There is this imp in my head, who is somehow named Fred, and he’s a devilish, little thing. This is the little demon that screams at me when I feel like I’ve messed something up: the time I made an outburst with a loved one, the feelings of shame and ridicule from medical doctors while they discussed me as if I wasn’t in the room, reproach when I’ve felt I’ve shared too much, shown too much of my hand. He tells me I’m no good, tells me I’m not worth it, tells me no one will love me. The reasons for Fred’s existence aren’t really important, yet I have learned that we all have our own versions of Fred, some more critical than others, some less so. It is part of our brain’s negativity bias.
In an effort to dampen little Fred’s voice, I’ve begun holding my face in my hands, cupping my cheeks like a mother to her child, and saying quietly, “Oh, sweet Nikki.” Each time shame blooms, “Oh, sweet Nikki.” When I feel distraught over something I shared in class, “Oh, sweet Nikki.” Or perhaps I am too forthcoming with friends, “Oh, sweet Nikki.” When insensitivity slips into my comments, I hold my face and say, “Oh, sweet Nikki.” Close my eyes, deep breath, slight smile, “Oh, sweet Nikki.” It has been an awkward, foreign practice. It feels alien to self-soothe like this (well, self-soothe in general1). In fact, it feels silly and Fred has popped up more than once to tell me so. Yet, I persist.
This new behavior is something I learned from Kristin Neff’s book titled Self-Compassion. She writes about changing the negative self-talk, about approaching one’s self like a gentle, dear friend (rather than a combative, angry person). She writes that touch is important to “provide a sense of security, soothes distressing emotions, and calms cardiovascular stress” (Neff 49). There’s scientific backing for this, and touch is known to release oxytocin, which has become known as the love hormone, and boosts relaxation and trust. I had been looking for this outside of myself, external to myself. I had been looking for validation and love and acceptance from others when I really should have been looking to myself.
“Oh, sweet Nikki” is my entry point into practicing self-care, self-soothing, and self-compassion. With my upbringing, especially here in New England, this sort of thing is often seen as weak. Even writing about it here, I think–or maybe it’s Fred thinking this–that I’m just a silly, weak, little woman who should just get over myself. But if I follow that thread, what’s the natural conclusion? Just more self-hatred and recrimination, which doesn’t benefit anyone. That tyrant screaming at me doesn’t make me feel good, doesn’t encourage me to connect to other people2, doesn’t move me toward openness and vulnerability3. It does the opposite. And what I have come to understand about my needs is that I need to feel seen, I need to feel loved unconditionally just because I’m Nikki, not because of what I do or provide. And this starts with me! It starts with me seeing myself for who I truly am, for the parts I really dislike, want to change. Without that self-compassion, I am unable to see the icky bits because they are distorted through this lens of disgust and deplorability. Holding the icky bits with care and kindness allows me to start working with them, mull them over in my brain, let them sit there to truly inspect them. It’s okay that I’m fallible. It’s okay that you are fallible. It’s okay to be human.
This doesn’t mean that I’m not holding myself accountable. It really is the opposite. I will most certainly get things wrong, I’m going to mess up, say something incorrectly or insensitive, navigate friendships and my next relationship with some false steps. It’s only natural when being human. I still have to make amends, reconcile the woman I was in a particular instance, learn from it, grow from it, allow it to change me. It’s not about accepting and throwing my hands up in the air, saying, “Welp, that’s just me. Oh, well.” No, no, sweet Nikki, it’s about accepting myself for how I am, understanding that given my set of life experiences and my personality, it is only natural to react this way. Self-compassion is a call to action. It is engaging. It is asking the question, Now that you know this, what are you going to do about it?