5 • Self-Compassion: The Missing Ingredient

We instinctively hold others when they’re hurting, yet we abandon ourselves when we’re in pain. Learning self-compassion may be the most important habit we ever cultivate.

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How My Choice to Feel and Heal, Changed the Trajectory of My Entire Life

On the outside, it looked like the best time of my life. I was in my early thirties, traveling the world, doing work that felt meaningful and joyful. But inside, it was a very different story. I was obsessed with my weight and body image, and after two decades of torturing myself, I finally hit the weight I’d been chasing my entire adult life: one hundred and ten pounds. (I’m five foot two.)

I had been overeating and purging for what felt like my whole life, since I was twelve, the year Mum was diagnosed. But when I finally reached my “dream” weight, everything spiraled. My throwing up went into overdrive. I was terrified of gaining any weight back, and I hit a breaking point. It became clear: it was either rehab or real self-healing.

That’s when a friend told me about a master’s program in Spiritual Psychology that had been life-changing for her. I didn’t know much about it, but I enrolled. Within months, I realized something huge: I had been spiritually bypassing and avoiding my emotions for years.

So I made a choice. I dove headfirst into the everyday emotional challenges that were right in front of me. Not just the big traumas from the past, but the daily, seemingly small things that triggered me.

I started to learn something that changed everything:

grievealing happens in our everyday upsets, not by forcing ourselves to relive the past, but by lovingly tending to the pain that’s here and now.

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At the time, the biggest emotional challenge in my life was “my boss”. I often felt dismissed, unseen, and unappreciated. I poured myself into my work, but the feedback was often minimal or critical. And to make things more complicated, I had a crush on him, which added an entirely different layer of emotional confusion.

For a long while, I thought he was the source of my pain. It made sense to me then. But what I eventually began to realize was that the real issue wasn’t him at all. It was the way I was relating to my own hurt feelings. My reactions, my patterns, my old wounds — that was what was being activated. And once I saw that, everything started to shift.

As I learned to stop abandoning myself in moments of upset, and instead met those parts of me with compassion and kindness, the suffering began to dissolve. Not all at once. But slowly and steadily, the emotional charges started to fall away.

I made a vow: that no matter how small the upset, I would show up for myself. That I would be kind to the pain in my heart, no matter what. I carried a little blue notebook everywhere with me, my blue book. And anytime I felt “blue,” I’d use it to work through my emotional process, somatically, compassionately, and with honesty.

Over time, something profound happened. I began to see that the reason I was so deeply triggered by my boss was because the dynamic mirrored something much older: my relationship with my stepdad. They had almost identical personality profiles. It was like I was caught in an unconscious loop, trying to get the approval and recognition from my boss that I had never received from my stepdad.

As I began to gently uncover the pain, feel it, express it, and then offer myself the kind of loving support I’d always needed, I started to transform. The feelings of “I’m not important,” “I’m not seen,” and “I don’t matter” started to lose their grip. I remember the first time he gave me critical feedback and I didn’t crumble. He pointed out the one thing I hadn’t done well, completely ignoring the dozens of things I had done beautifully, and instead of shrinking, I stood tall. I felt grounded. I knew in my bones: I did a good job. I feel proud of my work. His opinion didn’t rattle me anymore. His anger didn’t feel personal. I could see it clearly, it was his own pain spilling out. His frustration was about him, not me.

And the wildest part? I started to feel compassion for him. Real compassion. Not a spiritual idea of compassion. But a deep, felt sense that he was hurting, and that his lashing out was just a symptom of his struggle. And because I had learned how to fill myself with love, because I felt full, I could meet his pain with kindness instead of needing anything from him. That moment was the beginning of learning that love and compassion could dissolve even my deepest wounds.

A Blueprint for Healing Unfolded Within Me

It was during this season, when I was carrying that little blue book everywhere, showing up for myself again and again, that something unexpected began to emerge. I wasn’t just feeling my emotions anymore, I was also learning from them. The more I committed to sitting with the pain, without blaming, fixing, or abandoning myself, the more clearly I began to see a pattern. A rhythm. A structure to the way healing naturally unfolded when I let it. It was as if some Higher Power was walking me through it. Not in a dramatic or mystical way, but in a deeply grounded, inner-knowing kind of way. Like Life itself was saying: Here, my love. This is how grief heals. This is how your pain transforms. This is how you return to yourself.

And what I realized was this: It wasn’t just the feeling of emotion that brought relief. It was the way I related to my emotions, with compassion, presence, and honesty, that actually rewired something inside me. Every step was discovered in real time, sitting on the bathroom floor, sobbing into a towel, or pausing in the middle of a workday to write in my blue book. And every time I completed the process, something in me shifted. Not always dramatically. Not always perfectly. But consistently.

Over time, I felt less shame. Less fear. Less stuckness. And in its place? More softness. More clarity. More freedom. It became unmistakably clear: grief can be rewired, and pain can be dissolved, but only through our own compassion and kindness, our unconditional loving. Not through spiritual bypassing. Not through thinking our way out. But by being with our pain, honestly, somatically, lovingly.

Grief Gave Me a New Identity

The greatest gift I received from this commitment to feel and heal wasn’t just relief from pain. It was a completely new sense of who I am. Before this chapter of my life, like most of us, I thought I was my emotions. I believed I was my anxiety. My sadness. My doubts. My shame. My patterns. When I felt broken, I was broken. When I felt insecure, I was unworthy. When I felt pain, I thought something was wrong with me.

But through this daily devotion to my own grief and feelings, this radical choice to meet myself again and again with presence and love, I started to notice something. I was no longer just feeling. I was becoming the one who could hold them. The one who could be with them and love them. And that changed everything. Instead of identifying as the wound, I became the one who could love the wound. Instead of spiraling in self-abandonment, I became the one who stayed and showed up with love. Instead of being consumed by my darkness, I became the Light who could hold my pain, fear and despair.

And in that shift, my identity changed. I realized I am not my emotions. I am not my fears. I am not my wounds. I am the Huge Heart that holds all of it. The embrace. The compassion. The Love. I am the one who is always here for myself. That’s what grief gave me. That’s what this process, this sacred showing up, revealed. Not as a concept. Not as a spiritual slogan. But as a lived truth. And honestly? I’m not sure there’s any other way to get this. No certificate. No book. No class. Not even therapy alone.

There is something about meeting one’s own pain, over and over, with loving arms that builds a kind of unshakable strength. A kind of self-trust that can’t be taught, only experienced, through tenderness, through tears, through truth. This is the Greatness that grief gives us. This is the doorway that pain opens. And if we keep walking through it, with compassion, with courage, with presence, we eventually discover the most sacred truth of all: that who we are… is Love. By loving ourselves in our darkest moments, we experience our innately loving and healing nature.

Self-Compassion is the Heart of Phase 2, 3 and 4

Grief comes in waves, and those waves will continue to come, in different ways, throughout life. After the initial shock has passed, the waves often grow less frequent and less intense. And while the “surfing” analogy might feel cliché, or even offensive when you’re still being pummeled by grief, it’s actually an excellent analogy for what happens if we keep showing up and allowing ourselves to feel.

This analogy also points to something hard to explain with logic, because it’s more spiritual than rational. At first, the ocean feels violent and unbearable. The waves knock us down, pull us under, leave us gasping for air. But over time, as we learn to soften, relax, and let the ocean move through us, the experience changes. The very waves that once felt like pain begin to feel like love—holding us, carrying us, and leading us to something even greater.

If we continue to meet our pain and feel our grief through this grievealing process, we can’t help but awaken our own compassionate nature*.* At some point, the journey shifts. We begin to long for healing, for compassion, for loving support, rather than resigning ourselves to an endless pity party.

If you’re new to emotional healing or somatic work, I encourage you to begin with a trusted loved one or professional before trying to hold it all on your own. Sometimes, being held in unconditional compassion by another gives us the strength to eventually hold ourselves the same way. It isn’t always necessary, but it can make the process easier. And even if you begin alone, know that profound healing and transformation are absolutely possible.

(Refer to the Introduction for additional support resources.)

What is Compassion?

In order to unpack self-compassion, let’s first establish what we mean by compassion along the grievealing journey.

Compassion is one of the most transformative experiences a human can have. When we truly allow ourselves to embrace and experience another’s pain and suffering, something opens in us, a springboard into our Huge Heart, our unconditionally loving nature. Our Huge Heart seems to burst with loving support, reaching out with a kindness that heals and honors. And in those moments, we can feel a profound oneness and interconnectedness with another that can only be described as divine, beyond this world.

In my experience, compassion radiates from our Huge Heart like a gentle warmth. It may be sparked by the suffering of others, but it awakens our greatest gift—our capacity for unconditional love. Yes, we might feel the weight of humanity, the sadness, the loss, the disappointments, but instead of closing down, our hearts awaken and expand.

Compassion is that sacred force within us that responds to suffering not with judgment, but with an intention of healing and well-being for all.

Compassion is soft. It is warmth, understanding, and kindness offered gently, without imposition or attachment. It softens the muscles and embraces what is.

Compassion is embodied, shared suffering. It invites us to feel our own pain authentically while recognizing that we all experience pain, creating a deep connection between us.

Compassion acknowledges the innocence, the essence of all beings. Fueled by unconditional love, it dissolves blame and judgment, inviting healing and understanding.

Compassion is not about fixing or rescuing another from their pain. It is about being fully present with our own and others’ pain, in complete acceptance, love, and support.

Compassion emerges when we stop running from discomfort and open our hearts to life’s rawness.

Compassion gives us the courage to stay, to feel, and to love without condition.

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It isn’t just a virtue, it’s a powerful healing force that transforms both the brain and the body. While it’s beyond the scope of this book to dive deeply into the research you can refer to References: Neurological and Well‑Being Benefits of Compassion References: Neurological and Well‑Being Benefits of Compassion for those who’d like to explore further.

Why Self-Compassion is So Hard When You’re in Pain

When we’re in deep emotional pain, it can feel almost impossible to find love, courage, or any connection to our Huge Heart. In those moments of despair or depression, self-love can seem completely out of reach. And yet, learning to respond to our own pain with soft, kind, and compassionate support is not only possible—it’s the very heart and fruit of the journey.

This process can feel much harder if we didn’t grow up experiencing loving, emotional support. When our big feelings weren’t met with safety, understanding, and compassion, it’s no wonder we struggle to offer those same things to ourselves now. This isn’t about blame. Most parents or caregivers loved us deeply and did the best they could. But if they didn’t know how to be with their own pain, they couldn’t teach us how to be with ours. We simply can’t give what we haven’t learned to give.

While I did experience neglect and abuse in my childhood, I also had a Mum and Dad who, in my earliest years, showed me deep, embodied, unconditional love. Because of that foundation, self-healing, self-love, and self-compassion have come more naturally to me.

However, many of my clients didn’t have that same nurturing start, and if that’s true for you, you may need to move more slowly through your grief. Give yourself time to build your own muscles of self-love and self-compassion, and remember, there’s no rush. Make sure you’re also receiving genuine human support along the way. Take baby steps. You’re reprogramming a powerful instinct—the impulse to suppress or fix your feelings rather than simply be with them, love them, and meet them with compassion.

The Compassion Gap: How We Treat Others vs. Ourselves

Consider this: your best friend shares with you that they just lost their job or business. They feel lost, confused, embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. How do you feel toward them? Do you feel softness, kindness, and warmth? Or do you feel critical and judgmental? My guess is that you would naturally feel profound kindness and support. Yes?

Now put yourself in your friend’s shoes. Really imagine it. Imagine you have just lost your job or business. Notice how you might feel, some loss, confusion, even shame. And then ask: how do you feel toward yourself? Most people discover that they feel critical, hard, even harsh. They experience an energy of pressure and punishment.

Developing self-compassion is no small feat, but it might be the most truly life-changing skill you ever cultivate. And the time and patience it requires will be more than worth it.

The most powerful evidence I’ve ever found has been my own personal experience. The proof has always been in the pudding, and your proof will be in yours.

Self-Compassion is THE Missing Link

For much of the last century, scientists believed the adult brain was fixed, unable to change. Today, we know the opposite is true. Our brains can be dynamically healed and rewired. Research overwhelmingly supports self-compassion’s role in healing. In reviewing the latest studies, I found more than one hundred articles showing how it helps rewire the brain—shifting us from a trauma response back to balance, connection, and love. References: Compassion Heals **You’ll find more on the neuroscience of self-compassion in 14 • Compassion Fatigue in Grief and Animal Advocacy

Researcher Dr. Kristin Neff, who pioneered much of the science on self-compassion, describes it simply as treating yourself with the same kindness, care, and understanding that you would offer a dear friend.

“Self-compassion is simply the process of turning compassion inward. We’re kind and understanding rather than harshly self-critical when we fail, make mistakes, or feel inadequate. We give ourselves support and encouragement rather than being cold or judgmental when challenges and difficulties arise in our lives.”

DR KRISTIN NEFF

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In my experience, when we allow ourselves to fully feel our pain or emotion in the body, self-compassion begins to awaken naturally. Just as being present with someone else’s suffering stirs our empathy and care, being present with our own suffering can stir the same tenderness within us. That’s why one of the bravest things we can do is simply allow ourselves to feel. By doing so, we open the door to self-compassion.

The challenge, of course, is that most of us have been conditioned to meet pain with self-criticism rather than self-kindness. We’ve been taught to push, perform, and pressure ourselves instead of soften. So it helps to have a few simple practices to strengthen this muscle of self-compassion, especially when grief feels overwhelming:

Acknowledge the difficulty. Remind yourself: This is hard, and it’s okay that it’s hard. What you’re feeling is part of being human. You did nothing wrong. You’re simply moving through pain, and that pain deserves care.

Imagine a loved one in your place. If someone you cared for were feeling exactly what you’re feeling right now, how would you respond? What tone would your voice carry? What softness would your Huge Heart naturally offer? Now turn that same warmth inward, toward yourself.

Offer yourself a loving embrace: From your own Huge Heart, wrap your arms around yourself. You can say out loud or silently: I see you. I hear you. I love you. Let your body feel the tenderness of those words.

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At first, this may feel awkward or even impossible. That’s okay. Just like any new skill, self-compassion grows with practice. And here’s the truth: it works.

Most of us are unconsciously addicted to self-criticism. We think being hard on ourselves will help us improve, but in reality, it holds us back.

When you develop self-compassion, you’re not just healing your grief, you’re transforming your entire life. Pet grief, as devastating as it is, can be the perfect doorway into self-compassion. Unlike struggles in our careers or relationships, where we often spiral into blame or self-criticism (toward ourselves or others), grief for our animals softens us. Their unconditional love makes it easier to access tenderness toward ourselves. In this way, pet grief becomes a profound adventure of transformation, moving us out of the heaviness of self-criticism that holds us back in so many areas of life, and into a much more self-supportive way of being.

While it’s beyond the scope of this book, it’s worth noting that living more self-compassionately also supports our motivation. Emerging research shows that self-compassion is often the missing key to moving forward in the areas where we feel stuck — not pressure, not self-criticism, but kindness toward ourselves. When we treat ourselves with warmth rather than judgment, we actually create more energy, clarity, and willingness to take the next step. References: Self-Compassion, the Brain and Motivation

Grief is an Upgrade to Our Human Operating System

I would never tell anyone in the early days or weeks after a loss to try shifting their perspective too soon. Remember, in Phase 1 it’s most important not to push or demand anything of yourself. But when you’re ready, there’s something powerful to recognize: your pain isn’t just because of what happened, it’s because of how you’re relating to it. The real challenge is that, as humans, we’re wired to believe that death is the end. We’re installed with a human operating system, not a spiritual one. So when someone we love dies, our natural response is to feel like they are gone—completely and utterly gone.

Our very language hard-wires this belief into our brain, that we’ve “lost” them. With Ellie, I felt this in the most visceral way. It was as if an invisible cord between us had been severed. Physiologically, it felt like something had been ripped from the center of my chest, leaving a gaping hole. It was excruciating.

At first, it seemed like I had no choice but to suffer. That’s part of being human. But as I moved through my grief, I began to experience something deeper: my pain wasn’t just because Ellie had died. My pain was also because I believed she was gone.

But she wasn’t. She isn’t. Yes, her physical body is gone, and I still miss it. I think I always will, the warmth, the texture, the reality of her physical presence. But Ellie herself, her essence, her Spirit, is not lost. In fact, her presence, sass, enormous love for me, and the loving we continue to share, are perhaps more alive than ever.

This shift doesn’t happen overnight. It unfolds in its own time, as we grow through our grief. When we’re ready, we begin to upgrade from a limited human understanding of life to a more expansive, spiritual understanding, one where love, connection, and presence never truly die.

The Huge Shift That Happens When We Live Greater Self-Compassion

Self-compassion is the closest thing I know to magic, for both living and facing death.