** I was going to post about boundaries this week, but I finished this essay first! So, boundaries will be the topic next week. **
Shortly before the pandemic began, I found myself in a deep, burnout depression. I had a job that I liked in theory, but it paid too little, took up too much of my time, and I was constantly buried under a never-ending pile of due dates from trying to accomplish what three people should have realistically been hired to do. I had been dating my ex for about 8 months and some serious cracks had formed in our relationship. I assumed they were all my fault and started seeing a therapist to figure out how to fix my self-esteem issue so that I wouldn’t get upset by some of the ways my ex treated me. That therapist pointed out that I didn’t have a self-esteem problem, that I was upset because my ex was treating me in disrespectful ways! Unfortunately, I couldn’t handle that truth and I dropped the therapist instead of dropping my ex, but that is, perhaps, a story for another day.
The pandemic hit and I had to rely on phone calls with the social worker at my health care team clinic. She recommended I get the “The Mindful Self-Compassion Workbook” by Kristin Neff and Christopher Germer, which I did. I think I only read the first chapter at that time but learning their three principles of self-compassion - self-kindness, mindfulness, common humanity - stuck with me.
When it became clear I had long COVID, I brought out the workbook again to see how I could be kind to myself during this time of immense grief and anger. It helped.
Recently Kristin Neff started a Self-Compassion Community, which I was eager to join right away. I needed regular reminders - and still do! - to give myself self-compassion. Every Tuesday I join a group over Zoom with people from around the world and our mentor, Amy, as we share our struggles and accept one another. It really does warm my heart to know that so many people want compassion instead of hatred or indifference.
In a recent session, we were shown a clip from the video embedded below, where Kristin discusses the pros and cons of self-esteem, followed by the definition of self-compassion. I loved learning about the pitfalls of self-esteem; it set off so many lightbulbs for me in analysing my own behaviour, as well the behaviour of those I interact with. If you want to watch that part of the video, it is from ~2:20 - 7:45.
An aside about autism, as it relates to this video
NOTE: Kristin shares a personal story at the end, starting at 15:25, that has some upsetting language and themes for me as an autistic person, which I’m going to discuss below. If you are also autistic and not feeling super regulated, you might want to stop the video before getting to that part.
Kristin describes a time when she was on a plane with her young autistic son who had a meltdown. She describes it as a temper tantrum, and I must object in the strongest way possible to the use of that word. It is one that I used until recently, so I’m sympathetic to its use by people who haven’t learned why it is harmful. A temper tantrum implies that the autistic person has a choice in their behaviour, and as I’ve previously explained, we do not. Our brains are doing what they can to cool down and communicating that the situation we are in is painful to an unbearable degree. The better word is meltdown. This distinction has allowed me to be so much more compassionate towards myself, so it is ironic to hear the less compassionate term being used by an expert in self-compassion.1
I also had some uncomfortable emotions watching a mother describe needing to give herself self-compassion for the grief and shame upon learning her son was autistic, and later when strangers got mad at both of them for his autistic behaviour. I’ve sat with these feelings for a few days and mulled it over.
I do believe parents and caregivers should be able to talk about their challenges. That’s so important. Ultimately though, what disappoints me is that she describes it as a given that the reason she needs self-compassion is because of her son’s meltdown, rather than the lack of compassion from her fellow travelers. I suppose she didn’t consider that autistic people would watch her video and relate to her son just as much as her and I think it’s a good example of why the pathology paradigm that I described in my first newsletter is damaging. But it did give me an opportunity to show myself self-compassion. “It’s so hard, Kate, to learn new skills and ways of thinking from someone who uses ableist language. But we’ve got this. We are kind and gentle to ourselves and we deserve the love we give ourselves. We deserve to be authentically who we are, even in public, and even if others think we are annoying.”2
Back to self-esteem
Did you watch the clip about self-esteem? Could you relate?
To recap the clip: self-esteem can be good. With low self-esteem, we are more likely to hate ourselves, which can lead to suicide. With that knowledge, the self-esteem movement became a priority. But the problem is how we develop high self-esteem: we must be above average. To be above average, we must be better than others. Our high self-esteem requires us to think we are better than others and can lead to both bullying and narcissistic thinking. Yes, that sounds like every person I’ve ever disliked.3
Before I was infected in the first Omicron wave and developed long COVID, I had started to divest myself of self-esteem. I could name things I’m not good at, or ways I don’t conform to societal expectations, and still feel good about myself. For example, I’m not a good dancer. I’m clumsy. I can’t drive. I’m fat. I’m messy. I remember having a conversation about it and saying that it wasn’t logical for me – or anyone else – to be amazing at everything and there are lots of things I am good at to balance out the below average areas. I’m kind. I learn quickly. I’m good at cooking and baking. I’m funny. I write well. I’m optimistic. I’m tenacious. Animals and babies feel safe with me. I’m thoughtful. I’m curious. But there is one area4 where I’ve depended on self-esteem to my detriment, and that’s my intelligence.
I’ve always gotten high grades and been at the top of my class. Growing up, that was a big part of my identity. I have examples from childhood where a knock to my sense of self of being the smartest was painful. On one of my grade two report cards, I received an S (for satisfactory)5 for class participation. I was so angry that I scratched it out. I couldn’t handle being less than good! I thought my teacher was awful and the one at fault because she would pick people who put their hands up before I had time to (thoughtfully) think of my answer. It wasn’t my fault she didn’t equally ask all of us!6 I felt so bad about myself and others because of that S. I really wish I could go back in time to give little Kate a hug and tell her that she is good and loved and lovable no matter what the report card shows.
Another example: I didn’t finish university because of a few incredibly stressful situations that ended up with me in an inpatient PTSD hospital program. Most of the time I try not to think about the fact that I don’t have a university degree – the shame I feel because of it is too painful. Instead, I emphasize to myself that I am incredibly smart, even without a degree. That education doesn’t equal intelligence.
And until recently, my go to insults were stupid and dumb. How many times have I said things like “I can’t believe how stupid she is” or “That is the dumbest thing ever”? Probably multiple times a day for years if not decades, and I can see now that the purpose of thinking and saying those things was to prop up my self-esteem.
When I developed long COVID, I developed brain fog. This meant forgetting words, not always being able to complete sentences, walking to the kettle of just-boiled water and forgetting why I went there by the time I reached the kettle. I remember staring at the kettle and knowing that I was supposed to know what the boiling water meant to me, but feeling frustrated that I couldn’t figure it out. I stopped being able to read books – after a few paragraphs I couldn’t remember what I had just read or comprehend the words on the page. At times I couldn’t speak. I remember thinking, “this virus has made me stupid”.
This forced me to re-evaluate the importance I had placed on intelligence. If I was going to think of myself as worthwhile, valuable, and lovable, even with a “stupid” brain, did I not have to extend that grace to everyone? Did I not have to stop equating stupid with bad? It really is embarrassing to type out and admit that a large part of me thought that I was better than the people I thought I was smarter than. But understanding this about myself gives me a chance to change my beliefs, let go of that is a foundation to my self-esteem, and work on forgiving myself for the times I’ve put other people down to try to build myself up.
With treatment, I have been able to reduce the amount of brain fog I experience. I am very grateful for this. I like being able to think deeply and formulate sentences. I love reading and writing. It’s nice being able to remember what I’m doing as I’m doing it. But I am equally grateful that I learned to value myself unconditionally. Do I wish I had learned the lesson from a book or rather than through the experience of a disabling infection? Yes. Absolutely. But this is where I am now. And I know that I am worthy of love and compassion no matter the state of my brain.
This video is from 2013, so perhaps Kristin’s views on autism have grown since then.
I do think Kristin’s community is a valuable space and I do recommend it to anyone who wants to connect with others who are trying their best to become more self-compassionate. I have felt welcomed and included.
Including me.
At least.
There was also E for excellent and G for good. And one more that I don’t remember.
I do think classes/groups could benefit from putting in a “thinking buffer” before students/participants are asked to answer so that those of us who need extra processing time have a chance to both hear the question and formulate an answer.