Hello tender friends!

(I wanted to get the fact that I’m a real person out of the way right at the beginning because the post gets a little serious. I tried to get Cubby in the photo, but he was having way too much fun with his buddy on the trampoline.)
I’m convinced that most Americans need self-compassion. Practicing self-compassion feels like free therapy. Much like exercising in nice weather or writing in my journal, I’m living better as a result.
I didn’t write about it on this blog, but one of Anthony’s relatives passed away a few months ago. No one knew what was going on until she was in ICU (a day before she went home to be with the Lord) because that was her wish.
I walked around numb for a few weeks after she passed, lamenting that I wouldn’t see her this holiday season. Then one night after Cub and Anthony had fallen asleep, I sobbed over her death. Sobbed and sobbed. I tried to stop myself because I didn’t feel like I had the right to grieve.
My internal monologue went like this: Who are you to grieve her? What about her poor kids? You and Anthony have only been together for 10 years, and you’ve only seen her once or twice for the past 10 years! Your grief is self-indulgent! What about her husband, her life partner? Think about someone else! You’re selfish!
I prayed, asking God if it was stupid or improper of me to grieve, and He said, “Stacey, you need to let yourself cry.” I did, and I felt much better afterwards. A few days later, I did the same thing.
The Lord brought to mind a devotional that I read years ago that said, “Where did people get the idea that strong men aren’t supposed to cry? Jesus was the strongest man that ever lived, and yet he wept.”

I’m obviously a woman, but I often feel pressure to be stoic in the same way men do. I lived such a large portion of my life stoically that I actually remember the day I started having feelings again. I actually remember thinking Is this what it feels like to be a regular person? My next thought was I don’t know if this is sustainable.
When I read a book about self-compassion, the author said that many people resist the idea of self compassion because they’re afraid of it making them lazy. That’s definitely part of the reason I resisted it for so long. DING DING DING I thought.
In the case of Anthony’s family member who passed, I was afraid of slipping into a black hole of grief and never getting out. I was irrationally scared of chickens not being fed, dinner not being made, and of Cubby not being cared for. Like if I was too nice to myself, I would just lose my drive to accomplish things.
This is the opposite of how it actually works. The author found that practicing self compassion can actually increase motivation. She also said that if you hug yourself, as I recommended in my last post, you’re activating the part of your nervous system that gives compassion at the same time you’re activating the part of it that receives compassion. It’s a win-win.
Having practiced self-compassion for the past few weeks, I can attest to the fact that I’m definitely not less motivated, and possibly even more motivated because I’m wasting less energy berating myself.
Ok, that’s enough for today! I’ve cried twice already typing this and didn’t even make it around to my main point on this post. I’m going to go ahead with a food post as promised for Thursday, and then finally finish up this series on Monday.
Thank you to anyone who actually ended up reading this, as I’ve prayed that God will use it to reach whoever needs it.
Thank you for sharing!
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