Recently I said something snarky and it got back to the person.For the whole day, I dreaded what would happen. When the worst did happen, I felt even worse: a slow, painful remembering of how imperfect I am, despite all the striving. And of how perfection is not even a thing, no matter how much I strive.

In a funny way, dread helped me. In fact, dread was the most helpful thing. Without dread, I wonder if I’d even have noticed, let alone cared. But with dread, and after making peace with dread, which took a minute, self-compassion emerged, and then a plan. And self-compassion plus a plan feels like a decent idea for this moment.