Healing and Hope with Chronic Illness: The Remedy of Self-Compassion
Today’s article is a little long, but if you hang in there it might offer some inspiration and strength for you or someone you know.
I always used to cringe when someone described their health crisis as a “blessing,” thinking they were straining to find some exaggerated silver lining to help cope with the tragic situation. But since then, my life has brought me plenty of opportunities to work this one out. And while I’m not sure I’ll ever be grateful for those struggles, I can at least say with all honesty that the experiences pushed me (not a gentle nudge) into a place where I felt like I had to really commit to putting into practice these things I’d been teaching for some time but only half-heartedly doing. I’m talking about consistent mindfulness and self-compassion, which had been missing in my prior attempts to find real wellness.
And when I was desperate enough to really put these things to the test, they worked.
So this is for anyone who’s ever felt alienated from your body, with its baffling symptoms and sensations causing endless worry and frustration. For anyone who’s ever felt hopeless that your body can heal and that life can be enjoyable and interesting again, anyone who has spent tons of time, money, and energy trying to find the diagnoses and the cures while having to forge ahead with your everyday life and all its obligations. The powerful but simple remedy of self-compassion offers great hope.
Practicing self-compassion can improve not just how we feel about our difficult situations, but it can improve the actual symptoms, too. (Not a cure or substitute for needed medical care, but a powerful healing balm.) And it’s not woo-woo at all!
There’s a growing amount of research showing how self-compassion¹ and mindfulness² can improve our psychological wellbeing AND our physical health. And it’s not through some complicated, obscure pathways in the body that this occurs; it seems pretty simple and very achievable. Because witnessing our internal experience with nonjudgmental openness and curiosity and choosing kind thoughts/words helps us feel more at ease with the situation and lessens the sense of danger.
As we start to feel more safe, supported, and relaxed, it helps quiet our fight-or-flight fear response and thus allows our bodies’ resources to be used for healing rather than survival of the perceived threat. We relax and the racing thoughts and worrying subside. The immune system can do its job better. Inflammation goes down. The perception of pain goes down.
Then, as we’re feeling calmer, safer, and maybe a bit empowered, we’ll treat ourselves better when it comes to the choices we’re making around what to eat, how to move our bodies, how much of the “unhealthy” habits we indulge in, etc.
While it takes some time to notice a tangible difference, like so many things in life it’s mostly about practice and repetition. Every time you engage in some self-compassion, those neural networks in the brain are getting stronger, and before long it will be a reflexive response that comes naturally.
I always used to cringe when someone described their health crisis as a “blessing,” thinking they were straining to find some exaggerated silver lining to help cope with the tragic situation. But since then, my life has brought me plenty of opportunities to work this one out. And while I’m not sure I’ll ever be grateful for those struggles, I can at least say with all honesty that the experiences pushed me (not a gentle nudge) into a place where I felt like I had to really commit to putting into practice these things I’d been teaching for some time but only half-heartedly doing. I’m talking about consistent mindfulness and self-compassion, which had been missing in my prior attempts to find real wellness.
And when I was desperate enough to really put these things to the test, they worked.
So this is for anyone who’s ever felt alienated from your body, with its baffling symptoms and sensations causing endless worry and frustration. For anyone who’s ever felt hopeless that your body can heal and that life can be enjoyable and interesting again, anyone who has spent tons of time, money, and energy trying to find the diagnoses and the cures while having to forge ahead with your everyday life and all its obligations. The powerful but simple remedy of self-compassion offers great hope.
Practicing self-compassion can improve not just how we feel about our difficult situations, but it can improve the actual symptoms, too. (Not a cure or substitute for needed medical care, but a powerful healing balm.) And it’s not woo-woo at all!
There’s a growing amount of research showing how self-compassion¹ and mindfulness² can improve our psychological wellbeing AND our physical health. And it’s not through some complicated, obscure pathways in the body that this occurs; it seems pretty simple and very achievable. Because witnessing our internal experience with nonjudgmental openness and curiosity and choosing kind thoughts/words helps us feel more at ease with the situation and lessens the sense of danger.
As we start to feel more safe, supported, and relaxed, it helps quiet our fight-or-flight fear response and thus allows our bodies’ resources to be used for healing rather than survival of the perceived threat. We relax and the racing thoughts and worrying subside. The immune system can do its job better. Inflammation goes down. The perception of pain goes down.
Then, as we’re feeling calmer, safer, and maybe a bit empowered, we’ll treat ourselves better when it comes to the choices we’re making around what to eat, how to move our bodies, how much of the “unhealthy” habits we indulge in, etc.
While it takes some time to notice a tangible difference, like so many things in life it’s mostly about practice and repetition. Every time you engage in some self-compassion, those neural networks in the brain are getting stronger, and before long it will be a reflexive response that comes naturally.
Chronic illness can challenge the equanimity of even the most “enlightened” people out there. It can feel like your body has betrayed you, and you resent its fragility and apparent defects. It’s easy to start blaming yourself, looking back on all the times when a different choice might have prevented you ending up in this situation.
When you see your body as a separate entity and you’re living with so much fear and uncertainty, you’re in a state of extreme stress, fight-or-flight mode, your whole system priming itself for protection. The stress hormones are coursing through you, and your focus narrows so you can pay close attention to the threats you face. When you’re in this state habitually, the body can’t relax and heal, and the mind can’t zoom out and see the bigger picture. Things like trust, creativity, and openness are not possible. And as the body’s systems are increasingly compromised by the chronic stress, we’re even more vulnerable to illness and disease.
I lived with this horrible negative feedback loop for years, always “something wrong”, always at least one (and usually several) issue requiring medical appointments or a new healing technique to try, new foods to avoid or to eat tons of, new supplements to take, new toxins to be vigilant about. I became more and more convinced of my body’s brokenness, and more hopeless about ever being able to live a normal life.
What changed all this for me? I can’t pinpoint one moment in time, but it was a matter of some seemingly small but consistent shifts in how I was relating to myself and the situation, which at some point became a great wave of change.
I learned to look at caring for myself the exact same way I always cared for my son, especially when he was tiny and vulnerable and needed all the warm, nurturing mothering I could possibly give. It wasn’t enough to show up at my appointments and be disciplined with the latest regimen. It actually made things worse to obsess over figuring things out and striving to do everything perfectly so that I’d finally get better. What made all the difference was how I was showing up for myself every day and shifting the way that I was relating to myself.
Every time I heard a thought that was any variation of “F--- here we go again. I hate this. I can’t believe this,” I would pause and offer up some love instead, the way I always had with my child: I know this is hard, honey. I know you hate this. We’re gonna do our best to figure it out. We’re gonna find all the support we need.
Does this sound a little crazy, talking to yourself like this? Well, it’s true that other people might not know what to make of it. But nobody ever has to hear it – these little whispered pep talks can be 100% in your head, for you and you alone to hear.
I’m a huge fan of Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Letters from Love” practice and the community she’s built here on Substack. It is an amazingly easy and powerful way to find the voice of self-compassion that I’m talking about. This link is from the March 2nd edition called “Take Care of the Baby” with poet Safiya Sinclair as the guest writer.
I don’t remember the last time I got that surge of fear and resentment when feeling symptomatic, and while I still have my share of health issues, it’s become quite manageable. I am able to relate to my weaknesses and vulnerabilities with compassionate care. I am able to see the bigger picture, take the necessary steps, recognize what’s in my control to tend to, and utilize the support available to me.
Did becoming a self-compassion devotee transform my body and help me transcend its very real limitations? No. But it 100% did do all of this:
1. I sleep way better than I used to. I fall asleep more easily at bedtime, and if I wake up in the middle of the night (which happens much less often than it used to), I can usually get back to sleep. A huge victory!!! No more “oh god, here we go, awake and this sucks, and my brain sucks…” Instead I roll over, snuggle into the softness of my bed, and gently say to myself something like It’s OK sweetie, no big deal. You can relax, breathe, go back to sleep. Everything can wait. I try to say this right away, before my brain revs up and thinks it’s time to rise.
2. My stomach doesn’t feel like it’s always in knots. I still have several food sensitivities, but I feel much more resilient. I don’t have to be so uber careful about everything I eat. My list of safe foods is no longer so short. I can eat in restaurants without always feeling out of sorts afterwards. And I can own my food needs with other people without feeling shame, which means less dread and stress before or during social events that involve food (as most of them do). If we’re less stressed while we eat, we definitely digest that food better.
3. I don’t find myself turning to unhealthy things to help me relax and to numb all the painful feelings about my situation. Instead of seeking some quick (but temporary) relief with something like sugar or alcohol, I feel more genuine cravings for the healthier things that truly nourish me. Not just foods, but the things that calm and uplift my spirit, like a walk in nature or some yoga or gardening. I wrote about this last week in Chocolate and My Inner Critic.
And those three things are a huge part of overall health. So now I’ve shifted into a more positive feedback loop - sleeping better, digesting my food better, and nourishing my body and soul - therefore feeling better in all sorts of other ways.
There’s also a #4: When a health challenge is happening, whether it’s something new or something all too familiar, I feel much less anxiety and overall angst about it. I can stay more centered as I’m navigating whatever it is, looking at the situation and my options in a more rational way. And I’m able to feel some level of trust that either 1) It’s all going to be OK, or 2) I’ll still be able to handle it, whatever happens.
It did not happen overnight, but this friendliness and warmth is now my reflexive habit. A new default mode. And when I feel the ache of suffering alone, I often turn to places online where I’m reminded that there are others with similar struggles, even if they’re not the same as mine. Sometimes we really need to be reminded of our common humanity.
And OK, this one might be a stretch but hear me out: Remember those studies where they played different types of music to see how plants responded, and they found the soothing harmonies of classical music nurtured the plants much better than raucous, cacophonous types of music? (If you like the raucous music, no offense meant ) Well, plants are mostly water and SO ARE WE. So maybe… our bodies respond better to messages of warmth and kindness than to anger and hatred?
Even if that’s not true, the timeless wisdom of this basic formula has become unquestionably clear to me:
Pain X Resistance = SUFFERING
When I respond to my pain with resistance in the form of anger and resentment (“It shouldn’t be this way. I shouldn’t be this way” etc.) I feel tremendous suffering, instantly. But when I respond with a touch of surrender to the forces I can’t control, and focus my energy on whatever form of loving care my body or heart needs moment by moment? Ahhh, a breath of ease. Some release. Some peace. And often, remarkably, a little less actual pain.
My article two weeks ago broke down some self-compassion strategies into simple steps you can take. So if you’re not sure where to start or how to keep it going, I hope you’ll stay connected with me here as I keep exploring these topics, and you might want to check that one out: Small Acts, Big Shifts - Simple Self-Compassion for When you Need it Most.
I’m so glad you’re here! Find me on Substack: bridgerwellness.substack.com
PLEASE NOTE: With any persistent illness we should also be seeking care from the right professionals, and I would never claim that self-compassion alone is sufficient. But with your own self-compassion and nurturing, you yourself become part of what is ideally a whole team of support. Not just medical care, but also the loved ones and the professionals who enhance our mental and emotional wellness, and even the places online where we find inspiration and encouragement.
Medical Disclaimer- This information is from personal experience and for educational purposes only. It is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Never delay in seeking medical advice because of something you read, heard or watched.
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https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5779931/#ref-list1
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