Understanding Pain: Offering Kindness To Yourself

Continuing a gentle look at pain and the body, asking how to offer kindness when that is often not even considered. A reminder that kindness is offered voluntarily and easily to those we love, not so often to ourselves, and the challenge to nurture self-love. With softening the breath, allowing the body and mind to begin to let go of the harshness of pain, listening to pain, not seeing it as something to be fixed. The message of pain, whether we are aware of it or not.

This is the third talk in the ongoing look at pain and learning how to live with it using and developing self-compassion and self-awareness. And kindness.

Transcript

Welcome. Sheila starred here again, Inviting you to take a few moments to settle into a comfortable position, One that allows your body to be supported as much as it can be right now. There's nowhere you need to get to, Nothing to achieve, Nothing to fix, Simply allowing yourself these few moments. Allow your eyes to close if that feels comfortable or soften your gaze. And begin by noticing your breathing. Not changing it, Simply noticing. The gentle rise. The gentle fall. Your breath has been with you throughout every moment of your life, Quietly supporting you, Never asking anything in return. Just notice that for a few moments. Now gently become aware of wherever pain is present today. There's no need to search for it, No need to make it bigger. Simply allowing yourself to acknowledge what is already here. Perhaps its physical pain. Perhaps emotional pain. Perhaps both. However it appears today. Simply noticing. Without judgment. Without needing it to be different. Just this moment of recognition. I see you. For many of us, Pain has become something to battle. Something to push away, Something to resent. Something to endure. Perhaps you've spent years trying to ignore it. Trying to overcome it. Feeling frustrated with it. Or even feeling frustrated with yourself because it's here. Perhaps trying to placate it or cover it up, Ignore it. Many of us have never been shown another way. It may never have occurred to us that pain is something we can gently acknowledge. Not because we like it, Not because we want it. But because it is already here. And perhaps that changes something. So today I'd like to offer you a gentle question. A question with no right answer. Simply one to become curious about. What might I offer myself in this moment? That I have never thought to offer before. Take your time. There's no hurry. Perhaps nothing comes immediately. That's perfectly all right. Just allowing the question to rest gently inside you. What might I offer myself? Perhaps what arises is kindness. Perhaps patience. Perhaps permission to rest. Permission to stop fighting for a few moments. Perhaps your body simply longs to hear, It's all right, I'm here. Imagine offering yourself the same kindness you would naturally offer someone you deeply love. If someone you cared about was sitting beside you in pain, You would probably not criticize them. You would not tell them to hurry up. You would not become impatient with them. You would simply sit beside them, Quietly. Gently. Perhaps you would place a comforting hand on theirs. Perhaps you would simply stay. Can you offer even a small part of that same kindness to yourself? And you may notice resistance. That's completely understandable. Many of us have learned to be compassionate towards everyone except ourselves. Self-kindness can feel unfamiliar, Even uncomfortable. That's alright too. You don't have to force it, Simply noticing that this is new, That perhaps this has never been offered before. And today you are simply opening the door a tiny little way. You might imagine your breath becoming softer. Not deeper unless it wishes to, Simply softer, Gentler. Almost as though each breath is wrapping around the places that hurt. Not taking the pain away, Simply saying, I haven't forgotten you. I'm here. Sometimes we cannot soften the pain itself. Sometimes it remains exactly as it is. But perhaps we can soften around it. Soften the breath. Soften the shoulders. Soften the jaw. Soften the thoughts that continually tell us we should be somewhere else. Sometimes this is enough. Not because everything changes. But because something inside us begins to stop struggling. Notice if there is one place in your body that feels even slightly easier than the place that hurts. Perhaps your hands, Your feet, Your face, Your breathing. Simply allowing your awareness to include that place as well. Pain does not have to become your entire landscape. It can simply be one part of your experience. And there may also be places of ease. Places of quiet, Places of softness. Allowing your awareness to become a little wider. And as you continue your breathing Notice whether your nervous system is beginning to recognize something. Not that the pain has disappeared, But that in this moment you are safe, You are here, You are listening, You are not abandoning yourself. There is something profoundly calming about that. The body often responds when it feels accompanied rather than fought. The mind becomes quieter. The breath steadies, The spirit begins to rest. Perhaps this is where acceptance quietly begins. Not giving up, Not surrendering your hope. Simply letting go of struggling against this moment. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to be here. Acceptance often arrives in very small ways. One breath. One gentle thought. One kind moment. Perhaps those moments matter more than we realise. If you notice even the smallest softening today, Perhaps your shoulders have lowered. Perhaps your breathing feels quieter. Perhaps your mind has become a little less busy. Allow yourself to recognize that. Not because it is something to achieve. But because your body has noticed. Your nervous system has noticed. You have offered yourself something new. That is worth acknowledging. Perhaps even quietly celebrating, Not with excitement. But with gratitude. A gentle whisper to yourself. I did something different today. I stayed with myself. I offered myself kindness. And perhaps that is enough for today. Thus this little meditation begins to come to an end. Slowly become aware once again of the surface supporting you. The bed you're lying on or the seat you're sitting in, Wherever you are, Notice the room around you. The sounds nearby. The rhythm of your breathing. Take one final gentle breath. And as you continue with the rest of your day or night See if you can carry just one small act of kindness towards yourself. Nothing grand. Nothing complicated. Just one gentle reminder that you deserve the same care you so often offer others. Thank you for spending this time with us. With yourself today. May you leave feeling just a little more supported. A little more held. And a little more at peace. We'll see each other again soon. Thank you for being here.