(gentle music)
(audience applause)
- Six years ago, someone I knew very well
was diagnosed with renal cell carcinoma, kidney cancer.
I want to emphasize that I used to know this person,
and in retrospect, he seems like a distant memory now.
In fact in this very moment, I have forgotten his name.
When he was first diagnosed, I minimized him,
his experience, and the cancer as a whole.
I told him that everything would be fine,
and not make a big deal of it.
Several weeks later, he went through a surgical procedure
and started radiation.
I told him to not sit in self-pity,
but to get out of bed and go to class and work.
I told him that life is not going to slow down just for him,
but over the next several years, his cancer got worse.
It spread to other organs and to his spinal cord.
The cancer attacking his spinal cord
created neurological difficulties
that impacted his motor skills.
And on one occasion, we were at an event
with hundreds of other people around
when his legs lost sensation,
and he fell down a flight of concrete stairs.
I was incredibly embarrassed.
I told him that he was bringing
a lot of attention to himself,
and that everyone was looking at us.
I forced him to get up, right then and there,
and I continued to push him beyond his limits.
Still, with all this said, he is someone I have forgotten.
As he underwent chemotherapy, radiation and immunotherapy,
he continued to get sicker and sicker,
and after a while it took a toll on his appearance.
I told him he looked disgusting, weak, and emaciated,
and I was constantly reminding him
that he didn't look like the person I knew before cancer.
I mean, how was anyone supposed to take him seriously
or even find him attractive?
Then the day came when the doctors told him he was terminal.
He received a tremendous amount of support
from his friends, family, healthcare providers,
and even at times, random strangers.
But I interpret it as pity,
and told him he would get none from me.
Now for a positive piece to his story.
In December of 2013, he qualified for an experimental
and vary invasive surgery.
The surgery ended up saving his life,
and in that moment I told him to be grateful,
but that celebrating his accomplishments
seemed self-serving.
And over the years since learning of his remission,
I still wonder, was there more I could have done for him?
Could I have said things differently?
Could I have been more compassionate?
I understand that those are self-reflecting questions,
and I'm sure everyone in this room
would unanimously agree by answering yes to those questions.
You would probably agree that I'm a terrible human being,
but actually, in telling you parts
of his experience with battling cancer,
I have remembered his name.
It's Kasey Catlett, me.
So why do I share this internal struggle with you?
Well let's talk about compassion, but let's get specific.
Let's talk about the one we forget.
Let's talk about self-compassion.
Oftentimes, when we experience trauma,
whether it is from a specific incident
or for those who identify within marginalized communities
continuously existing in trauma,
we become unforgiving and incredibly unkind to ourselves.
Internalized shame, regret, blame
cultivate inside our bodies, minds, and hearts.
We diminish our experiences, and who we are as individuals.
We lose ourselves and forget how powerful
and important we are.
We've all heard the sayings, we are our harshed critics,
and we are our own worst enemies.
However, being self-critical is not an innate characteristic
as we are programmed to be critical
by systems, communities and individuals in our lives.
A quote from an unknown author states,
"In a society that profits from your self-doubt,
"liking yourself is a rebellious act."
As you leave here today, reflect on that statement.
When you're navigating life,
take notice of the obvious and not so obvious messages
you see and hear that see the toxicity in your souls.
Take notice by which vessels expose you
to such toxic rhetoric and experiences.
Knowing when and where they come from
moves the awareness from the external to the internal.
So I feel like I should leave you with a solution,
but unfortunately I don't have one.
Solutions for working through trauma aren't cookie-cutter,
but there are three things that
I have learned over the years that have helped me
maneuver through self-compassion.
This is what I believe.
Number one, trauma is like a roller coaster.
There are days when you feel like you've got it all together
and under control,
but then the next day getting out of bed seems impossible.
Allow yourself to fall apart. Be emotional.
Get upset, sad, and pissed. Scream if you need it.
Punch a pillow, just not people or walls.
Don't put so much pressure on yourself to be okay.
This is your timeline, and not someone else's.
Be kind to yourself.
Number two.
It is easier to advocate for others that it is for self.
See yourself as a person who deserves
to be loved and supported.
Treat yourself as you would treat a friend
who is struggling.
Be kind to yourself.
Number three. It takes practice.
I could give you all the answers for self-compassion,
but you're not going to be experts in a day.
You must always practice self-compassion
and whatever methods work best for you.
Don't lose sight of who you are from the inside out.
Be kind to yourself.
Now there is something we can all do together right now.
We can embrace the one we forget.
So this is what I want you to do.
I want everyone to wrap your arms around yourself
and squeeze.
Hold that squeeze.
Take deep breath, in and out.
Be kind to yourself.
Thank you.
(audience applause)
Không có nhận xét nào:
Đăng nhận xét