I was berating myself for burning the chicken (again) when Curtis walked into the kitchen, surveyed the smoking disaster, and said, “Good thing we like blackened food.” Then he ordered pizza. No lecture. No disappointment. Just pizza. And that’s when it hit me: My husband shows me more compassion in five seconds than I’ve shown myself in 61 years.
I apologized seventeen times for the burnt chicken. Curtis finally said, “Honey, you’re the only one still upset about this. The chicken has moved on. The smoke alarm has moved on. Maybe you should too.” But I couldn’t. Because Nagatha Christie, my inner critic, was having a field day with my kitchen failure.
If self-compassion were an Olympic sport, I’d be disqualified for never showing up. I’ve spent six decades perfecting the art of being my own worst enemy, treating myself with the kindness of a drill sergeant having a bad day. But science says this is killing us. Literally. And at 61, I’m finally learning that being kind to yourself isn’t weakness or self-indulgence. It’s survival.
The Day I Discovered I Had Zero Self-Compassion
My therapist asked me to describe how I’d comfort a friend who made a mistake. I said I’d tell them:
- Everyone makes mistakes
- You’re human
- This doesn’t define you
- You’re doing your best
- Tomorrow’s a new day
“Great,” she said. “Now tell me what you tell yourself when you make a mistake.”
My list:
- You’re an idiot
- You always do this
- You should know better by now
- What’s wrong with you?
- You’re a failure
The difference was shocking. I wouldn’t treat my worst enemy the way I treated myself. And I’d been doing it for so long, it felt normal.
The Science That Changed My Mind
Dr. Kristin Neff’s research on self-compassion shows it’s not just feel-good fluff. Self-compassion literally changes your brain and body:
Brain changes: Increases activity in the caregiving centers, decreases activity in threat centers. Those mood chemicals respond to self-kindness like they respond to kindness from others.
Body changes: Lowers cortisol, reduces inflammation, improves immune function. Being mean to yourself is literally toxic.
Behavioral changes: People with self-compassion are MORE motivated, not less. They recover from setbacks faster. They take more healthy risks.
The science destroyed my biggest fear: that self-compassion would make me lazy. Turns out beating yourself up doesn’t motivate you. It paralyzes you.
The Three Components (And Why I Sucked at All of Them)
1. Self-Kindness vs. Self-Judgment
I was the Michael Jordan of self-judgment. Olympic gold medalist. World record holder. If self-judgment burned calories, I’d weigh nothing.
Self-kindness felt like lying. “You did great!” (No, I didn’t.) But self-kindness isn’t about fake praise. It’s about treating yourself like you’d treat someone you love. “You tried. That counts.”
Now when I mess up: “Okay, that didn’t go as planned. What do I need right now?” Usually the answer is a deep breath and permission to be human.
2. Common Humanity vs. Isolation
I thought I was the only one struggling. Everyone else had it together. Facebook confirmed it. Instagram proved it. I was the sole disaster in a world of success stories.
Common humanity means recognizing everyone struggles. Everyone fails. Everyone has burnt chicken moments (literally or metaphorically). You’re not uniquely flawed. You’re normally human.
Started sharing my failures: celebrating small wins includes admitting small losses. Turns out everyone has burnt chicken stories.
3. Mindfulness vs. Over-Identification
I didn’t just have failures. I WAS failure. Didn’t just make mistakes. I WAS a mistake. That’s over-identification: becoming your thoughts and feelings instead of observing them.
Mindfulness means noticing without becoming. “I’m having the thought that I’m a failure” instead of “I’m a failure.” Small language change. Massive mental shift.
My Self-Compassion Practice (Messy Reality Version)
Morning Check-In:
After 5 AM gratitude, I ask: “How am I talking to myself this morning?” Usually catch Nagatha mid-rant. Pause. Reset. “Good morning, you’re doing okay.”
The Hand-on-Heart Move:
Sounds ridiculous. Works anyway. When struggling, hand on heart, deep breath. Physical self-soothing. Your nervous system can’t tell if the comfort comes from you or someone else.
The Friend Filter:
Before mental self-attack, ask: “Would I say this to Sarah?” (Best friend.) Answer is always no. Reframe to what I’d tell Sarah.
The Common Humanity Check:
“Am I the only person who’s ever done this?” No. Google proves millions have done exactly this. I’m in good company.
The Self-Compassion Break:
Three phrases when suffering:
- “This is a moment of struggle” (mindfulness)
- “Struggle is part of being human” (common humanity)
- “May I be kind to myself” (self-kindness)
Sometimes I modify: “This sucks. Everyone’s life sucks sometimes. I need chocolate.” Still counts.
The Unexpected Side Effects
Three years into practicing self-compassion, weird things happened:
I became more accountable, not less. When you’re not afraid of internal abuse, you can admit mistakes honestly. “I messed up” doesn’t trigger self-attack, so I can say it.
Risks became easier. Started painting at 59 because failure didn’t mean self-destruction anymore. Just meant learning.
Relationships improved. When you’re compassionate with yourself, you have extra for others. Curtis says I’m “softer.” (Still not sure if that’s compliment or observation about my waistline.)
Perfectionism loosened. “Good enough” became acceptable when coupled with self-compassion. Burnt chicken is just dinner, not character assessment.
Anxiety decreased. Fear-based thinking needs self-judgment to thrive. Self-compassion starves it.
The Self-Compassion Phrases That Actually Work
Instead of “You’re an idiot”:
“You’re having a hard time right now”
Instead of “You always mess up”:
“This didn’t work out as planned”
Instead of “What’s wrong with you?”:
“What do you need right now?”
Instead of “You should know better”:
“You’re still learning”
Instead of “You’re a failure”:
“You’re human and that’s okay”
These aren’t affirmations. They’re not trying to convince yourself you’re amazing. They’re just… kind. Normal kindness you’d show anyone else.
Common Self-Compassion Obstacles at 61
“It’s self-indulgent”
No. Self-indulgence is “I deserve this whole cake because I’m special.” Self-compassion is “I’m struggling and that’s human.”
“It’s weak”
Takes more strength to be kind to yourself than cruel. Anyone can be self-critical. Self-compassion requires courage.
“I don’t deserve it”
Based on what criteria? The made-up standards in your head? You deserve kindness because you’re human. Period.
“It’s too late to change”
Started at 58. Brain still plastic. Mindset shifts happen at any age.
“People will think I’m soft”
People think lots of things. Their thoughts are their business. Your self-compassion is yours.
The Burnt Chicken Redemption
Last week, I burnt fish. (I’m an equal opportunity food destroyer.) Old me would have launched into self-attack: “Again? What’s wrong with you? Curtis deserves better meals.”
New me: Hand on heart. “Okay, cooking isn’t your superpower. That’s alright. You have others.” Ordered Thai food. Curtis was thrilled (he likes Thai better than my cooking anyway).
The difference? Evening wasn’t ruined by self-hatred. Mistake was just mistake, not character indictment. We laughed about my “signature char flavor.” Connected instead of me isolating in shame.
That’s self-compassion: Not pretending you’re perfect. Just refusing to punish yourself for being human.
Your Self-Compassion Starter Kit
Day 1: Notice your self-talk. Just notice. Don’t judge the judging.
Day 2: Try hand-on-heart when struggling. Feel silly. Do it anyway.
Day 3: Ask “What would I tell a friend?” Try telling yourself that.
Day 4: Google your “unique” failure. Find millions who’ve done same thing.
Day 5: Practice self-compassion break. Modify phrases as needed.
Day 6: Share a failure with someone. Notice the world doesn’t end.
Day 7: Celebrate that you practiced self-compassion for a week.
P.S. – While writing this, I knocked over my coffee. Full mug. All over my keyboard. Old me: “You clumsy idiot! Now the keyboard’s ruined! You can’t even drink coffee right!” New me: “Well, that’s annoying. Good thing it’s just coffee. Electronics dry.” Cleaned it up. Keyboard survived. I survived. Self-compassion isn’t about the coffee. It’s about choosing kindness over cruelty when life gets messy. Which at 61, is basically every Tuesday. And Thursday. And most Mondays. You get the idea.
