It’s Time To Cut Yourself Some Slack

If we made it through the day, we’re ok

Some years ago, a friend decided to go see a therapist. As the session started, the therapist said, “Tell me what’s happening.” My friend took a breath and began: She had finally left her stressful corporate job of 10 years. Her beloved father had been diagnosed with cancer, and the prognosis was grim; she’d been traveling back and forth from Boston to New York. To top it all off, she was 6 months pregnant and experiencing a rare form of all-day “morning sickness” that had only intensified with time. After she described what was happening, she said, “I thought I had it all together. But I am not ok. And I don’t know what to do about it.” 

The therapist looked at her and said: “You’re not supposed to be “ok.” You are experiencing some of the most stressful and difficult things in life, simultaneously. As for what to do about it? First, cut yourself some slack.” 

Her story resonates with me deeply right now. We’re experiencing a global crisis of such magnitude that our lives have been forever changed. When lockdown started, we got busy doing — filling our days with important tasks designed to survive the great unknown. We stockpiled supplies, home-schooled, home-worked, home-baked, and set some lofty home-fitness goals, too. But, despite all the things we did to batten down the hatches, we couldn’t stop what was coming. As the pandemic stretched on into weeks and then months of unimaginable loss, isolation and fear have taken their toll. Some of us have simply lost faith in doing. And some of us (guilty) feel we are not doing enough.

For me, it’s been a crappy year. My beautiful Kashi was diagnosed with osteosarcoma in November. And although we took every conceivable life saving measure, she passed away last week. Grief does not even begin to describe my family’s state. My younger daughter is battling her own demons, suffering from crippling anxiety brought on by the pandemic. And me? This concept of languishing describes me to a T. I genuinely have lost interest in anything unrelated to work and thus have thrown myself headfirst into my job … because it’s just easier.

It’s no wonder our best-laid plans may have fallen by the wayside. So, why are we so hard on ourselves? 

And more importantly, how can we help ourselves?

While we may show compassion to others, when it comes to ourselves … not so much. We are also likely comparing ourselves to those we may perceive as “doing better.”Comparison can lead to healthy change, but it can also lead to intense self-criticism — and I’m not talkin’ the constructive kind. And let’s be real: the people “doing better” are likely putting up a façade on social media while dealing with many of the same challenges we all face.

Frankly, my “inner critic” is getting a bit too loud. At work, when something isn’t landing right, I shift perspective and get folks on board to help reframe the conversation. So, today, I’m inviting my “inner critic” (IC) to the table for a chat with my “inner therapist” (IT). 

It might go something like this: 

IC: You ordered take-out three nights in a row. With no veggies in sight. 
IT: I supported my favorite local restaurant. And tomato sauce is a veggie. (Or is it a fruit?)

IC: You were supposed to run three miles before work today. How’s that donut tasting?
IT: My daughter was feeling a little blue, so I took her for breakfast and made her very happy. The donut is delicious, thank you for asking.

IC: You let that Zoom call run over and still didn’t finish the agenda.
IT: I brought the team closer today, and that’s worth its weight in agendas.


IC: You didn’t accomplish ANYTHING today. Not one thing. 
IT: Not true. I intentionally did nothing. And doing nothing often leads to the very best of something. That’s from Winnie The Pooh, by the way. 

What we focus on grows. During times of upheaval, focusing on what you have not done well — rather than what you have done well — is a recipe for anxiety. 

So, cut yourself some slack. It’s important to acknowledge and celebrate the little things, too. Even on those days you just “made it through,” hope and resilience lie waiting on the other side.