Compassion. Week 5. Can I notice my own "small" moments of struggle when there is so much REAL suffering going on right now?
"I'm coping" or "I'm enjoying the bird song and sunshine!" are my standard replies to anyone asking how I'm doing in lockdown. Is it just me saying these kind of fairly bland answers? The conversation often moves quickly to sharing how lucky we are to live by the sea in these times. The most revealing answer I've given (and this is to close friends) is "pretty okay, a few ups and downs". What on earth is happening to my power of communication?
Ah yes, the pandemic. I'm so aware that all of us are experiencing lockdown with its own struggles that I don't want to "laden" anyone with more details. Or I'm mindful that as soon as I might try to reveal a concern the gratitude conversation will return - "how lucky we are to be healthy and how much worse it could be". As someone who recently spent a week writing about gratitude, I get this. I enjoy heartwarming conversations about the abundance of nature, or having more time with family. There's much to appreciate.
Since the start of the pandemic, my compassion levels have been operating on full and directed outwards to all the affected people. We sadly have far too many people being affected by coronavirus in such a short space of time, plus thousands of families coping with bereavement. Each day I am fully aware of how lucky I am to be in the "well" category and that is all that really matters. While remaining healthy, our job is to remain steady and supportive to those who are affected.
In the meantime, I have kept myself pretty busy which is a great way to not notice how I'm feeling. Normally at 3am or before bed (or even in the bathroom) I find tears down my cheeks most days. Why do I not share how I feel? Because we are all in it and maybe we just assume that it can be hard at times? Or that my own small struggles just don't matter in the scale of the worldwide problem. The wise words of Brene Brown have helped me explain this pattern of not sharing or even recognising our personal feelings right now. It has to do with the process of "comparative suffering". Which basically means that we are selective in what we share because we know that others have it worse right now.
So I don't share my struggle of not having any alone time at home, because I know many single friends are having far too much time alone. I don't share that my back pain is difficult right now because on the scale of health, this isn't serious. I don't share that I feel emotionally exhausted a lot of the time because friends with children at home are even more exhausted. Why should I even be sad that I can't go to Spain (or a nice cafe) at the moment because I am virus free? And so it goes on.
Yet what happens when we deny our tiny moments (or large) of emotional struggle or pain. Do they go away? No, they just sit and wait for our attention, often piling up so that one small thing can feel like a last straw. Having done this a lot of my life, stockpiling emotions takes a lot of energy.
And the gift of compassion is that it is infinite. Just because there is "big" suffering going on that needs a lot of compassion, there is still some left for these "little" fears, pains, concerns and struggles. We can all have compassion. And ironically, the more we give compassion to ourselves, the more recharged and able to help others we will be. I had forgotten that we need to fill up our own reserves of energy, otherwise we will be literally running on empty. And when we keep hearing that this is a marathon, not a sprint we definitely need to give ourselves some compassion to keep going.
Ah yes, the pandemic. I'm so aware that all of us are experiencing lockdown with its own struggles that I don't want to "laden" anyone with more details. Or I'm mindful that as soon as I might try to reveal a concern the gratitude conversation will return - "how lucky we are to be healthy and how much worse it could be". As someone who recently spent a week writing about gratitude, I get this. I enjoy heartwarming conversations about the abundance of nature, or having more time with family. There's much to appreciate.
Since the start of the pandemic, my compassion levels have been operating on full and directed outwards to all the affected people. We sadly have far too many people being affected by coronavirus in such a short space of time, plus thousands of families coping with bereavement. Each day I am fully aware of how lucky I am to be in the "well" category and that is all that really matters. While remaining healthy, our job is to remain steady and supportive to those who are affected.
In the meantime, I have kept myself pretty busy which is a great way to not notice how I'm feeling. Normally at 3am or before bed (or even in the bathroom) I find tears down my cheeks most days. Why do I not share how I feel? Because we are all in it and maybe we just assume that it can be hard at times? Or that my own small struggles just don't matter in the scale of the worldwide problem. The wise words of Brene Brown have helped me explain this pattern of not sharing or even recognising our personal feelings right now. It has to do with the process of "comparative suffering". Which basically means that we are selective in what we share because we know that others have it worse right now.
"Even our fears and pain are not immune to being assessed and ranked... without thinking we start to rank order our suffering and use it to deny or give ourselves permission to feel" (Brene Brown).
So I don't share my struggle of not having any alone time at home, because I know many single friends are having far too much time alone. I don't share that my back pain is difficult right now because on the scale of health, this isn't serious. I don't share that I feel emotionally exhausted a lot of the time because friends with children at home are even more exhausted. Why should I even be sad that I can't go to Spain (or a nice cafe) at the moment because I am virus free? And so it goes on.
Yet what happens when we deny our tiny moments (or large) of emotional struggle or pain. Do they go away? No, they just sit and wait for our attention, often piling up so that one small thing can feel like a last straw. Having done this a lot of my life, stockpiling emotions takes a lot of energy.And the gift of compassion is that it is infinite. Just because there is "big" suffering going on that needs a lot of compassion, there is still some left for these "little" fears, pains, concerns and struggles. We can all have compassion. And ironically, the more we give compassion to ourselves, the more recharged and able to help others we will be. I had forgotten that we need to fill up our own reserves of energy, otherwise we will be literally running on empty. And when we keep hearing that this is a marathon, not a sprint we definitely need to give ourselves some compassion to keep going.
Agree with a;ll you say. Very eloquently described. I give myself a little bit of time every morning and evening now to feel and process my emotions (sadness - grief at a former life lost and feeling lonely) and then end on coming up with ten reasons for feeling grateful. I am always amazed how much emotion I find is lurking underneath, when I was otherwise feeling kind of OK on the surface. Being kind to yourself for feeling as you do, is very important.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing and it is so reassuring to hear that it is not just me! Thank you for reading. With love.
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