Tag: Self-Compassion

Showing Self-Mercy

(Title image: Photo by Melanie Stander on Unsplash)

My oncologist keeps telling me that I’m too hard on myself.

This has been something he’s repeated for the nine years that I’ve known him. He says this when I express my frustration with not being as strong or resilient as I used to be. When I complain that I can’t lift as much weight and get injured more easily.

“Relax,” he tells me. But I have a desperate drive that pushes me, as if I’m fearful of stopping or even just slowing down. As if I’m going to sink if I rest for a while.

It’s not just my workouts in which I feel this. It’s also apparent in my professional life which, I admit, did not head down the path that I was expecting it to, and cancer didn’t help. Now, at a time in my life when I’m supposed to be winding down and enjoying a retirement coming in the not-so-distant future…no, I tell myself there’s still so much more to do to get myself to a point where I can finally rest.

Yes, this would be me. No excuses.
(Photo by Jordan Whitfield on Unsplash)

Well, I needed to get that off my chest. As you can image, this kind of mentality has some downsides.

I was reminded of that when, last week, I was again invited to present during an event in which I’ve participated for the past two years. It’s one that I spend about four months practicing for.

The first time in 2024 I was mildly anxious but everything went very well. I couldn’t wait to do it again in 2025.

But last year was really tough for me. I was grieving the death of my father, dealing with weird migraine auras, working on a professional certification that I felt insufficiently prepared for and trying to juggle some major financial changes in my life. I didn’t have the same amount of time to prepare and, consumed by self-doubt, I allowed anxiety to creep in.

No, wait. That’s a lie.

Anxiety didn’t “creep in”, it hit me like a tidal wave. Preparing for an event that should have been amazingly positive and allowed me to showcase my expertise instead kept me up at night. It made me miserable. I obsessed over preparations and couldn’t wait for it to be over.

My presentation came and went well enough. But the experience left me feeling wounded.

Like I said, 2025 was a difficult year with major changes in my life. It stayed difficult up until the last days of December, when I finally had a chance to decompress and enjoy where I was in the present moment.

But when I recently received the invite to once again participate in this year’s event, I felt a familiar undercurrent of panic and despair. And that elicited shame.

First, I tried not to think about it. But that didn’t work well and my anxiety grew. I really wished that I could find an excuse to skip this year but I couldn’t turn it down—that would be “giving up” which would have left me defeated.

Or would it have?

Cutting myself some slack after a lifetime of beating myself up feels like the way I expect these kittens feel.
(Photo by Chirag Bhardwaj on Unsplash)

I have spent so much of my life doing things “for my own good”. When it comes to exercise, that is a very good thing indeed. But what about when doing something genuinely results in anxiety and dread? I had a long track record of pushing through those situations. Over and over again, I would barrel headlong into them, figuring that the more I did things like this, the more comfortable I would get with them. Although it didn’t always work like that. Sometimes, all it did was allow anxiety around it to build even more, painted with self-criticism for feeling that way.

But what if, instead of beating myself up, I took a breath and showed myself some grace? Just this once?

I poked at the possibility of declining the opportunity to present this year, just to test out how I would feel about it. And it immediately felt like a relief. All that anxiety fell away and I saw all the other things I could spend my time doing that I would otherwise put off because practicing required so much mental energy. I made the decision to listen to what my brain and body were yelling at me.

“For Pete’s sake…!“

This wasn’t a cop-out. This was giving my worn-out self a little love. I need more of that.

I Thought I Was Doing Better

(Title image: Photo by Merch HÜSEY on Unsplash)

Last week, I met with a friend that I don’t see often. We were talking about what was going on in our lives and he related how he loved where he lived right now, and put a positive spin on everything in his life, even when talking about negative happenings.

He sounded sunny and was handling the tough stuff that came his way.

But then it was my turn to tell him about what I’d been up to. I started describing what I’d been dealing with: my father’s decline and death last year, worries about my mother’s well-being, concerns about the increasing cost-of-living…

My friend smiled at me. The last time he had talked to me, he said, I was stressed about something else. In fact, every time he calls me, there’s some new thing that I’m stressed about.

And of course he’s right. As much as I’ve improved in handling anxiety using all the tools I’ve developed to calm myself down—and, yes, I’ve found success with that—the overarching feeling that I have is that I’m playing whack-a-mole with my worries.

It’s as if I’m trying to regain my footing, but something new comes up and knocks me off balance again.

I admit it. I’m feeling worn out.
(Photo by Anca Gabriela Zosin on Unsplash)

After getting past cancer treatments like chemotherapy and radiation, you’d think that the skies would look brighter and my outlook would be more positive. And for quite some time that was completely true.

But as endocrine therapy wore on and I went through menopause, my spirit suffered. The luster of surviving cancer started wearing off. That’s embarrasing to admit, especially when I have lost friends and family to the disease and know of many others desperately fighting it.

But even being aware of that, my day-to-day seems to have become darker overall. I start the day with energy to get things done but by evening I’m exhausted and sometimes overwhelmed by what’s in front of me.

I know some of this is my own doing. In fact, one of the big, scary changes that I was faced with this year just sorted itself out. It was simpler than I expected (note my previous post). And then my son was admitted to the college he wanted to attend. All these are refreshing successes that I should have spent time basking in. But it didn’t take long for the clouds to gather again.

After hearing my friend’s assessment of me, I am trying to figure out whether what I’m going through is really getting harder? Or have I gradually been losing my ability to pull myself out of a funk? And once the uncertainties are settled, will I bounce back?

I feel disappointed in myself, which is exactly part of the problem. Lack of self-compassion simply compounds the stress. You know the carrot-and-stick analogy? Well, I’ve tossed the carrot and am just beating myself with the stick.

Back to the drawing board.

New Year, New Approach to Resolutions

With the start of the new year, many of us set lofty goals with the intention of changing things that we do not like about ourselves.

But so many of those goals are not realized. You may be aware that it takes approximately 21-28 days in order to create a new behavior, but a cursory search on the internet suggests that most people don’t even last that long.

New Year’s resolutions are not known for their longevity!

There are certainly behavioral modification tricks that you could use to establish a new healthy habit, but if you haven’t had success in the past, perhaps it would be worth taking a different tack this year.

Instead of doing something to immediately “fix” yourself, try sitting with the acceptance of who you are right now.

Release the pressures of becoming that person that you think you want to be and spend some time getting to know the ins and outs of the person that you already are.

You may argue that there are things that you must change within yourself, that there are challenges you must take on and healthy behaviors that you must establish. I am certainly not telling you to give up on those.

Sit quietly with acceptance of that person that you are right now, in your current “unchanged” state.

But it’s possible that you need a little self-compassion before plunging into making big changes.

So just for today, consider what an amazing being you are. Beautiful as you are right now. A mosaic of the years that you’ve already lived, showing the marks of your experiences. Some of those might be scars, but that’s okay. They have all come together to make that unique being that is “you”.

Then consider what this “you” really needs. Not late nights and fast food meals. Not being jammed into an office chair, hunched over a desk, or crumpled on a couch trying to distract yourself with TV shows about other people, neglecting the needs of the person you are.

Through self-compassion, find your reasons to show yourself the love that you deserve.

You need the freedom to breathe deeply, be nourished and allowed to stretch out your limbs. To close your eyes and be still, to take a break from harsh lights and electronic screens. To move, whether it’s a jog-walk to the park or dancing in your living room.

Consider how you can do something supportive of yourself and the world in which you live, out of love. Those changes that you want to make, do they nuture your body? Do they lift up others or help care for your surroundings? That challenge that you wish to undertake, will it help you grow, or just mindlessly try to hammer you into something that you are not?

And once you’ve accepted where you are now, can you find a way to love and guide yourself through establishing new behaviors — because it is your choice to do so — and *not* fight the things that will contribute to your health and well-being?

Take some time to think about all of this…and proceed from there.

HAPPY NEW YEAR! ❤

But First, Self-Compassion

If you don’t love yourself, you cannot love others. You will not be able to love others. If you have no compassion for yourself, you are not capable of developing compassion for others.

Dalai Lama

As we head deeper into the holiday season, it’s easy to get lost in the hustle of preparations, gift purchases and holiday parties. So often, a time that’s supposed to be “joyous”, “merry” and “bright” becomes dark and stressful as we face the high expectations that we hold for these remaining weeks of 2022.

It’s difficult to welcome the holidays with an open heart if we’re closed off to our own needs.

I think of self-compassion as a rope. If you’re standing at the edge of a lake and see someone in distress you can only throw a rope if you have enough coils on your end. If the rope you hold is too short, it won’t reach the person you’re trying to help. 

And so it is if you’re trying to show care for someone—how can you truly care for them if you don’t care for yourself? Will you even know what sincere care and compassion are?

Self-compassion: acceptance, kindness and the understanding that what you are experiencing is part of being human.

 But the bonus of self-compassion is that the rope you throw is magical — you never give it all away. The rope is endless. Compassion doesn’t hurt, and a compassionate heart opens you up to being more compassionate more easily.

Allowing yourself to have the “less-than-Hallmark” holiday spread, to admit that you’re not feeling particularly jolly, to acknowledge that you need a break from responsibilities…

Take some time to feel into where your tension lies. Stop and listen to yourself breathe. Accept your feelings without judgment. Say “no” to taking on extra responsibilities more often…and then help others in doing the same.

Be compassionate towards yourself and it will be easier to show compassion to everyone else.

How will I show compassion to myself today? By taking stock of what else I can reasonably get done…and therefore end this post right here.

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Ok, I know up there I said I was ending this self-compassion post…but before I go, consider the words of Kristin Neff, PhD, Associate Professor of Educational Psychology at the University of Texas and a research pioneer on the topic: “With self-compassion, we give ourselves the kindness and care we’d give to a good friend.”

Dr. Neff breaks self-compassion down into three elements:
1. Mindfulness
2. Self-Kindness
3. Connectedness or Common Humanity

Read more about her work at https://self-compassion.org/

It Took Cancer to Teach Me Self-Compassion

One thing I’ve had trouble with is expressing self-compassion. When you’re a driven perfectionist it’s easy to believe that “giving yourself a break” is tantamount to “going soft” and “losing your edge”.

I couldn’t forgive myself when I felt that I’d failed. And guess what, getting cancer made me feel like a failure. I had tried to live the healthiest adult live I could, given the sometimes-limited resources I had, often denying myself what others called “pleasures” or “indulgences”.

I’ve lived most of my life feeling like I had to constantly push myself…and that I was never good enough.

The fact that I was convinced that I shouldn’t have gotten cancer was a recurring theme early on in this blog–I was convinced that I must have done something wrong, even when I tried so hard to do my best.

I was also ashamed. Cancer, I felt, opened my life up to judgment by others.

Getting myself out of that funk took serious work. It meant rewiring my brain and allowing in the same kindness and compassion for myself that I allowed for others. At the same time, I reminded myself of a quote by author and humor columnist Dave Barry: “A person who is nice to you, but rude to the waiter, is not a nice person.” I prefer to interpret Barry’s words in this way: I cannot be genuinely kind and non-judgmental to others until I’ve learned to be so to myself.

Cancer gave me perspective to see how much I needed compassion from myself.

But how do you do that when you’ve spent your life pushing yourself, not accepting excuses? It wasn’t until I hit the lowest low that I ever experienced that I learned to dip into unadulterated compassion for myself. I imagined who I was as a chemo patient–skinny, bald, dehydrated, vulnerable, frightened. And suddenly felt it: that overwhelming desire to wrap my arms around that version of me and protect it.

And while that was “cancer me”, I realized that same version of me was the scared person inside that I had always bullied with perfectionism and accusations of not being good enough. This was who I really was, in need of and deserving of gentle holding.

It took a life threatening illness to make me realize that I deserved kindness and compassion. I believe that you are deserving of the same. Do something today to prove it to yourself.

Just Show Up

The thing about cancer is that the news hits you hard at once.

And it’s not like you get time to get used to it, because the diagnosis is LOADED. All those scary things that you’ve ever associated with the “big C” rush at you and there’s no real way to protect yourself.

It would be terrifying for anyone, but those of us currently in mid-life grew up at a time when cancer treatment was not as refined or targeted as it is now: visions abound of hospital beds, bald heads, bodies wasting away, vomiting, hopelessness. Most cancers were frequently fatal and diagnosis was the beginning of the end.

Everyone’s pushing you to fight, fight, fight. It sounds like the right thing to say, but it can feel exhausting.

As we’re trying to process what this all means for us, for our future and for our families, others try to prop us up with cheers of, “Be a badass!” “Stay strong!” “You’ll beat this!” “You’re a fighter!”

So between juggling the cancer news and the “hang tough” messages from those around us, everything gets overwhelming. Our oncologist lays out a treatment plan and suddenly we need to learn a different language. Tumor types, chemo drugs, clinical terms, side effects.

I distinctly remember wanting to hide under my bed and wait for it to go away. There was so much I needed to do and I didn’t know how to get through it all. It seemed like an immense amount of work for one person.

And then it hit me. All I needed to do was show up.

I put the gloves away and realized I didn’t need to fight anything. I needed self-compassion.

I didn’t need to be the warrior that everyone was pushing me to be. The mere fact that I was going to my appointments on my scheduled day was enough. I wasn’t going to win a prize for being the best “infusee” or for absorbing the most radiation the fastest.

I didn’t have to fight. All I needed to do was endure and allow. To accept what was going on and move through it. And to breathe.

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I brought my office work with me to my first infusion. I was going to be there for at least 5 hours so I figured I should use the time “wisely”. I fired up my laptop but soon the Benadryl that I was given to prevent adverse reactions kicked in and brought on drowsiness.

Suffice it to say I might have answered an email here or there, but did little else. The same thing happened during the next infusion, and the one after that. Eventually I realized that the wisest way I could spend my time was by giving myself permission to rest and ride out the treatments.

When infusion day rolled around, I learned to put aside my work duties and family responsibilities, and simply be. It was such an uncomplicated concept, the benefits of which rippled out beyond my treatment. Why did it take cancer to teach me that?