This article is part of a yearly series I began some years ago to explore inner well-being and the subtle, intangible burdens that can weigh us down. For past pieces in the series, see the list at the end.
When I scheduled this piece months ago, I had no idea how much I would need the reminder myself. Lately I’ve been in a season that requires daily, intentional practice of self-grace.
Grace’s adjectival cousin, “gracious,” evokes for me a calm, unflappable presence that meets life with kindness and compassion. That is the kind of grace I’m talking about—treating ourselves with courtesy, thoughtfulness, generosity, and compassion.
Recently I had surgery for a melanoma on my leg. (A brief PSA: if you once thought SPF 4 tanning oil was protection, consider getting a skin check.) My daughter suffered a concussion at wrestling practice. My son is applying to colleges—my third straight year helping with applications—and that process drains me more than I expected. I’ve been shuttling between doctors, trying to rest as instructed, and assisting my son with essays he dreads writing. On top of all that, our washing machine is failing.
So here I am, leg elevated, counting stitches (22), asking myself: what does giving myself grace look like right now?
Giving ourselves grace means admitting we can’t do everything
This sounds like a lesson a three-year-old should learn, yet decades later I still have to remind myself. Even without an outburst, there’s an internal tug-of-war. The truth is I won’t be able to do everything I want: time, energy, and pain tolerance run out. If I focus on what I didn’t finish, I’ll be left with dissatisfaction instead of recognizing what I did accomplish.
I’m learning to manage expectations before I start a day—thinking realistically about what I can accomplish, prioritizing, and avoiding the frantic attempt to shoulder an unreasonable load. I’m not perfect at this; it’s an ongoing practice.
A big part of that work is understanding time better. I habitually overestimate what fits into an hour—my colleague calls it believing in “magic time.” Friends joke about seeing five minutes and planning to “make apple butter.” To give myself grace I’m practicing patience: learning how long tasks actually take, planning more realistically, and building small buffers into my day. That margin brings calm and allows me to enjoy what I accomplish instead of lamenting what I didn’t.
Giving ourselves grace means celebrating progress
Grace sometimes looks like acknowledging, “This isn’t perfect, but I’ve made progress.” Whether it’s work, relationships, personal habits, or tonight’s dinner, berating ourselves doesn’t change our situation. Celebrate how far you’ve come, the direction you’re moving, and the obstacles you’ve overcome, then take the next step forward.
Perfection isn’t required for goodness. There are areas in life where “good enough” is actually best. For instance, while I write often about home care, constantly pursuing a perfectly clean, organized, and decorated home would harm my relationships and well-being. My standard is healthy, workable, and welcoming—good enough.
Years ago a mothers’ group I belonged to gave out pins that read “SDWSC”—She did what she could. It’s a helpful reminder: we can’t do everything, but we can do something. Don’t let what you can’t do stop you from doing what you can.
Giving ourselves grace sometimes means “grace” is spelled “h-e-l-p”
One wise book I return to is The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy. When the boy asks the horse what the bravest thing he’s ever said was, the horse replies, “Help.” Asking for help is often the bravest and wisest move.
There’s no virtue in suffering alone when help is available—it’s simply inefficient and harder than necessary. Help may arrive in unexpected forms. There’s an old parable about a man who prays for rescue during a flood but refuses assistance from a truck, a boat, and a helicopter, expecting divine intervention to look different. When he dies and confronts God, God replies that help had come in those forms. The point isn’t to argue theology but to notice that help can show up in ways we don’t expect.
For me, a personal example was resisting a friend who offered to help with my work. I had prayed for help but hesitated at the idea of friends becoming colleagues—I didn’t want anyone seeing my mess. Eventually I accepted the help, and my friend now runs much of the operation, freeing me to focus on writing. Asking for and accepting help was an act of grace.
Giving ourselves grace allows us to be bad at something
Beginning anything means being inexperienced—and starting is already a victory. It takes courage to be a beginner. You have to be willing to be bad at something to get good at it. Being teachable matters more than initial ability.
It’s easy to compare our behind-the-scenes with someone else’s highlight reel and conclude we’re failing. We don’t see how hard others work or what they’ve overcome. Each of us has a different path.
And it’s fine if improvement prospects are limited, so long as there’s another reason to continue—joy, community, curiosity. I’m a terrible bowler, yet I go for the social scene and the fun. Being willing to laugh at ourselves keeps life enjoyable.
Giving ourselves grace might mean taking a break
My colleague Patty and I share a Sudoku strategy: when stuck, set it aside and return later. Often the next move becomes clear. That same strategy helps with other stuck moments. Sometimes grace says, “That’s enough for today.” Step away, do something different, then return with fresh perspective.
A break can renew determination or reveal that the task doesn’t need finishing. Priorities change; we aren’t always the same people who started a project. It’s okay to stop something intentionally when it no longer merits your time—don’t finish something just because you started. My friend B.B. adopted a “Did Not Finish” policy for books: life is too short for books that don’t serve you. She reads more now because she stops what isn’t worth her time.
Giving ourselves grace involves acknowledging when things are hard
We don’t help ourselves by pretending everything is fine when it’s not. Naming difficulty—saying, “This is hard, and here’s why”—contains it and makes it manageable. That clarity helps you choose tools, set boundaries, and build a strategy to cope.
Admitting struggle can also connect you with others facing similar challenges. Support networks, shared ideas, and mutual humor make hard seasons more bearable. Hardness isn’t shameful; sometimes it signals growth or transition. Parenthood is a prime example—hard and deeply meaningful. Face hard things, gather resources, and find companions for the journey.
Giving ourselves grace requires self-forgiveness
We will make mistakes and sometimes regress. That’s part of being human, and mistakes teach us. Still, forgiving ourselves is one of the hardest and most essential acts of self-grace. Self-forgiveness frees us to learn, repair what’s needed, and move forward without carrying a burden of shame.
Giving ourselves grace moves us towards our best selves
Grace lifts the crushing weight of guilt, failure, and disappointment so we can breathe, grow, and infuse more life into our days. It’s not an excuse to give up or make poor choices; instead, it’s permission to acknowledge our present state without harshness and to equip ourselves for the next step.
Grace allows us to change methods when something isn’t working, to rest when needed, to ask for help, and to forgive our missteps. Be kind to yourself. Give yourself grace.
Additional articles focusing on inner well-being and intangible burdens
- Decluttering the Voices in My Life
- Decluttering the Hurry from My Schedule
- Take Time for Friendship
- Decluttering My House, One Identity at a Time
- Green Cleaning and Household Harmony
- Giving Ourselves Grace