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Today’s post is an act of self-compassion, as it will be the final one in the series. When I first got the idea for this, I was going to call it the “Summer of Self-Compassion” because I thought it would be that small, that brief. But then so many of the women I asked to participate said “yes” that I decided to continue until I ran out. When the end got near, I briefly considered asking more women, because you all were appreciating and enjoying it so much, because we all were learning so much, getting so much out of it.

And yet, when I got still and quiet, asked myself what I really wanted, what to do next, the clear response was to finish, to create the ebook and move on to the next project. So today, I have spent the morning reading back through all the posts, soaking in all the wisdom there, feeling so full of love and gratitude for these women. My responses to the same set of questions I asked them are an act of gratitude, an offering, a contemplation of what I’ve learned. With self-compassion, I am honoring this experience and letting it go.

another picture from my photo shoot with Andrea Scher, which was a practice of self-compassion

1. What does self-compassion mean, what is it? How would you describe or define it?

Self-compassion is to “suffer with” myself, to stay with an attitude of non-judgment and gentleness, to nurture and soothe myself. It’s the ability to be present no matter what arises, to not abandon myself. It means honoring my experience and truth: how I feel, what I need, my body, my desires, my longing, my hungers, my values, all I have and all that I wish for.

I define it as the continual willingness to soften to your own experience and allow it to be as it is. ~Susan Piver

It’s simply being kind to myself – meeting myself, whatever my emotional, physical or psychological state, with loving kindness. As simple, and difficult, as that! ~Marianne Elliott

2. How did you learn self-compassion? Did you have a teacher, a guide, a path, a resource, a book, a moment of clarity or specific experience?

From this series, from the brilliant and kind women who agreed to participate — I learned from them before this series and through it and expect to continue being a curious student of how they do it.

I learned from books, workshops, classes, retreats, podcasts, and videos by Tara Brach, Brene’ Brown, Pema Chödrön, Geneen Roth, and Anne Lamott.

I learned through practice, by staying open and being with what is true, being present for my experience as I meditate and move through yoga poses, as I show up and write day after day no matter what, as I have lived with and loved and even let go of my dogs.

From being in relationship with others, seeing how we generate suffering from a place of confusion and hurt, and also how we can love and heal each other, the power of kindness and acceptance and presence.

3. How do you practice self-compassion, what does that experience look like for you?

In a bigger sense, self-compassion practice for me is centered in awareness, mindfulness. This means showing up, being present, and staying open. It is about cultivating a sense of curiosity. For example, if someone says something, and I feel hurt or angry, I am curious about that, try to discover what triggered me and why, and what I need to be able to experience it and let it go, be with it without generating even more suffering.

At a more basic level, it means checking in with myself, seeing what I might need or want. For example, am I hungry? If so, what do I want to eat? It means checking in with my needs and desires, and responding when action is warranted. For example, if my feet are cold, I put on socks. That might sound dumb to someone who naturally responds that way, but for someone like me, someone who spent so many years denying myself, smashing myself to bits, that sort of care, awareness of a need that is met with a quick and appropriate response is something new, something I’m learning and have to practice.

I practice self-compassion moment by moment. It lies in how I receive myself and what I’m experiencing. I practice awareness of self-judgement and my inner dialogue. I practice softening, allowing, embracing. ~Rachel Cole

It’s a practice of softening towards myself, of connecting to my own heartfelt desire for my own well-being, and finding a source of gentle, sweet kindness towards myself – even when I’ve made a mistake. ~Marianne Elliott

More and more, I try to love the crap out of myself. ~Judy Clement Wall

4. What do you still need to learn, to know, to understand? What is missing from your practice of self-compassion, what do you still struggle with?

I still struggle with trusting myself, having faith that what I want is allowed, okay, acceptable. I struggle with thinking it’s more important to please others, meet their expectations than to care for, to satisfy myself. I still need to learn to trust that I am worthy, that I don’t have to wait for permission have the life I want or earn the right to be here. I need to understand that I am loved, lovable no matter what. I struggle with self-criticism, being way too hard on myself. I still need to learn better strategies for self-soothing when I’m feeling overwhelmed, tender and raw.

I can get wildly impatient, judgmental and despairing when I feel like I’m not blooming fast enough, damn it! There is so much that I want to do, see, create, experience that I can be relentless in my self-demands – and I get mad when I can’t keep up! I can burn my energy out, fuelling myself with adrenalin and caffeine and fast, nutritionless food thinking that, at least for a time, it will help me get farther faster. Nope … I see this struggle as my journey to grow my self-compassion so that I can hold with love both my desires and my limitations. ~Jamie Ridler

I am very hard on myself about what it means to be successful in this world. And too often I don’t make self-care a priority. I know that as I continue to relax (as opposed to “trying”), self-compassion will naturally manifest. ~Susan Piver

I am filled with so much love and gratitude, for the women who took part in this series, for my kind and gentle readers, for the infinite number of “do-overs” and fresh starts available to all of us.

What’s next: Self-Compassion, the ebook. And for Saturday’s on the blog? I am thinking of doing a Life Rehab Resources series, where I share various resources that have been useful to me, give you a sense of what they are and how they helped and how you can access them yourself.

P.S. Barb Markway, psychologist and author of the blog The Self-Compassion Project, as well as one of the wise women I interviewed for Self-Compassion Saturday, put together a post for Psychology Today using quotes from the series complete with links to each individual post, 25 Women Writers Share Their Best Self-Compassion Tips. It makes me so happy that more people will now have access to the rich wisdom available in this collection.

P.S.S. If you didn’t see the first post in this series, you might want to read Self-Compassion Saturday: The Beginning. Or make your way through all the posts tagged Self-Compassion Saturday.

Project Reverb Prompt, “Blowing Out the Candles: You’re another year older! How did you celebrate the passage of another year? Did it turn out the way you had hoped?”

I celebrated with donuts instead of a cake, a day off work to do whatever I wanted, which turned out to be not much different than what I’d do on a normal day away from CSU, which was a happy surprise, to realize I am already and always living like every day is my birthday. I wrote a Something Good post that morning, an especially good one. I pulled a Ten of Pentacles, “Fulfillment, Abundance … signifies material and spiritual abundance in nearly every area of your life.” I meditated, wrote, read, watched a movie, had a nap, ate what I wanted, talked to my mom on the phone, took a walk with Sam, and had dinner with Eric. I felt loved and celebrated by so many. It was lovely.

The other two prompts are so similar, I’m going to answer them as one. The Besottment prompt is “Five things you do not want to forget from 2013?” And the Reverb13 prompt is “There are so many ‘precious things’ that are presented to us each day; discoveries and treasures found in simple moments, memories we wish to store in our hearts and keep with us forever. What precious things have you gathered in 2013? Which memories from this year do you wish to keep with you always?”

First, the things about Dexter that I never want to forget, memories and moments I wish to store in my heart and keep with me always.

The way he was so excited for breakfast every morning even though he ate the same thing every day, twice a day. He would whine and wiggle, run from one end of the house to the other, nudge me as he passed by while I was filling his bowl, then run back to tell his dad, then run back to me.
How he would ask for a treat by either sitting and looking up at the kitchen counter where we kept them or nudging his nose against the door of the cabinet where we kept the backstock.
How full of joy he was, always.

The sound of his sigh, how he sometimes barked in his sleep but it sounded like a whimper.
The way his face lit up when he asked me to play with him and I said yes.
His favorite game of “oh no, I lost my toy, where is it!?” (um, dude, you just buried it in the snow, or that pile of leaves), *dig* *search* *find the toy* *celebrate* and repeat.

How soft his fur was, how gray his face got as he got older.
How he’d curl up as close as he could get to me, circling closer and closer until he settled in so close he was partly on me and then sigh.
The way he would put one foot on my arm when I was petting him. I’m convinced the way he curled his toes, sometimes lifted and dropped his foot that he thought he was petting me back.
The extra black spot of fur on that one toe.

How he changed color from gray black to brown and back again as the seasons shifted and his undercoat got thicker or thinner.
How fuzzy he was after a bath.
How he didn’t like anyone to mess with his feet, but he let me do it anyway.
The sound of his bark, the way he’d almost squeal when he was trying not to bark.
The way he’d run after and catch a ball, as many times as I was willing to throw it, how he always reminded me of a professional baseball player, so strong and graceful.
How he always wanted to stop at the little dog park to search for tennis balls, how happy he was when he found one.
How he’d perk up when I said “Do you want to go see Grandma?” How he’d whine all the way to her house.
How he’d bring me a toy in the morning and invite me to play.

How we didn’t have to go outside to play, he was happy to play a miniature game of fetch or catch on our bed, how he’d lure me down the hallway with a toy to get me to go in, how I’d say “ready, set, go” before I threw the toy, how he’d sometimes throw it back to be, how intently he’d watch me just before I threw it back.
Seeing him run around the yard like when he was a puppy, even with cancer and a bum knee.
How he’d herd me by nudging his nose into my hand.
How much he loved Obi, our first dog, the first we lost to cancer.

How much he hated it when anyone sneezed or coughed.
How good he was at the vet, how much he loved all the attention he got when he’d go to physical therapy.
How he’d get so excited when I took the trash out, how he’d grab a toy and convince me to play for a bit while we were outside.
How he’d help me pick up the yard, always showing me where the next pile of poop was — ah, the wonders of having a working breed dog. They’ll take any job you’ve got for them and love it.
How he’d stand on the couch to be able to see out the front window.
How much he loved to go on a walk, hiking or running, anywhere really.

How he’d ask at certain spots on the trail, “can we go this way?” knowing the difference between “okay” and “not today.”
How he’d let you know someone was coming on the trail, how he always could find the trail even in the snow.
How he remembered everything, was so smart, knew so many words.
How much he loved his girlfriend Brea.
Even how rude he could be to other dogs and strangers or people he just didn’t like.
How he’d stand in your lap to get attention.

How much he loved tomatoes.
How patient he was with Sam.
How he was so careful with stuffed toys that I could buy him ones meant for babies or collecting.
How much he loved his Little D.

A few other precious things: moments at 27 Powers Court, a widening circle of support, being able to be with Dexter when he died, love notes from Eric.