Survival When Your Brain Won’t Shut Up

Let me start with this: Self-compassion isn’t always a ridiculous word followed by an eye roll. 

Sometimes, it’s ugly crying in the shower whispering, “I can't do this anymore.” If you’re neurodivergent like me, you’ve probably run into this wall: 

1. your brain won’t turn off
2. your body is on alert and dull at the same time
3. your inner critic is louder than the dog barking at fireworks or thunder or a swift breeze passing by (shout out to Milo)

And then someone says, “Be kind to yourself,” and you want to launch a throw pillow (or a rock) across the room. Let’s demystify this. What Self-Compassion Actually Is (No Unicorns Needed) 

Kristen Neff gives us three pillars: 

• Self-kindness instead of self-judgment. Translation: Stop calling yourself lazy just because your energy fled the coop and you're doing your best to hold down the couch so it doesn't float away. 
• Common humanity instead of isolation. You’re not the only one whose executive functioning took the day off. Thinking was easy yesterday and now it's just gone. 
• Mindfulness instead of over-identifying. You are not your worst day. Or your meltdown. Or your missed deadline. 

It's not about bubble baths or motivational mugs. It’s about noticing what’s happening inside and offering yourself the same kindness you’d offer someone else you love. 

Why It’s So Damn Hard 

If you’re wired like I am, you’ve been told your whole life to “suck it up,” “why are you so emotional,” or “just get it together.” So yeah, offering yourself grace might feel foreign. Unsafe even. 

Here’s what gets in the way: 

• Rejection sensitivity: You replay that one awkward moment 53 times. You ruminate again and again on that one thing you said and how it was perceived. Maybe you said it yesterday and maybe it was 10 years ago. 
• Perfectionism: If it’s not amazing, you think it’s a failure. You get mad at yourself when you try something new and it's not perfect the first time around. 
• Internalized ableism: You hold yourself to neurotypical standards and feel shame when you fall short.
  But here’s the truth: your brain isn’t broken. It’s different. And different deserves compassion, not punishment.

What It Can Look Like (IRL, Not Instagram) 

• Saying out loud: “This is hard. I am allowed to struggle. I am not a failure.” 
• Letting yourself stop. Rest isn’t earned, it’s necessary. I deserve to rest. 
• Hand on heart. Breathe into your body, down to your lower abdomen, not just your brain. 
• Laughing at your inner critic. Gently. Like, “Oh hey, I see you, Brenda. Not today.” 

Small Things That Help Me 

I’m not here to fix you. I am certainly not qualified for that. I’m here to walk with you. 

Here’s what helps me re-center: 

• Guided meditations by Tara Brach (she speaks to the nervous system like a lullaby) 
• Reiki energy through my palms, just noticing and softening 
• Talking to myself in the second person (“You’re okay. You don’t have to solve this right now.”) 
• Rest. Not scrolling rest. Actual, close-your-eyes rest. The thoughts flow and I watch them pass me by like cars on the road. 

You Are Not a Project to Fix 

You don’t have to earn self-compassion. You just have to practice it. Even a little.

When therapists first asked if I had self-compassion, I said "yes" reflexively. It wasn't until the third or forth time that I realized I wasn't actually sure what it meant. Now, I move through a workbook - a page at a time. No rush. No pressure. 

Next week, we’ll talk about parenting while neurodivergent — because trying to hold space for others when your own cup is cracked? Whew. Been there.

But for now, just pause. 

You’re doing better than you think.