Choice Point
Having read this chapter, you can add a few new things to the choice point worksheet. You can write in some common “thought passengers” that get in the way of your healthy habits. For example, I don’t have time for that is one thought that often shows up for me when I try to go to the gym, so I would write that next to “thoughts” at the bottom left. You can also list some of the mindfulness skills (leaves on a stream, observer perspective, present-moment awareness, notice your five senses) that we covered—and you have now practiced—under “skills.” I often use “I notice I’m having the thought that…” to help me manage my thought passengers that are related to going to the gym—as in I notice I’m having the thought that I don’t have time for that. Try practicing some of these mindfulness skills over the next week.
Chapter 6:
I Suck at Being Compassionate with Myself
Have you ever had the experience of replaying a painful or difficult experience from the past, such as when you forgot your lines in the school play, when you tripped in the cafeteria, or when you couldn’t think of anything useful to say at the party and everyone thought you were stupid? I’m willing to bet the answer is yes. Our brain is hardwired to replay painful experiences for us. This trait was very helpful for cave people, because those who didn’t look for danger, for what was wrong, for what needed fixing, and for what was lacking were less likely to survive. If you were a cave person and you survived a bear attack, then it would have been really useful to remember how you survived the attack, and you’d definitely want to be on the lookout for more bears. Imagine the opposite scenario: a cave person is attacked by a bear and survives and then completely forgets that it happened or how he saved himself. This person is not our ancestor.
Research suggests that social-emotional pain (for example, being embarrassed at a party) and physical pain (for example, spraining your ankle) are stored in the same place in our brain, meaning our brain doesn’t distinguish between the two (Eisenberger, Lieberman, and Williams 2003). Both are remembered as pain and something to be avoided. This is why our mind reminds us of social-emotional painful experiences even though there’s not much to learn from this rehashing. It’s what our brain has evolved to do—remember painful experiences in order to avoid them. Unfortunately, replaying a painful experience isn’t likely to help you prevent the same experience from happening in the future. That’s not to say you can’t learn from your social-emotional “mistakes,” but any information you get out of that experience will likely happen right away. Rehashing it weeks later is unlikely to be helpful.
Comparing ourselves to others is another trait we got from our cave people ancestors (Harris 2008). Cave people would not have survived on their own. They needed the protection, support, and resources of the tribe. So our mind evolved to watch out for signs that we might get kicked out of the tribe. Am I too different from the others? Am I contributing enough? Am I good enough for the tribe? In our modern world we have millions of people to compare ourselves to, which leads many of us to constantly feel we’re not enough of…something. This tendency to compare ourselves to others often takes the form of a “self-critical” passenger.
For example, did you know that I’m not blond enough? And I’m definitely not tall enough or pretty enough or thin enough. Well, that’s what my self-critical passenger tells me all the time. We all have an “I’m not good enough” story like this. It might be that you’re not smart enough or thin enough or wealthy enough or kind enough or ambitious enough. This “I’m not good enough” story is typical of the self-critical passenger, a regular on the bus who descended from this ancient part of the brain. Remember, cave people who didn’t look for what was wrong, for what needed fixing, and for what was lacking were less likely to survive.
Unfortunately, there’s no way to turn off this self-critical part of the brain. The choice we have is how long do we want to hang out in that place of self-criticism. How far do we want to run with the self-critical football? How often do we want to let that self-critical passenger drive our bus? There is an antidote to the self-critical passenger. Self-compassion can help us disarm this passenger.
In Western culture, many people mistakenly believe that the self-critical passenger is useful, that it can motivate us to be better people. If we’re hard on ourselves we’re more likely to improve. Research actually shows the opposite. Numerous studies have found that self-compassion rather than self-criticism is more useful for motivating change (Zhang and Chen 2016), and therefore it’s very useful for helping us stick to healthy habits.
Self-Compassion
Researcher Dr. Kristen Neff defines self-compassion as involving three main parts. The first is self-kindness, being kind, caring, and loving to oneself. The second is common humanity, recognizing that setbacks, personal feelings, and mistakes are all part of being human. And the third is mindfulness, being able to notice and be present in a nonjudgmental way (2003a, 2003b). According to Dr. Neff, self-compassion is not self-pity. With self-pity we’re focused on the “Why me?” But that is the opposite of common humanity. Self-compassion is also not self-indulgence, nor is it self-esteem. Our culture is obsessed with self-esteem, which usually involves comparing ourselves to others and trying to downplay our faults in order to maintain high self-esteem. This is the opposite of recognizing that we all have faults and failings, which are aspects of common humanity.
Research suggests that self-compassion is linked to improved health, life satisfaction, and well-being and to lower anxiety, depression, and stress (Pinto–Gouveia et al. 2014; Hope, Koestner, and Milyavskaya 2014; MacBeth and Gumley 2012; Miyagawa and Taniguchi 2016; Neff 2003b; Neff, Rude, and Kirkpatrick 2007; Zessin, Dickhäuser, and Garbade 2015). Research also suggests that self-compassion is related to persistence while undertaking difficult tasks (Neff, Hsieh, and Dejitterat 2005; Hope, Koestner, and Milyavskaya 2014; Neely et al. 2009). For example, researchers conducted a study in which participants worked on a difficult math problem (Neff 2013). The researchers weren’t interested in whether the participants could solve the math problem. In fact, the problem was unsolvable. They were interested in how much effort participants would put into trying to solve the math problem, or how much persistence they showed. The longer participants worked, the more persistence they showed. One group received self-compassion instructions first, and the other group regular instructions. Self-compassion instructions include things like “As you work on this math problem, try to be kind to yourself,” or “Remember, this might be a difficult task for most people, not just you.” The group that received the self-compassion instructions spent more time trying to solve the math problem. In other words, they persisted for a longer time at a difficult task. Thus, the study linked self-compassion with persistence when faced with difficult tasks. And you know that engaging in any health behavior is a difficult task!
Self-compassion also helps us persist in the face of mistakes and setbacks, all of which we will face in our efforts to be healthy. So our ability to be compassionate is a critical skill for helping us stick with healthy habits. Let’s look at some skills we can employ to be kinder to ourselves.
The Best Teachers
Western culture espouses this idea that to motivate yourself you need to be hard on yourself, even though research clearly shows this isn’t the case. Let’s try an exercise (inspired by Gilbert, Tirch, and Silberstein 2017) to examine this idea.
Imagine that self-critical passenger. Imagine what that harsh, mean criticism sounds like. Now imagine what that self-critical passenger looks like? If it was a being standing in front of you, what would it look like? People often describe their self-critical passenger as a monster, the devil, a troll, a dragon, a warlord, or a witch.
Now imagine a school filled with self-critical passengers, and they are the teachers in this school. So when you walk down the hallway you see monsters, trolls, devils, dragons, warlords, and witches. Would you want to go
to this school? Would you learn well from these teachers? Would you send your child to this school? Would you want these figures teaching your child?
Now imagine a kind, compassionate passenger. This passenger has a soft voice and is kind and caring and always accepts you as you are. If you can imagine this compassionate passenger, what does it look like? People often describe an angel, a saint, a fairy godmother, a dove, a teddy bear, or a religious figure, such as Jesus, Buddha, and Mother Teresa.
Now imagine a school filled with compassionate passengers, and they are the teachers in this school. So when you walk down the hallway you see angels, saints, fairy godmothers, doves, teddy bears, Jesus, Buddha, and Mother Teresa. Would you want to go to this school? Would you learn well from such teachers? Would you be willing to send your child to this school? Would you be pleased to have these teachers instructing and shaping your child?
Most people agree that they wouldn’t want to attend or send their kids to the school filled with self-critical passengers, much preferring the idea of the school filled with compassionate passengers. Although culturally we get the message that being hard on yourself will get you to change your ways and achieve more, our own experience, and scientific research, tells us the opposite.
Compassionate Hands
Let’s take a moment now to practice self-compassion with this exercise adapted from Dr. Neff (2013).
Hold your hands out in front of you. Make them into fists. What do you notice? (Most people say things like “tension.”)
Now open your hands with the palms facing the sky. What do you notice? (Most people say things like “openness” or “relaxed.”)
Now put one hand over the other and place them both over your heart. What do you notice? (Most people say things like “comfort,” “warm,” or “feels like a hug.”)
Did you actually do the exercise? When I first came across this exercise I thought to myself, There’s no way that’s actually going to do anything. My passengers told me not to bother trying it. If your passengers are doing the same, thank them for sharing, and then put your two hands over your heart anyway. Compassion often involves physical touch, which is one way we comfort children, so this simple act can be remarkable. I feel like I’m giving myself a hug. If it doesn’t do anything for you, that’s okay, just notice that. The other exercises in this chapter may speak to you more. I use this skill all the time, such as when I’m stressed, worried, overwhelmed, or frustrated.
Here’s an example of how self-compassion can help you stick with healthy habits. At one point during my divorce I found out that my son had seven cavities, and one tooth was so bad that the dentist thought it might have to be pulled. It turned out that the Gatorade I was providing him (which my mind told me I had to give him because he had to stay hydrated because he refused to drink plain water) was giving him cavities. Well, that was part of it. Sometimes when my mind told me I was too exhausted to battle with him, I let him go to bed without brushing his teeth.
My self-critical passenger had a field day with this news: “You’re a terrible mother. I can’t believe you let this happen. What is wrong with you?!” These thoughts did not help move me toward being the kind of parent I wanted to be. Berating myself made me even more exhausted, so I had even less energy to battle my kid about Gatorade or brushing his teeth. Finally, I decided I needed to be compassionate with myself. Yes, things had fallen through the cracks while the divorce was happening, and I had taken some shortcuts because I was worn out. I knew that I was definitely not being the kind of parent I wanted to be, because I wanted to encourage healthy habits in my son, but I recognized that I was a human, and humans make mistakes.
So every time the self-critical passenger emerged I put my hands over my heart and reminded myself that I was doing my best in a difficult situation, and that it was okay. I would remind myself of my values, such as being a parent who encouraged healthy habits, and that we all struggle. The result was that I felt calmer and more in control. I was able to use my energy to battle my son’s teeth brushing and Gatorade consumption rather than my own passengers. I couldn’t get rid of the Gatorade all at once (remember the 90 percent rule), so I went from letting him drink as much as he wanted to one Gatorade per day. Then I only allowed him to drink it on days when he played sports, then once a week, and then I stopped buying Gatorade altogether. I made space for the discomfort of saying no to him.
When he went back to the dentist six months after the seven-cavity visit, he had no cavities. Being compassionate with myself gave me the strength to do the hard work necessary to get me (and him) to engage in health behaviors and move toward my values.
Compassionate Figure
Imagining a compassionate figure comforting you in moments of struggle can increase your ability to engage in self-compassion (inspired by Tirch, Schoendorff, and Silberstein 2014). A compassionate figure might be someone who has been really kind and caring toward you, perhaps an aunt, a grandparent, or a teacher. Pets are often great options because we often experience them as loving us with total acceptance. It’s best not to pick a romantic partner or your parents because we often have complicated relationships with these people. Many of my clients often can’t think of a compassionate figure in their lives. If that’s true of you, too, a great alternative is to consider a character from a movie or a TV show, or a public figure. This person should be someone who just makes you smile. My clients have come up with all sorts of examples: Winnie the Pooh, Mary Poppins, Mother Teresa, Big Bird, the housekeeper from the TV show Facts of Life, the mom from The Brady Bunch, or the fairy godmother from Cinderella.
Let’s practice this skill. Think of a mistake you made, not the worst mistake ever, but something along the lines of a 3 or 4 out of 10. Think eating a whole pizza or having a cigarette at a party when you were trying to quit. Here’s an example of mine. One time while driving to the airport my secretary called me to tell me that my three o’clock appointment had arrived. For whatever reason this appointment hadn’t made it into my calendar. To make matters worse, the client was seeing me for a liver-transplant assessment and had traveled from New Brunswick—a five-hour drive. Immediately I felt awful: How could I have done this? What am I going to do? This is so awful! Even as I tell this story now I can feel a sinking in my stomach. Notice how my mind judged me? This is because I care about my clients and their suffering, and being reliable and helpful matters to me, neither of which had I accomplished with this client in this situation.
Now imagine your compassionate figure comes into the room and sits down next to you and recognizes that you’re suffering. She places her hands on your leg or arm, or maybe puts her arms around you, and says, “I know you didn’t want this to happen. I know this upsets you. I know you’re suffering.” Now imagine what that person would say to you about this mistake to comfort you. Perhaps your compassionate figure looks at you, with arms around you and tears in her eyes because she can see your pain, and says, “It’s going to be okay. I’m here with you.”
What was it like to hear a compassionate response to your mistake? What do you notice? Do you feel a bit calmer or comforted? Your compassionate figure doesn’t need to actually be in the room with you for you to be able to bring some compassion into your life. That’s because this compassionate person is in you. You can bring him or her forth whenever you need support. The next time you make a mistake (and you will, because you’re human), bring forth your compassionate figure to give you some comfort. You can use the “Compassionate Figure” worksheet, available for download at this book’s website (http://www.newharbinger.com/43317), to walk yourself through this exercise whenever you need to.
Loving-Kindness
You can also practice self-compassion through loving-kindness meditation. You can download an audio version of the following meditation (adapted from Bowen, Chawla, and Marlatt 2011) at this book’s website: http://www.newharbinger.com/43317.
Imagine so
meone who is easy to love, someone who brings a smile to your face. It’s best not to choose people you’ve had conflict with or whom you are involved with romantically. It can be a pet or a child you know, or perhaps a TV or movie character, a public figure, or a compassionate figure you imagined in one of the earlier exercises.
Now imagine sending this person kind wishes, the way you’d wish someone a good day or safe travels. You could send them these well-wishes: may you be well, may you be healthy, may you live with ease. Or you can send wishes of your own devising that you feel comfortable with. Just send well-wishes to this person for a few moments.
Now imagine this person sending these same well-wishes to you. Imagine them saying to you, “May you be well, may you be healthy, may you live with ease.” Notice what it feels like to receive these well-wishes. Where do these feelings show up in your body?
Now imagine sending these well-wishes to yourself: may I be well, may I be healthy, may I live with ease. Notice any resistance you feel to receiving these well-wishes. If it’s easier, imagine yourself as a small child receiving them. See if you can thank your passengers who might be commenting on whether you deserve these wishes or not, and continue to send them to yourself for a few moments.
Many people with whom I’ve done this exercise notice that they’re resistant to sending well-wishes to themselves. Perhaps you felt it too. This resistance may always be there, but it will become “less sticky” the more you practice self-compassion.
Self-Compassion Takes Practice
I’ve done similar self-compassion exercises with health care providers who are coping with medical mistakes. There’s a good chance that most nurses and physicians can offer details about the first patient who died while under their care. There’s a good chance they’ll be able to walk you through that experience minute by minute, and that they still experience the pain of losing that patient even if it was more than thirty years ago. Sometimes they feel that the only instructions medical schools offered them about making mistakes was to not make them. There’s no way to go back and “fix” the mistakes of the past, but health care providers who are able to be more compassionate with themselves, and who don’t remain stuck in their heads criticizing themselves, notice that they are better able to pay attention to and be caring with current patients.
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