Self-Compassion in Everyday Life – When the Feeling Won’t Arrive

There’s something different about Christmas this year. The feeling doesn’t seem to come, as if the air stands still between then and now.
Still, I try to meet each day with self-compassion in everyday life — among gift bags, the empty beds in the motorhome, and the unexpected warmth inside the greenhouse.

Read this post in Swedish ->Självmedkänsla i vardagen – när julkänslan inte vill infinna sig

A Christmas Without Feeling – and the Longing That Lives in Between

This year, it’s hard to wrap the Christmas gifts.
There’s no feeling in it, not yet. I don’t quite know why.
Maybe it’s the uncertainty — how the gifts will be received, or if they’ll even be opened anywhere near us.

We don’t really know how to deliver them to our little grandchildren — those small hands I long for but am not allowed to hold.
Still, I’ve started. In the living room, bags stand neatly sorted — those to be opened here, and those meant for our son and his family.

It’s everyday life and sorrow in the same breath. And yet, in the middle of it all, I try to live with self-compassion in everyday life — to let myself feel, but not to get stuck there.

When We Fall – but Rise Together with Self-Compassion

Sometimes both my husband and I fall into our low moments.
Yesterday, I stood by the kitchen sink and words just came out. I said something about the situation, and he looked up and told me he’d been thinking about the exact same thing.

It struck me how alike our thoughts are, even when we don’t speak them aloud.
The situation hurts him just as much as it hurts me.
And still — life goes on. Even if a piece of the puzzle is missing, the rest of it keeps moving.

Maybe this is where self-compassion in everyday life begins — in the ability to acknowledge the sorrow but still hold on to life.

When the Motorhome Sleeps and the Greenhouse Whispers of Spring

Yesterday we drove to town to buy moisture absorbers for the motorhome.
The season is over now.
LVL² stands still and rests — emptied, cleaned, and stripped of all that belongs to summer.
The beds are bare, the mattresses waiting for the next spring.

No food, no spices, no clothes. The electronics unplugged.
My husband brought in the lawn mower and arranged everything neatly in the cellar.
It feels like a closing of the season — a quiet goodbye to months that gave us so much.

When I passed the greenhouse today, I couldn’t resist looking inside.
The pots, small jars, and tools were still there — silent witnesses from summer.
The thermometer showed thirty degrees.
Imagine — the sun warming that little house to such heat, when it’s only ten or fifteen degrees outside.

Self-compassion in everyday life – the newly built greenhouse waiting quietly for its first spring

Just like the greenhouse waits for its first spring, I try to let self-compassion in everyday life take root and grow — right here, in what is.

It feels hopeful, a reminder that life is always waiting, ready to begin again.

Self-Compassion in Everyday Life – Reading Myself Through Books

So, welcome autumn and winter.
We’re ready for your arrival — in nature, in everyday life, and in our own thoughts.

I keep studying here at home, and right now I’m reading Compassion-Focused Therapy by Christina Andersson and Sofia Viotti. A book that speaks deeply to me.

It’s about:

The three emotional systems — safety, drive, and threat.
Self-compassion as a skill — being warm and supportive to oneself instead of judgmental.
Shame and self-criticism — how they affect both the nervous system and our relationships.
Practical exercises — breathing, visualization, compassion meditations, and body awareness.
The therapist’s own mindset — being grounded in compassion to be able to share it with others.

External link: Read more about Compassion-Focused Therapy at Natur & Kultur

I love this kind of reading. Right now, I’m not reading it as a textbook — but as a novel. I let the words sink in, as if they were conversations between me and life itself.
Next time I open it, the pen will be ready — to underline, reflect, and return to the sentences that stick.

When Conversations Become Paths – An Invitation to Self-Compassion

But I’ve realized it’s hard to learn these things entirely from a distance.
I need encounters — real conversations, real people.
My husband isn’t exactly eager to act as my client, and I understand that.

So, I posted a question on Facebook — asking if anyone wanted to help me.
Some have already reached out, but I could use a few more.

Maybe you feel like you’re carrying something that could use a little light — a thought, a feeling, a worry.
If you’d like to help me in my training and at the same time have a space where you’re truly listened to — send me an email.

The conversations can take place in person, by phone, on Teams, or any other platform — we’ll find what feels best for you.
Of course, the sessions are free during my training, and most of the time it takes more than one meeting for something to settle and change.

Läs också: Sorgen om mamma hittade fram på ett konstigt sätt only on swedish.

Reflection – On Self-Compassion in Everyday Life, Stillness, and Warmth

Maybe all of this is about life standing in between — between what has been and what’s yet to come.
But even in between, warmth can be found.
In the sun-warmed glass of the greenhouse, in a book that stirs thought, in a conversation where someone truly listens.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s where self-compassion in everyday life lives — in the quiet space between breaths.