Tag: self compassion

Breathe

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Breathe. Seems simple, right? Something we all do every day. And yet, there have been so many moments in my life when I feel like I’m holding my breath. And sometimes I am. Literally and figuratively. My body tense, like it’s ready to take a punch.

As I’ve been thinking about the power of the breath and noticing what’s happening in my body, I’ve also been reflecting on the difference between thinking about what I’m feeling versus feeling what I’m feeling. I’ve been going through a lot of transition in my life over the last few months and it has been pushing me past the edges of my comfort zone in big ways. Testing me. Triggering me. Bringing up old stories. And giving me opportunities to practice leaning into the feels.

I was in a therapy session once, working through some particularly heavy stuff when my therapist said, “You’re great at thinking about and articulating feelings that are coming up for you, but what would it look like to sit with the feeling?” That was a terrifying proposition. It took me some time to realize that feelings (even intense ones) wouldn’t kill me, even if I was sure they would. Ironically, I was trying to protect myself by not letting myself feel the full weight of what I was carrying…but by avoiding sitting with them, I was ensuring they would stick around in a state of never being fully processed. Wading into that pool meant dismantling more than a few beliefs about what it means to truly care for myself.

But wade, I did. And at first, the water was freezing.

The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most.

Thomas Merton

I sat with the pain, the fear, the sadness, the anger…I let myself break. Truly break. I thought about all the times I had numbed, sought distractions, or shoved the feelings down so I could continue pushing forward. All the days I would get up and attempt to disregard how I felt so I could “keep my life in order”. It had all finally caught up with me. I’m a BIG feeler, so for me to numb, distract, or press them down took an incredible amount of energy. Over time, it had all stacked up and when I hit that breaking point, I hit it hard.

After that session, I remember feeling so spent I could barely move. It’s like when I was in school and would push myself beyond what I should have to get through finals week. Then when I was done and I let my body relax, it felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

I still have moments when I avoid sitting in the fullness of the feels. Or moments like I’m in right now when I have a to-do list a mile long that makes it easier to slip into old habits (i.e. distracted by being productive, not giving myself enough time to feel the feels the way I need to, and then hitting a major wall). I can always think about what I’m feeling, and I can always talk about how I’m feeling, but letting myself feel the depths of what’s truly there? I still sometimes hesitate at that step, scared of what will come out when I fling that door open. But I’m learning that the sensations I feel, the tears that may fall, and the thoughts that might come up are all okay and part of the process.

The wound is not what happens to you; it is what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.

Gabor Maté

I used to think that trauma was the event, but Gabor Maté talks about how the wound “is not what happens to you; it is what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.” So, how do we tend to those wounds? How do we lean into self-compassion? How do we get grounded and back into our bodies? How do we give ourselves permission to sit with the fullness of the feels? Even the big ones? Even if we feel like we might not survive it?

I’m still working on the answers to those questions, and it’s something I’ll be searching for and practicing until the day I take my last breath. I’m sure of it.

I’ve been so fortunate to have people in my life who see me as whole, even when I feel broken. I think that’s really the key…we’re all healing, but that doesn’t make us any less whole. And when you have people in your circle who recognize that and sit with you in whatever life brings, those are your people. Our individual journeys might look different, but there’s such strength in seeing one another exactly where we’re at and cheering each other on. We don’t have to wade into that pool alone.

And when we hit that cold water, we need people who will sit in it with us. Shoulder to shoulder. Who will remind us of who we are when we start to doubt it. Who will bear witness to our pain…and who will show us how to breathe when we forget.

To all those who have done that for me, I have so much gratitude in my heart for you. And to those who are just beginning to dip your toes in the water, remember to keep breathing. You’ve got this.

Presence Over Perfection

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Meditation. It’s meant to be relaxing, right? But for YEARS, I would approach my meditation practice kicking and screaming. Even lasting 3 minutes* was torture—my mind churning through my to-do lists, all the things I’d rather be doing, and whether or not I turned the stove off. And that was just in the first 5 seconds. That still left 175 seconds for internal dialogue like, “Why can’t I just clear my mind for 3 minutes? I’m never going to be good meditator if I keep this up. Maybe if I hiked more, clearing my mind would come easier. I need to pick up some trail mix this week. My big toe hurts. I wonder if I tweaked it when I worked out this week. Should I stretch more next time? How do you stretch your toes? When is my yoga class this week? What day is it, again?” The chatter in my head rivals that of Lorelai Gilmore. The only thing missing from mine is a similar triumphant ending of “…monkey, monkey, underpants”.

Over the years, I’ve heard the term “progress over perfection” bandied about in different circles. That still doesn’t feel exactly right to me, though. Presence over perfection seems like a better approach.

I decided I had to start small. Smaller than 3 minutes a day, you ask? Yep. I started with 3 intentional rounds of breath a day. 4 counts in, hold for 4, out for 4 and hold for 4 at the bottom of the breath. It’s called box breathing, and that’s how I started to build a daily habit. It’s all I could commit to at first without feeling overwhelmed. And it’s something I knew I could do. Every day. For a recovering perfectionist like myself, I had to set an achievable consistent first step so that I wouldn’t shame myself into quitting altogether. Even though it’s called a meditation practice, I still found myself slipping into “but it has to be perfect” thinking. Ironically, this is something that meditation can help you overcome, but to get there, you have to first be okay with imperfection in your practice. So, you can see the problem. Hello, vicious cycle.

Over the years, I’ve heard the term “progress over perfection” bandied about in different circles. That still doesn’t feel exactly right to me, though. Presence over perfection seems like a better approach. Even if you don’t make what you deem “progress” over a week, the very fact that you intentionally chose to be present is a win. Give yourself props and keep going. There is no “one-size-fits-all” approach and trying to adopt a meditation style that doesn’t fit isn’t going to work. It’s going to feel like when we all went from wearing sweatpants every day during the pandemic lockdown to putting on jeans for the first time after months of luxuriously stretchy trousers. I don’t know about you, but those first steps back to denim were a solid “nope” for me.

There are visualizations, binaural beats or music that can help, breathing patterns, and the full-on “sit in silence” method. Play around and experiment! Try different combinations. But the most important thing—and I can’t emphasize this enough—is to start small and practice non-judgment. As a heads up (if you didn’t already know) that is much harder than it sounds. But it’s worth the work. When I judge myself for not doing enough or being enough or “doing it right”, it automatically shuts me down and prevents me from continuing to build the habit I was striving for, and I decided I didn’t want to keep getting in my own way.

The road to self compassion is an ongoing and challenging one. We can be so scathingly self-critical. Someone once said, “If you talked to your friends the way you talked to yourself, I’m guessing you wouldn’t have many friends.” And she was right. Now, when I catch myself being a bully to myself, I pause and recognize that I deserve better than that. I ask myself: if my friend came to me with this situation or problem, how would I respond to them? Often, it makes me realize just how much I expect from myself and how ridiculously unrealistic it is. Let yourself be human and fallible…and pick it back up again tomorrow.

Sometimes, nothing comes in the quiet. Sometimes, no matter what we do, we can’t calm our minds. But sometimes, profound revelations can happen when we make the space for them. That’s where the magic is.

As Elizabeth Gilbert learned from her friend, it’s okay to let go:

“At some point, as Richard keeps telling me, you gotta let go and sit still and allow contentment to come to you. Letting go, of course, is a scary enterprise for those of us who believe that the world revolves only because it has a handle on the top of it which we personally turn, and that if we were to drop this handle for even a moment, well—that would be the end of the universe. But try dropping it…sit quietly for now and cease your relentless participation. Watch what happens. The birds do not crash dead out of the sky in mid-flight after all. The trees do not wither and die, the rivers do not run red with blood. Life continues to go on…Why are you so sure that your micromanagement of every moment in this whole world is so essential? Why don’t you let it be?”1

Sometimes, nothing comes in the quiet. Sometimes, no matter what we do, we can’t calm our minds. But sometimes, profound revelations can happen when we make the space for them. That’s where the magic is. We just have to be brave enough to sit with all the things that may bubble up to the surface when we clear out the noise. Make friends with them. Even the ones that might be hard to befriend. They are all parts of us and deserve to be seen, heard, and acknowledged. May we find peace in the allowance of their presence and in our evolving relationship with them. 

And as you continue experimenting with your practice, you might want to try ending each of your meditation sessions with your version of, “…monkey, monkey, underpants”. Because life is too short to take ourselves so seriously and no one said meditation couldn’t also be fun. 

It’s time to make our own rules. Throw out the jeans (who needs ‘em?), break out the yoga pants (hello, non-constricting fabric), remember to breathe (box style, perhaps?), and give yourself permission to try again tomorrow if things don’t go the way you’d hoped today. You’ve got this.

* I’ve managed to work my way up to a consistent practice of 30 minutes a day. I’m not saying this to say, “Look how great I am!” I wanted to share this because I NEVER thought I’d ever be able to do it. But I found something that worked for me and that was the key. So, go on fellow experimenter! Find what works for you and don’t be afraid to try something new.

1Excerpt from Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert.