There’s a message the universe has been gently (and not-so-gently) nudging me toward over the last week and it goes something like this: be kinder to yourself.
It might’ve started last Wednesday when I spilled coffee over every object on my desk including my laptop. Or Friday morning when I decided to impulsively heroically take charge of the situation and fix it myself by removing and cleaning the keys (I had watched a YouTube video, so what could go wrong? Besides breaking the keys permanently, of course). It could also have been Saturday, however, when the Christmas tree (fully decorated) toppled over, breaking a bunch of ornaments and spilling tree water everywhere.
But the message was certainly received as I watched each of my children grapple with recent mistakes of their own, each berating themself to the point of tears. TC and I looked at each other yesterday and asked, rhetorically, “Where do they get this from?”
The answer is, of course, us. Being a Type A oldest child married to another Type A oldest child is like being a competitor in the Responsibility Olympics. We are committed to winning the marathon of doing things. It’s a dynamic not without its benefits - soooo much stuff does get done. But we share the same Achilles heel. We really struggle to forgive our mistakes.
I’m the type of person with a habit of playing back mistakes on repeat, searching for new ways to self-blame. After the unfortunate coffee incident, I was furious with myself. For one brief day, I even considered quitting coffee! (Insanity.) I couldn’t get over the fact that my pointy elbow was the cause of so much grief and expense. And my inane attempt to fix the damage? Even more unforgivable!
I was operating from a common but false belief: Self-punishment helps us learn.
How many times have we issued some version of the following message to ourselves? Hey, idiot. Let’s revisit that stupid thing you did and put it under the microscope a hundred more times. If we allot a bit more time to feeling bad about it, we’ll definitely never make that mistake again.
Reflecting on our mistakes and examining them from a place of non-judgment is important. It’s how we learn to take responsibility for ourselves. But unchecked, reflection can quickly morph into shame. And we can’t learn in a state of shame because our nervous system simply won’t allow it.
Polyvagal theory builds upon our understanding of the two divisions of the autonomic nervous system: parasympathetic (rest, digest, and restore state) and sympathetic (also known as fight, flight, or freeze). If you’re like me, you’ll mix up these names constantly because who names something “sympathetic” when it’s anything but? But I digress.
So much of my classroom teaching was informed by polyvagal theory and the idea that we struggle to process and internalize new information when our bodies are in a state of fight or flight. With my students, I made it a habit to approach mistakes with ease, modeling their value, and reflecting on them without judgment. “Let’s stop and celebrate this common mistake I see folks making in their math practice!”
But it’s so much harder to offer that kindness to ourselves.
It should not surprise me (or anyone) that my coffee accident led to more clumsiness and mistakes later in the week. This is how it often goes. Once the nervous system is stressed and cortisol is released in the bloodstream, other mistakes become much more likely. And, no, lessons are not being learned.
Thinking through the lens of the nervous system helps me to de-personalize the experience of learning and making mistakes. It also allows me to reframe my fears about being unproductive.
Success is not achieved by beating ourselves with a shame stick. Nor is self-compassion a reward for doing things perfectly. In fact, it’s the opposite: Self compassion is an essential tool in maximizing our growth and potential.
And if you don’t believe me, I sought proof from the internet and stumbled into this fantastic podcast, which is definitely worth a listen.
If we operate from the understanding that shame inhibits growth and fear impedes learning, it’s only logical that self-compassion is an ingredient in success. This week I am committed to being a better friend to myself.
This Week’s (Optional) Homework:
If you catch yourself in a moment of judgment and potential shame, ask, “How would I advise a friend in this situation?” Give that advice aloud. Or write it down. Or text it to yourself. Find a way to make your self-compassion concrete.
Celebrate a failure! I mean really celebrate it. Bust out dessert one night in honor of your mistake. If you’re a parent, this is an opportunity to model the way you hope your own kid will reflect on their learning.