When is the last time you gave yourself empathy?
Have you ever had a moment where you realize you’re being unkind to yourself?
That happened to me a couple weeks ago.
It was a Monday.
I was kicking off another full and exciting week in the heart of a busy speaking and travel season.
I’d flown to in-person events every week for the last few weeks, and this one would be no different: I had just landed in the city where I would be facilitating a session the following morning. After that, I would fly to my home in Michigan (where I live part-time) and I’d have a day to rest before heading to an event on the other side of the state. That one would require a 3 a.m. wake-up call and a long car ride there and back.
I don’t have weeks like these all the time, but when I do, I’m really intentional about how I spend my time. I want to make sure that I can both care for myself and accomplish some work outside of my speaking events so that it doesn’t pile up.
Knowing that my time for work would be limited that week, I had planned to get a lot done on this particular Monday. I had a vision for how my evening would go: I’d use the early evening to make momentum on some creative projects. Then, I’d grab a book and take myself out to a nice dinner for some R&R. I’d already picked out a restaurant and even called ahead to make sure they took walk-ins. After that, I’d go back to my hotel room for a final review of my talking points for my session the next day, and then I’d go to bed early.
I was so excited for what I thought would be both a productive and restful evening.
But as you probably guessed . . . that’s not how things went.
When I got to the hotel, I didn’t feel a sudden burst of inspiration to work like I’d thought I would. I sat down at the desk in my room and turned on some music, hoping that might do the trick, but it didn’t. I still wasn’t feeling it.
I decided to see if changing my environment would help. I went down to the hotel lobby, where there was a happy hour for guests. There were lots of people sitting around chatting and drinking, and the energy felt good. I helped myself to a plate of snacks—just an appetizer before my nice dinner—and found a cozy spot to get settled in with my laptop.
And again . . . nothing.
I felt no more inspired in the lobby than I had in my room.
And I was so frustrated with myself.
Come on, Kristen, I heard the little voice in my head say. Just get it done!
I was starting to feel really stressed about all the work I wasn’t doing. And I was annoyed with myself: These were ideal conditions for me to do my best work. I was alone, and I normally love working in hotel lobbies when I’m traveling. It’s usually some of my most productive time.
Eventually, I did get some work done, but it wasn’t the work I needed to do. I did the stuff that was easy to cross off my list, but not the stuff that would make me feel like I was making progress.
I let time pass. Instead of going to a nice dinner with a book, I ended up staying in the lobby. I knew that not going to the restaurant meant that I wouldn’t get a proper dinner, but I just didn’t feel motivated to leave.
Next thing I knew, it was 9 p.m. I hadn’t gotten any real work done. All I’d eaten were snacks. And to top it off, I hadn’t even done a final round of prep for my event the next day.
My inner voice was killing me.
You’ve been doing so well at staying focused on your health, and now, you’re just gonna eat crackers and candy and call it dinner? it said.
And, There’s no way you’re going to do a good job tomorrow. You haven’t done your final prep. What are you thinking? How irresponsible.
. . . and that’s when I stopped myself.
Thanks to the last two years of therapy, I’ve gotten better at spotting unhelpful thought patterns in the moment. I noticed that I was being unkind to myself and that it was only getting worse, and I recognized that I needed to make a shift.
I remembered an exercise a friend told me about (shout out to Danielle—you know who you are!).
She calls it the mirror exercise.
The idea is to really see yourself. You look yourself in the eye in a mirror, and you complete these three prompts out loud: “I forgive you for . . . ” “I love you for . . . ” “I trust you to . . . ”
This felt like an opportune time to try it, so I packed up my laptop and headed back to my room. I walked into the bathroom, looked at myself in the mirror, and answered the prompts:
I forgave myself for not getting everything done that I set out to do and for not having the best meal I could have had that night.
I said I love myself for always trying my best, for being committed to my work, and for having the best intentions for this day. I added that I love myself for the reason I’m even in this hotel room in the first place: I’m someone who wants to make a difference in the world and have an impact on people.
Finally, I told myself, “I trust you to go to bed tonight and get really good sleep. I trust you to wake up with a better mindset and review your talking points in the morning. I trust you to have an awesome session tomorrow. Tomorrow is a new day, and I trust that you're going to make it the best it can be.”
As soon as I turned away from the mirror, I felt a difference. I felt like I’d just talked to a friend who had given me grace and helped me realize I was being a little too hard on myself.
It made me think about something I learned from my therapist, kind of indirectly. It's a phrase I notice she uses a lot in our sessions: After I share something, she often says, “That makes sense.” It’s so simple, but it’s so empathetic. I always feel better when she says it because it completely validates my feelings.
So, I tried that, too. As I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, I proceeded to tell myself that it made sense why I’d had the night that I did: It made sense that I didn’t have the capacity to get any work done; I was mentally tapped out from having several busy weeks in a row. It made sense that I didn't want to go out to eat; I was tired and just wanted to rest in my hotel room. It made sense that I didn't have the bandwidth to review my talking points and that I preferred to do that in the morning when I could start fresh.
These two exercises took a total of five minutes. And at the end of those five minutes, I felt completely differently about myself. I switched from being unkind to giving myself the same grace and kindness I'd give anyone else who was having an off night.
I carried that energy with me into the rest of the week. I had two stellar events, gave myself lots of time to rest, and while I didn’t get all the work done I wanted to, I made up for it the following week. It all worked out.
Isn’t it crazy that it can sometimes be easier to have empathy for others than it is to have empathy for ourselves? Why is it that when someone else says something self-deprecating, we can immediately show up with kindness, but when we do it to ourselves, we just allow it to go unchecked?
We learn so much about giving empathy to others, and we know how important that is. But when we're tired, or we fail to meet our own expectations because they aren’t actually realistic, or we have an off day or moment or week—how often do we tell ourselves, “I love you,” “I forgive you,” “I trust you,” or, “That makes sense”?
I believe that when we give ourselves empathy, not only do we feel better, but we also expand our ability to notice opportunities to give empathy to others. The more you give yourself, the more it expands your capacity to give it to other people.
I'd love to do the mirror exercise with you.
I encourage you to take five minutes for yourself and answer these questions:
What do you love yourself for?
What do you forgive yourself for?
What do you trust yourself to do?
And finally, how can you validate what you’re feeling or going through right now? Why does it make sense that you feel that way or that things have turned out the way they have?
If you’re feeling brave, will you share your responses with me? I'd love to celebrate you! Just hit “reply” and tell me your answers.
Here’s to a kinder and more loving week ahead.
Big hugs,
