Lighter thinking
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.
Photo by Anton Atanasov: https://www.pexels.com/photo/selective-focus-photograph-of-white-petaled-flower-364086/
