The Difficult Art of Self-Compassion

In the wake of the human kudzu incident, I find myself experiencing a lot of anger. Not the kind about someone who wronged me 20 years ago but I haven’t forgiven, nor the kind that lingers from the standard non-perfect childhood. Instead, it’s everyday work stuff that my personality blows out of proportion and makes a closet rager out of me.

Thankfully, I’m socialized enough and not quite 8-wing enough to outwardly express any of this ridiculous rage. But it’s here, and I feel it. And it’s kinda freaking me out. Makes me feel like a savage.

That’s partially true, actually. For all our enculturation, we humans still essentially operate according to the three dominant instincts: self-preservation, sexual and social. If one or more of these is threatened, look out. For me, my self-preservation instinct was threatened because my nest was invaded many days in a row, and though there was never an actual threat to my safety, my instinct interpreted it that way.

Then, because I said nothing and was a “nice person,” a lot of resentment built up. I let one person get away with everything (invade my territory), I hit my limit, and now the tables have turned. No more Mrs. Nice Lady; the gloves are off, and no one gets to take even one step past my emotional “Crime Scene: Do Not Enter” tape.

One of the wonderful things the Enneagram has taught me is to observe my personality in action and, as much as possible, not give in to my impulses. In the current situation, the impulse is to verbally eviscerate all trespassers. Even ones who haven’t done anything yet but just might. So, this is why I still have friends and have not been recommended for a psych eval or immediate and intensive anger management training.

Instead of acting on these anger impulses, I am able to observe this unwarranted anger and say, “Hmmm, isn’t this interesting? What is this about?” I can then remove myself from the emotions and begin to see what’s underneath. Turns out it’s a bunch of Self-Pres Seven junk that still needs undoing.

Meanwhile, my Inner Critic has been working hard to shame me (as I mentioned in my last post), telling me that good Christians don’t feel like this, that I should immediately stop feeling like this and so on.

But it’s so liberating to let my current version of me experience what I’m experiencing! What’s the point of pretending? Who am I fooling, after all? I know, and God knows. That Inner Critic does its best to keep us “in line” so that we follow the rules and remain “safe,” but it’s operating on false information. It has no understanding of the love or compassion of God.

On my way to work yesterday, I was ruminating on this issue, and it occurred to me that, though I may be terribly disappointed in my “self” and feel overwhelmed with my lameness, God has always seen all of it and has always nonetheless utterly loved me, without condition and without restraint. This reality is what truly enables self-compassion.

God sees you. He knows your journey. The Apostle Paul got it, and that’s why he wrote, “When I am weak, then I am strong” and “Where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more.” When we can get to a place of compassionate self-knowing, with curiosity and without judgement, there is God’s compassion, waiting for us. We remember afresh that we never earned God’s love; it was he who pursued us in our brokenheartedness. He knows we’re petty and territorial and angry and afraid, and there is room for all of it. We don’t need to lie or pretend or stuff down until we explode. We cannot be other than who we are in any given moment; we cannot “fix” ourselves. Our role is to do this work of self-uncovery every day and let that work and God’s spirit do the changing.

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