The quiet after: Why Do We Stop Giving Ourselves Grace? (And What to Do Instead)

I’m treating today as the first real day of January, I hope you have unfurled yourself slowly into 2026 too.

I've been reflecting on something that came up in a group on stress towards the end of last year that feels timely to share right now as we transition into a new year.

Most of us know what it’s like to move through a stressful period.

• Christmas.

• An ill or ageing parent.

• A change in job.

• Financial strain.

• Work deadlines.

• Insomnia.

• Perimenopausal symptoms.

• A dysregulated child.

• The relentless admin of daily life.

  
  

Often, these pile up — leaving us teetering on the edge of burnout. During the thick of it, many of us instinctively soften towards ourselves.

• We lower expectations.

• We take shortcuts.

• We let the dishes sit.

• We cancel plans.

• We tell ourselves, even briefly: “This is hard. I’m doing my best.”

But something curious happens once the stressor passes. We often stop offering ourselves that same grace.

• We push.

• We hurry.

• We tighten.

  
  

We feel frustrated that we’re not “back to normal” quickly enough. We feel guilty that the stress affected us at all. We criticise ourselves for being tired, depleted, snappy, or slow. It’s as if when the moment the external pressure lifts, we expect our internal world to instantly follow — forgetting that our minds and bodies don’t operate on the same timetable as our calendars.

This pattern shows up strongly in January. After what can be an emotionally and physiologically demanding time of year, the new year arrives and expectations skyrocket. Almost overnight, the internal dialogue shifts to “I must do better.”

So why does this happen and what helps instead?

TL;DR ⬇️

Why does self-compassion drop after stress?

Your body is still coming down from survival mode

During stress, the nervous system mobilises. Stress hormones rise, focus narrows, and the body prioritises “getting through.” When it’s over, the system doesn’t switch off. It unwinds — often slowly. Fatigue, irritability, emotional sensitivity, and reduced capacity are signs of recovery, not failure. We just rarely treat them that way.

Parents live with a high baseline of demand

For many parents, “back to normal” means returning to a level of responsibility that was already demanding. There’s rarely a true recovery window, so we push ourselves because it feels like we don’t have a choice.

We’re taught to value productivity over presence

Many of us internalise the idea that being “okay” means functioning at full speed. Any slowing down, emotional need, or lingering tiredness feels like an inconvenience - something to criticise rather than care for.

Relief can trigger self-criticism

Once the crisis lifts, the inner critic often steps in:"You should be over this by now.You handled that badly.You’re behind — get on with it". This is the mind’s clumsy attempt at motivation.

What helps instead?

The period after stress is often when compassion is needed most.

Name the recovery phase

Try saying to yourself:“I’m in a recovery phase. My body is recalibrating.” Naming it shifts things from blame, to validation. Switch “What’s wrong with me?” to “Of course I feel like this.”

Think dimmer switch, not on/off

Rather than snapping back to full capacity, imagine gently turning the lights back up.

That might mean:

• keeping evenings quieter for a few days

• lowering one expectation

• doing tasks at 70%

• asking for help with one small thing

Recovery isn’t indulgence. It’s maintenance.

Tend to the body before the to-do list

After stress, the body often needs:

• sleep

• warmth

• nourishing food

• grounding movement

• slower breathing

• sensory quiet

These aren’t luxuries. They’re how your nervous system learns regulation.

Keep the compassionate voice

The voice that said “This is hard — you’re doing your best” during the stress?

Keep it.

Tomorrow.

Next week.

Your worthiness of compassion doesn’t expire when the crisis ends.

Acknowledge the invisible work

Parents and caregivers carry vast emotional labour:

• thinking ahead

• being emotionally available

• absorbing children’s feelings

• constantly recalibrating the day

This work costs energy. It deserves recognition.

Offer yourself a post-stress debrief

You might gently ask:

• What did that take out of me?

• What do I need now?

• What support would help me feel steadier again?

This helps close the stress cycle, rather than dragging it forward.

TL;DR

Self-compassion isn’t something we offer ourselves only when everything is falling apart.

It’s something we deserve during the rebuilding, the recalibrating, the returning.

The end of the stressor isn’t the end of its impact —but it can be the beginning of care.

Offer yourself the same softness you’d offer your child or your closest friend — not just in the crisis, but in the quiet afterwards.

That’s where healing lives.

That’s where resilience forms.

That’s where the nervous system learns safety.

And that’s where you get to begin again — gently.

Warmly,

Charlie X

Therapy can often be a little like the quiet after — a space to gently process what you’ve been through, make sense of its impact, and integrate what you’re carrying as you move forward.

If that feels like something you might need right now, you’re welcome to book an introductory call below.

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