How We Treat Ourselves
- Mar 10
- 8 min read
Bob Ebeling was an aerospace engineer who worked for Morton Thiokol, a company that designed and manufactured rocket boosters for NASA’s Space Shuttle program.
During preparations for NASA’s next mission, Ebeling and his engineer colleagues conducted their routine data reviews, which identified a serious anomaly: the O-rings on the shuttle's rocket boosters wouldn't seal properly at cold temperatures.
This issue was particularly concerning because, by an unfortunate coincidence, a severe cold wave had swept through central Florida the night before launch. Temperatures dropped far below previous launch conditions, leaving ice across the launch complex and setting the stage for what would be the coldest shuttle flight in the program’s history.
At the pre-launch meeting, the engineers presented their data, desperately pleading for the mission to be postponed until the weather improved. They argued for hours, trying to convince the NASA representatives that it wasn’t safe. After much deliberation, they were overruled — the launch would go ahead as planned.
On the morning of 28th January 1986, the Challenger Space Shuttle was launched. Just 73 seconds after liftoff, the shuttle exploded. Hot exhaust gas had escaped from inside the booster and ignited the external fuel tank. The O-rings had malfunctioned due to the cold.
Viewing the launch at Morton Thiokol headquarters, Bob Ebeling watched in horror. Seven astronauts had just lost their lives, and he was convinced it was his fault.
Ebeling retired soon after the Challenger disaster, carrying a sense of personal responsibility that never left him. He believed that if he had argued more forcefully or pushed harder against the decision, the launch might have been delayed. The guilt weighed heavily on him for decades, contributing to a deep depression and a persistent feeling that he had failed to prevent the tragedy.
But it wasn’t his fault. An independent investigation later concluded that the disaster was not the result of individual failure but of systemic problems inside NASA, including a flawed decision-making process that discounted engineering risk and intense institutional pressure to maintain an unrealistic launch schedule.
When Ebeling was interviewed 30 years after the disaster, he was still carrying the same weight of guilt. He spoke about feeling responsible for the loss of the crew, convinced that he had somehow failed them. He had been punishing himself for decades, over a tragedy that lay far beyond his control.
"I think that was one of the mistakes that God made," he said softly. "He shouldn't have picked me for the job. But next time I talk to him, I'm gonna ask him, 'Why me. You picked a loser.' “
Our Harshest Critic
No one was punishing Ebeling for what had happened; the punishment came from within. There were no accusations against him, no official blame placed on his shoulders. Yet for decades, he continued to relive the disaster, directing anger and judgment toward himself as if he had been the one responsible.
When things go wrong, whether the consequences are catastrophic or merely inconvenient, we often become our own harshest critics. We replay events in our minds, scrutinising our decisions, searching for the moment where we believe we failed. Even when the situation was shaped by uncertainty, bad luck, or factors beyond our control, the blame still finds a place to land. And that place is often ourselves.
When we believe we are responsible for what went wrong, the impulse to punish ourselves often follows. Psychologists refer to this as the “Dobby effect”, named after the house-elf in Harry Potter, who compulsively punishes himself whenever he believes he has done something wrong. Studies show that when people feel guilty and cannot undo the damage they believe they have caused, they are more likely to deny themselves a joyful experience and impose harsher penalties on themselves for future mistakes. Remarkably, in one study, participants who had been induced to feel guilty went on to administer significantly stronger electric shocks to themselves than those who had not.
Guilt rarely requires an external judge; once we believe we are responsible, we become the one who delivers the punishment.
Self-directed punishment rarely appears as a sudden burst of rage; it commonly manifests as relentless negative self-talk, like the school bully who refuses to leave their victim alone, which, in many ways, can be even more devastating.
Take this passage, for instance:
“I have been making some calculations… and talking yesterday with Lubbock, he has pointed out to me the grossest blunder which I have made in principle, which entails 2 or 3 weeks lost work... I am the most miserable, bemuddled, stupid Dog in all England, and am ready to cry at vexation at my blindness & presumption.”
This wasn’t a young student who had made a mistake on a school project, or an apprentice at the very start of their career. It was written by Charles Darwin, about his work on what would later become On the Origin of Species, in which he outlined the foundation of modern evolutionary biology.
“But I am very poorly today & very stupid & I hate everybody & everything. One lives only to make blunders.” — Charles Darwin
Harsh self-judgment, it seems, is universal — even one of the most influential scientific minds in history was not immune to it.
And directing such poor language towards ourselves isn’t without consequences. Studies have shown that people who engage in self-critical rumination experience significantly higher stress and shame, and negative self-talk during exercise makes the effort feel greater and triggers increased stress hormone release. Self-criticism is not just a mental habit; the body responds to it as a threat.
This pattern of harsh self-judgement becomes particularly damaging when circumstances change due to our health.
When we face the challenges that multiple sclerosis brings to our bodies and minds, frustration is almost inevitable. Tasks that once felt automatic may become slower, more difficult, or less reliable. And when that happens, many of us begin to treat ourselves far worse than we would treat anyone else.
This can take different forms. Sometimes it appears as guilt; the feeling that we are a burden to others, or that we are no longer the person we used to be. At other times, it resembles Darwin’s habit of relentless self-criticism, constantly turning inward and judging ourselves harshly.
It shows up in the small moments. When our bodies don’t respond the way we expect, or our minds aren’t working as quickly as they once did, the internal dialogue starts almost unconsciously:
“I’m useless today”
“I’m a burden”
“Why can’t I get even the simple things right?”
These thoughts feel like honest descriptions of reality. But they aren’t careful observations; they’re the voice of an unchecked inner critic. They are our emotions manifesting as self-punishment. They are the Dobby effect operating at full force.
If a close friend or family member came to you with the same situation, if they’ve made a similar mistake or have the same frustration with themselves, your response would almost certainly be different from the way you treat yourself.
Any time you say or think something negative about yourself that you wouldn’t say to someone you care about, you are turning frustration into self-punishment.
It doesn’t have to be an obvious insult or feel strongly emotional; it can be as subtle as, “I’m not coping as well as I should”. If you wouldn’t speak to those you care about in the same manner, if your standards shift the moment the subject becomes you, then you are directing harsh and unfair judgement inward.
You are being cruel to someone; that someone just happens to be you.
So how do we stop?
Someone You’re Responsible For
Over time, this creates a self-defeating situation. Regardless of what happened in the past, whether our current situation is our fault or not, it is our present self who is left to deal with the consequences. It is us who have to take action, make decisions, and attempt to improve our circumstances. Yet at the same time, it is that same person who receives the anger, blame, and contempt we direct inward. We are attacking the very person who has the ability to improve our situation, and in doing so, we are reducing their ability to help us.
Why wouldn’t you judge or criticise someone you care about in the same way? Not only because it would be unpleasant, but because it would be counterproductive. If someone is already struggling, then piling anger and contempt onto them doesn’t improve their chances of improving their situation. It only drains the very person who must carry the burden forward. If you genuinely want the best outcome for them, the rational move is to support them as effectively as possible.
For that reason, we need to bring the response we give ourselves closer to the response we would give to someone we genuinely care about.
The goal is to help ourselves improve our circumstances, not to make things worse by constantly giving in to the temptation to attack ourselves. That means showing ourselves the same patience, understanding, and support we would offer to someone we care about. We need to show self-compassion.
Self-compassion is often misunderstood as softness, self-indulgence, or weakness. It is none of those things.
Self-compassion is not pretending everything is fine.
It’s not giving yourself an endless stream of compliments.
It’s not making excuses for yourself.
It’s not merely giving yourself a high-five in the mirror.
It’s not arrogance.
It is completely and unconditionally supporting yourself in the same way you would support someone you care deeply about.
It is wanting the best outcome for yourself and making decisions that are most aligned with that.
It is being truly kind to yourself.
As the psychologist Jordan Peterson writes in his book 12 Rules for Life, 'Treat yourself like you are someone you are responsible for helping.'
Dr. Kristin Neff is widely regarded as the pioneer of psychological research on self-compassion and breaks it down into these three components in her book, Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself:
1. Self-kindness
Treating yourself with understanding and care when you fail, make mistakes, or suffer, rather than responding with harsh self-criticism or judgment.
2. Common humanity
Recognising that suffering, imperfection, and failure are part of the shared human experience, rather than interpreting them as something that isolates you from others.
3. Mindfulness
Holding painful thoughts and emotions in balanced awareness, acknowledging them without over-identifying with them (e.g. saying “I have made a mistake”, rather than “I am incompetent”).
And studies have shown time and time again that this is a reliable approach. Self-compassion consistently improves a broad range of psychosocial outcomes, including reductions in depression, anxiety, stress, and rumination, while increasing emotional well-being. And importantly, it reduces self-criticism, because the two states naturally work against each other. It is extremely difficult to judge or attack yourself whilst simultaneously holding genuine self-compassion.
It’s not relieving yourself of responsibility. It’s the opposite. It’s acknowledging that your future depends on how well you support the person who has to carry that responsibility — your present self.
It means deciding to stop speaking to yourself in ways you would never speak to another person simply for the temporary emotional release that self-punishment brings. It means recognising that hostility towards yourself does not correct mistakes, solve problems, or improve outcomes. It only weakens the very person who must carry on.
“You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” — Often attributed to Buddha, author unknown.
Crucially, self-compassion does not make a person self-centred; the opposite tends to happen. Studies have shown that when people treat themselves with kindness, they free up the emotional capacity to support and care for others. When we are trapped in self-hatred, much of our energy is consumed by our own internal struggle, leaving little attention available to be genuinely present for other people.
So when you feel angry at yourself, about your past mistakes, about a body that isn't cooperating, or just for the bad luck you’ve received, ask yourself: How would I treat someone I deeply care about who was going through this same situation? How would I support them in a way that would truly help them? Then treat yourself the same way.
You are not responsible for things outside of your control. You cannot change your mistakes in the past; you can only learn from them. And while you might not have full control over the illness your body carries or how it behaves, you are entirely responsible for helping yourself now.
Whether the circumstances you face now are your fault or not is largely irrelevant. The person living with the consequences can be supported. And that person is you.