Self-compassion: an antidote to shame

"When you treat yourself like there is something wrong with you, it becomes routine to believe there is something wrong with you."

Hey fellow human,

Every month is the same: I finish my cycle and think "I'll definitely make a note of this so I'm not taken by surprise again next month". Yes, it's every month - because yes, every month I forget to make a note.

Alongside the autistic and ADHD traits I live with that can contribute to major distress, there are traits like these that are equivalent to small paper cuts. I don't really notice them at the time they pose a challenge but continued exposure to the same cut in the same place ends up in a crushing sense of defeat.

The next month when I'm seven to ten days out from the start of my cycle and I start to feel depressed and agitated, I can't sleep, and my ADHD traits sky rocket such that I feel as if my head is going to explode every second of the day, how long do you think it takes me to realise what's going on? Until the first day of my cycle, of course! If I'd made a note of it like I said I would I might have a heads up, but no - apparently my brain vehemently denies any responsibility for my wellbeing.

So whilst I'm figuring out how I can implement a simple habit to keep track of my cycle, I've decided there is only one thing I can control. It has to do with how I treat myself after I realise I'm not on the verge of selling my house, giving all my belongings away, and moving to the woods because it's a good idea, but because I've crash-landed into the luteal phase of my cycle.

You see, I find it ever so easy to treat the way I feel during certain times of my cycle as something to be ashamed of. No-one talked about menstrual cycles when I was growing up. There was no acknowledgement that it can be painful, tiring, and challenging for a multitude of reasons. Without it being talked about, and normalised, it became something that had to be dealt with alone - something to push through, put a brave face on, and do everything in my power to ignore.

This thin veneer of denial prevents me from taking care of myself in the often simple ways that can offer light relief. Instead, I forge on and treat my period like a military operation. How can I overcompensate for how I am feeling? How can I make myself feel better? How can I cover up how I'm feeling so that no-one notices? How can I fix this? Pile on top of this exacerbated ADHD traits which interpret the depression as meaning I need to change fundamental aspects of my life over night, and you've got yourself a recipe for a rock-bottom sense of self-worth.

When you treat yourself like there is something wrong with you, it becomes routine to believe there is something wrong with you. By denying the reality of the pain associated with my cycle, I have been shaming my self.

Whilst writing this letter to you, I happened to receive a beautiful newsletter from

Anna Fusco

called “Othering my wildfire”. She writes:

“I have added and subtracted a myriad of foods, teas, rest periods, and exercises in order to circumvent the emotional shitstorm created by my hormones every month. I have stayed disciplined. I have paid attention to the calendar. I have loaded my body with chickpeas and seeds during certain windows of time. I have sometimes fasted, avoiding food altogether. I have abstained from alcohol. I have eaten more protein and less sugar. I have implemented a proper sleep schedule. I have paid extra for good magnesium. I have avoided HIIT training before a bleed. Despite going to great lengths, I still haven’t been able to “life hack” my period.”

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So this month I gave up my military medals and decided to stop pushing through. Like clockwork, I woke up one morning and realised why I'd been feeling like trash for a week. Sure enough, a few hours later, I started my cycle. I snuggled in bed with my dog, listened to a light-hearted audiobook, and ate as much food as I wanted - the only times I got up were to go on a couple of refreshing walks, and take a hot bath.

And, guess what? It's not fixed how I'm feeling, but it honoured how I'm feeling. I feel acknowledged and cared for. The fact this acknowledgment, care and love came from myself is something I am proud of. This is what it feels like to not betray myself. Sure, I still feel low, my brain is still a chaotic mess, and I would really rather not be feeling this way right now - but I feel safe in the knowledge that I will look after myself until it passes. Right now, all I need from myself is compassion. No military uniform or one-way ticket to the woods required.

“It’s like a mother, when the baby is crying, she picks up the baby and she holds the baby tenderly in her arms. Your pain, your anxiety is your baby. You have to take care of it. You have to go back to yourself, to recognize the suffering in you, embrace the suffering, and you get a relief.”

— Thich Nhat Hanh

These reflections got me thinking about self-compassion. I throw that word around a lot without understanding what it is. So this week I did some research. Let me share a few of my initial findings with you.

Kristen Neff, Ph.D. was the first to operationally define self-compassion 20 years ago. On her website she defines self-compassion as:

“Self-compassion is simply the process of turning compassion inward.  We are kind and understanding rather than harshly self-critical when we fail, make mistakes or feel inadequate.  We give ourselves support and encouragement rather than being cold and judgmental when challenges and difficulty arise in our lives.”

Kristen also defines what self-compassion is not - namely, self-pity, self-indulgence, or self-esteem.

Christopher Germer Ph.D., a colleague of Kristen, discusses how self-compassion is an antidote to shame. This particularly peaked my interest because shame is “a self-conscious emotion with negative self-evaluation” that I have been unknowingly familiar with for a very long time, including in relation to my period.

Christopher outlines that if self-compassion is mindfulness, seeing suffering as a part of a human experience, and self-love, then shame is the opposite: rumination, isolation, and self-doubt. It is the voice in my head that continuously persuades me “I am unlovable”, “I am unworthy”, and “I am the only one who feels this way”. It is an unequivocal attack on, and rejection of, my sense of self.

There are various ‘types’ of shame discussed in the research, but to distill it crudely - experiencing chronic shame that eats away at self-worth is associated with various disorders including anxiety and depression. In this video, Christopher makes clear that the influence of shame can be difficult to spot, and shame itself can be self-reinforcing, because it is “invisible”. Shame itself attacks our sense of self, so how can we spot it? How can we set ourselves apart from it?

According to Christopher’s research, the antidote is self-compassion. He says there are three aspects of self-compassion, each of which can be used as a framework for dismantling shame with practice over time. These are:

1. Mindfulness, i.e. noticing that you are feeling shameful.

2. Acknowledging that suffering, like feeling shameful, is part of the human experience and therefore you are connected to others through shared experience; and

3. Self-love, i.e. being warm and kind to oneself like you would to a friend.

If I were to apply this to the scenario in my essay today, I think it might look something like this:

1. “I am mindful that I am experiencing critical self-talk and feeling shameful about the fact I need to rest for a few days”;

2. “I acknowledge that shame makes me feel as though I am isolated and alone, but actually I know that emotional suffering is part of the human experience and there are others who struggle with this feeling too”; and

3. “I love myself just the way I am”.

If, like me, you need a bit of guidance, I spotted that Kirsten and Christopher have made a handful of guided meditations available for free online here and here.

Sending you love and compassion,

Charlie

xoxo

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