I felt sick.
That doesn’t happen often to me, and certainly not to the point of missing work or cancelling commitments. But the reality remained: I did not feel well. I didn’t want to move far from the couch or the nearest bathroom. Even the slightest effort seemed insurmountable.
And do you know what my first thought was?
Denial.
I am not that sick. It really isn’t that bad. “You just need to get up and move around a bit,” I told myself. “Focusing on it is probably making it worse than it really is.” I dismissed my own experience, brushing aside how I was feeling.
Then, anger arrived.
I blamed myself for whatever choices I believed had led me here. The anger turned inward and became self-condemning. If you had done things differently, you wouldn’t be in this situation. There was no grace, only blame.
What struck me later was this: I would never treat another person this way.
When my kids or loved ones have been sick over the years, I met them with tenderness and compassion. I offered soothing remedies, comforting words, and patient care. I never questioned whether their sickness was real. I’ve never raged at them for feeling unwell. My focus has always been on loving them.
Yet none of that love was extended to myself.
As denial and anger slowly ebbed, the “shoulds” began to crash upon me like wave after wave. It was a beautiful day outside, and I should be enjoying it. I should be getting things done. Surely, I needed to be more productive rather than lying on the couch.
I admit it’s a little embarrassing to share such an unflattering look at my inner reactions. Recently, I listened to a man who had lost his left arm and leg in an accident speak about gratitude and maintaining a positive attitude. In the face of a devastating, life-altering injury he managed to find humor and to look for the opportunities.
Meanwhile, In the midst of my wimpy winter illness, I struggled to muster anything close to that response.
And so the vicious cycle continued–self-criticism. I realized how deeply ingrained this habit is. I am far more comfortable being hard on myself than allowing space for imperfection. I rarely permit myself anything short of what I define as “doing it right.”
But life isn’t made up solely of perfect moments.
It includes sickness, struggle, disappointment, and days that don’t go as planned. Often, it’s the moments of greatest adversity that teach us the most. Struggle stretches us. Pressure builds strength. Growth is born in places we would never willingly choose.
I’m learning that embracing those moments with gratitude when I can, and grace when I can’t, changes everything. And I’m learning that it’s okay if my first reaction isn’t the best one. I can pause. I can course-correct and try again.
There is an opportunity for self-compassion in that, too.