Hello friend,
For those who are newer to my blog, sometimes I share about self-compassion in my classroom, sometimes I share resources, and other times I share about what self-compassion looks like in my own life. This blog is a peek into what self-compassion looked like for me on a trip this summer with my two daughters.
But first, a little context:
My daughters’ baba (the Indian word for dad) has family in India. When I learned that the girls’ Indian aunt was visiting their cousins in Canada, my daughters and I decided to take a trip to see them. My girls hadn’t seen their aunt in about a decade, and they had never met their two-year-old cousin. I really wanted my daughters to have this time together with family.
But I’ll be honest: I had some anxiety going in. Their baba and I divorced about eleven years ago, and while I love his family, traveling to see them felt a little awkward. I wasn’t sure where I belonged.
The trip was imperfect in the ways that travel can be, including a ten-hour drive and getting sick. First, my older daughter got sick, and then later in the trip I got sick.
On the day I was sick, I stayed behind at the Airbnb while my daughters spent time with their aunt and cousins. I slept most of the day, and gave myself kindness for my discomfort. By evening I felt a little better physically, but I also felt something else: left out.
So I put my hand on my heart. I told myself it made sense to feel this way, and that lots of people would feel left out in a situation like this. I cried a little. And that felt like self-compassion, too. I reminded myself that I was there for my daughters to spend time with their Indian family, and we would all be together again the next day.
The following day, we all went to a farm together with the family. It was a good day. But in the afternoon my younger daughter got a migraine, and we had to head back early.
We got together with the family one last time that evening. We all wore our Indian dresses. And as the only person in the room without Indian heritage, I again felt a little out of place, quietly wondering if I really belonged.
I gave myself a thumb hug. I put my hand on my heart. I tried to just be with my feelings.
At one point in the evening, we all sat on the ground for a ritual. And then my daughters’ two-year-old cousin walked over and sat on my lap.
My heart opened, and the tears came. It felt like evidence that I belong. And as we sat together, praying and singing, I felt so grateful for the imperfection and the beauty of this life. And so grateful for the self-compassion practice that helps me keep my heart open and keep showing up, even when it feels hard.
If you’re new to self-compassion, or even if you’ve been practicing for a while, the self-compassion break is a simple way to notice struggle, remind yourself you’re not alone, and give yourself a little kindness. A little kindness can go a long way.
With love,
Jamie Lynn
P.S. Here’s a family photo from that evening.
Our last evening together, in our Indian dresses.