“If your compassion does not include yourself, it’s incomplete.”
~ Buddha

In her senior years, my grandmother belonged to a Golden Age club. Their main project was rehabbing used dolls for little girls who couldn’t afford new ones. When I was eight, I only had two dolls, but I gave one to my Grandma for her charity. I was intrigued by the idea that she could bring my “Jennifer” back to life, so to speak. She washed her hair, touched up her painted face, and sewed a new dress for her. I felt a pang as I said goodbye to my baby doll, hoping she would be as well loved by her new caretaker. But I was also proud as I learned for the first time how good it feels to help someone else.

My siblings and I all went to Catholic elementary school. Compassion for others was a central theme of our Catholic education. We were taught to be concerned about the well-being of those who had less than us, and to be kind to others at all times.

But self-compassion? Never mentioned.

How about you? Who taught you how to be kind to yourself?

I grew up in the ‘60s and ‘70s, long before the concept of emotional intelligence was introduced in Daniel Goleman’s 1995 groundbreaking book on social and emotional learning (SEL). While I appreciate the opportunities I was given as a youngster to learn empathy, I’m glad things are changing, and that children are learning to attune to their own feelings as well.

In particular, parents and teachers are gaining awareness about how detrimental it is to reprimand kids by humiliating them. The current thinking is that when kids mess up, it’s their behavior that needs to be fixed, not them. Still, it’s hard for kids not to absorb negative messages about themselves.

We learn early and often that some parts of us are unacceptable to others, and in our shame, we begin to hide them. 

While we were sightseeing in Hilton Head two weeks ago, we passed a spectacular-looking “live oak” tree (an evergreen oak native to the Southeastern United States). They’re impressive, but I’d never seen one quite like this one, so I hopped out of the car and snapped a quick photo.

Many of the massive oaks on Hilton Head are hundreds of years old. Their branches are heavy with Spanish moss, which contributes to the uniquely Southern look of the island. The trees’ wide roots are designed to support them from the hurricane-force winds so common in that part of the Mid-Atlantic.

It struck me that this particular tree, with its messy, tangled root system so clearly visible, was a wonderful metaphor for what it means to be fully authentic.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as we are told. Some may see the protruding roots as ugly, marring the otherwise lovely grove. I saw them as a thing of beauty—a representation of all the work the tree had done to try to protect itself from impending storms.

My picture doesn’t do the tree justice. My close-up experience with it was brief, but awe-inspiring. After a couple of weeks at home, I’m still thinking about the lesson it offers.

Oh, to have the courage to stand as tall and proud, unafraid to be us, with our intricate and complicated histories on display! To truly own every bit of who we are, with our scars as testaments to our struggles.

What would it take to be able to show our whole selves to the world in a similar fashion?

We would need to suspend our judgment about who we are and what we’ve done…to love ourselves unconditionally and have compassion for all that we’ve weathered…to stop hiding the parts we’re ashamed of.

In her book Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself, Kristin Neff identifies self-kindness—being gentle and understanding of ourselves—as one of the core components of self-compassion. This includes not only stopping our endless self-criticism, internalized from others, but also actively comforting ourselves.

Even if we fail at times, most of us strive to do the best we can.

It is never too late to learn to give ourselves nurturance and understanding, especially when we make mistakes.

Neff explains it this way: “Self-compassion provides an island of calm, a refuge from the stormy seas of endless positive and negative self-judgment, so that we can finally stop asking…‘Am I good enough?’”

She suggests that as we learn to treat ourselves as kindly as we have been taught to treat others, we will come to believe that we are more than good enough.

On days when I’m feeling “less than,” I’m going to remember my beloved tree and its message that we are all beautiful and worthy, just as we are.

Affectionately,

Elaine