We all know an Eeyore. The lovable donkey in Winnie the Pooh whose catchphrase might as well be “Why bother?” He is endearing, yes—but also perpetually stuck in “poor me.”

Contrast that with Maya Angelou, who faced racism, violence, and trauma, yet emerged as a voice of resilience, compassion, and grace.

Both endured hardship. One got lost in the spiral of self-pity. The other cultivated a wellspring of self-compassion that became light for herself and others.

Lately, I’ve been reminded of this contrast through stories I’ve heard from people close to me. Loved ones navigating enormous mental and physical health challenges. It takes constant work just to get through a day. Naturally, resentment and frustration bubble up: “Why do I have to fight so hard for what others take for granted?”

And it’s not only those in the struggle who suffer. Those of us who love them sometimes feel the weight too. We can start to echo Eeyore’s sighs, slipping into our own version of “poor me” as we watch and worry.

From a mindfulness perspective, these feelings are real and deserve acknowledgment. We don’t push them away or shame ourselves for having them. But we do have a choice about what we cultivate.

Self-pity keeps us spiraling down into the dark. It tells us that life is unfair, that the burden is too heavy, that no one could possibly understand. And when we feed that voice, it grows louder, isolating us further.

Self-compassion, by contrast, is not about sugarcoating or minimizing pain. It begins with truth: “This is hard.” But then it adds kindness: “May I meet myself gently in this moment.” It allows us to recognize suffering without letting it define us. It turns the inward gaze from blame to care, creating the space for healing action.

Leonard Cohen sang, “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” Self-compassion is how we find those cracks.

So the next time you feel the tug of Eeyore’s spiral, ask yourself: “What am I watering—pity or compassion?”

Here’s to cultivating compassion even in the darkest moments, so the cracks let in the light — and to finding spaces where we can nurture that light together.