I used to imagine myself as a Lone Ranger doctor, self-sufficient and incapable of weakness, and when I had my spinal cord injury in 2008, I truly felt alone, in the negative spiral of a victim mindset, my own worst enemy and in a dark space where my idea of myself seemed completely lost.
Then one day in December 2009, I heard about a spinal cord injury recovery center in San Diego, USA. It was there, under the watchful eye of my trainer Mica, that I overcame my fear of going it alone.
“You got this,” she told me, and I took my first painfully slow steps in 2011. It had been three years since my accident.
“The doctor is back home!” I heard myself say.
Where does this voice come from?
Who was this person who was able to see past all the tragedy, all the injustice, see what was possible and proudly declare that I was back?
It was me, of course. It was my voice. I had never heard it before, but now I knew I had to listen to it.
I realized then that if I wanted to be able to make a full recovery – to return to the life I loved, to the job I loved, to the person I knew I was – I would have to find a way to make myself believe in me. If I wanted to get through this, I would need to support myself, to be my own best friend.
It was a revelation. When I arrived at the center, I had imagined that their advanced technology would help me recover. The truth I discovered was that everything I needed was within me. What I really needed was self-compassion, self-acceptance, and letting go of the self-critical, overachieving attitude that once defined me.
Instead of being on autopilot, I had to slow down and literally pay attention to every slow step I was able to take.
I took off my Lone Ranger mask and took the time to connect with my fellow spinal cord injury survivors, bonded by our common humanity and shared suffering.
Most importantly, instead of being a perfectionist who beat myself up for every mistake, I learned to accept myself for who I was.
Mindfulness, common humanity, and acceptance are the three pillars of self-compassion, and through them I learned what it meant to be my own best friend.
Yes, there were times when I felt like giving up. But it's true for many of us. I see this daily in my work as a pain doctor. When patients arrive in my office, they often feel like they are on the end of the line. They gave up on getting rid of their pain and, more seriously, gave up on themselves.
Wait, I tell them, how would you treat a best friend?
Now treat yourself this way.
We are there for others, but we must be there for ourselves.
It means believing in yourself.
It means having your own back.
Remember, you are your own best friend.
Olivia Ong is an Australian doctor specializing in pain medicine and rehabilitation.