Is self-compassion gross?
When I talk to my clients about self-compassion, there is often immediate bristling--
it feels gross,
it makes me want to roll my eyes,
it feels false.
They don't say it in so many words, but it comes through their pauses and body language.
I recognize it because self-compassion used to make me want to vomit.
Just the term.
It felt weak and syrupy.
What I have come to learn about self-compassion, and how I now communicate it to others, is that it's less about kindness,
(which, for many, is too out of reach to apply to the self)
but instead about neutral observation.
What we don't realize is how void of neutrality our self-talk can be, how riddled with venom it is when we slow down enough to hear it, how it spits back at us in condescension and judgment and belittling.
A move to neutral is a hearty step up.
Moving to neutral is kindness, when you consider the point of origin.
Self-compassion is asking yourself to suspend the vitriol and observe your behavior without it, to consider your situation the way an anthropologist might see it -- collecting data for the purposes of detecting patterns and hopefully coming to a deeper understanding of why and how it happens.
When we binge, we spew judgment at ourselves, for being greedy, weak, short-sighted, irresponsible, undisciplined.
When we offer self-compassion, we instead ask ourselves to watch the binge in its aftermath, to see it from a distance. To say: there is so much anger and self-loathing rising up here. There is temptation to hate myself, to abandon myself when I need soothing the most, because I feel that punishment is better suited to change than understanding. I wonder where I received this message, or what good it's ever done? I wonder what it is I really need, or what I needed from this binge to begin with?
And while it won't feel comfortable or harsh enough,
it will offer you detachment from the fury,
so that the door might open enough to let some light in,
to offer clues to what it is that you need,
because shame isn't it.
