I Give Excellent Advice. Following It Is Apparently a Separate Department.

“Give yourself more grace. Celebrate what you have accomplished and the fact that you haven’t given up yet. Give yourself more credit.”

I have been saying some version of this to people for years.

And I mean it.

I can see how hard someone is trying. I can recognize the effort that didn’t produce the result they wanted. I can remind them that continuing to show up while life is being an absolute asshole deserves some acknowledgment.

Then I turn toward myself, and apparently the woman in charge changes shifts.

Grace has left the building. Human Resources is unavailable. Some bitter little clipboard goblin has taken over my internal operations and would like to discuss everything I haven’t finished.

At 40, I am getting increasingly tired of this management structure.

I’m tired of plenty of other people’s bullshit, too. But mine follows me home, so we’re starting there.

I went looking for an explanation for why I can give someone thoughtful advice and then struggle to apply it to my own life.

One thing I found was Solomon’s paradox.

In a 2014 study, researchers Igor Grossmann and Ethan Kross conducted three experiments involving 693 people. Participants showed wiser reasoning about another person’s relationship problems than about their own. That included considering different perspectives, recognizing the limits of their knowledge, and allowing for compromise or change. Taking an observer’s perspective on their own situation reduced that difference. Read the study.

These experiments focused on relationship conflicts, so they don’t explain every questionable decision I’ve ever made. We would need a larger research budget.

But the idea feels familiar.

Give me someone else’s situation, and I can often find room for context.

Maybe they’re exhausted. Maybe they’re learning. Maybe they’ve made more progress than they can see from where they’re standing.

Give me my own situation, and suddenly I’m the prosecutor, the defendant, and a deeply irritated jury.

The clipboard goblin has also been called as an expert witness.

I’m beginning to wonder what might happen if I gave myself the same thoughtful consideration I so readily offer someone else.

When I tell someone to give themselves more credit, I’m paying attention to things they might be overlooking.

They tried again.

They handled something difficult.

They continued through a season that took more out of them than other people could see.

Their progress might be messy. It might be slower than they hoped. There may still be real problems to solve.

I can recognize all of that and still think they deserve encouragement.

Yet when I consider my own effort, I can get so focused on what remains unfinished that what I have accomplished barely gets a seat at the table.

“Oh, you did something difficult? Wonderful. Here are twelve additional concerns.”

Jesus. Could we let the woman have a moment?

This is the advice I’m only now beginning to take seriously for myself: give yourself more credit for what you have done, including the fact that you are still trying.

And yes, I still need reminders.

Apparently, repeating a useful sentence for years does not automatically install it as an operating system.

Part of what makes grace difficult is that I can turn it into another argument.

Have I earned it? Am I making excuses? Will acknowledging my effort somehow cause me to abandon all responsibility and dissolve into a decorative puddle?

Research gives me something useful to consider here.

In four experiments, Juliana Breines and Serena Chen studied how self-compassion affected people after mistakes or perceived weaknesses. Depending on the experiment, participants encouraged to respond compassionately showed greater motivation to improve, make amends, or change a weakness. In one experiment, they spent more time studying after an initial test failure. Read the study.

The researchers wrote that:

“taking an accepting approach to personal failure may make people more motivated to improve themselves.”

Well, shit.

I may have been giving the clipboard goblin far too much credit for keeping this operation running.

I can acknowledge that I made a mistake and consider how to repair it. I can admit something needs to change. I can take responsibility without turning the conversation into a full character assassination.

That’s the kind of grace I want to practice.

Enough honesty to see what happened. Enough kindness to do something useful next.

Here’s another finding that amused me: giving advice can benefit the person giving it.

In a 2018 investigation across four experiments, Lauren Eskreis-Winkler, Ayelet Fishbach, and Angela Duckworth found that giving motivational advice could increase the giver’s motivation. In one field experiment, students who advised younger students spent more time on homework afterward than students who received advice from expert teachers. Their research also pointed to increased confidence as part of the explanation. Read the study.

So perhaps there’s something worth listening to when I hear myself encouraging someone else.

When I say, “You’ve handled more than you’re acknowledging,” could I pause long enough to consider whether that applies to me?

When I say, “You haven’t given up,” could I let that count in my own life?

When I say, “You deserve some grace,” could I resist immediately adding six eligibility requirements?

I’m not suggesting I appoint myself the Grand Oracle of Getting My Shit Together. That position remains vacant.

But I could start listening when I say something I believe.

Of course, understanding all this doesn’t mean I’ll remember it when I’m frustrated with myself.

Research has examined that gap, too.

A review by Thomas Webb and Paschal Sheeran looked at 47 experimental tests of whether changing people’s intentions changed their behavior. On average, the change in intentions was larger than the change in actual behavior. Wanting to act differently mattered, but the follow-through didn’t match it step for step. Read the research review.

Which explains why “I’m going to be kinder to myself” needs a little more detail.

Otherwise, it’s another beautifully worded memo sitting unread in the break room.

One possible tool is an if–then plan: deciding ahead of time what you’ll do when a specific situation comes up.

A 2006 research review by Peter Gollwitzer and Paschal Sheeran examined 94 independent tests and found that these plans improved goal attainment on average. They give an intention a particular moment and action to attach to. Read the research review.

For me, an experiment could look like this:

If I catch myself saying I haven’t done enough, then I’ll name three things I have done before continuing that conversation.

They can be ordinary things. I don’t need to have negotiated world peace before lunch.

If I make a mistake, then I’ll describe the mistake without using it as a name for myself.

“I didn’t finish that” gives me something to address.

“I’m a complete fucking failure” mostly gives the goblin a microphone.

If I’m struggling to find a fair perspective, then I’ll ask what I would say to someone I care about in the same circumstances.

Those are my proposed ways to practice the ideas. Small enough to try. Specific enough that I might actually remember one.

I’m beginning to follow advice I’ve offered other people for years.

Some days, I can recognize my effort. Other days, I need someone to remind me. Sometimes I need to hear my own words come back from another person before I realize how badly I needed them.

Talking things through with other women has been part of that learning. I wrote about the completely unexpected route from a tech support question to a book club, and how hearing their stories brings perspective and accountability that actually feels doable.

That feels vulnerable to admit.

There’s something uncomfortable about saying, “I believe this, I teach this, I encourage this… and I’m still learning how to live it.”

But I am.

I’m learning to celebrate what I have accomplished while there are still things unfinished.

I’m learning to acknowledge that continuing through difficulty takes something out of a person.

I’m learning to give myself credit without immediately arguing against the evidence.

And I’m getting tired enough of my own bullshit to notice when I’m treating myself unfairly.

If you recognize yourself in any of this, consider the advice we’re so good at giving everyone else:

Give yourself more grace.

Celebrate what you have accomplished.

Give yourself credit for the effort, the learning, and the fact that you’re still here trying to figure things out.

I’ll probably need to reread that later.

The advice department has been doing excellent work for years.

We’re finally scheduling a meeting with implementation.