Self-Compassion: The Fingerprint of Mental Health

This post-it adorns my desktop monitor. It is an adage spoken many times throughout this turbulent year by myself and my colleagues. Professionally, this resonates so deeply for me. We cannot wait for others; we have to show up and do the damn thing ourselves.

Recently, I have started applying this thinking to my personal life: I am who I’m waiting for. Nobody is going to take care of my mind and my body and my spirit for me. That’s asinine to wait around for somebody else to do it, and it’s insane to think that ignoring problems will magically make them disappear. *face palm*

Much has been said and written in the recent past and especially over this last year regarding “self-care”. I don’t love this term; I prefer self-compassion for reasons I haven’t quite mined out yet. I’ve read so many blogs and posts and articles giving tips and advice around what to do for self-care. So many of the ideas center around our physical bodies:

• Take a long soak in a tub. 

• Get a massage. 

• Brush your hair. 

• Get a pedicure. 

• Breathe in a relaxing scent.

I find this fascinating. Yes, I do think taking care of our physical bodies adds to an overall feeling of wellness. And taking care of our physical bodies can make our minds feel better. For sure. But, what if it is not our body that really needs the care? What if these strategies are a temporary band-aid soon to fall off as soon as the tub or nail polish is dry?

Self-compassion is the fingerprint of mental health. It looks as many different ways as there are people. Additionally, the kind of care and compassion needed to refill the reserves can even be dependent on the situation. A one-size-fits-all approach - or even a one-size-fits-me-all-the-time approach - is counterproductive.

As I journey towards prioritizing self-compassion, I am still figuring out what this looks like for me. But I know I’m the one I’m waiting for. My mantra is, “Be kind to Mallory.” Sometimes, that kindness looks like rest. Sometimes, that kindness looks like productivity. Sometimes, that kindness looks like a dark, quiet, still room. Sometimes, that kindness looks like taking my kids to the park. My aim is to pay attention to what is needed and when, and provide that need for myself just as I would hope to do for others. This is just more of the big work I am trying to do, but I know I can do it, and I’m working towards believing I am worth it.