Self-Kindness: Still A Thing

A weird thing happened today: I didn’t push myself.

This may not seem like a big deal to you, but trust me, as a recovering perfectionist, and as a person living with chronic illness, self-kindness is kinda miraculous.

I have been accustomed to pushing myself like a work horse for a long time. Probably my whole life. The jury is still out as to whether this might have contributed to my present chronically-ill state (it’s a reasonable theory), but one thing I can tell you for sure: being chronically sick has forced me to slow down.

Take this week, for instance. I had a flare up. Nothing major (for me, major means going to hospital), but I was in a significant amount of pain for several days. I did all the right things to manage it—and it really was manageable—and today I went and got treatment for it.

Treatment normally pushes me to my physical limits, pain threshold-wise, but today I took it slow. Today there was no ‘Take a deep breath and brace yourself.’ Today there was no screaming to unsettle the other patients in the waiting room. Today was gentle and intuitive, following each tiny prompting from my muscles, instead of what I thought logically was needed. And the pain response was frankly transcendent.

It just goes to show how helpful it can be to listen to our bodies. And to approach them gently, with kindness, instead of with the oh-so-pushy perfectionist.

This isn’t the only recent example of how self-kindness has come to my rescue. Another time I was unable to move during treatment because of the pain. I hate being immobilised. I felt frustrated with myself and helpless to do anything. But then I remembered self-kindness. And I did something weird. At least, you might find this weird.

To explain, I’ve been working on my relationship with my body, because I’ve hated it for a long time. Not because of body image issues, but because of illness and the suffering my body has inflicted on me. Hard to love a body that is constantly assaulting you. But lately, I’ve tried a more compassionate approach.

So on this day, I started talking out loud to my body. (Don’t ask me what the physiotherapist thought of me.) ‘It’s okay,’ I began. ‘Take your time.’ My body still wouldn’t move. Instead of getting annoyed, like I normally would, I pivoted. ‘Oh, you don’t want to go that way? Let’s try this way instead. Slowly now…’

My body moved. It actually worked. Within minutes I was standing and mobile. And it all happened without pushing myself but with respecting my body’s need to stop and to move in a different way. The perfectionist didn’t even make an appearance in this little play. Self-kindness was front and centre.

It’s not easy to change the habits of a lifetime. But I’m learning that working myself into the ground, or shaming myself for not being able to do a thing, doesn’t work. Being kinder, moving gently, showing myself compassion, are the things for me now.

It’s revolutionary in its simplicity. I hope you’ll join me.

Do you find it easy to be kind to yourself? How could self-compassion help you right now? What difference has kindness made in your life and the lives of your loved ones? Share your story. Let’s have a countercultural conversation.