Be Gentle with Yourself: Why is it so hard to be soft?

Camel Pose - Ustrasana - Move with Mercii

Ustrasana, or Camel Pose, is a backbending pose that comes to mind when I think of how challenging it can be for me to be gentle with myself.

Ustrasana can strengthen your back or injure it by pushing too hard or too deep.

It can open the shoulders and chest. It can also irritate tight muscles in those areas if not properly mobilized first.

Flexibility aside, success in this pose depends on the ability to recognize the signals that the body sends.

A pinch here. Back away.

A panic there. Ease up a bit and breathe.

Adding modifications, mindfully breathing, and gradually increasing the depth of the backbend creates a much safer, gentler approach to a very intense asana.

I loved the rush of sensations that wash over after a quality backbend like Camel. Yet, those big sensations gave me a false sense of accomplishment. I could "achieve" a big pose and trick my brain into ignoring the much quieter sensations of the body that would whisper: "Go easy on me."

So why is it hard for me to be soft with myself? Short answer: It is much easier to be soft with others than with myself. For me, I need all the "feedback" and discipline I can get in order to improve - however harsh it could be.

Teaching kids helped to adjust this some and for that, I am grateful. I needed to be incredibly aware of how I spoke to the elementary-aged children which made me more aware of how I spoke to myself. In an environment where value could be attributed to what they did in comparison to others, I wanted to be the reason kids felt valued for being themselves and doing their best.

Young ones often wanted to be immediately amazing at something they tried for the very first time. They would be hypercritical of themselves if they did not do as well as they expected. As a result, much of my planning involved cultivating a safe environment of effort over achievement. In order to do so, students used a variety of thinking routines and positive self-talk that focused on the individual (and how the individual impacted others). I wanted students to develop a growth mindset where how "good" they could be at something depended on their approach, their practice, and their reflection on the task. It was up to me, the teacher, to guide that reflection in a positive direction.

Sharing affirmations and mindful moments with my students compelled me to pour two spoons: one for them, one for me. I needed to model the behavior I expected to see from students if I expected it to work. In my desire to be authentic, it needed a dose of my own affirming medicine. I did not realize how challenging that would be. The softness and compassion I could offer my students rarely extended to me. I have been conditioned to believe that I can endure anything at all costs. I'm black. I'm a woman. Simply put: I believed I could take it because I was strong. I conditioned myself to be outwardly unbreakable while inwardly grumbling and crumbling. 

Ironically, having a warped growth mindset in different areas of my life wired me to examine every failure and pick apart every detail with the intention to “learn“ from it. The feedback loop and hyper-analysis produced a pattern where I would pound myself into the earth under the guise of “what did you learn?” 

The day I announced the Move with Mercii site was a purposeful day. I set out to hold myself accountable and support myself. I did a thing I needed to do. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Halfway through the day, headaches and dizziness wore me down - remnants of my recent head injury. I could do no things. Very bad. My enthusiasm dipped and my mood plummeted as the day continued.

After I nearly blacked out, I paused and propped up against a wall. My friend saw me and helped me: quickly, calmly, and kindly. No judgments. No questions asked. Just presence and support. Meanwhile, I judged and questioned EVERYTHING. I picked apart every decision I made or failed to make that day that would cause that biological response. I made my self feel inadequate despite much of it being beyond my control. To make matters worse, I began to feel bad that I failed to be gentle with me as my friend demonstrated.

While I coped with the physical, the mental and emotional pain slipped into view. A week of big losses overshadowed the joy I felt earlier in the day and I retreated inward. When I could no longer contain my bubbling disappointment in myself, I decided to go to bed early that day. Retreat to the quiet.   

Retreats remind me of warriors overrun by opposing forces. For some, shame and regret rue the day they fought and lost. Others savor the opportunity to withdraw from battle, living to fight another day. 

I get that "fight another day" part several days later. That day, I felt like I had lost. What? I don't know.

Ego fixates on the loss and disappointment. It blinded me to the very obvious truth that without a retreat, the collateral damage would be greater. Adrenaline and anxiety masked as productivity overruled basic needs like rest and appetite. I had not slept for more than three hours over the course of two days prior. My body sent very clear signs that day that I needed to stop fighting it and just let it be. So I did.

Retreat reminded me that grace is available — Coffee Quest: 2020 documented that. It is a key ingredient in the recipe for gentleness with self. I have the inward ingredients for this recipe and it is difficult to notice them when I push too hard.

There is no "snapping out of it" or spiritual bypassing of those hard feelings. Quite the opposite. Hard things are hard. Mindfulness acknowledges whatever hard experiences, thoughts, or past traumas in view. Gentleness blocks critique in order to help me take notice of the softer sensations that accompany them:

I am not OK and that is OK in this moment.

I am allowed to feel, in this moment, however I choose to feel. 

This moment is just that: a moment.

Let it be.

Let it pass.

Gentleness is an art. It befriends the body and mind. It nurtures an environment of both compassionate discipline and reconciliation when expectations collide with reality. Gentleness is wise enough to provide space for retreat from the unexpected battles with unidentified opponents. Rather than pushing emotional boundaries (or physical ones in the case of Ustrasana or nearly blacking out), I honor my experience. Let it be. Let it pass.

Though I have the power to demonstrate supernatural strength in adverse circumstances, I require gentleness to sustain from day to day in a world in which I was never meant to survive. As a black woman, caring for myself with softness is an act of revolution. As Audre Lorde once stated, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” Life requires that same balance of firmness in belief and softness with self. I can be firm and uphold boundaries. I can be gentle with myself as I move through this world.

Four simple words of revolution and reflection: Be gentle with yourself.