Lighter thinking

Apple blossom

This morning, I woke up with a sense of pleasant anticipation.

It’s Sunday; I had a coaching call I was looking forward to, and then the rest of the day was my own.

I’m seeing a friend this week, and next weekend’s a Bank Holiday.

Life’s pretty good.

And I felt good... until I noticed I suddenly didn’t.

A low-level hum of worry started to buzz:

  • What if I wasn’t prepared enough?

  • What if time with my friend exhausts me?

  • What if I can’t add value to those I work with?

  • What if I’m too tired to make progress on what matters to me?

I could feel it happening in real time.

Physically.

Palpably.

In the space of a minute my energy and enthusiasm drained away, replaced by a sense of apathy and overwhelm.

And good lord, I hadn’t even got out of bed by this point.

Perhaps you’ve felt it as well? Where you’ve been fine until you’ve thought or remembered something?

It’s such a human thing to do.

We all have moments of a relatively clear mind and a quietly beautiful feeling until our noisy minds start chittering, chattering, and chipping away at us.

Because what did all those thoughts – and the general background hum that I can’t quite articulate – have in common?

The sense that, well damn, I just wasn’t going to be enough exactly as I am right now. That I needed to compensate in some way for some vague yet creeping sense of inadequacy that lurks on the periphery of my vision.

Ah, hello, old friend. I see you there. The part of me that remains ever vigilant, that wants to keep me safe.

Luckily, I know this part of me by now.

I still don’t have an elegant handle on it, but on a good day I notice its effect a touch quicker.

In a gentle voice, I put my hand on my heart and murmured, “Hello, sweetheart. Are you worrying about what’s on your to-do list when you haven’t even written it yet? Are you feeling your thinking again, mmm?”

(Spoiler: yes, yes I was. As per usual.)

And then, in the same compassionate tone, “Come on, love. Let’s get some breakfast, shall we?”

My feet found the floor, and I figured that there wasn’t any point in worrying about stuff until I at least had some porridge in my belly.

Why am I sharing this?

Because so many of us have these underlying thoughts of shame and failure, of waiting to be “caught out”. We often have an urge to hide them away – actually, to hide ourselves away.

But in self-compassion theory, “common humanity” reminds us that everybody suffers. It’s a part of being human.

We have evolved these wonderful capacities for imagination, and they’ve been hooked up to primitive systems that are forever scanning the world around us for a warning or a welcome.

If you can relate to any of this experience, I’m here to show that you’re not alone.

Noticing my experience and treating myself with kindness – the two other pillars of self-compassion – helped me find a little equanimity.

And reminded me that anxiety wasn’t my only option for today.


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Walking the talk