A Few Minutes of Compassion
I was thinking about the way I write and live. So often I find myself looking toward the light, sharing hope and the small moments of healing. The truth is that some days I am struggling too.
It is not the addiction that brings me to that place anymore. It is not fear of relapse or the fragility of recovery. It is the weight of daily life. It is a full calendar, a long list of needs, a steady stream of emotions that come from being a person who tries hard to care for others.
I am learning that part of being human is understanding what sits behind our emotions. When we can name it, even quietly, we have a better chance of knowing what to do next. Sometimes there is action to take. Sometimes there is nothing to fix. Sometimes all we need is to acknowledge what is true.
Someone wise once said to me, Jill, you need to give yourself compassion. You need to give yourself grace. I can offer that so easily to other people. I find it much harder to offer it to myself.
The last few years have been full. The pace and demands keep increasing. There are days when overwhelm builds inside me and comes out looking like resentment or frustration. That is when I remind myself that every person has a different capacity. Hard work does not need to be measured by hours or completed tasks. What matters is showing up honestly each day.
This morning I woke up early and was in full productivity mode. I moved from one responsibility to the next and felt the pressure building. The anxiety caused my body to tighten. I could feel the physical pain of my stress. Just as I was getting ready to rush out the door, I heard a small voice inside telling me to stop.
It was time to get on the road, but I allowed myself a few minutes to lay down with my heating pad.
As I lay there, I could feel the pain in my body. I closed my eyes and visualized it leaving like small currents moving out, the muscles loosening. I prayed to be relieved of the resentment and the short temper that I felt rising. That is not a place I want to live. I breathed. I noticed the tension. I let my body soften.
Those few minutes were like a reset. Nothing dramatic, just a gentle shift toward myself.
I got up and started driving. The New York traffic did not get under my skin the way it sometimes can. The small bumps and delays of the morning felt a little easier to carry. I know there will be other days when I forget everything I just wrote. That is part of being human too.
What I know is that we need to understand where our emotions come from so we know what they are asking of us. They are not always what they appear to be. Anger is not always anger. Resentment is not always resentment. Sometimes it is the expression of exhaustion or fear or the simple truth that we need a moment to rest.
Today I have a long drive ahead of me. My GPS tells me four hours until I reach my destination and the bridge ahead usually tests my patience. I plan to use the time to reflect, to let my feelings catch up, to listen to my audiobook, make a few calls, and look forward to the people I will see on the other side of the drive.
This morning my emotions were getting the better of me. Now they feel a little softer. A few minutes of compassion made space for something different.
I am still learning. I imagine I always will be. All I know is that offering myself grace is not a luxury. It is a necessary part of living, healing, and loving the people who are traveling this road beside me.
