I've Gotta Stop Resisting Myself, Damnit

I’ve gotten pretty good at accepting things—well, some things. I accept that my body needs more TLC than it used to. I accept the need for electrolytes, compression socks, and afternoon naps. I even accept the indignity of wearing an ice vest (I’ll do just about anything for an extra hour outside).

In other contexts, though, acceptance and I find ourselves on shakier ground. What is it that I find hardest to accept? Not the stuff outside me. The stuff inside me. My own evolving, unpredictable, beyond-my-control feelings.

It’s not that I resist all of my feelings. I embrace my happiness, gratitude, enthusiasm, and love with open arms. And when I can see a clear external cause for them, I’m generally able to accept my sadness, anger, fear, or hurt, as well. Things get dicey, though, when a feeling seems to arise from nowhere. I might wake up, for example, feeling inexplicably grouchy. Or perhaps I find myself suddenly annoyed with someone I love, through no fault of theirs.

I could accept those feelings. I could say to myself “Everyone feels grumpy sometimes.” I could allow the feeling and take time to do something nourishing for myself. Sometimes, that’s what I do. But often, I respond instead with a second feeling: “Damn it, what the hell is my problem? What am I so grumpy about?”

Getting grumpy with your grumpiness, annoyed with your annoyance, angry at your anger, or sad about your sadness does little to soothe the original feeling. Instead, it adds a second layer of unhappiness. We might as well just bark at ourselves to “quit crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!”

Feelings tend to dissipate on their own when we give them air and space and light. On the other hand, when—impelled by the urge to change or suppress our feelings—we crunch down on top of them, they harden like layers of sediment.

Living with long Covid triggers a lot of feelings. Hell, life triggers a lot of feelings. They won’t all be pleasant. So here’s what I’m working on: holding a gentle and expansive space around each and every feeling that arises. This means that if sadness or irritation or anxiety come up for me today (surely at least one of them will), my hope is to allow it to be there. My hope is to lovingly take one step back from that feeling and greet it with kindness. “I see you,” I might say to sadness, “And it’s okay if you need to hang around for awhile.”

Or, winking to my irritation, I might greet her thus: “Hello again, inner bitch.” Because humor helps.

Playfulness, gentleness, mindfulness, humor, kindness—all of these create space around our feelings. And it’s space, not suppression, that brings about the changes we long for.

How do you handle the unpleasant feelings that are part of being human? What helps you to exercise self-compassion during difficult moments?