The Softening of My Heart: How Compassion Saved My Life
- Jody Williams
- Apr 1
- 5 min read
There was a time in my life when I truly believed I was broken beyond repair—not just someone who made mistakes but someone who was, at the core, a bad person. That belief nearly ended my life.
It was twenty-five years ago. I had just left detox after a long and arduous battle with addiction—cocaine, ecstasy, anything that could numb the chaos in my mind.
My mental health was shattered, and I had suicidal thoughts strong enough to land me in a hospital unit.
When they told me I had to leave detox, I felt like I was being thrown to the wolves, utterly alone and directionless.
No direction.
No hope.
I remember sitting in my car, parked outside, shaking with fear.
I couldn't go home—I knew there were drugs there. So, instead, I grabbed my cat and drove five hours to my parents' house in Grand Falls. It was one of the darkest drives of my life.
Every transport truck that passed me felt like an opportunity.
My mind kept whispering, "Just turn the wheel. Make it stop."
And then, from the back seat, a meow.
I glanced in the mirror. My cat was looking straight at me, wide-eyed, like he knew. And in that moment, something cracked inside of me.
I pulled over and sobbed uncontrollably.
Because even if I didn't have compassion for myself, I still had it for him. That fragile thread of love for another being kept us both alive.
That moment didn't magically fix everything. But it planted a seed—the seed of compassion.
It was a small, fragile thing, but it was there. It was the first time I had shown myself any form of kindness, and it was the beginning of a long journey towards self-acceptance and healing.
From Addiction to Awakening
I didn't get clean overnight. I was still working as a chef in environments where drugs were part of the culture. I lived a strange double life: meditating by day and partying hard at night.
My spiritual friends thought I was a devoted student, and my coworkers thought I was the wildest person they knew. Both were right.
Eventually, something had to give. I decided to become a monk. It sounds extreme, but sometimes that's what it takes.
I travelled thousands of miles to a Zen monastery in France—Plum Village, founded by Thich Nhat Hanh. I arrived addicted, withdrawing, disruptive. The monks were kind but also at their limit with me. I was almost kicked out, as I was being very disruptive to my 15 roommates who shared my living quarters with me.
Instead, they moved me to a private room usually reserved for visiting dignitaries. They massaged me, brought me food, and sang to me, and I hadn't done a thing to deserve it.
For the first time, I received unconditional compassion.
The Bamboo Grove
Eventually, I was well enough to attend a Dharma talk by Thich Nhat Hanh himself.
The hall was packed, quiet, and sacred. You could hear the marker on the whiteboard squeak as he began to teach.
But I had a problem—my stomach. I was still sick and knew I couldn’t make it through the whole teaching.
I tried to wait for the right moment.
As Thay turned to write on the board, I moved, slowly creeping toward the glass door.
Just as I slipped through, a gust of wind slammed the door shut. The sound echoed. Everyone turned, including Thay.
Mortified, I ran to the bathroom, unable to return. I lingered outside the hall, defeated.
Then, I felt something shift. I looked up.
Thich Nhat Hanh was walking toward me, my heart pounding with nervousness.
He didn’t say a word. He smiled, took my hand—the first time I’d ever held another man’s hand like that—and led me silently through the monastery grounds.
We walked slowly, deliberately, until we reached a quiet bamboo grove.
We sat together on a bench. He pointed to a bird on a branch and smiled again.
No lecture. No correction. Just presence.
That moment did more for me than any mantra or philosophy ever could. It broke me open.
For the first time, I didn’t feel like a burden. I felt human. I felt seen.
A Vow to Serve
When I returned home, I wasn't transformed overnight. I relapsed again. Life got messy again. But the seed had been planted and was slowly taking root.
At 40, my wife left, and I became a single dad to our three-year-old daughter. I worked with celebrities and made good money, but my heart was empty, so I asked my boss to fire me. I needed to heal.
She laid me off with a severance package, and I took a year off to ask the hard questions: Who am I? What kind of father do I want to be? What kind of life am I called to live?
That year, I quit smoking, completed yoga teacher training, and vowed to stop chasing money. I would live a life of service, a life guided by kindness.
As the owner of Ocean Yoga and Mindfulness, I lead retreats and work with inmates as a Buddhist pastoral care worker.
I am also a Mindset Coach who helps high achievers stress less and live more, using ancient wisdom and modern evidence-based tools to achieve purpose, peace and prosperity.
I show up for people the way those monks showed up for me because I know what it's like to be drowning and have someone say, "You're still worthy of love."
The Ice Age of the Heart
We live in a strange time. We're more connected than ever but also more isolated.
Everyone's optimizing, hustling, and comparing. Social media tells us we're never enough, and it's breaking people.
It broke me.
But here's what I know now:
Kindness isn't soft.
It isn't a luxury.
It's a radical act.
It's a force strong enough to save a life.
It saved mine.
5 Ways to Practice Kindness (That Actually Matter)
Listen fully. Not just with your ears but with your whole presence. That's medicine for a lonely world.
Say thank you and mean it. Gratitude realigns you with what matters.
Check in on someone. Even if it's just a text: "Hey, I've been thinking about you."
Be gentle with yourself. You're not broken. You're healing.
Tell your story. Not to be the hero, but to let others know they're not alone.
Let It Begin With You
I once believed I was a bad person, which made me misbehave.
What changed wasn't a perfect practice or a self-help book. It was compassion—offered by others until I could offer it to myself.
I share this story because maybe you need to hear it, perhaps someone you love does, or maybe we all do.
We're not here to be perfect.
We're here to be authentic.
To be present. To be kind.
And maybe—just maybe—that's how we change the world.
P.S. If this story resonates, share it. Or better yet—tell someone your own story
If this resonated with you and you're ready to go deeper…
🔥 I'm currently accepting ONE new 1:1 coaching client—someone ready to come home to themselves, build emotional resilience, and stop living in survival mode. If that’s you, reach out.
🧘♂️ And if you need support, you can feel in your bones—I’m also offering custom “NeuroAwakening” Meditations—crafted just for you, infused with intention, healing, and nervous system regulation.
Because this isn’t just about surviving anymore, it’s about rising.
Let’s work together.
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