Tiny Buddha

Author: Joanna Warwick

  • Emotions Are a Strength, Not a Design Flaw

    Emotions Are a Strength, Not a Design Flaw

    Teardrop

    “Eyes that do not cry, do not see.” ~Swedish Proverb

    Just get over it. Don’t be so sensitive. You should toughen up and grow a thicker skin…

    I’ve heard this advice so much over my life, but I’ve never seen it make anyone happy.

    Advised to toughen up with thicker skins so we can protect ourselves, we end up just bottling it up inside and pushing away how we feel, hoping it looks like we’re strong.

    It’s like trying to avoid our own shadow. We believe it’s gone because it’s behind us, but it’s totally visible to anyone else who cares to look.

    Instead of becoming stronger, this denying and rejecting behavior makes us more susceptible to danger, more fearful and wary, resulting in confusion and unhappiness, because we’ve thrown away the information we need to survive and thrive.

    The Rhino’s Lesson

    While I was in South Africa, volunteering for an animal conversation charity, I found myself in close proximity to a wild rhino in the early hours of the morning.

    She was beautiful.

    With only a few feet between us and little shrub to block her path, she did not seek to fight or flee; she just stood there.

    Although rhinos are quite blind, they have other strong senses, including smell, hearing, taste, external touch, and instinctual felt sense (internal and external nervous systems).

    They have thick, layered, armored skin that protects them from sharp, thorny bushes, but they are not insensitive and tough.

    In fact, their survival and ability to thrive is wholly dependent on their sensitivity.

    She didn’t run or charge because she didn’t feel I was a threat.

    Sensitivity Is Power

    Sensitivity means to be connected and aware of all our senses.

    Our bodies are descendants of mammals, so we’re sensory beings.

    This means, like the rhino, we are designed to use sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and felt sense to navigate the world around us and survive.

    This sensory information creates an internal response to everything, including danger and safety, separation and bonding, otherwise known as emotions.

    It’s a fact: We’re all emotional, male and female!

    Unlike our animal cousins, though, we have an evolved conscious awareness to this emotional information, so they become defined as feelings—the language of emotions to which we attach judgment.

    Instead of responding naturally and appropriately to this navigation system, we stress ourselves out, worry, shame, analyze, get embarrassed, get scared, get stuck, don’t act, ignore, or do the total opposite of what our body tells us to do.

    The rhino does not question the sensory information the brain collects; it just acts appropriately either by running away and avoiding the danger or standing still to assess and inquire.

    Or, it might run toward it, threatening with the full force of their size, strength, weight, and their strong, sharp horn. They don’t do this because they are bad tempered but because they must still protect their well-being, even though they are naturally shy, curious, and non-predatory.

    Confusing Safety and Danger

    Our brain continually processes sensory information to inform our responses to a situation or person by encouraging slowing down, moving toward or further away.

    Teaching us to ignore, shame, disregard, and disconnect from this emotional sensory information leaves us unarmed, unprotected, and unsafe. It’s like being in conversation but only talking, never listening, and assuming what the other person thinks and feels.

    The result:

    • We’re unaware of danger, so we don’t know how or when to protect ourselves.
    • We’re unaware or unsure if the people we choose to surround ourselves love, accept, and respect us, or are out to harm, belittle, or control us.
    • We lose the ability to know what is right for our happiness, peace, and love.
    • Our brains rewire to associate fear and danger with safety, and love and kindness with danger and being unsafe, so we seek the wrong thing.

    This would be like the rhino ignoring her survival senses, walking up to a pack of lions, and saying, “Hey, I’m just as big as you, can I come hang out…”

    How A War Zone Becomes Your Norm

    This behavior is most obvious in adults who experienced abusive childhoods or were parented inconsistently by alcoholics, drug addicts, or the mentally unstable, and if they were conditioned to be good girls and boys and shamed for expressing anger, desire, or tears.

    In these environments, a child absorbs the message “Don’t express how you truly feel.”

    If they accepted the sensory information they received, they would have had to accept that their home environment, where they needed to be cared and protected for survival, actually felt unsafe and rejecting to live in.

    It’s unimaginable for a child to acknowledge that the parents who they love might not be safe, even if they come to see a difference in other families.

    They learn not to respond appropriately, as it would result in possible physical danger, punishment, and abandonment. So they disconnect, desensitize, do as they are told, try to please to make it safer, and stop trusting their feelings, because they lie and let them down.

    If they continue this behavior into adulthood, they will keep seeking out the familiar—hurtful, disappointing, painful, unstable, rejecting, or even dangerous relationships and circumstances, to mirror the feelings of childhood.

    Getting Emotionally Reconnected

    I used think women who cried were pathetic. I thought they should just get over it and pull themselves together, as this was how I saw my own emotions.

    Every feeling I had was buried away, unspoken, and unshared, branded as either a sign of weakness (as regards to crying) or unacceptable (if it was anger). I considered every other feeling bad and dangerous.

    My exterior had toughened up until I was cold and as hard as an ice queen.

    I chose abusive lovers, friends, and bosses over and over again, even though when I met them all I had the same uncomfortable, withdrawing feelings. I just ignored them and believed I must be wrong. And I jumped into, at worst, dangerous and, at best, rejecting and unloving environments.

    Part of my self-discovery was learning to get out of my judgmental head and back into my body, and trusting its natural ability to know my boundaries and how to protect myself, so I could begin to make the right choices for my health, well-being, and happiness.

    I sought people who showed me how to demonstrate my emotions openly and gave me permission to feel angry and cry. I came to understand my body’s language, so, if I felt something, I got real and responded appropriately.

    If I felt happy and safe, I smiled.

    If I felt safe and laughed, I opened my mouth wide and laughed wholeheartedly from my belly.

    If someone tried to disrespect me, I called them on it or walked away.

    If I felt desire to touch and be touch, I trusted my intuition.

    No longer confused and distrusting of my sensitivity, I didn’t need to waste my energy fighting and denying how I felt.

    I was now open to love and intimacy, no longer terrified of it as dangerous, or afraid of rejection, because I felt safe in my ability to know and accept the truth.

    I was now listening to the whole conversation and all the information I was receiving, so that like the beautiful rhino I could own our greatest strength of all: our emotional instinct to navigate the wilderness and know who is part of our herd.

    Photo by Francesca Romana Correale

  • 10 Life-Changing Lessons I Wish I Learned Sooner

    10 Life-Changing Lessons I Wish I Learned Sooner

    “Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.” ~Albert Einstein

    I recently turned thirty-eight.

    Birthdays and new years always make me quite reflective and, for a long time, critical about my achievements—what I’ve done and what I have to show for it.

    This time, though, there was finally a wonderful difference.

    Over the past twelve months what’s mattered has been about the people I’ve met, the places I’ve seen, the experiences I’ve had, and the things I’ve discovered about myself—none of which have brought me anything physical to show for it.

    I’ve learned character building life lessons, the kind that have changed my life forever and, to be honest, I wish I’d learned sooner. Perhaps these will help you too.

    1. Being happy is not about what we achieve.

    I had to start with this one, as someone who has spent so much of her life achieving, striving to achieve, and competing to win. The first half of my life I strived to ride for my country and compete in the Olympics, then to achieve in business, then academically, and always in relationships.

    It doesn’t matter what I achieve. No job, promotion, money, relationship, house, highest mountain, or gold medal will ever change how I feel about myself.

    Achievement is the icing on the cake, so it’s important to learn to like the cake that’s the sum of who we are first, so we have something to ice.

    2. We are all doing our best.

    I used to hold myself to the highest scrutinizing criticism and moral compass.

    I was excellent at delivering self-punishment as judge, gaoler, and executioner for every small flaw, mistake, or underachievement.

    However, I would forgive other people for every fallibility, choice, and indiscretion. I expected so little accountability or responsibility from other people and so much from myself.

    I’ve learned to balance it out by being more lenient, forgiving, and loving toward myself and accepting that we’re all doing our best—and this rule applies to me too.

    3. We have to know and respect our deal breakers.

    Self-worth is an action, so I got clear about my relationship deal breakers. Sadly, I’ve let a lot of people throughout my life treat me with disrespect—lie, cheat, take liberties, bully, blame, shame, and even abuse. I didn’t stand for anything. I couldn’t say no.

    Without no, my yes had no value.

    Now my deal breakers are respect, honesty, and responsibility.

    When we know our deal breakers, we don’t accept mistreatment because we know we’re worth more.

    4. Other people’s actions aren’t about us.

    When I was in my twenties, my ex fiancé cheated on me. For a long time I believed it was my fault, that it must have been something I did or didn’t do—that I wasn’t good enough.

    I realize now that how any other adult chooses to behave is about them, not me. My ex felt there was a problem in the relationship, and in response, he chose to be the kind of person who lies and cheats.

    We’re only responsible for our own actions, feelings, and words, which means the buck stops here, but this also frees us from wasting energy and time cleaning up other people’s messes.

    5. We need to trust our intuition.

    I’ve made many mistakes in my life because I didn’t trust my intuition, nature’s gift of survival, which helps us thrive.

    I got involved with the wrong people, relationships, and jobs, ignoring that I knew they weren’t right for me from the start, and then paid the price by wasting time and energy trying to make them work.

    Intuition can be as loud as someone shouting in your ear, and other times, it’s subtler.

    When we slow down, take our time, allow it to get clearer, and listen, we save ourselves a whole lot of trouble.

    6. All the studying in the world will never be enough.

    I’ve spent years studying, seeking to understand people and the meaning of life, love, and the universe. I have letters after my name to prove it, and much of it was a waste of time.

    Most things are just stepping-stones to somewhere else, often on a cyclical path back to what you knew already.

    Knowledge is power, but experience in using it, applying it, seeing how it feels, and making mistakes trumps everything, because that’s wisdom.

    Good old-fashioned hands on living and having the courage to get involved and experience makes you wise. Then you have a beautiful lesson to share.

    7. Face the scary stuff.

    I wasted so much time hiding from the boogie monster, the scary truth inside of me. I just had to be brave and come face to face with how I felt and what I desired.

    I had to feel all that I had hidden, repressed, and buried instead of trying to unlock it all through my head with knowledge, or getting someone else to tell me what to do.

    Only then was I free; I could I stop caring if other people approved of me or not and just love myself and know what matters to me.

    We travel through life alone, and by becoming our own best friend we no longer have to fear being unloved.

    8. Accept that life and people are inconsistent.

    When I was little, like everyone, I was reliant on others and needed them to be consistent so I could feel safe in the world. Unfortunately, they weren’t, so I got stuck needing to please other people so they would take care of me, but I always felt let down and disappointed.

    I was like a drowning young woman at sea, battered around by the force of the waves with nothing to hold onto, because I had nothing of substance to rely on.

    Change is the only consistent thing there is. Accepting this empowers us to learn to depend on ourselves.

    9. We can be our own best friends.

    By facing the scary stuff, getting clear about my deal breakers, starting to trust my intuition, and forgiving myself, I began to like, love, and respect myself.

    I turned my curiosity toward finding out about myself and what I actually like, enjoy, and don’t want. I became my own best friend and I’ve got my back if there’s a problem.

    I came to know me, inside and out, and what matters to me, so I built a boat of substance and I’m no longer drowning. The world around me can be wild and changeable like the sea, but now I can ride out the waves without fear. The same can be true for you.

    10. We are enough.

    I never needed to strive to be anyone’s best friend, girlfriend, or wife by keeping a tidy house, cooking like a chef, and making wild passionate love every night, or by being a CEO, earning a fortune, or having a gold medal or a PhD.

    It sounds exhausting just writing it, but that was how I used to live my life.

    Yes, I sometimes do some cool, fun, interesting stuff; I am curious about the world and enjoying my life. But sometimes I can’t be bothered.

    I like to slob around in my PJs watching old movies. I get morning breath and matted hair, but can scrub up well and attend the ballet.

    I now know who I am, what makes me happy, and the value I can bring to any relationship or situation not because of what I do, but who I am.

    We’re unique, priceless, and irreplaceable, and the sum of every experience.

    Our greatest relationship is with ourselves, because it’s through that relationship that we learn how to truly love other people, including our children. And when we demonstrate how to love us, we can get the most joy out of our lives.

  • The Greatest Act of Love Is Letting Go

    The Greatest Act of Love Is Letting Go

    Let Go

    “Accept what is, let go of what was, and have faith in what will be.” ~Sonia Ricotti

    I was brought up in a family and culture that was riddled with fear.

    My elders were terrified of the world and always on the defensive for something bad to happen. They believed that love meant closely protecting others from the dangers of the world and the pain of life.

    This smothering behavior kept me small, and left me totally ill-equipped and ill-educated for living in the real world.

    With this as the root of my upbringing, breaking free and learning to let go has been one of the hardest, but most important lessons of my life.

    In my early teens I was sent to boarding school, and in the freedom of it I discovered I was naturally far more open, trusting, and relaxed. I liked it!

    However, after a very difficult period of my life—my mum was ill with cancer and then I went through a series of painful losses, including the sudden death of some of my closest loved ones—I got very afraid.

    Bad things had happened and I felt blindsided. Lacking the appropriate resources to cope with it, I began to live as I had been shown: I began to hold on to everything, especially my grief.

    I would cling to relationships, jobs, and situations, even if they were outdated, no longer useful or right for me. I couldn’t let myself grow, or outgrow things.

    Somewhere along the way I began to believe that I was bad for wanting to be free, and that bad things happen to bad people.

    Turning Into Golem

    Desperately, I held onto the love, light, and energy that I had inside of me, unwilling to share it with anyone, in case I lost that too.

    I changed from a bouncy, smiley, fun-loving young woman to someone who hid in the corners seething.

    It was as though I was curling up in a ball so that I could protect myself from the world and anything bad happening.

    Although I saved myself from getting hurt by other people, ironically I was still hurting and afraid, but now nothing happened at all—not even the good stuff!

    Eventually I had enough. I wasn’t living…

    Time To Set Myself Free

    For years I reflected, analyzed, and most of all grieved for the losses I had been holding onto, until finally the crying began to subside and I felt lighter, softer, and more relaxed.

    I’d changed, but every time I began to try to live as the open me, I felt like I was running into a brick wall. The people in my life weren’t willing to see, hear, and accept the new, stronger, trusting me.

    It was a huge revelation to realize it wasn’t about me anymore; it was about them.

    But I was back in my childhood situation, smothered by other people’s fear of being free and strong.

    For a while I fell into the old game of fighting against other people, trying to change them, and waiting for them to let go, stop being so scared, and be happy so I could have permission to be free.

    I soon began to feel the familiar feeling of exhaustion from this futile exercise.

    Finally Growing Up

    At age thirty-seven I realized that I could do something different. Just as I’d let go of my bottled grief and fear, I gave myself permission to let me go and take what I needed the most—the space to be free.

    I turned my internal growth into external action—an act of love for myself.

    It was time to give myself room to grow and discover strength, confidence, resilience, and trust—so I packed my bags, rented out my house, and set off on a road trip, with just my dog for company, and headed off toward Italy.

    I gave myself six months, but it turned out I only needed three. I didn’t know what would happen to me, but I desperately hoped something would!

    Like reaching the next level on computer game, new growth gives way to new challenges. We just have to be willing to accept these opportunities.

    Letting go is not a one-stop shop, with a final destination, but a constant state of being.

    As I began my 7000-mile quest into the big wide world to find freedom and return home again, I felt full of fear. But my anticipation and desire outweighed it, so I simply surrendered with one prayer in mind: Please give me what I need.

    Am I Good Enough?

    I had to let go of my deep-rooted fear that I wasn’t capable of coping with life and taking care of myself, even when the worst happened.

    That meant facing situations that would make me quake in my boots, like getting completely lost on foot, with no phone, no map, and no water in the middle of rural central France.

    I simultaneously faced my ingrained fear of leaving, and trusted that that everyone and everything would be okay without me. Nothing bad would happen, and if it did, it wasn’t my fault. Everyone would be all right and so would I.

    Both fears were interlinked, and by releasing one, I could also release the other.

    Only then did I begin to accept that other people have the capability to take care of themselves too, and that loving them means trusting that they can work it out.

    If you truly love someone, you want them to be the strongest, bravest, most happy, confident version of themselves so they don’t need you to protect them, because they are then free to live.

    Sometimes we need to teach others the skills to be able to cope with situations, people, and life, but demonstrating it by the way we live is a far more effective method.

    Ultimately, though, we must let go, trust, and believe in them and ourselves in order to become stronger, more resilient, and more capable.

    The Greatest Act Of Love Is Letting Go

    For me, that had to start with letting go of controlling myself, my feelings, and my past pain, and then allowing myself to let go of how other people’s fear controlled me.

    Throughout my journey I began to relax more and more into life and simply be me. This opened me up to connecting with amazing people from all over the world.

    I began to hear their words of love and see myself through their eyes as a bubbly, passionate, fun, loving, open, brave woman.

    By the time I returned home three months later, I was living lovingly toward me, so confident in who I had become that I was no longer afraid of losing those closest to me.

    I didn’t need to control or be controlled anymore, under the disguise of loving protection. I was now strong enough to trust myself no matter what.

    That’s why letting go is the greatest act of love. It’s letting others be free.

    Photo by Katia Romanova

  • The Dangers of Staying Quiet: Learning to Ask For Help

    The Dangers of Staying Quiet: Learning to Ask For Help

    Covered Lips

    “The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.” ~Elbert Hubbard

    My right leg lay twisted, broken and disconnected. As I regained awareness, I could hear a primal scream.

    It took a while to register that it was coming from me.

    At the time, I was supposedly living my dream, but in truth I was drowning in my loneliness. So I had stood almost directly behind a horse I knew was prone to kicking and pulled her tail.

    She wasn’t malicious; if she was, I would be dead now, as I had lain under her until I was found. But I had invaded her space and she told me she didn’t like it.

    That was fifteen years, three long operations, and one titanium rod ago.

    I had been riding since I was four, and at the time I was twenty-two and competing professionally. I had trained with Olympic medallists and I had supposedly landed this great opportunity and I was on my way.

    It all looked right and perfect. The truth was that I was miserable and felt completely out of my depth. I knew no one where I lived. I was isolated yet expected to succeed—to deliver without any support.

    The more time went on, the more I hid the truth of my situation and how I felt from everyone who loved me, denying myself, because I didn’t know how to say I had made a mistake. I was struggling and desperately needed help.

    I had realized I’d made a mistake by accepting this job. I didn’t trust the owner for whom I was working and I couldn’t do everything I was expected to do alone, but I didn’t want my friends and family to think I had failed.

    It took me ten years to admit to myself that I was ashamed for having caused my accident.

    I chose to sacrifice myself and put my body in danger so that I could make the situation end—to somehow be rescued and for things to change.

    I was ashamed that I had caused drama in my life and trauma to myself as a way of getting what I needed. I got change, but the consequences were more dramatic than I could have imagined.

    Not only did I lose my job, but I also ended my professional riding career for good.

    I ended my dream of competing at the Olympics, which I had been striving, training, and working for my whole life. I lost my house and my friends, who I had left when I moved away to the new job. For a year, I totally lost my independence, and it would take several years until I was fully physically recovered.

    I would live the rest of my life with physical scars to remind me, and internal scars that would haunt me for years.

    It has been my greatest lesson in life to find a voice and not just speak, but to speak up and tell the truth about how I feel. To be true to myself and take care of what I need and want, and demonstrate to myself that I matter, by telling other people what is important to me.

    We are taught in school that if we don’t understand something and need help, to put our hand up and ask. It sounds so simple, but why do so many of us see this as a weakness and instead believe we must struggle and suffer in silence?

    My suffering in silence eventually led me to dramatic and potentially life-endangering measures.

    When I lay on the floor waiting for the paramedics, before someone had covered my leg, I stared at it broken like a china doll.

    I was lucky that I had been wearing calf-length leather riding chaps and it was to them that I owe the fact I didn’t lose my leg; it managed to keep everything together enough to be saved.

    My physical healing was relatively easy, with some time, patience, and loving care. Although I did eventually get up and ride again, even compete, even though I was told I never would, the psychological damage stripped me of my trust in myself, something that would last for years.

    I came to fear that I might self-sabotage again, betraying myself, and that there would be dire consequences if I took any risks.

    So I quit trying.

    For a long time my life was small and riddled with fear, which kept me prisoner—physically safe but, ironically, once again deeply lonely.

    It has taken an immense amount of courage to change this, and sometimes I would start to feel better, only to end up back in my cell.

    I had to stop waiting to be rescued by someone—anyone—who might telepathically know how I felt without me actually saying.

    I laugh now, because I have been taught by life that real love means being encouraged to be the biggest, most confident, strongest version of myself, to be able to stand up for myself and tell the truth, even if it might hurt someone else’s feelings.

    It is not my destiny to be self-sacrificing for fear of disappointing someone or hurting other people, but instead my responsibility to protect, love, and honor my well-being and happiness.

    My mistakes, actions, or consequences no longer need to be catastrophic, as long as I speak up and be honest early on, ask for help, talk to others, ask for someone to listen to me or even sometimes just give me a shoulder to cry on or a hug.

    A plaster always needs to be ripped off quickly to minimize the pain—and sometimes speaking the truth must be done in the same way.

    Because I didn’t do this, the pain, grief, shame, and trauma of that time in my life got stuck in my body and festered, eventually becoming too painful to hide from. Strangely, though, it actually helped me find the strength I needed to face how I had let myself down.

    I had chosen to be the victim, rather than speak up.

    I finally chose instead to let the tears fall, to wash away the pain, and I started speaking the truth. It wasn’t pretty, but I wanted to find a way to forgive myself and finally let go of the past.

    A few years on, I still sometimes struggle a little to speak up straight away when I am cross, in pain, and upset, but the truth always finds a way to bubble to the surface.

    Something in me won’t let me be quiet any more.

    With practice, I have learned to quieten the inner voice that tells me to ignore my feelings and keep pretending that everything is fine and dandy.

    Instead, I have to practice speaking with emotional clarity to say what I need, even if I have to shout it, write it, or repeat it over and over again to be heard.

    I have learned the simple truth that mistakes only happen when we are confused, don’t understand what is being communicated to us or expected of us, and when we don’t ask for help to make sense of something we don’t understand.

    So, the next time you find yourself in that state of fear, confused about which way to turn, don’t stay quiet, don’t suffer in silence!

    Remember our school lesson and put your hand up, either metaphorically or physically, and ask for help from anyone, whether in prayer or from another person.

    Be honest, keep asking, and don’t give up until you find what you need.

    You might not always find the answer straight away, but by talking about it, asking, and listening, it will come.

    Photo by Mitya Ku

  • The True Meaning of Patience: Let Go and Take Your Time

    The True Meaning of Patience: Let Go and Take Your Time

     “Patience is not passive; on the contrary, it is active; it is concentrated strength.” ~Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

    Patience sucks!

    Well that is what I used to think.

    I was taught growing up that it was a virtue, but I was never taught why.

    In my experience, patience had meant I would miss out on something I desired. So I became the hare in the race and would fast track myself through career choices and opportunities and even relationships for fear that I would be forgotten and miss out again.

    But in the story, it is tortoise that wins the race, because he is constant and sure-footed.

    With all my “hurry up” and haring around I may have seemed to the outside world to be go-getting and achieving great things that seem so valuable in our materialistic world, but because I was so busy rushing to the next big thing, I was actually missing out on my life.

    I’m 36, and I was brought up in an era that has been all about get it, have it, and then throw it away. For a long time, this left me feeling empty.

    What I hadn’t learned was the true meaning and purpose of patience.

    So I took up the piano.

    After many years of wanting to play, and making endless excuses because I was scared of the hard work and the commitment it would involve, a time came when I was ready to face up to my fears.

    I told my piano teacher that if it took me until I was 70, that would be fine, as I believed it was a skill I would like later in life.

    All good words; however, not how I behaved…

    As soon as I sat down on the stool and started to learn my first notes, I felt a building impatience.

    I would get so frustrated with my fingers and hands for not working independently. Every time I took a small step forward and improved, I would barely savor the achievement and would once again get upset at anything I saw as failure. (more…)

  • Emotionally Closed Off No More – How I’m Healing My Pain and Learning to Love

    Emotionally Closed Off No More – How I’m Healing My Pain and Learning to Love

    “Let yourself be open and life will be easier. A spoon of salt in a glass of water makes the water undrinkable. A spoon of salt in a lake is almost unnoticed.” ~ Buddha

    There’s only one way to survive life. Shut down, or get hurt and die.

    Well, that’s what I once believed.

    At some point during my childhood I decided that the only way to survive in the world was to shut down and close off my heart. I’m sure given a choice I would have chosen only to avoid the pain of life (not the pleasure), but open or shut are the only options available.

    Growing up, everyone and everything around me was inconsistent, physically and emotionally. My family moved many times throughout my childhood, and my parents were busy, professionally and socially.

    One minute, there—warm, light, and safe

    The next, gone—cold, dark, and alone!

    Every time I started to get settled, it would all disappear. I had no control, and I couldn’t trust anything. It became unbearable.

    I couldn’t make people or the world go away, so instead I shut up shop and hid my true self away from them, behind a false exterior.

    I put a smile on my face, and became a reflection to others’ wishes—like the princess in the tower, a prize to be admired, completely untouchable.

    I had a perfect facade.

    Today, years on, I am very much real.

    I work as a therapist and a writer now, and I’m on a soul quest to enjoy and share with the world.

    On my journey to get to this moment, I felt like an adrenaline junkie. I was always maxing out and pushing it to the edge to do anything to feel alive, through the darkest rivers of life and illuminating heights of spiritual enlightenment.

    I became ensconced in the spiritual world seeking practices to elevate my soul through meditation, esoteric reading, tarot cards, alternative religions, and mediumship. I experienced moments of peace, but I was still shut down. (more…)