Author: Jo Casey

How Pain from the Past Can Be a Gift in the Present

“When something bad happens you have three choices. You can let it define you, let it destroy you, or you can let it strengthen you.” ~Unknown

Don’t hate your past. No matter what it contained or what it did to you, the past shapes who you are, not just for the things you felt damaged you but for the lessons you can take from it.

I love working with the people I call the world shakers. They’re the people who want to make a difference in the world so that they leave it in a slightly better way than they found it.

I love these types of people because they’re so driven by their heart and passion for others. They’re kind. They value people.

You know what else these people have in common? They have empathy for others and a desire to make the world a better place. Not in a showy, “give me the Nobel Peace Prize” kind of way (although a bit more showy-ness wouldn’t go amiss!) but in a gentle, modest way.

Do you know what really amazes and inspires me about world shakers? They’ve had their own hurts, challenges, and heartbreaks but instead of letting those things harden them and make them brittle, they’ve allowed themselves to stay open and vulnerable.

They’ve taken those things that have wounded, battered, and pierced them and transformed the experiences into fierce empathy for others.

They can’t walk past the person who’s struggling because they know how it feels to struggle. They have a way of recognizing the human condition in all of us.

They turn it outward and use it as a learning experience, one that enhances their ability to empathize and drives their conviction to change things for others.

It could be the mother who refuses to pass on the cycle of abuse she experienced to her own kids, or the teacher who bans the world “stupid” from her classroom because she can remember how much it crippled her to hear it as a child.

It could be the man who gives coffee to the homeless guy every day because he can knows what it’s like to feel like no one cares about you, or the recovering addict who works with troubled teens to try and save them the pain of his experiences.

World shaking is often driven by a need to make things better because of the pain we’ve suffered ourselves.

Still, I still have to catch myself when I bemoan the things that have happened to me over the years. Like everyone, I’ve had my share of unpleasant, difficult, and down right heart breaking experiences.

For the longest time I was angry at the world because I’d experienced them. I hated the mistakes I made. I berated myself for my screw-ups and stupid choices. I felt defined by them—embarrassed and soiled—like I should be wearing a T-Shirt with the words “Damaged Goods” on it.

One day, a very wise person said these words to me:

Everything that has ever happened to you is the perfect preparation for the person you’re destined to become.

And everything flipped.

Those things that I had regretted so much had shaped me. What’s more, I had a choice in it. I had inadvertently used those things that had happened to me as things that drove me forward. Many of the things I’d become interested in, my passions, and my values were driven by those very experiences.

I’m a passionate advocate for reducing the stigma associated with mental health issues, and I started my whole journey of learning about personal development and emotional resilience because of my own battles with stress-related illness.

I help people find joy, passion, and a sense of purpose at work and that’s undoubtedly because I spent so many years in jobs that didn’t suit or that where I didn’t feel I was making a difference.

I’ve also struggled in jobs that really did suit me because I didn’t know how to handle the stresses and challenges our work can bring. I didn’t understand the importance of asking for help, having strong support networks, actively managing stress, and making sure I wasn’t mentally giving myself a hard time too often.

Having to take a break due to burn out and stress felt horrible at the time it happened to me. But during that time out I studied, trained, and read—a lot!

I realized that resilience is a practice, not some innate skill that you either have or you don’t. I learned how to develop my own resilience and that made me immensely driven to help others do it, too.

My dark times also forged my sense of empathy, a key skill I bring to my work. If I’d had the “charmed” life I’d originally wanted, would this have been the case? Somehow I doubt it.

All of the lessons I’ve learned led to wisdom that can only be gained through experiencing life’s ups and downs.

Hard lessons learned are deep lessons. They shape us. Most of us are familiar with the term post-traumatic stress, but did you know there is also a phenomenon called post-traumatic growth?

It’s the ability to grow through adversity—to come out the other end stronger, clearer, and with a renewed zest for life.

I think that’s what many of us fail to recognize in ourselves, that those dark times, far from diminishing us, can give us the most profound of gifts—the gift of recognizing human life in all its messy, painful, courageous glory.

We can take those gifts and use them to be a beacon to others to say, “It’s okay. I’ve been there. This too will pass.”

And that surely is a real gift worth giving.

March 16, 2014
How to Find the Motivation to Change Your Life When You Don’t Feel Capable or Worthy
“Eventually you will come to realize that love heals everything, and love is all there is.” ~Gary Zukav

Following a path of personal development isn’t easy. Oh, it’s rewarding and can be life changing, but it can also be confusing, challenging, and scary.

What if you take the wrong path? How do you know which piece of advice is right? Can you still get the results you desperately want, even if you go against some of the assumed wisdom?

One such piece of wisdom is that people should make changes in their lives and their behavior for themselves, not for others. That’s always been the standard advice from friends, magazines, and TV “experts.”

But what if you don’t feel ready, worthy, or capable of making the change for yourself? What if you feel so confused and scared that you don’t know where to start?

I formerly struggled with loving myself enough to take those initial steps toward finding a way out of my own depression and anxiety.

Then I realized that sometimes the love we have for other people, particularly for our children, can give us the motivation to start on the journey—even when we are lacking the love to do it for ourselves.

Like many people, I struggled with feeling like I was wrong, deficient, and “not good enough” for a long time.

You know how for most people, those anxious teenage years full of self-doubt and awkwardness pass with the arrival of their twenties? For me, those feelings didn’t disappear. If anything, they accelerated. Feeling unsure of myself turned into something darker and more entrenched.

I spent my twenties shuttling between depression and its twisted sister, anxiety. By the time I was twenty-seven I was exhausted by it and hospitalized for a brief spell (a “little rest,” as my mum euphemistically described it.)

Depression had become a part of my identity. To my mind, it wasn’t a condition I experienced; it was part of who I fundamentally was: a person broken beyond repair.

I tried counseling but found it painful and not something I was ready for. So then I tried drama instead—intense relationships with men who tried to love me better, and I them.

I tried medication and it helped; it lifted my mood enough so I could function.

But the thoughts and the moods just receded; they never fully went away. The depression didn’t let go; it was always on the edges, threatening to return.

I’d sense it. There it was snapping at my heels, reminding me that all was not well: I was not well.

And then, everything changed. Thirteen years ago I had my son. A beautiful, smiling boy, who rocked my world and kicked my self-perception off its axis.

That’s the thing with kids—before you have them, even though people tell you about the oceans of love you will experience, you just don’t get it. But once my son was in my arms, I got it. I really, really got it.

I loved him in a way that blew a hole in my self-loathing and everything I’d taken to be true.

I sat with him in my arms, perfect little fingers, toes, nose, eyelashes—perfect everything. The waves of fear and love I felt took my breath away.

A terrifying set of questions gnawed at my mind: What if I couldn’t do it? What if I couldn’t protect this perfect little being? What if I actually damaged him? What if my deficiencies, my failings, my brokenness affected him?

I would do anything for him. He needed me to be the best I could be. I knew that I had to get better; I hadn’t had the strength to do it for myself, so if I couldn’t do it for me, I would do it for him.

That’s what gave me the push, the kick, the boot up the backside I needed.

I didn’t have the answers for how I was going to do it, but I certainly had a lot of questions:
- Why do some people seem able to soar through life and others struggle?
- How come some people can see the good in themselves but others can’t see their own strengths at all?
- What makes people happy, and is it possible to increase how happy we are and how often?
Answering those questions took quite a while—thirteen years and counting. Once I took my first faltering steps along that journey to find those answers, so many things opened up for me.

I’ve had therapy, returned to learning, studied with some amazing teachers, become an NLP Master Practitioner, completed a Master’s degree in coaching, not to mention read every personal development book I could get my hands on. I’ve sucked up positive psychology research, taken up yoga, learned how to practice mindfulness, and made understanding my brain and moods a priority.

It might have started out as a way to sort out my own head so that I could be a better mum, but it’s blossomed into something more profound. The ripple effect of the journey is immense. I teach, write, and share what I’ve learned and will continue to do it so that others can get it too.

I know I’ve moved from a place of great darkness to huge possibility and light. The depression that snapped at my heels has gone; although I’ll always be watching out for its return, I’m confident I have the tools to deal with it if it ever does.

Above all, I am grateful beyond words to my son and to his little sister for showing me what love really is, for showing me that I was capable of giving such love and worthy of receiving it. They unlocked the door for me to start really loving myself.

What started out as something I did for someone else, turned out to be the most loving thing I’ve ever done, for both of us.

It doesn’t really matter who you’re starting out on this journey for—just start it. If you do it with a desire to learn, grow and heal, and feel happier, you will get there.

Don’t feel guilty about taking time for yourself or investing in things that will help you to get there.

When you feel better, are kinder to yourself, and no longer spend hours a day wrestling with your own demons, you free up so much time, energy, and love to give back to those around you.

You might feel scared. You might feel guilty for wanting to take an hour to read that book, or visit the gym, or attend that course. You might think you’re not worthy of it.

You might feel that being a good person is about focusing all of your energy on your loved ones and ignoring yourself. But I want to tell you that’s not true. The best thing you can do for your loved ones is sorting your own stuff out.
- Give your kids a role model of self-compassion.
- Show your niece that it’s okay to be gawky and unsure of herself.
- Show your dad that it’s good to take time out and take a rest when he’s feeling overwhelmed.
Show your loved one’s a model of choosing happiness and hope over depression and despair.

The greatest gift that we can give to those we love is to show them that they can learn, grow, and evolve—and that they are in control of that.

I don’t care why you do it. If you can do it for yourself, that’s fantastic. But even if you’re initially doing it for someone else, you might just learn along the way that you’re worth making the change for after all.
September 17, 2013
Why Being Scared Means You’re Fully Alive

“To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.” ~Pema Chodron

Last year I decided to do something I’d always longed to do but had never been brave enough to take the plunge: I started my own business. Not only was it a new venture, my business would be based around myself—my skills, knowledge, and experiences.

Holy crap.

My emotions swung from terrified to awkward and uncomfortable. Seriously, that’s how good it got, at least initially! It’s been exciting and exhilarating, but not in the least bit comfortable.

Here I was, standing for the entire world to see as a self-proclaimed “person who knows quite a lot about some stuff.” I may as well of had my subconscious make me a T-shirt that read “Who the hell do you think you are?”

Revealing things about myself was not comfortable at all. Opening up about my years living with depression—an illness whose superpower is convincing its host that they are worthless and weak—left me feeling vulnerable and exposed.

To acknowledge my depression, and put myself out there as someone who knew quite a lot about a certain subject, was nothing short of excruciating at times.

But I had my secret weapon. Over the years I’ve gathered a group of people who “get” me. People who love and approve of me and what I do. I’ve always felt like this tribe insulated me from the feelings of exposure and judgment I might get from other people.

One person in particular, who’s been my teacher on one of my courses, is someone I particularly admire. I basked in the warm glow of his encouragement and positive feedback; I felt approved of, nurtured, and safe around him.

Because learning is something I hold dear (and I was utterly clueless about it) when I started my business, I decided to take some courses in marketing and business building. This seemed a better strategy than stumbling my way through blindly, so I hovered up new information like I was starved of it.

I started implementing. I made gazillion mistakes but I kept going. I kept remembering the phrase “There’s no failure, only feedback”—and I was getting a hell of a lot of feedback!

But I learned that I was much more tenacious than I’d first thought. There were lots of challenges, but I overcame or circumnavigated them. I kept moving forward. I felt a teeny bit proud of myself.

I gradually became more courageous and shared more of the real me with readers and workshop participants. I became less of the safe, corporate “me” and more of the real, flawed, goofy, “me”—complete with opinions, imperfections, and history.

I told my story of experiencing depression for years and rather than being lambasted for it, the connections I made with my students and readers were profound and rewarding. No one told me they thought less of me for it; if anything, they thought I was brave.

Work started to come in—a trickle, but definitely a move in the right direction. As I took my wobbly steps one after the other, I started to feel stronger and more confident. My tribe was great—super supportive and really encouraging. It felt good.

Apart from one thing.

The teacher I admired so much didn’t seem approving. In fact, he seemed critical and dismissive of what I was doing.

And I felt crushed.

When we’re trying something new we can feel fragile, and any little thing can dent our confidence and break our resolve. It’s even more acute when we’re putting ourselves out there, whether that is through our creative work or our personal stories.

When someone doesn’t approve of our work, it’s like they don’t approve of us. And this is painful—especially when the person in question is someone we admire and crave approval from.

I so wanted him to get it—to support and champion what I was doing. But he didn’t. He wasn’t nasty or cruel; he’s a kind and warm person and that would be totally out of character for him.

But his response was somehow harder to deal with. He was dismissive and uninterested.

I bundled up my courage and asked him if something was wrong.

“No,” came the reply, complete with furrowed brow and an edge of confusion in his voice. “I don’t really get what you’re doing. For me, it doesn’t work.”

Because all of this self-growth stuff is a journey without a destination (the journey is the destination) I know that I would have responded in different ways at different times in this journey. Here are some past options:

1. Stop completely. This feels too hard/scary and unsafe. I am obviously not good enough and certainly not strong enough to carry on.

2. Stop, retreat, and go back to my original, “safe” world. Try and replicate whatever advice my teacher gives me, encompassing his philosophy, beliefs, and experience. I disappear but at least I don’t risk feeling unlovable.

3. Rationalize his behavior; put it down to envy at my emerging success, or insecurity on his part for moving on from his teachings. I mean what’s his problem?

4. Carry on, feeling the pain but moving through it anyway.

To be honest, all of these were tempting. Having an excuse not to be “out there” feeling exposed and vulnerable was very enticing. I could go back to being safe, anonymous, and totally invisible.

Even though it would be like silently dying inside everyday.

So that wouldn’t really be a viable option then! I needed to do something different. I needed a shift of perspective. My teacher isn’t a cruel or vicious man, and his comments weren’t meant to wound me. So why was I hurt that what I was doing didn’t work for him?

That was it; that was the shift I needed. What I was doing didn’t work for him. Instead of beating myself up and falling into a pit of “what’s wrong with me?” I realized it wasn’t about me at all.

I’m a keen cake baker, and if I make a carrot cake (one of my favorites) I don’t get offended if someone says “Oh, thanks but I don’t really like carrot cake.”

I know that this situation is different from a cake, but the analogy still holds. My teacher wasn’t saying, “I don’t like you.” He was saying that what I was writing about and publishing as part of my business didn’t work for him.

So this was the response I chose instead:

Realize that we’re on different paths. I don’t need him to approve of and like 100% of what I do. I know he respects me; it’s just not his thing. It’s my thing.

It’s carrot cake. And there are plenty of other people out there who really like carrot cake.

I don’t need everyone to appreciate the same things as me. My sense of self isn’t entirely dependent on what other people think. Hell, I’m still human; of course it still feels great when other people affirm me, but I don’t need it to still be okay with myself.

Inside the nest feels safe and warm.

But outside of the nest is where we learn to fly—feeling scared, but awake, alive, and fully human.

Photo by Anurag

July 2, 2013