You Are Not Your Thoughts

Today's Gentle Reminder

Speak to yourself with the same kindness, grace, and compassion you so freely give to the people you love.

One of the most transformative things I have learned throughout my own healing is that we are not our thoughts.

We are the observer of them.

I first began truly understanding this concept when I read The Inner Work, a book that had a profound impact on my personal healing. It introduced me to the idea that just because a thought enters my mind doesn't mean I have to accept it as truth.

That realization changed so much for me.

Because for most of my life, I did exactly that.

I absorbed my thoughts as truth without ever stopping to ask where they came from, why I believed them, or whether they were actually true at all.

One of those thoughts was that if I wasn't actively and physically doing something, I wasn't being productive.

And if I wasn't being productive, I wasn't doing enough.

For a very long time, rest was difficult for me.

I could be exhausted and still feel guilty for sitting down. I could know that my body needed a break while another voice in my head told me I should be doing something.

There was always something else that could be cleaned.

Something else that could be accomplished.

Someone else I could help.

Something else I could do for my business.

Rest felt uncomfortable because somewhere along the way, I had connected my worth to what I could give, accomplish, and produce.

And I don't think that belief came from one particular moment.

I think I learned it slowly, over the course of my life.

Growing up, I didn't always feel as though being exactly who I was was enough to make me worthy of love. Love often felt connected to what I could do, what I could give, or how I could be there for other people.

Then I became a mother.

And mothers receive plenty of messages about how much we're supposed to carry.

Keep going.

Take care of everyone.

Do what needs to be done.

Push through.

Then came years of entrepreneurship and online businesses, where the message often sounded a little different but carried the same meaning.

Post more.

Message more.

Sell more.

Work harder.

Stay consistent.

Don't fall behind.

Different seasons of my life kept reinforcing the same underlying belief:

Do more to be enough.

And eventually, what began as messages coming from the world around me became the way I spoke to myself.

You're not doing enough.

You should be doing more.

You're falling behind.

And underneath all of them:

You aren't enough.

But when I began learning that I could observe my thoughts instead of automatically believing them, I also began learning that I could question them.

I could stop.

Pause.

Look at the thought instead of becoming the thought.

And one of the simplest ways I learned to do that was by asking myself how I would respond if the person having that thought were someone I loved.

If my husband came to me and said, "I'm exhausted," would I tell him he needed to accomplish more before he deserved to rest?

Of course not.

If one of my children told me they were overwhelmed and needed a break, would I think less of them?

Never.

My instinct would be compassion.

You're tired. Rest.

It's okay.

Your body needs this.

You don't have to earn it.

And eventually I had to ask myself:

If I can give that kind of love, grace, and compassion so freely to the people I love, why am I withholding it from myself?

The compassion was already there.

I simply had to learn that I was allowed to be a recipient of it, too.

That changed the way I began responding to my own thoughts.

When my mind said:

You're being lazy.

I could answer:

I know where that thought comes from, but I don't have to believe it.

When it said:

You should be doing more.

I could answer:

My body is asking me to rest.

When it said:

You're falling behind.

I could remind myself:

There is nowhere I need to race to.

And I think that's an important distinction.

Healing doesn't mean we reach some magical point where difficult thoughts never enter our minds again.

I still feel tired.

I still feel stressed.

I still feel frustrated.

But I am learning not to turn temporary experiences into identities.

Tired is something I feel. It isn't who I am.

Stressed is something I feel. It isn't who I am.

Frustrated is something I feel. It isn't who I am.

I can acknowledge those feelings without allowing them to define me.

And I can hear a thought without making it my truth.

The thought I'm not doing enough can exist without becoming I am not enough.

Because those are two very different things.

And the deeper truth I've learned is that my worth has absolutely nothing to do with what I produce.

It isn't measured by how much I accomplish in a day.

How many people I help.

How clean my house is.

How productive I am.

How much money I make.

Or how much of myself I give away.

I am worthy simply because I am.

And so are you.

So the next time you notice that voice telling you that you're lazy, behind, unproductive, too emotional, not doing enough—or simply not enough—maybe don't immediately believe it.

Pause.

Notice it.

Get curious about where it came from.

And then ask yourself:

If someone I deeply loved were speaking about themselves this way, what would I say to them?

Whatever your answer is, try offering some of that same kindness to yourself.

You deserve to receive the love you so freely give away.

Today's gentle reminder: Speak to yourself with the same kindness, grace, and compassion you so freely give to the people you love.