

(Discussing the boots and popular girls' story)

Me: (getting curious) I was only 11 and looked to people with only 11 years of life experience to tell me who I was and what I should do or not do.

Michael: What if you were already cool?

Me: I never considered that. What if those boots were amazing? Maybe I did rock those boots. What if the judgments placed on me were born out of my friends’ experiences and their low self-esteem?

(With curiosity and a “lens of truth and love,” I begin removing and replacing the lies with truth.)

It is often easier for us to believe the messages of people influenced by their perspectives than to trust that our value has no basis in external forces.

Exploring the experiences that led to the lies with a gentle lens can help us better understand and accept that, in a world where success may be fleeting, our value rises and falls like a roller coaster; neither triumph nor failure defines our inherent worth or divine nature. Nor is it something we have to earn or prove—it is something we already possess.

God long ago determined our worth. He loves us unconditionally, gave us talents and gifts, and sent us to earth with a mission to fulfill. He offers His hand and guidance, helping us rise above our experiences and the opinions of others. We are His, and we are divine.

When our inherent value is not in question and anchored to our souls, we can accept all the parts of us—the ups and downs, the sideways days, the upside-down moments—and with love, compassion, and grace, believe Mr. Rogers's words, that our value is not dependent on our accomplishments, others' opinions, or circumstances. Nor can it be traded or diminished by a pair of go-go boots. Neither is it changed, metered, or determined by life's experiences.

As Fred Rogers reminded us, understanding our value fuels the strength to move forward. We must love ourselves just the way we are.

“The most important learning is the ability to accept and expect mistakes and deal with the disappointment they bring.” -Fred Rogers

My youngest daughter was diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder when she was 11. Before that, we had no idea about her internal daily struggles. With each new revelation and our effort to learn how to support her best, I realized I hadn’t been much help during her early years.

For example, starting at a young age, when it was time for bed, she would “lose it” if she had to leave something unfinished, such as a drawing, a project, or a game. By bedtime, I was exhausted; I just wanted my children in their beds.

Bedtime With Caroline:

(Caroline is working on a project.)

Me: Time for bed.

Caroline: (panic)

I’m not finished!

Me: (sighs)

You can finish tomorrow. It will still be here in the morning.

(Internal thought)

It will be here because I’m too tired to pick it up.

Caroline: (crying)

I have to finish it!

Me: (I pick up Caroline, holding her around her middle like a football on my hip because she keeps arching her back when I try to hold her up straight.)

Let’s go, no more dawdling.

Caroline: (arms outstretched, reaching for her toys)

I’M NOT DONE!!!

Me: (trying to reason with a screaming child)

I said you can finish it in the morning. Quit throwing a fit, and I’ll read you a story and say prayers.

Me: (walking up the stairs, trying not to drop Caroline as she squirms and screams.)

(After the bedtime routine, heading back downstairs exhausted.)

Me: (Internal thought)

Why won’t she ever mind?

One of the things we learned about is the mental toll it takes on a person with OCD to leave anything “unfinished.” With this realization, I immediately recalled those nights I would separate her from her unfinished projects or play. My stomach dropped, and guilt welled up deep within my soul. Accusations disguised as thoughts raced through my mind, and there was no reasoning with them.

Why didn’t I know this? What was wrong with my motherly intuition? Why didn’t God warn me if this was so painful for her?

Amid my remorse, a list of strategies that could have helped Caroline make this bedtime transition easier became clear, taunting me. I could have given her a five-minute warning, helped her manage her time, and discussed a reasonable stopping point at the project's outset. Reflecting on what I should have done, my regret, guilt, and remorse formed into one false “fact.” I was responsible for my child’s trauma.

In my efforts to help my daughter "cut the loops" of endless thoughts and “take risks,” I also had to break the loop of guilt and take the risk that I could do more for her moving forward than by looking back. I gradually began to realize that any errors or misunderstandings regarding her needs were unintentional—my actions were based on what I knew at the time—and I had to trust that I would continue to do my best. Through this process, I found grace.

I apologized and began learning everything I could to help her. By working to understand what my daughter was experiencing, how to "speak her language" more effectively, and how to support her best, my focus shifted. This new focus allowed me to witness her find her strength, push against her limits, and thrive. Most importantly, forgiving myself opened the door to a unique relationship, forming unbreakable bonds that still connect us today.

Mistakes do not diminish our worth; that is another lie we tell ourselves. If we focus on being kinder and more compassionate, we can replace this lie with the truth: mistakes are not a sign of our inadequacy but rather a part of the learning curve that paves the way for improvement.

Mr. Rogers once said, “There is one thing that evil cannot stand, and that is forgiveness.”

Let it go—apologize, improve, be better, and let each step forward remind you that you’re worthy of growth, grace, and compassion.

“It’s not easy to quiet a doubt.” - Fred Rogers

(Conversation between Fred Rogers and doubt. Script adapted from a personal memo Fred Rogers wrote to himself referring to writing his documentary, Won’t You Be My Neighbor.)

Doubt: Am I kidding myself that I’m able to write a script again? Am

I really just whistling Dixie?

Assessment of the doubt: I wonder. I'll never really know if I don’t get down to it. Why can’t I trust myself? Really, that’s what it’s all about…that and not wanting to go through the agony of creation. AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, IT’S JUST AS BAD AS EVER.

Feeling alone in the doubt: I wonder if every creative artist goes through the tortures of the damned trying to create?

Overcoming the doubt: Oh well, the hour cometh, and now IS when I’ve got to do it. GET TO IT, FRED. GET TO IT.

Resolve: But don’t let anybody ever tell anybody else that it was easy. It wasn’t.

Mr. Rogers’s words, “Don’t let anybody ever tell anybody else that it was easy,” may have referred to his project struggles, but they also resonate with the challenge of conquering doubts.

Fred's doubts swam around the creative process, but doubts aren’t limited to tasks or projects; they can affect everyday life and be found in small and trivial moments, regardless of the scale or subject.

Mr. Rogers memo established a pattern for isolating and evaluating doubt. Through this process, he realized that his doubts had disguised themselves as a fair assessment of his abilities, allowing hesitation, procrastination, and uncertainty to derail his work. In this moment of clarity, he found the strength to say, “Get to it, Fred, get to it."

In this process, we may find that not all doubts are malicious. Some are valid, posing questions and issues to solve, inspiring innovation and creativity, protecting us from danger, and presenting possible outcomes before we act. However, a divided mind filled with noise makes it difficult to distinguish between destructive and constructive thoughts. Discerning doubts can require time and patience.

Mr. Rogers would sing a song on his show, "I Like To Take My Time." It was a simple song with a soothing melody. As is my usual way of singing songs to my children, I changed the words but kept the melody.

(Sitting down in the middle of chaos, putting toys away, singing)

Me: I like to take my time with things

I like to take my time with things.

I like to – take. My. Time.

My children: Calming down, sitting on the floor, cleaning up their toys.

Singing this song to my children while they put their toys away ensured they did it without argument. I was never sure why it worked, but I didn’t argue with the results. Looking back, I realize how slowing down and taking our time helped center my kids and allowed them to concentrate on what they were doing. Similarly, taking a step back to examine our doubts can bring a similar clarity.

When we slow down, our thoughts stop competing for our attention. In the stillness, we can remove them one at a time, reflect on them, pray about them, and make informed decisions.

Assessing what causes or influences our worries helps us better determine their nature.

We can also slow down to examine the doubts that stem from outside opinions and pressures. Comparison to others can affect how we think about ourselves and can be the root of our rising doubts.

The influence of comparison is especially pronounced with the rise of social media; we have expanded our tendency to rate ourselves and compare ourselves with others on a global scale. We scroll multiple times a day, looking at what we believe are unreachable criteria. We allow people we don't know to influence how we view our vacations, homes, holidays, children, spouses, clothes, gadgets, etc. Over time, these comparisons erode our confidence, leaving us wondering: How do they have it all, and I don’t?

What if the real question isn’t about having it all but redefining what 'enough' looks like for us? What if we stopped letting someone else’s highlight reel determine our worth and instead started believing that our enough is enough?

The next time doubt whispers, “She is better than you,” let go of the idea that another’s success is proof of your failure, and confidently ask yourself if there is something you can learn.

Kyingja Won understood this well. Her journey serves as a powerful reminder of what happens when we choose to have confidence in our ability to learn and grow. At the age of 80, she decided to learn to paint.

Having never painted or drawn before, she was a true beginner. Undaunted by her lack of experience, she joined a beginner-level painting class. Kyingja quickly realized her skills were behind those of her classmates, but she was determined and confident she could grow through guidance from the teacher and the other students.

Kyingja decided not to dwell on her doubts or compare her work to others; she embraced her role as a learner, eagerly absorbing feedback, suggestions, and techniques. She progressed from struggling to draw an apple to creating stunning paintings, so beautiful that she eventually began selling her artwork.

At 87, Kyingja continues to paint. Her artwork is a testament to someone who believed she was enough, embraced learning from others, and showed what we could accomplish when we set aside our doubts and dare to try. Kyingja also allowed herself to applaud others, trusting that her success would come. We can adopt this same mindset.

Explore your interests, broaden your horizons, choose friends who cheer you on, cry with you, laugh with you, and, occasionally, tell it straight. Find your people and hold on tight. They are looking for you, but can’t find you if you strive to live someone else's life.

There are times in life when what we face is complicated and daunting, and we cannot see a way out or through; nevertheless, there comes a time when you must decide it’s time to move. “Fred, you just have to do it,” Mr. Rogers told himself. We, too, must dare to be courageously imperfect, push the doubts aside, and take action. Sometimes, it means we gather our courage, dragging fear along for the ride. Mr. Rogers had a profound faith in God, but ultimately, he had to find his faith in himself, and we do too.

(Faith and Doubt applying for the job of being in charge of our thoughts)

Doubt: I only want the best for you. That means you should focus on everything that could go wrong. I want to remind you how impossible it is to recover from the disaster that is about to happen.

Faith: I only want the best for you. That means you should focus on everything that could go right. I want to remind you that you are strong enough to recover and grow from anything that goes wrong.

Doubt: Do you remember trying something new, failing, and learning never to try again?

Faith: Do you remember trying something new, failing, and learning that the result can’t always define success?”

Doubt: Can I promise you everything will work out? No. I can promise you that something won't.

Faith: Can I promise you everything will work out? No. I can promise you that if something doesn't work out, you are resilient enough to start over and determined enough to keep moving forward.

"It’s not easy to quiet a doubt." Whether we’re standing on the threshold of creation, making everyday decisions, or facing a situation that demands great faith, doubt will always whisper, “Don’t.”

Neither doubt nor faith can guarantee an outcome, but faith has the power to open doors to possibility. Faith reminds us that we are stronger than our doubts and more capable than we often believe.

“There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind, the second way is to be kind, and the third way is to be kind.” (Fred Rogers)

Fred: The first way is to be kind.

Being kind to ourselves isn’t always easy. Self-kindness can feel out of reach if we focus only on what’s wrong. However, I’ve learned that small moments of kindness toward ourselves hold the power to cultivate self-acceptance if we’re willing to see ourselves in a different light.

I was sitting in church watching my granddaughter, Hannah, draw a self-portrait. She was nine years old, and her medium was crayons. Not liking how her nose turned out, she crossed it out with an X and began drawing a nose she liked better. I was surprised by how quickly she accepted her mistake and moved on. When she was done drawing, I asked Hannah if she was happy with her picture. She answered with a huge smile.

Looking at the finished product, I saw a beautiful picture that reflected Hannah's love for herself and her innate ability to be kind to herself and forgive her mistakes. We all have days or moments when we want to draw an X over the parts we are uncomfortable with, but what if we, like Hannah, embrace our imperfections and move forward without hesitation?

Children have an unfiltered self-acceptance. My grandson Jackson reminded me of the joy we feel when we embrace ourselves and let go of self-doubt.

At the age of five, Jackson was playing a video game in the back of his car. Finally, victory was in his grasp. With the winning score, Jackson yelled, "When did I get to be so AWESOME?"

You can’t doubt yourself at the same moment you are celebrating your AWESOME-ness. Yet, somewhere between childhood and growing older, unfiltered self-acceptance tends to fade. My friend found a way to reclaim it- one smile at a time.

In her efforts to be kinder to herself, my friend decided to look at herself in the mirror every time she passed one and smile. She said, “It actually feels good, you know, after the first few awkward times.”

She pointed out that after a while, the woman in the mirror smiled back, encouraging her and telling her she was doing okay.

What if every time you looked at yourself in the mirror, you smiled and asked,

“When did I get to be so AWESOME?” (Say it like awesome is in all caps.)

Hannah's willingness to embrace her mistakes and Jackson's unfiltered confidence remind us of the joy of being our authentic selves. But as we grow older, that self-acceptance fades. Like my friend who learned to smile at her reflection, we can choose kindness—celebrating our strengths and learning from our imperfections. We can apply what Hannah knew at 9 years old; it will not be our Xs that define us, but the lessons that emerge from them, shaping a portrait of who we are becoming.

Fred: The second way is to be kind.

“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” My mom often repeated this advice to me growing up, and as much as I agree with it, I would like to tweak it: “If you can’t say something nice, try.”

Another adage I heard as a child came from my kindergarten teacher. When a child told her about the unkind words someone had said to them, she would say, “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” Tweaking this a bit, I might say, “Sticks and stones can break my bones, and words can hurt more than anything.” It doesn’t rhyme, but it carries the truth.

I think Fred would have approved of my “tweaks.” He understood the power of words and knew that children interpret what they hear literally. For this reason, every word spoken by a person or one of his puppets on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood had to be “scrutinized” and compared to how the children might interpret the message.

This exercise of picking the right combination of words was dubbed “Freddish” - or the unique approach of anticipating how children might misinterpret even simple phrases.

In practical terms, real-life conversations don’t lend themselves to a script. Thinking out each word and its possible interpretations might be tiresome for both sides. Still, if we participate in conversations with kind intentions, more often than not, our words have the potential to build bridges, mend wounds, and create understanding far more often than they cause harm.

Mr. Rogers understood the harm that words can do when hurled across space with harmful intentions, and so did my husband and I.

While Rich and I were engaged to be married, we promised not to use words as weapons. If something one of us said caused hurt feelings, we agreed to give each other the benefit of the doubt and an opportunity to clarify and make amends.

Our promise may seem impractical and impossible to enforce for anyone who has been married for more than a few weeks, but it has served us well. We do argue—as all people do—but over the years, our agreement to use kind words has established a pattern of how we treat one another. The promise is our common ground, building a foundation of trust.

Fred didn’t save his kindness for his friends and family; people felt his love everywhere he went. His example reminds us that our words shape the atmosphere around us. Carefully choosing our words isn’t always easy, but it is always worthwhile– even if it means tweaking an adage occasionally.

Fred: The third way is to be kind.

Words can heal our souls and bring us closer to those we love, repairing long-held hurts that, over time, change us.

Studies have shown that acts of kindness produce serotonin, oxytocin, and endorphins, which reduce stress, anxiety, and depression, and help us become calmer, healthier, and happier. This hormone release affects both the person giving and the person receiving. Additionally, the same thing happens to someone who witnesses kindness, making it more likely that they will pay it forward.

Mr. Rogers knew long before scientists concluded their studies on the impact of kindness on others—we learn how to be kind by remembering those who helped us along the way.

Mr. Rogers received many awards and had opportunities to speak. Often, he would use this time to help move through the following exercise:

(Mr. Rogers stands before a crowd, speaking or accepting an award.)

Fred: From the time you were very little, you’ve had people who have talked you into talking, sung you into singing, loved you into loving. On this extra special day, let’s take a minute of silence to think of those extra special people. Some of them may be right here, while others may be far away. Some may even be in heaven. Deep down, no matter where they are, you know they’ve always wanted what was best for you. They’ve always cared about you beyond measure and have encouraged you to be true to the best, the deepest, the loveliest within you. Let’s just think about those people now. I’ll watch the time.

(One minute of silence.)

(The room is still as people remember kindness. They close their eyes, bow their heads, wipe their tears, turn to their friends, and hold hands.)

Fred: Whomever you’ve been thinking about, imagine how grateful they must be, that during your silent times, you remember how important they are to you. It’s not the honors, prizes, or fancy outsides of life that ultimately nourish our souls. It’s the knowing that we can be trusted. That we never have to fear the truth. That the bedrock of our lives, from which we make our choices, is very good stuff.

This third reminder to be kind shows us how to create a meaningful life and inspire others to do the same by practicing kindness in all its forms.

“As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us really is, that each of us has something that no one else has—or ever will have—something inside us that is unique to all time. It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.” ( Fred Rogers)

Mister Rogers left a legacy of words and songs emphasizing the need for unconditional love and acceptance for ourselves and others.

Let us abandon the need to conform, the tendency to rate our successes by others, and the idea that failure is a sign of defeat.

What if we ended each day with 60 seconds of silence, thinking only kind things about ourselves and others, reflecting on those who have loved us for who we are, deepening our determination to do the same for those in our world, and praying to see ourselves as God sees us embraced by His boundless love?

“When we love a person, we accept him or her exactly as is: the lovely with the unlovely, the strong along with the fearful, the true mixed in with the façade, and of course, the only way we can do it is by accepting ourselves that way” (Fred Rogers).