top of page

"Self-Compassion Ain't For Sissies"

Updated: May 23

Self-Compassion Ain't For Sissies.”

Try it when you’ve fucked up time and time again, or when forgiving yourself for breaking your own heart.

Try it when walking by a mirror…twice…both times pick apart everything that makes you YOU, then vowing to fix those parts because then you would be good enough, accepted, and loved.

Try it when your body (physically, emotionally, mentally) continues to fail you, and no matter how many affirmations you speak, you still find yourself in bed, refusing to move.

Try it when you’ve been told your entire life that you must prove yourself in order to be loved by God, by family, by friends, by your next-door neighbor, by the stranger down the street, by community, by the world.

What kind of God creates a human with an eternally broken heart, one that pines for perfection in an imperfect body?  

No, this isn’t for sissies. It's the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

No amount of money in the world could convince me to go back to who I was before I allowed Self-Compassion into my life. No amount of praise and acceptance could convince me to go back to judging, doubting, and wrestling with every thought I had, every word I spoke, every choice I made.    

Speaking of words…

There was a time when every word I wrote about myself was toxic, bringing to light thoughts I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But I swallowed EVERY. ONE. Some harder to chew than others. Some harder to digest. But I continued…until each bite hit the bottom of my stomach, heavy and hanging at the waist.

There was a time when I could not see my beauty, so I relied on words.  

But even words have limitations when you have to speak them.

There was a time when I could not speak about my beauty, so I wrote it down instead…hoping that my eyes would take it in, then eventually reach my ears, my mind, my throat, my chest, my heart, my belly.

This is the digestion process:

To write the ugly truth.

To write the beautiful truth.

To write it all.

To eat it all.

I like words to linger, as long as they need to, if it means I will eventually be free. I let the words do what they need to do, with much less restriction nowadays. Before I would take a red pen, like a Nazi, to all my words, and strike, and strike, and strike…so I could make something perfect and beautiful.

Until I broke my pen…or my heart…whatever came first.

I committed to writing myself into existence. To write about every beautiful part of myself, to trust that one day…that is who I would be…regardless of whether God believed it or not.

So, I wrote and when courage allowed, I spoke it out loud. I waited for the moment when each bite hit softer in my stomach, dissolving into my body, and eventually reaching my ears, my mind, my throat, my chest, my heart, my belly.

Everything takes a while.

Then everything changes…almost like it never existed.

Like the person I picked apart in my mirror was never there. And all that remains is a soft underbelly of understanding.

Self-Compassion Ain't For Sissies” because it will never force itself upon you, It will present you with one choice, and YOU can choose it or not.

Every time, regardless of the situation, you are presented with: Will you choose Self-Compassion, in this moment? Even when your default thought goes to: But do I deserve it? Do I deserve leniency?

Leniency. You think about the word, Leniency, because at that moment, you realize that you are the defendant, the jury, the judge, and the bailiff. You get to decide your fate. You get to decide if freedom is for you. Do you want it? Then plead your case, stack your evidence, prove it…or you might as well slap your own handcuffs on and haul yourself away.

So, you go against every fiber of your being, pleading your case. Then you finally make the radical choice of self-acceptance, as your mind tells you: “This isn’t what you normally do…this doesn’t feel right.”

But freedom never feels right when prison is home.

So, you practice until you make it feel right. Every day. One bite at a time.

Until there is no doubt.

Until there is no wrong.

Until there is no God.

And isn’t that the point? To disappear into the Universe, into the Creator, into all of creation?

To disappear into all that is beautiful.


Sending my Love and Light!

Recent Posts

See All


bottom of page