Oh, how I wish self compassion wasn’t so hard for me. It’s like my brain purposely goes against it. It doesn’t come natural. There’s a part of me that tends to speak in a compassionate way yet she gets knocked down repeatedly. Kind words spoken to self makes the demon mad.
When things are quiet in my mind and I sense safety in my body my thoughts are more productive, kinder towards myself, hopeful, truthful, encouraging, calming … they’re healthy. But more often than not my system is fired up. I yearn to feel safety but it’s a very rare thing for me.
I try and make the best of what I have. But the slightest little thing pushes me into high alert and my system begins firing threat signals. A sound, a smell, a cell phone notification, a car door, a movement, a bodily sensation … these things all crush my sense of safety and my body takes over. My heart rate shoots up, trembling overwhelms my body, sleeplessness haunts me at night and exhaustion plagues me by day.
I want solitude. I want healing. But it’s so far out of reach that it’s a waste of time to even try.
Yet … that still, small voice whispers, hold on.
Her Complex Musings 
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