It’s not lost on me how easy it is to offer kindness to others and not as simple to offer it to myself. In fact, being kind to myself can be an anathema for me. The compassion I hold for others does not it seems, apply to myself. I believe this is not unusual for folks who struggle with depression and in my case, self-cruelty and unkindness are the features of my constant depressive rumination.

I wrote yesterday how receiving unconditional kindness from so many people is invaluable for my recovery. This is because these acts of compassion become models for me to emulate with regard to caring for myself. Implementing this awareness is a huge challenge for me, particularly because I’m so heavily self-critical. My wife Karen with her custom loving tolerance will often challenge my many self-defeating outbursts by asking, “Would you say that to someone else?”

Invariably my reply is, “No I wouldn’t… but then that’s different.” There is of course no difference. Why is it OK for me to severely cuss my self when I wouldn’t do the same to anyone else?

I believe for me the key lies in acceptance. This is not an acceptance for who I am at a deeper existential level, but an acceptance of my depression as an illness. After a period of sound mental health and when my mood is beginning to slip towards a depressive episode, I will almost deny that this is occurring and there is a possibility I may become ill again. I avoid acknowledging my deepening gloom and instead push myself harder to effect an outward sense of indomitableness. I make plans for greater adventures and live my life at a an aspirational pace I’m unable to match. I simply don’t entertain the possibility of another bout of depressive frailty. Indeed, when I do begin to realise my mood is deepening I disavow depression as the cause. I attribute this to a weakness within me and so begins my cyclical struggle with severe self-criticism.

It was only during my last hospital admission last year, I realised (with considerable excitement) that my depression is an illness and importantly, I am not my depression. Understanding this has been crucial in my ability to accept I am liable to repeated depressive episodes when I may become ill again. After all, my prognosis is ‘treatment resistant depression’. If and when these may occur I am hopeful I will embody this knowledge soon enough for me to access the element of self-compassion so crucial to my recovery process.

The moment I begin to ease up on myself and offer self-kindness, my road out of my depression will be so much less painful and easier.