Sometimes Self-Compassion Looks Like a Mama Bear
Note from Jamie
Art by Alicia Pond Watercolour
I like to share things that light me up, fill me with joy, and make my life easier. Nothing is sponsored. These are just things that are helping me along my journey.
Sometimes Self-Compassion Looks Like a Mama Bear
A few weeks ago, I was at a makers market sitting next to a watercolor artist.
She had a beautiful painting of a bear, and I couldn't stop looking at it. (I bought it and it's featured above.)
It made me think about something I've been exploring lately: fierce self-compassion.
We often think of self-compassion as gentle.
Giving ourselves grace. Speaking kindly to ourselves. Resting when we're tired. Reminding ourselves that we're human.
And yes. Absolutely.
But there's another side of self-compassion, too.
The side that says, No. This isn't okay with me.
The side that protects what matters.
The side that sets a boundary, walks away, says no, asks for what she needs, or stops pouring energy into something that continually takes more than it gives.
The side that feels a little like a Mama Bear.
I've been practicing this lately.
And I'll be honest: sometimes I've been really good at practicing it. 😂
I've felt the anger. I've wanted to call things out. I've wanted to make sure people know when something isn't okay.
But recently, I had a quiet little reminder:
Being fierce doesn't mean fighting every battle.
Standing up for myself doesn't mean I have to become hard.
And protecting my peace doesn't mean I have to stop being kind.
Maybe the goal isn't to become a fiercer person.
Maybe the goal is to become more discerning about where my fierceness belongs.
That thought became even more interesting when I learned about something called abscission.
It's a process that happens in trees as they prepare for winter.
In the fall, trees begin conserving their energy. They stop sending as much water and nutrition to their leaves and form a protective layer that eventually allows the leaves to separate from the tree.
The tree lets go.
Not because the leaf is bad.
Not because the tree failed.
Not because the tree is angry.
Because continuing to pour energy into that leaf is no longer what serves the tree.
The tree shares its abundance until doing so would hurt it.
Read that again.
I think there's something deeply wise about that.
We can be generous without giving everything away.
We can be loving without being endlessly accommodating.
We can be kind without allowing our kindness to be taken advantage of.
And we can let something go without deciding that it—or the person connected to it—is bad.
Sometimes, we simply recognize:
This no longer works for me.
That's not selfish.
That's self-awareness.
That's a boundary.
That's self-compassion, too.
I've been asking myself some different questions lately:
What works for me?
What no longer serves me?
Where am I giving because I genuinely want to—and where am I giving because I'm afraid of disappointing someone?
What am I trying to fix that isn't actually mine to fix?
And maybe most importantly:
Where could I protect my energy without hardening my heart?
I love that nature doesn't make this complicated.
The tree doesn't hold onto every leaf because it feels guilty.
It doesn't apologize for needing its resources.
It doesn't wonder whether letting go makes it a bad tree.
It simply responds to the season.
And maybe that's part of what we're being invited to do, too.
There are seasons for giving.
Seasons for growing.
Seasons for stretching.
And seasons for letting go.
So I'm practicing a different kind of Mama Bear energy these days.
Not the Mama Bear who is ready to fight everyone who gets too close.
The Mama Bear who knows what she's protecting.
Her peace.
Her energy.
Her values.
Her time.
Her heart.
And her knowing that she is worthy of care, too.
Because fierce self-compassion isn't about becoming less kind.
It's about remembering that you matter in the equation.
And sometimes the most loving thing you can do—for yourself and for everyone around you—is to stop forcing something to work, gently close the door, and let your energy return to where it can grow.
Maybe that's what the trees are doing right now.
Maybe that's what I'm doing, too.
And maybe it's okay if you are, too.
xoxo,
Jamie
Inspiration
Recipe of the Week
One-Pot White Bean Pasta Puttanesca
Scott, Emma, and I loved this one! This one-pot pasta is rich, velvety, and packed with bold flavor from the classic puttanesca trifecta: anchovies, Kalamata olives, and capers.
Don’t be afraid of the anchovies—they melt right into the sauce and add a delicious savory depth without making it taste fishy.
Plus, the white beans, bone broth, and protein pasta give this cozy dish a nice protein boost!
Live well. Be kind.
Jamie
