How self-compassion transforms the experience of aging: Finding joy despite life’s challenges

Occasional gatherings with his peers now happen in smaller groups - at the last one, there were only eight of them, three of whom were couples. A few days ago, he went for a medical check- up to renew his driver’s license and came back disappointed because he received it for only one year.

Using a cane was one of the biggest transitions for him: adjusting to a new walking rhythm, coordinating his hands, and accepting that his body can no longer do everything it once could. Each of these moments - and the list is long - comes with surprise: Why am I losing strength in my legs? How come I need a hearing aid? Why do I now have to take insulin?

He likes to talk about his health, and he always feels discouraged when the doctor says, “There are no more tablets that can reduce this pain.”

I try to explain to him that this is part of aging, that it’s not his fault, and that he didn’t “do anything wrong.” But he struggles to accept that. He often says he’s too old to learn new things, that his character is formed, and that nothing can change at his age. This is a frequent topic between us: I encourage him to stay open, curious, and willing to learn—but the belief that it’s “too late” runs deep.

Where Self-Compassion Shows Up as Support

Aging confronts us with losses we never prepared for: the body changes, friendships thin out, and independence becomes conditional. And the emotional pain often doesn’t come from the losses themselves, but from the self judgment that follows.

“I should be stronger.”
“I shouldn’t need help.”
“I used to do this easily… why can’t I anymore?”
“What’s wrong with me?”

These thoughts are not aging - they’re an extra layer of suffering.

Research shows that older adults with more self-compassion cope better with pain, adapt more easily to limitations, and feel less discomfort when they need help or use assistive devices. They maintain better emotional well-being even as their physical condition declines.

Self-compassion doesn’t ask us to pretend everything is easy. It teaches us to be gentle instead of critical, understanding instead of judgmental, connected instead of alone. And especially, to open our eyes to small moments of joy even when we face unchangeable facts like aging and mortality.

Why Micro-Moments of Joy Matter

Youth often rely on strength, hope, and the desire to build the future. But aging changes the landscape. The body becomes more sensitive, strength is less available, and the ways we used to cope no longer work the same. The world doesn’t get smaller - yet our freedom to move through it often does.

That’s why micro-moments of joy are so precious. They don’t require strength or perfect health - but they nourish the mind and heart. They don’t remove pain, but they make it more bearable. Small pauses in which we notice something pleasant help the brain calm down, activate the relaxation system, and create tiny pockets of well-being that accumulate over time.

A ray of sunlight warming your face.
A raindrop makes a circle in a puddle.
A child’s laughter in the distance.
A favorite song.
A soft blanket over your knees.

These aren’t trivial things. They are invitations back into life - small but reliable ways to feel meaning and presence. And the more we notice them, the calmer, softer, and richer our inner world becomes, even amid challenges.

Practice: Savoring One Micro-Moment of Joy (1–2 minutes)

1. Pause
   Breathe in slowly. Breathe out slowly.
2. Notice one pleasant thing.
   A sound, a color, a smell, a bodily sensation - something you see or hear.
3. Name it.
   Silently say: “Here is one small moment of joy.”
4. Stay with it for three breaths.
   Feel any hint of warmth, calm, or pleasantness.
5. Give thanks.
   Quietly say to yourself: “Thank you for this moment.”

This practice is simple, always available, and very powerful. It doesn’t require mobility or strength - only presence. Over time, these small moments become anchors reminding us that joy hasn’t disappeared; it has simply become quieter, subtler, gentler - but still there.

In the end, aging asks something simple yet profound: to remain gentle with ourselves as we change. Not to pretend to be strong when things are hard, and not to cling tightly to who we once were, but to relate to ourselves as we would to someone dear to us.

When older adults learn, even a little, to treat themselves with more warmth, something quiet but powerful shifts. Life stops being a battle and becomes a relationship. The world is a place to learn. Small moments of joy become guideposts. And the heart, even in advanced years, keeps its ability to grow.

Prepared by Dalida Turković