Today, I realised something about compassion. I think of myself as a compassionate person. However, when it comes to myself, I am one tough cookie.
A couple of weeks ago I miscarried and I am angry and have been exhausted ever since. I think if I would have the opportunity, I could sleep for days. Now I don’t have that opportunity, but when Dad drives the car I do fall asleep and I get annoyed when he or one of the boys wake me up. It feels like torture.
Going back to the tough cookie part, I feel like I should have healed by now. I miscarried, okay. I miscarried a couple of times before, so I should know by now how it works, how it feels and get over it. I have NO compassion for me. No compassion whatsoever. And that hurts me. I am hurting me. Weird right? This is a healing process in itself. My miscarriage is teaching me a fundamental lesson. To be there for me, with compassion. And I thought I already was.
This realisation leaves me with an opportunity. To be kind to myself. To treat myself with the same compession as I treat others. To treat myself as I like to be treated. To treat myself as I want my boys to be treatened by others and by themselves, as an example. Because, what do I teach my boys if I don’t have compassion for myself. If I am “abusing” myself. If I don’t “respect” myself. I do respect myself, but I neglect to show it. I want to put non-violent-communication in practice with myself. Be kind. And I know it will be tough, because I have always been this tough cookie, but I can choose to change. I can choose to be who I want to be. Especially now I am aware of what I am doing. At least of this little part. I can’t wait to learn more about me. And I am scared at the same time. Does that make sense?