I Thought Being Hard on Myself Was Helping — A Different Way of Self-Compassion

You might recognize this.

Or maybe you’ve lived it for a long time without realizing it.

I thought being hard on myself was what moved me forward.

And for a long time, it worked.

It’s what I learned. It’s what I saw.

The bar kept rising—higher and higher.

Expecting more. Doing more. Pushing more.

And I did.

Push. Push. Push.

Always reaching for the next thing—

without ever really acknowledging what had already been done.

It felt like forward movement.

But it wasn’t what was happening.

It wasn’t moving me forward. It was a way of leaving myself.

Not loudly.

Quietly. Automatically.

It showed up in small, familiar ways.

The tone I used with myself when something didn’t go right.

The pressure to do more, be more, fix it faster.

The way I moved past my own needs without even noticing.

It didn’t feel like leaving.

It just felt like normal.

That’s the part that’s hardest to see—

when something has been your default for so long, it doesn’t stand out.

It blends in.

This week, I’ve been noticing it more.

Not trying to change it right away.

Not trying to get it right.

Just noticing the moment it happens.

The shift in tone.

The tightening.

The move away from myself.

And something else has been showing up alongside it.

A different kind of response.

Not letting myself off the hook.

Not ignoring what needs to be done.

But staying.

Staying when I want to turn on myself.

Staying when the pressure starts to build.

Staying without adding more on top.

Self-compassion, for me, isn’t about being soft or letting things slide.

It’s about not leaving.

Not in the big, dramatic moments—

but in the small, everyday ones.

The ones that used to pass without me even noticing.

This week, I’m sitting with that.

Noticing where I become hard on myself.

And what it looks like to stay instead.

Messy. Bumpy. Possible- Leigh