Deep-dive: Compassion
Looking after yourself after hard things
A practical way back to yourself when everything’s changed
Some life experiences knock the wind out of you. They might look like a clear turning point - burnout, a breakup, a big decision you didn’t see coming. Other times, they’re slower. A steady unravelling.
A sense that something important has shifted, but you can’t name what.
You keep going, because you have to. You do the things. Keep showing up. Hold it together. But something in you feels different. Off-centre. A bit lost, maybe.
And when things start to settle on the outside, the real work begins. Not the fixing. Not the bouncing back. But learning how to be with yourself differently.
The part we don’t talk about enough
It’s easy to expect the hard part to be the event itself. The illness, the grief, the shock, the decision. But often, the hardest part comes later—when life starts to look normal again, but you don’t feel like yourself anymore.
That’s when the internal commentary kicks in:
Why am I still not over this?
Other people have it worse.
I should be doing better by now.
That voice can feel helpful, like it’s trying to get you moving again. But really, it keeps you stuck. It blocks the one thing that would actually help: Compassion.
Not the abstract, fluffy kind. The practical, grounded kind that says:
“This has been a lot. You’re doing your best. Let’s take this one step at a time.”
What compassion actually does
Compassion doesn’t mean lowering your standards or letting everything slide.
It’s about changing the tone.
From pressure → to perspective.
From blame → to curiosity.
From “pull yourself together” → to “what do you need right now?”
There’s a reason this works. When you meet yourself with warmth rather than criticism, your nervous system starts to settle. Your thoughts get clearer. Your energy slowly returns. You move from just coping into actual recovery.
And that’s what creates long-term change - not pushing harder, but creating enough safety for things to shift.
What it can look like in practice
Self-compassion isn’t always soft lighting and affirmations (though it can be).
Often, it’s much more ordinary.
Giving yourself permission to be tired without making it mean something.
Choosing not to over-explain yourself.
Noticing when you’re being hard on yourself - and pausing before believing it.
Saying: “Of course this is hard,” instead of asking, “What’s wrong with me?”
Offering yourself kind words and encouragement
Allowing yourself to feel your emotions
It’s small, repeatable moments that add up over time.
What I see in clients (and have felt myself)
I work with women who are smart, reflective, and capable - and often incredibly tough on themselves. They’ve been through big changes: identity shifts, career pivots, relationship transitions. From the outside, they’re doing well. But inside, there’s a quiet messiness they’re trying to tidy up before anyone notices.
What usually makes the biggest difference?
Not more effort.
Not more overthinking.
But compassion.
My favourite technique: The Self-Compassion Break
This is a short practice, created by Kristin Neff, you can come back to any time - especially when you’re in the middle of something difficult, or you notice you’re being harsh with yourself.
It’s not about fixing or forcing positivity. It’s simply about acknowledging what’s true and responding with care.
Take a moment to pause.
Gently bring to mind a situation that’s been weighing on you.
It could be something recent - or something you’ve been carrying for a while. See if you can notice where you feel the discomfort in your body. Maybe it’s in your chest, your stomach, your throat.
Just notice it, without trying to change it.
Now, say to yourself - quietly or in your mind:
1. “This is hard right now.”
You might also say:
“This hurts.”
“This is stressful.”
“This is one of those moments.”
This is a moment of mindfulness. You’re not trying to push the feeling away or minimise it. You’re just gently naming it.
2. “Struggling is part of being human.”
You might prefer:
“Other people feel like this too.”
“I’m not the only one.”
“We all have seasons like this.”
This helps you remember: you're not flawed for feeling this way. You’re not behind. You're human. This is part of it.
3. “Can I offer myself some kindness right now?”
You can place a hand on your heart or anywhere that feels grounding or comforting. No pressure - just what feels right in your body.
You might say:
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“May I treat myself with care while I figure this out.”
“I don’t have to have it all together to be worthy of compassion.”
“I’m allowed to feel this.”
“Let this be enough for now.”
You can also ask yourself:
What do I most need to hear right now?
This practice doesn’t make the hard thing disappear - but it softens the edges.
And sometimes, that shift is exactly what helps you keep going.
You can do this quietly at your desk.
In the car after a hard conversation.
In bed when your mind is struggling to switch off.
Keep it simple. Keep it honest. Keep it kind.
You don’t have to do it perfectly.
You just have to remember you’re not alone - and that you’re allowed to treat yourself like someone worth caring for.
Q: What words of encouragement would you like to share for someone in need of compassion today?
I’ll meet you in the comments!
If your inner critic is giving you a hard time today, remember: you’re allowed to have mixed feelings, messy emotions, and moments where things don't feel clear. Self-compassion isn’t about pretending things are fine - it’s about staying with yourself even when they’re not.
Thank you for this Natasha. I often feel guilty for being sick all the time, and feel like I'm a burden to my husband. I have IBD and chronic pain. I tell myself to stop being so silly, and that it is what it is. And he's so supportive. But it must be hard living with someone who can't go out and do anything socially. I'm being treated with immunosuppressants, but they have yet to kick in. I look forward to that kick! Meanwhile, I write poetry.