Being Kind to Myself

So many humans are cruel to themselves. They might treat others well and be quick to lift the spirits of someone else who is struggling, yet it’s so hard for them to be kind to themselves. A common example is how they often talk about and respond to their own pain. “Others have it much worse than I do,” “I need to grow up and move on,” “There’s no reason for me to feel this way,” “I’ve gotta man up,” “I’m such a baby.” And so many other ways they belittle their own pain, bury their emotions, and try to convince themselves they’re not hurting when they know deep down that they are.

Interestingly, some react defensively if anyone else says anything along those lines to them. They’ll insist that their pain is real and that it’s ok for them to feel upset at something that upsets them. However, when it’s their voice saying those same things, their criticism can be relentless, and they believe every word of it. When someone else recognizes their pain, they might at first try to downplay it or deny it altogether, as if that’s what they’re “supposed” to do. If the other person brings enough understanding, safety, and compassion to the situation, though, the hurting person might eventually admit how much they’re hurting and release lots of pain through crying, yelling, venting, and so on.

I wonder how anyone who denies their own pain would react if they could meet themself as a little kid during a painful moment in their life. Would they say one or more of the above denials to their younger self? That’s essentially what they do now. Since nearly every human on Earth is still walking around with lots of emotional pain from their upbringing that never got healed, almost everyone is basically a hurting little kid cosplaying as an adult. Hearing those denials when they’re in pain presses on old, deep wounds, especially if any of the denials came from a friend, family member, or someone else they trusted at a young age. The pain is even greater if violence was also present at the time the denials were given. Unfortunately, many humans internalize those denials and say them to themselves for the rest of their lives. After all, since little kids depend on trusted individuals to keep them alive and safe, if one of those trusted individuals denies their pain and tells them they are a bad person, the kid tends to believe it and see themselves that way forever after. The resulting negative inner voices can override the positive inner voices and even the positive outer voices from those in their lives who care about them.

I know this from experience as I’ve spent most of my life denying my own pain and speaking cruelly toward myself. There’s almost no limit to how much I can guilt and shame myself over almost anything. It’s only since late 2020 that I started taking that pain seriously and working on being kinder to myself. Additionally, I believe the only reason I’m doing as well as I am almost two years after my dog Sawyer’s death is because I never denied my own pain around losing him, whether to myself or to anyone else. I embraced the pain in all of its many forms, especially sadness and depression. There were so many months after Sawyer died in which I spent almost all day, every day sobbing on the couch. Every one of those tears released a bit of pain, meaning that the total amount of pain gradually went down. At this point, the amount of remaining pain is low enough that I mostly recall the great times Sawyer and I shared, and I can talk about him, look at pictures and videos of him, and spend time with various things that remind me of him (including his paw prints and fur, my Spider-Man blanket he loved, his squeaky moon toy, and the pillow and socks with his face on them that others gave me as gifts) without breaking down, pretending that all the pain is gone, or acting as if the pain is greater than it actually is. So many who’ve lost a loved one find it difficult or even impossible to talk about them without breaking down even decades later, so it does seem like I’ve made unusually fast progress despite the extreme amount of pain I started with.

Thinking about myself as a little kid and giving that younger version of me what he needs whenever he feels upset has been hugely beneficial lately. I learned a lot of ways to do this from John Bradshaw’s wonderful book Homecoming. This way, whenever I notice lots of anger, sadness, fear, or any other strong negative emotion, I can speak to myself (usually silently but sometimes out loud, particularly when the feelings are extra intense) lovingly as a gentle parent would to acknowledge the pain, connect with my younger self, and work together to find and meet the needs underneath the pain. This, combined with my recently renewed interest in Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg and my daily emotional work inspired David Hawkins in Letting Go, has given me much greater peace by allowing me to better identify and heal painful emotions.

I used this approach this morning when reflecting on an experience from a job years ago that still makes me feel upset. That scenario involved the other person interrupting me, making assumptions and accusations, rambling on endlessly about irrelevant things, cursing, acting defensively, and saying I was wrong rather than connecting with me or my concerns. While letting the emotions run their course, I talked out loud through an outcome I would have much preferred. This involved roleplaying both as myself and the other person involved. After I said the same thing I actually said at the beginning of the real interaction, I had the other person use empathic listening, correctly identify the emotions I felt, and speak with a gentle voice to connect with me, acknowledge my concerns, put me at ease, and find out what I needed before agreeing to talk more about it on another occasion when we both had the time to meet in person and find a solution. That gave me a huge sense of relief, in addition to some frustration when thinking about how badly the actual situation went off the rails. I’m interested to see if using that approach with painful experiences from my upbringing brings similar relief and healing. I hope it does.

The more freely others talk about their inner worlds, the clearer it becomes how widespread an issue this is. I have no idea how it will change over time. I hope that, along with self-forgiveness, more folks will learn how to be consistently kind to themselves. Simultaneously, I fear that the general expectation to be “productive” and “disciplined” nearly nonstop to meet increasing demands at work, business, and social interactions will result in more folks pushing themselves well past their limits until they collapse from burnout, and then repeat that cycle endlessly until they die. I would love to be wrong about this. While there’s nothing I can do to change how others relate to themselves, there is a lot I can continue doing to change how I relate to myself. Showing myself more grace, forgiveness, kindness, and love will make things better for me and those who interact with me. As much as I’d love to see how the world would look if everyone did this, if all that happens is a better life for me and those close to me, then that’s ok with me.