Softening

Making space for anger and compassion together

Found poem created from this post:

Neither silent or snarling

I've been modelling compassion outwardly 
while living with an often-present 
gnawing undercurrent
of resentment and fear. 

Since this morning something's shifted. 
I feel myself unfurling.

Young Swans by David Eustace

Today I feel myself softening.

Not because the world is less cruel – it isn’t – but because I’ve noticed how much rage and helplessness have been leaking into my closest relationships.

Yesterday evening my husband had an illumination about his own behaviour, and it made the space needed for me to see mine. I’ve been modelling compassion outwardly while living with an often-present gnawing undercurrent of resentment and fear – the kind that erodes self-trust and takes a physical toll. As I continue to recognise and soothe my over-activated threat system*, I’m seeing more clearly how an underlying hypervigilance and defensiveness shape my responses, often out of step with my values.

I’m tired. I’ve been craving solitude – autonomy of space and thought – and noticing how easily I override that need. My work centres compassion. Now I’m practising turning that lens inward – not to fix myself, but to stay with what’s actually happening.

I’m still in recovery from self-erasing people-pleasing, learning how it continues to shape my relationships – with others and with myself. I’ve been asserting boundaries more firmly, often feeling righteously angry. And despite being fluent in relational and non-violent communication, I can hear now how resentment and desperation sometimes marinate my words. I see the difference between holding boundaries and exerting them – between being internally rooted and becoming reactive, scrappy, cornered. I want to be neither silent nor snarling, but steady enough to stay present.

I want to be clear: I’m still angry.

I’m angry at the men – and women – who subjugate and rape on this small planet, stripping others of agency, selfhood and shared resources. I’m angry at patriarchal, colonial cultures and the systems that quietly enable harm while protecting the most powerful and shaming those who speak. And I’m angry at myself – at the parts of me I allowed to be silenced, and at the belief that adding my voice would be meaningless, or would simply make me ill and under fire again.

What’s shifting – at least today – is my relationship with all of that anger. Its intensity is still building, but it’s no longer destabilising me. I feel self-centred – not shut down, not raging – but present. Less shackled by fear. Less driven by the need to anticipate harm, manage others, or silence myself.

The boundaries I speak about in my work, I’m practising holding rather than performing, and I’m noticing how this is softening my personal relationships too. I feel myself unfurling, reconnecting with my partner with more generosity and nuance – and through modelling that self-integration is messy and ongoing, not a destination, my clients have told me it makes them feel safer to accept their own.

This shift shaped today’s Compassion Circle. In a challenging seasonal and political moment, I’m responding to a need I recognise in myself and others: for softness without collapse, for self-nurture that isn’t escapism. That includes making myself my own client – marking time and space to explore my voice on the page, to maintain internal coherence not as an achievement, but as a practice.

---

*When I refer to an over-activated threat system, I'm drawing on Compassion Focused Therapy (Paul Gilbert). For those who like visual representations, I've included the image I created below:

Further References:

Gilbert, P. (2013) The Compassionate Mind: A New Approach to Life Challenges. 3^rd edn. London: Robinson.

A short YouTube video explaining the framework.