Have you ever had one of those days where you have to smile for the world while everything inside feels like it’s cracking? Yeah, me too. Sometimes life demands that we keep showing up even when we’re quietly falling apart behind the scenes.
I’ll never forget the moment I heard a certain actress talk about filming a sitcom episode the same week her stepfather passed away. No audience. Just cameras rolling while her heart was shattered. And yet she discovered something profound in that pain – a tiny corner of herself that was, somehow, still okay.
That story stuck with me because most of us have been there in our own way. Maybe not on a TV set, but definitely in meetings, family gatherings, or even date nights when grief or stress is screaming inside and we still have to function.
The Gentle Power of “May I” Instead of “I Am”
Here’s the thing that completely shifted my perspective: she doesn’t beat herself up with harsh “I am strong” or “I am fine” statements when she’s clearly not. Instead, she uses something infinitely softer.
She calls them the “May I” affirmations.
Not “I am grateful.” Not “I am at peace.” But “May I lean into the part of me that feels grateful right now.”
It’s a small linguistic tweak, but honestly? It feels revolutionary.
“It honors where I am and invites me to where I want to go.”
That sentence hit me right in the chest the first time I heard it. Because isn’t that exactly what we need when we’re hurting? Permission to feel the mess while still leaving the door cracked open for healing?
Why “I Am” Can Sometimes Feel Like a Lie
Let’s be real for a second. When you’re curled up crying because a relationship ended, or you just got bad news, or you’re exhausted from carrying everyone else’s weight – telling yourself “I am strong” can feel… fake.
Worse, it can feel like you’re gaslighting yourself.
I’ve done it. Stood in front of the mirror after a brutal breakup repeating “I am whole, I am enough” while tears streamed down my face. And part of me was furious because those words felt completely disconnected from the reality of my aching heart.
Psychologists actually have a term for this – cognitive dissonance. When your words and your emotional truth are in direct conflict, the mind rebels. You don’t feel empowered. You feel like a fraud.
The Magic of Giving Yourself Permission
“May I” works differently. It’s gentle. It’s an invitation rather than a command.
It acknowledges that you might not be there yet – and that’s perfectly okay.
- “May I find one small thing to feel grateful for today.”
- “May I be kind to myself while this hurts.”
- “May I allow someone to hold space for my pain.”
- “May I remember that I’ve survived hard things before.”
- “May I lean into the part of me that still knows how to laugh.”
See the difference? There’s breathing room. There’s grace built right into the language.
In my experience, this approach actually creates real forward motion. Because when you stop fighting yourself, you free up energy to actually heal.
How These Affirmations Saved Her During Grief
She shared a specific example that still gives me chills.
After losing someone deeply important to her, she had to go film in front of a live audience. The producers offered to cancel the taping. She chose to keep going.
But here’s what stayed with me: she didn’t pretend the grief wasn’t there. She gave it space. She let trusted people hold it with her. And then she used these gentle invitations to access the parts of herself that could still show up and do the job.
“There is always a place and a part of me that is okay.”
This wasn’t toxic positivity. This was radical self-awareness combined with profound self-compassion.
The Science Actually Backs This Up
Research on self-talk shows something fascinating: the way we speak to ourselves directly impacts our emotional resilience.
When we use compassionate, permission-based language (exactly what “May I” offers), we activate different neural pathways than when we use demanding or critical language.
Studies show that self-compassion practices – treating yourself like you would treat a dear friend – lead to:
- Lower levels of anxiety and depression
- Greater emotional recovery after setbacks
- Increased motivation (yes, really – kindness motivates better than criticism)
- Better relationships (because we treat others how we treat ourselves)
The “May I” practice essentially combines self-compassion with aspirational thinking. It’s like leaving breadcrumbs for your future, slightly-healed self to follow.
Real Examples You Can Start Using Today
Here are some “May I” affirmations I’ve collected (and written myself) that have carried me through various seasons:
- May I trust that this pain has an expiration date, even if I can’t see it yet.
- May I be soft with myself while I figure this out.
- May I remember that needing help doesn’t make me weak.
- May I find one moment of genuine laughter today.
- May I hold space for both my grief and my gratitude.
- May I treat myself with the same patience I’d offer someone I love.
- May I release the need to have everything figured out right now.
- May I celebrate that I showed up today, even imperfectly.
I keep a note in my phone with these. Some days I read one. Some days I read ten. There’s no rulebook – just whatever feels like medicine in that moment.
How to Make This Practice Your Own
The beauty of “May I” statements is how personal they become.
Start by noticing what you’re actually needing in difficult moments. Then turn that need into a gentle invitation.
Feeling overwhelmed? “May I give myself permission to do one thing at a time.”
Feeling unlovable after rejection? “May I remember that one person’s inability to love me fully doesn’t define my worth.”
Feeling stuck? “May I trust that movement is coming, even when I can’t force it.”
The key is honesty. These aren’t meant to bypass your feelings – they’re meant to hold your feelings while pointing toward possibility.
When Your Partner Needs This Too
I’ve started using “May I” language with my partner when he’s struggling, and it’s been transformative.
Instead of “You’ll be fine” (which can feel dismissive), I’ll say “May we both hold space for how heavy this feels right now.”
Or when he’s stressed about work: “May we remember that your worth isn’t tied to your productivity.”
It creates this beautiful container where pain is acknowledged but not permanent. Where struggle is real but not the whole story.
The Bottom Line
Perhaps the most beautiful thing about the “May I” practice is how human it feels.
It doesn’t demand perfection. It doesn’t require you to have it all together. It simply asks: Can you be gentle with yourself while you’re becoming who you’re meant to be?
In a world that’s constantly screaming “manifest harder, vibrate higher, be positive,” sometimes the most radical act of self-love is saying:
“May I be exactly where I am… and still believe in where I’m going.”
That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom.
And honestly? In my experience, it’s the people who’ve learned to speak to themselves this gently who end up being the strongest when it matters most.
So the next time life asks you to be your funniest on your saddest day, or your strongest when you feel broken – try whispering a quiet “May I” to yourself.
You might be surprised how much power there is in that small permission.
