Strong Looks Better Naked

by Khloé Kardashian

  You have to know yourself, believe in yourself, and define your own self.

  Easy, huh?

  Well, no.

  Getting Through the Bad Days

  I have bad days, too, and I’ve learned to deal with them. Even little things help. For example, no matter how horrible I’m feeling, I get out of bed. Literally wallowing in misery is not the answer. Next, brush your teeth and take a shower. It makes a huge difference. It means you’re getting ready for the day. Now walk into that kitchen and drink your tall glass of water and make your coffee and get going. If you have nowhere to go, take a walk or go for a hike; even a drive can help. Get out of your cocoon. Shake things up. And for god’s sake, stop feeling sorry for yourself.

  Problems are not stop signs, they are guidelines.

  —Robert H. Schuller

  Self-pity is the worst. I often deal with it by turning to music. Music is a great mood shifter. I’m not someone who cries a lot, and certainly not in front of other people, but from time to time I get just as sad as the next person. I can go to a three-hankie movie with you and not shed a tear, but the minute I walk through my front door, I fall apart. If the sadness stays with me, I’ll get back in my car and drive around aimlessly and sing along to Sam Smith. I’m not a good singer, but it still helps.

  I find music amazingly therapeutic. (It has actually been shown to reduce stress!) Sometimes I’ll even listen to sad music, because it makes me feel connected to the sadness in the world and makes me feel less alone. But a moment later I’ll put on Beyoncé, turn the music up loud, and—if the spirit moves me—dance my way into a better mood. (No wonder there’s a whole field of music therapy! It really works!)

  The other option is mindless television. I like murder mysteries, especially those crazy stories on Dateline and 20/20. When I’m watching those shows, I forget about myself and my little problems, at least for the duration. The downside is that the creepy shows stay with me, so to shake those icky feelings, I have to switch to something fun, like reruns of Friends or Sex and the City.

  On some level, music and TV can be a form of escape, and I’m aware of that. But I don’t see that as a bad thing. I believe we all need to escape from our reality from time to time. Maybe that’s what keeps us sane. There’s a reason people are given paid vacations and are forced to take them! We need a refuge. For me, taking a break from a problem and coming back to it when I’m in a calmer, better place can help me deal with it much more effectively. Nothing gets resolved when emotions are running high, which is why I’ve learned to wait until the storm has passed. (Don’t make a permanent decision when you’re in the grip of a temporary emotion!) When I’m calm, life becomes infinitely more manageable. And when we begin to manage our lives, we become stronger, better people.

  The Art of Journaling

  I love journaling. If something specific is troubling me, I’ll often try to work it out at my desk or on the computer screen. It’s like having a conversation with myself. I find analyzing the problem by writing about it immensely therapeutic. It’s especially helpful because I’m less “shary” than my sisters, probably because I don’t want everything to be about me, me, me, and when I’m journaling I give myself permission to be self-absorbed. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a little self-absorption from time to time, especially if the goal is to make yourself a better person.

  Journaling is a great way to literally get things out of your system. When you see the words in front of you, the issue becomes somehow more manageable. I also see writing as a concentrated form of thinking. It’s just you and your thoughts and feelings, working things out with yourself. It’s like, “Okay! I understand that now. Putting it into words has really made things clearer. Now I can work on getting it out of my system.”

  And even when there’s nothing specific on my mind, journaling is a good exercise. I might just think of a single word—love, flowers, passion, for example—and write it out by hand. And then I’ll consider absolutely everything that this word means to me. This exercise takes me to some interesting places.

  But probably the most valuable lesson I’ve learned from journaling is that we are never fully in control of our emotions. Life is uncertain, and uncertainty can be scary; to expect otherwise is only going to make you crazy. You’re not running the show, trust me, and when you think you are, remember the Serenity Prayer:

  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

  The courage to change the things I can

  And the wisdom to know the difference.

  Sometimes the act of writing about the things I can’t control makes me feel more in control. And sometimes I feel in control because I know I have no control. I know this line doesn’t seem to make sense, but read it again and you’ll get it.

  The other great thing about journaling is that you can use it to review your day. You look back on the things that went right and those that went wrong, and you spend a few minutes thinking about the way you handled various situations. When I started doing this, I realized that I have a tendency to focus on my mistakes, and then I’d obsess and feel bad all over again. I’d think about what I could have done differently and where I went wrong, and I didn’t like the feeling. But then I realized that I could learn from those mistakes, that each mistake was a teachable moment, so instead of beating myself up, I’d try to figure out how I could handle things if and when I found myself in a similar situation. In that light, journaling became an even more positive experience. My mistakes were all about learning, not about self-criticism, and I knew I could do better. My mistakes were making me stronger.

  And speaking of self-criticism, I’ll say this: There’s a place for it in all of our lives, because it’s important to acknowledge your flaws, but don’t overdo it. In other words, deal with your shortcomings and own up to your mistakes, but don’t beat yourself up. Here again, journaling has proved immensely helpful. When you start attacking yourself on the page, you’ll see it right away, and you’ll stop doing it. Why be unkind to yourself? There’s more than enough unkindness to go around, so why punish yourself by adding to it?

  My only negative experience with journaling happened a couple of years ago, and it has nothing to do with the act itself: One of my journals went missing. I don’t believe it was filled with any earth-shattering revelations, and I’m certainly not obsessing about it, but as a result I became very cautious. I worry about it happening again, so now I destroy my journals as soon as I’m done writing. I shred the handwritten pages and I even delete the files on my computer. That may seem a little excessive, especially for someone whose entire life seems to be documented on TV and by the press, but it makes me feel safer.

  I will never give up journaling, however. To me, it has been the most effective way of facing my demons, and I’m a big believer in confronting those demons head-on. If you don’t try to deal with your problems, they’re going to come back and bite you in the ass. And the more you ignore them, the stronger they get. The only way to defeat your demons is to identify them and to begin to address the underlying problem. “Okay, that’s my insecurity talking.” “Okay, that’s jealousy.” “Okay, that’s loneliness.” At that point you can get to work on it. And it is work. You’re working your emotional muscles. You’re trying to get strong.

  You also have to be realistic. The demons never go away, and they will test you, but you will get better at keeping them at bay. And I see real beauty in that. Life isn’t about perfection, but about growth. And when I do battle with those demons, even if at times I find myself bruised and battered, I know I’m getting stronger. People with the worst scars have the best stories. In order to grow as people, we often have to go to war with dark parts of ourselves; that’s what positive change is all about.

  And the work never ends. I know there are plenty of demons inside me I haven’t even met, but I’m preparing for them.

  When my father died, for example, I met my Really Angry Demon. I was so angry, I was pra
ctically breathing fury at that point. My rage was so extreme that I lashed out at everyone. If somebody tried to say anything even mildly comforting, I had to fight the urge to snarl (and I usually lost). That’s how my sorrow manifested itself, as rage. That demon breathed fire.

  Even now, looking back on it, I’m embarrassed by what a bitch I was. But at age nineteen I didn’t have the tools to deal with the pain. At age nineteen I didn’t realize that life shows everyone its claws. If I had simply found the strength to go down into the darkness, to sit alone with my loss and my sadness, that would not have happened.

  Facing the Pain

  Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we find ourselves in a dark, lonely place, and we need help. My friend Malika, for example, will call me out of the blue and say, “Can we do a wine night?” She comes over, I crack a bottle of wine, and I listen to her talk while I’m organizing my closets (because I’m always organizing my closets). By the time she feels better about whatever was weighing on her mind, I feel great, too, because my closets look marvelous.

  I have other friends who meet for a girls’ lunch once a month, and they share absolutely everything that’s on their minds. That’s not my thing, because I’m more self-nurturing and private, but it works for them and it could work for you.

  I also think therapy is great. I think it’s healthy to admit that you need help with certain problems, because that’s a first step toward a solution.

  Toward the end of my marriage, things began to get unbearably painful. I didn’t reach the levels of misdirected anger that I’d experienced after my father died, but I was in a very bad place, and he was in a worse place, and we both realized that we weren’t going to get anywhere by holding hands and singing “Kumbaya.” So we went to couples counseling, and we finally began to come to terms with the fact that the marriage was pretty much over. I was truly heartbroken. When I first got married, I felt as if I was really coming into my own as a person. Being a wife completed me. I know it sounds corny, but I loved the whole experience—falling in love, getting engaged, making a home, taking care of my man, taking care of his kids, etc. Maybe those emotions seem a bit old-fashioned, but they were true at the time and they continue to be my values to this very day. So yeah, watching my marriage come crashing down was the absolute worst.

  When it ended, when Lamar left, when it was truly over, things didn’t get any easier. When I got married, I was no longer simply one of the Kardashians; I had my own life and a separate identity. I had broken free. I was an adult (finally). In sharing my life with Lamar, I felt as if my entire world had become greatly enriched. But with Lamar gone, it was as if I had taken a giant backward step. I was back to being Khloé, but a somewhat more “damaged” version. And as much as I loved my family, losing Lamar had left me horribly adrift.

  Then one night, during one of my darker moments, I remembered a conversation I’d had with my father many years earlier, when I was maybe thirteen or fourteen, about that teacher who had compared me unfavorably to my sisters. “She made me feel like I’m not even part of this family,” I told my father. “She made me feel ugly.” And my father wiped away my tears and said, “Let me tell you something, Khloé. You’ve always had to fight a little harder than your sisters for everything, and as a result you are much stronger than either of them. In fact, you’re the only one I’m not worried about. You have more inner strength than you can imagine, and I promise you this: You are always going to land on your feet.”

  Remembering that conversation helped me survive the end of my marriage. I realized I was strong. I still had plenty of work to do on myself, but I knew I was going to get there.

  Life Is About Second Chances

  During this time, I often went to see Pastor Brad, one of the few people I have always turned to in times of need, one of the few people I can really talk to. Pastor Brad is a family friend, going back to when my parents were together, and he was also the man who married Lamar and me.

  Pastor Brad is still a huge part of my life. Unlike most of the rest of my family, most of whom are practicing Christians, I don’t go to church every Sunday, but I still see him privately from time to time to talk about my issues. All of us can use a helping hand occasionally, and Pastor Brad has been mine.

  One of the great things I’ve learned from him is that life is all about second chances. No matter how badly you screw up, you can start fresh the very next minute. But you have to have the drive to do it.

  The other thing I learned from him is that perfection is unattainable. Our brains are wired to want more and to never be satisfied, so we’re never going to win that battle, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive for perfection. Some people are perfectly happy with who they are and how they look and how they behave, and that’s fine, but I never want to stop growing and improving and trying in every way to better myself. But I’m doing it for me, to make myself happy, and I think it’s important to define what perfection means to you.

  I also think it’s important to be honest with yourself about the areas where you are coming up short, because denying your flaws is the best way to let them rule you. Here again, though, you have to be your own judge. And you have to decide what you want to work on. Don’t listen to other people. These decisions are between you and you. But don’t bullshit yourself about what you see in the mirror. If you don’t like it, you can change it. My feeling is that as long as you’re making progress as a human being—becoming a slightly better version of yourself, one day at a time—that’s already a form of perfection.

  There’s an old joke that’s really only half a joke: “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Life is full of unexpected twists and turns, which is pretty obvious, but most of us have a hard time accepting that.

  When I went to see Pastor Brad, still hurting over the end of my marriage, he helped me understand that everything happens for a reason. When we’re in the thick of it, though—my father’s death, my divorce—we’re mostly angry or in pain, and it’s hard to believe that someday we’ll look back and see the situation in a larger context.

  When my father died, I questioned God. “Why did you take him from me? What were you thinking? What did I do to anger you?” Later, after the anger and the drinking, and after Kourtney set me up in the new store, I realized that other forces were at play. I didn’t have my father anymore, but I knew I would survive the loss.

  As Pastor Brad put it, we all lose people we love, and we all suffer pain and heartbreak, but we get through it and new good things do happen.

  Pastor Brad had gone though his own personal challenges. His marriage fell apart, and he too got a divorce, and his parish responded by kicking him out. When my mother first told me that story, I was horrified. The church—aren’t they supposed to be the good guys? How could they do that to one of their own, especially in a time of need? I was always taught about forgiveness, but the very people who were teaching the community about love, forgiveness, and not being judgmental were doing the opposite.

  He ended up working at a local Starbucks. He slowly found his way back, and now he has a church of his own. So he did get through it, and good things did happen. But only because he didn’t wallow in misery or anger; instead he dusted himself off and picked himself up and began to move forward. I’m still pissed at the church on his behalf, because I think they behaved abominably, but I am also really impressed with Pastor Brad, and with the way he made a commitment to rebuilding his life. The secret is really simple: You fall down, you get up.

  So yes, my marriage was over. And it hurt like hell. And I wallowed, briefly, and when I’d had enough self-pity I put one foot in front of the other and kept moving. That’s what strength of mind is all about. You get up and power forward. You become your own engine. You motor your way through that day and the next one and the one after that. And every day gets a little easier. Well, usually. We all have days that feel like total hell (and they pass, too).

  Our greatest weakness lies in giving up
. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time.

  —Thomas A. Edison

  Vulnerability Is Not a Sign of Weakness

  Thinking back, I realize that one of the most important things I learned from Pastor Brad is that I had to continue to allow myself to be vulnerable. When people get hurt, they often shut down, and it makes perfect sense: Who enjoys getting hurt? But it’s the wrong way to go. To be alive is to be vulnerable, and sometimes we don’t see that. In fact, lots of people—men and women alike—see vulnerability as a sign of weakness. But without risk, there are no rewards. Knowing this, I am always genuine. I don’t have any trouble telling others that I miss them or that I love them, even if I risk not hearing the same thing back. If I don’t tell them what’s in my heart, I am being dishonest, and I’d rather be vulnerable than dishonest. I’m not trying to be cool, I’m trying to be genuine, and I want at all times to be true to my feelings.

  And never, ever tell someone you love him or her just because you want to hear that back. That’s a terrible idea. That’s like buying someone a present because your birthday is around the corner and you want to remind him or her to get you something nice. You don’t give to receive. You give from the heart. And honest words are a gift from the heart.

  The other day one of my girlfriends said, “Last night, I told Paul I loved him, and you know what the bastard said? He said, ‘ I know.’ ”