Tiny Buddha

Author: Kortney Rivard

  • How I Found Peace and Self-Love After a Toxic Relationship

    How I Found Peace and Self-Love After a Toxic Relationship

    “Bravery is leaving a toxic relationship and knowing that you deserve better.” ~Unknown

    When my marriage ended, it left a huge void that I desperately needed to fill, and quickly.

    Along with my divorce came the unbearable feelings of rejection and being unlovable. To avoid these feelings, fill the void, and distract myself, I turned to dating. And it turns out, it was much too soon.

    What seemed like a harmless distraction soon became what I needed to feel wanted and loved. This was a way to avoid doing the harder work of learning to love myself instead of needing outside validation to feel good about myself.

    The online dating scene was a complete circus that I didn’t know how to navigate with all of my wounding. I ended up falling for a guy—let’s call him Steve.

    Steve seemed nice enough when I met him. He was quiet and seemed like he may have been a little too passive for me, but he was really into me, so I kept coming back for more. It was nice to feel wanted again.

    We had some things in common, and he was handsome and sweet. We had fun together, and he was always texting me to say hello and chat—again, that made me feel wanted.

    Eventually, Steve grew more distant. When I brought it up, it only seemed to get worse. But at this point, I was addicted to the feeling of being with someone again. I was addicted to feeling wanted and loved, so leaving wasn’t an option I was willing to entertain.

    The unconscious programming in my brain that would do anything to avoid rejection kicked in. I began to justify everything that should have been a red flag. I found myself constantly doing whatever I thought I needed to do to keep Steve from rejecting me, but it never seemed to be enough. I became unconsciously obsessed with being who I thought I needed to be to win his love and approval.

    Steve and I had both been through divorces and were both dealing with mental health issues. The relationship became very codependent, and I began putting my own needs aside to be his caretaker. He would never return the favor unless it was convenient for him, so I would just try harder to get him to want to return the favor.

    It never worked.

    As each day went by, I was becoming less and less of myself to be loved and accepted by someone who would never be able to give me what I wanted or needed. He just wasn’t capable of it. There was no possible way that I would ever be enough for him.

    He ended up breaking up with me, but shortly after we resumed our relationship on a casual basis. Deep down, I didn’t feel this was showing myself respect, but I allowed it to happen because again, I was trying to be who he wanted me to be—a casual friend-with-benefits.

    Our relationship eventually started to get more serious again, and it seemed we were headed back to exclusive relationship status when I found out he was dating other women behind my back. I’m so thankful I found out about this because it was the singular event that made me stop and get intentional about respecting myself.

    I realized how completely I had lost myself in this dysfunctional, codependent, and toxic relationship, where my only concern was avoiding feelings of rejection and being unlovable. It was the last straw for me, and I decided I was done tolerating it. I was done abandoning myself to get something he was never going to give me.

    I cut off all contact with Steve that day.

    You’d think that it would be easy to leave a relationship that is toxic. I mean, who wants toxicity? But the truth is, it isn’t easy.

    Why do we get into these tricky situations in the first place?

    My divorce had left me in so much pain, feeling rejected and unloved, that I was willing to do anything to avoid those feelings. Instead of being discerning and heeding the red flags that were, in hindsight, obvious, I jumped in and continued the pattern of proving that I was worthy of love.

    When you’re always trying to feel loved and accepted, you’ll ask yourself questions like, “Who do you need me to be to love me?” You’ll shape-shift to fit someone else’s needs and abandon your own. You may over-give, or shower your partner with gifts and affection, all in an effort to win their love so you can feel loved.

    The end result is similar to being rejected because you end up feeling alone—except this time it’s because you’ve abandoned yourself and your truth.

    You lose yourself, which, in the end, can be just as lonely as feeling rejected and unloved. That’s how it was for me. I spent so much time trying to prove my worth that I lost sight of who I was and what I deserved.

    I didn’t realize at the time that I needed to come home to myself first and love and accept myself before anyone else could ever give that to me.

    It turned out that leaving that relationship was an act of self-love and the beginning of finding peace.

    Was it easy? No. There were so many feelings that came up for me when I left the relationship. There was embarrassment that I had chosen him over myself so many times. There was the loneliness and pain that go along with the end of any relationship. And, of course, there was fear that I would never find that love and acceptance that I craved so desperately.

    So how did I do it? How did I find inner peace after leaving that toxic relationship?

    What it really came down to was finding peace within myself.

    When there is a void of some sort, we naturally want to try to fill it with something else. But when you try to fill the void with something external, it never works.

    If I had kept looking to fill that void with things outside of myself after my relationship ended, I would have likely bounced from one toxic relationship to another until I learned to turn inward and fill myself up from the inside.

    So how do you turn inward? Part of the reason you’ve gotten into a toxic relationship in the first place is that you don’t know how to do that.

    The act of leaving the relationship was the first step for me. It was a huge step. The feeling you get when you decide you’re no longer going to pretend you’re someone you’re not in order to gain someone’s love is empowering, and gives you a little boost of confidence that you’ve got your own back.

    It’s an act of love toward yourself.

    At the time, I didn’t think of it as an act of love, but in unpacking it later, I can see that it was. It was the first step in rebuilding my relationship with myself.

    The next part of the process for me was to reconnect with myself.

    We tend to get our identities tangled up with our partners’, and it’s easy to forget who we are without our relationships. That happened to me after seventeen years of marriage, and bouncing right into an unhealthy relationship didn’t help. I spent so much time worrying about who I was being and if I was good enough to be loved that I totally lost sight of my true self.

    Reconnecting with myself meant spending a lot of time with myself. I had become great at staying busy to avoid loneliness, but I knew I needed to learn how to sit with the discomfort of being alone in order to heal.

    I spent a lot of time connecting with nature. I started taking myself out on solo dinner dates and I went to movies by myself. And when the loneliness didn’t feel good, I sat with it while I cried tears of sadness, learning how to show myself compassion for what I was feeling instead of pushing the feelings away.

    For someone who has spent a lot of time avoiding rejection, being alone can be difficult. But it’s a necessary part of reconnecting with your truth, and you will learn, like I did, that it’s really not that bad. It’s actually refreshing and beautiful to have time with yourself.

    I also reconnected with my support system. When I was in the relationship with Steve, I didn’t make my friends and family as much of a priority as I once had. In my quest for feeling loved, I became so focused on the relationship that I not only abandoned myself but also some of the most important people in my life. I made some questionable choices when I was being who I thought I needed to be for him, and after leaving the relationship, it was time for me to reconnect with my true support system.

    But the most important thing I did to find peace after this toxic relationship was to learn to love myself.

    I started with a list of all of the reasons I didn’t deserve to be treated the way Steve had treated me, written with dry-erase marker on my bathroom mirror. Every time I looked in the mirror, I was reminded of why I deserved more. I also kept a list of all the things I wanted to believe about myself. I wrote a new list each day and eventually, one by one, I started to believe the things on that list.

    I made the decision not to date for a while so I could focus on strengthening my confidence in who I am without someone else. Through therapy and working with a life coach, I learned that my self-love issues were rooted in perfectionism, so I worked to lower the expectations I had for myself to a more realistic level.

    I learned that I was much happier when I was just focusing on enjoying the moment being an average human. In fact, I adopted the idea that we are all just average human beings. We all have unique gifts and talents, and there is no need to compete with one another to be exceptional. Average is a fine place to be, and I found embracing this attitude helped me navigate life with more compassion toward myself and others.

    The most important step I took toward self-love was learning how to surrender and accept the present moment as it is. If I was feeling a lack of self-love, I learned to sit with it and send love to the part of me that was feeling that way. I learned to not get hung up on the what-ifs and to appreciate who I am being in this very moment, which is all I know I have for certain.

    The journey to loving yourself is the most important one you will ever make. Self-love is a work in progress, of course, but knowing where you’re headed helps to know who you are, know your worth, and remind you to always choose yourself unapologetically.

    While the relationship with Steve was traumatic in many ways, I am grateful for it because I learned and grew so much from it. Needing to heal from the codependency and toxicity of the relationship created a beautiful space in which I was able to ground myself and find peace in knowing that no matter what, I always have my own back and I will always choose myself.

    It’s a serene feeling and I wish this for you too.

  • Why It No Longer Matters to Me If My Job Impresses People

    Why It No Longer Matters to Me If My Job Impresses People

    “Do not let the roles you play in life make you forget who you are.” ~Roy T. Bennett

    Wherever I go and meet new people, they ask me, “What do you do?”

    I love talking about what I do because I love what I do, but It’s not what I’ve always done, and it certainly isn’t all of who I am. It’s part of who I am, but there is so much more.

    When we’re young, we’re asked to decide on a career. You know, the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” The problem is, does anyone in high school truly know what they want to do for the rest of their lives? I’d venture to say that many high school kids don’t even know who they really are yet.

    When I was growing up, I was a straight-A student, a star athlete, a perfectionist, and an overachiever. I learned at a young age that performing well was my ticket to feeling good about myself. My accomplishments garnered the praise and admiration of many and gave me what I needed to feel good.

    Validation.

    As a senior in high school, it was natural that I chose to go to college for aerospace engineering. I was interested in aviation, but more importantly, when I told other people what I had decided on, they nodded their heads in approval. A smart girl should choose a “smart career,” right?

    Validation and approval drove me forward.

    When I got out of college with a BS in aerospace engineering from the University of Minnesota, I went to work for The Boeing Company in Seattle, Washington. I didn’t love it. Part of it may have been homesickness, or the dreary Seattle weather, but a huge part of it was that the corporate cubicle life was not for me.

    I thought there was something wrong with me. After all, I had worked so hard to reach this point in my life. I should love it, right? Hadn’t I finally arrived?

    I struggled with it so much because on one hand, I dreaded going to work. On the other hand, when I told people what I did for a living, they leaned in and listened a little harder. Even my own father was proud to talk about my engineering career and the fact that I worked for one of the top aerospace companies in the world, but I’ve since moved to less impressive pursuits, he has never once asked me about those endeavors.

    My career looked awesome and interesting and impressive on paper, but I was quietly dying inside.

    My husband and I ended up moving all the way across the country to Savannah, Georgia, where I worked for another top aerospace company—Gulfstream Aerospace. I didn’t really feel any different about my position there, until I transferred into a group called Sales Engineering.

    In this area, I was able to interact and collaborate with sales and marketing to create the technical data they would use to pitch Gulfstream’s fleet to potential customers. I enjoyed the challenge, but I really enjoyed the collaboration with other people that weren’t buried in their computers all day. It was here that I first got a glimpse that I loved connecting with other people.

    When my first child was born, I left the aerospace industry. We had just moved cross-country again to Los Angeles, and it made more sense for me to be a full-time mom since I wasn’t the family breadwinner, and we didn’t absolutely need a second income. Plus, I wasn’t enamored with the whole engineering gig either, so in a sense, it was a way out.

    Quitting the career that I didn’t love was, on one hand, so freeing. But on the other hand, without that thick layer of validation that kept getting piled on every time someone asked me “What do you do for a living?”, I felt naked. I felt inferior. I felt like I was a failure who couldn’t hack it in the real world.

    My identity was wrapped up in my career that looked so good on paper but didn’t feel good in my soul.

    My ex-husband is an attorney, and we’d attend events with lots of other attorneys and highly educated people. At these events, I dreaded the question “So, Kortney, what do you do?”

    My response was always a little timid, almost apologetic.

    “I stay at home with our son.”

    There was typically a slow nod, with a bit of feigned interest, as if they weren’t really sure what more to say about the occupation stay-at-home mom.

    Because I also had a side-gig photography business, I’d quickly add, “and I’m also a photographer.”

    That tended to garner a bit more interest.

    “But I used to be an aerospace engineer,” I’d tack on, in a final effort to gain the nod of approval I so desperately sought.

    Bingo. Alarm bells sounded. The crowd cheered. People were reeled back into something more exciting.

    That good, old familiar friend, validation was back.

    I struggled for a long time to find my identity without all the “stuff” on the outside. It wasn’t until I got divorced and had to figure out how I would financially support myself after my spousal support ran out that I even scratched the surface of “Who am I, really?”

    Who am I without my career, the accomplishments, the external validation?

    All those years, I lived with one foot in the world of wanting to love myself for who I am rather than what I did and one foot in the world of doing more, doing better, doing it ALL.

    I lived in between the worlds of self-validation and external validation. 

    I knew I wanted the former, yet I craved the latter.

    In doing the work of figuring out who I really am, learning to love myself fully, and being able to validate myself without any help from the outside, I realized that I was asking myself the wrong questions all along.

    As a society, we ask the wrong questions.

    Instead of asking our kids, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”, I think we should be asking them, “Who do you want to be?”

    I asked my eleven-year-old daughter this, and she looked at me in her quizzical mom-why-are-you-asking-me-such-a-weird-question way and said, “Umm, I just want to be me?”

    Yes!

    Shouldn’t we all just want to be who we are? 

    Instead of pursuing goals that are impressive because they bring us accolades and attention, what if we were to pursue our goals because they lit us up and we were truly passionate about them?

    What if we started asking our kids questions about what lights them up? How do they want to feel? What things do they like to do that make them feel that way?

    Even as adults, we can ask ourselves these questions.

    If you’re in a job that doesn’t feel right, you can ask yourself, “How do I want to feel?”

    What’s authentic to you? How do you want to show up in the world? What jobs or careers would allow you to show up that way?

    This is the work I did after my divorce. I’m in a completely different career now, and believe me, as much as I fought going back to a job in the engineering industry, I had to do a lot of work on my thinking about not having a “smart job” like being an engineer. The validation I craved and was so used to was like a drug.

    Through this work, I learned how I want to feel in my life and that guides everything.

    I discovered that I want to feel freedom, ease, joy, and meaning in my life. 

    Going to a cubicle every day didn’t allow me to create those feelings. I want to show up in the world authentically—I want to be able to be a human being who makes mistakes and can share myself with other people. Corporate life didn’t allow me to be that authentic person that I now so deeply love.

    Some of you reading this may have corporate jobs and love them. You may be able to create the feelings you want to feel and show up authentically with that type of career. That’s awesome!

    The goal is to be able to feel the way you want to feel. The goal is to be able to show up in the world in a way that is true to who you are. 

    Because how you show up to do the things you do in the world is what really matters.

  • My Secret to Overcoming the Painful Trap of Perfectionism

    My Secret to Overcoming the Painful Trap of Perfectionism

    “A meaningful life is not being rich, being popular, or being perfect. It’s about being real, being humble, being able to share ourselves and touch the lives of others.” ~Unknown

    Hello, I’m Kortney, and I’m a recovering perfectionist.

    Like so many of us, I spent the greater part of my life believing that unless something was perfect, it wasn’t good at all. There was really no in-between. If it wasn’t perfect, it was a failure.

    One of the problems with perfectionism is that it’s common to believe it’s a positive thing. In our society, people tend to value it. If you’re someone that aims for perfection, you must be accomplished. Driven. Smart.

    Have you ever had a sense of pride over being called a perfectionist?

    I have.

    Have you ever thought about why?

    Speaking for my own experience, when someone called me a perfectionist, I felt like even though I didn’t believe I was perfect, it meant that they were perceiving me as being perfect. They saw me as being one of the best, or as someone who was talented. It was validation that I was seen as someone who was good at things.

    My rabid thirst for this sort of validation fed the perfectionist machine for years.

    If you’re wondering what it means to be a perfectionist, here are a few traits:

    • Perfectionists obsess over mistakes, even when it’s not likely that anyone else even noticed.
    • Their self-confidence depends on being perfect.
    • They think in black and white—things are either good or bad. Perfect or failure.
    • They have unrealistic expectations and crazy-high standards for themselves and beat themselves up when they don’t meet them.
    • They put up a front that everything is perfect, even when it’s not, because the thought of someone else seeing their imperfection is unbearable.
    • Despite their quest for perfection, they don’t feel anywhere close to perfect.
    • They can’t accept being second-best at something. That’s failure.
    • They spend excessive time on projects because they’re always perfecting one last thing.
    • They spend a lot of time searching for external approval.
    • No matter what they do, they don’t feel good enough.

    At one point in my life, all of those bullet points described me well. I wasted so much time worrying about approval and validation so that I could feel like I was awesome. But I never felt even close to awesome. I never felt good enough at anything.

    Sure, there were times when I felt like I was good at something, but then I had to raise the bar. Just being good at something wasn’t enough. There was always another level to reach. The bar kept getting higher and higher, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing for people who are striving to make improvements in a healthy way, but for a perfectionist whose self-worth hinges on reaching the bar every time it’s raised, it’s not a positive.

    It was exhausting.

    After a lot of struggle in my life, I knew I needed to explore my perfectionist ways and find a way to be more compassionate toward myself. Perfectionism was holding me back from loving my life. And to be honest, I don’t think I intentionally set out to rid myself of the perfectionist mentality specifically. It came as a byproduct of a great deal of other personal work.

    I began to realize that I had many beliefs that were etched into my brain that weren’t helpful. Beliefs that I never thought to question. These beliefs also severely hindered my ability to be happy and to live the life I wanted to live.

    We all have belief systems that we don’t really think to question. We’ve grown up with them. We’ve learned them from the media, culture and society. But if we actually take a step back to notice that these thought patterns that inhibit our ability to grow and progress are there, we can start to question them.

    Some common limiting beliefs that keep people stuck in perfectionism are:

    • People reward me for having high standards. They are impressed and I gain approval.
    • The only time I get positive attention is when I am striving for big things or achieving.
    • If I make a mistake, I’m a failure.
    • If only I can make so-and-so proud with my achievements, he/she will love me, and I’ll be happy.
    • If I fail, I am worthless. Failing is not okay.
    • If I don’t check over everything multiple times, I’ll miss something and look like an idiot.
    • My accomplishments are worthless if they’re not perfect (i.e.: receiving a “B” instead of an “A” in a class is a failure),
    • If others see my flaws, I won’t be accepted. They won’t like me.

    The good news is that thoughts like these are examples of faulty thinking—faulty belief systems that keep you stuck in perfectionism. By identifying the specific thoughts and beliefs that keep you stuck in perfectionism, you can start to build new, more helpful thought patterns and belief systems.

    I also stumbled upon another secret for overcoming perfectionism.

    The secret is that I became okay with being average. I worked to embrace average.

    If you’re a perfectionist, you know that being called average feels like the end of the world. It’s a terrible word to hear. My inner critic was not having it. “How dare you even think average is okay?” it hissed.

    As a teenager, a twenty-something, and even a thirty-something, my world would have come to an end if I had accepted being average.

    But sometimes life has a way of making you better.

    Life has a way of putting things into your path and it presents opportunities for you to grow. Everyone has these opportunities at one point or another, but you have to notice them and choose to take advantage of them.

    There was a time not too long ago when I went through a really difficult time and had to rebuild my life.

    Looking back, I can see that the situation was an abrupt “lane-changer”—a push in a new direction to make a change. I was not living my best life and I wasn’t meant to stay stuck in that lane. I struggled with depression and anxiety, much of which was triggered by perfectionism.

    By working on thoughts like the ones I listed above, and working to accept lowering my standards—the ones that told me that achievement and success were the only way I would be worth anything—I gradually learned to replace my old standards with this one:

    Just be happy.

    Learning to make this my standard led me to a place where I am okay with being average. Eek! I said it. Average.

    Today, I can honestly say that I’m pretty happy with being average. Do I like to do well? Sure. But it doesn’t define my self-worth. While it’s created more space for me to fail, at the same time it’s created the space for me to succeed.

    The difference is that my self-worth isn’t tied to whether I succeed or fail.

    Here’s how I look at it:

    I’m really good at some things, but I’m not very good at other things. You are really good at some things.  And you aren’t very good at other things too. The good and the not-so-good all average out.

    At the end of the day, we are all just average humans. We are all the same. We’re humans trying to live the best life we can. We are more similar than we are different.

    Don’t you think that if we all ditched our quest to be perfect, or better than everyone else, we’d feel a little happier? Don’t you feel like we’d all be a little more connected?

    If you struggle with perfectionism, I invite you to take a look at the list of limiting beliefs above and see what resonates for you. What evidence can you find that can disprove these limiting beliefs? What would you like to believe instead? Try on those new beliefs and build them up with new evidence to support them.

    And along the way, work on accepting that you are enough, even if you’re average.

  • I Got Fired for Struggling with Depression, and It’s Not Okay

    I Got Fired for Struggling with Depression, and It’s Not Okay

    “About all you can do in life is be who you are. Some people will love you for you. Most will love you for what you can do for them, and some won’t like you at all.” ~Rita Mae Brown

    The stigma associated with mental illness has improved in recent years, but there is still work to be done.

    I am a certified life coach and a certified personal trainer. As an employee of a major global fitness studio chain, I was once discriminated against for my mental health issues.

    I have always been an athlete, and I love sports. Before deciding to go to college for engineering, I thought I’d take the medical school route with the goal of becoming an orthopedic surgeon—I was always fascinated with the body’s structure and how all of the muscles, ligaments, and tendons worked together. But I chose the engineering path and kept my athletic pursuits and fascination with body mechanics and such as hobbies.

    When I was going through my divorce, I decided to get my personal trainer certificate. I had been a stay-at-home mom and part-time photographer since my first child was born, and divorcing meant I would need to go back to work. However, I was not interested in a corporate cubicle job.

    I studied hard, took the exam, and quickly landed my first training job as a coach for a global fitness studio chain. The classes at this particular chain were basically high-intensity interval based, combining treadmill running, rowing, and strength training. The classes of up to thirty-something athletes were coached by one trainer who timed the intervals and explained the workouts.

    It was a very high-energy workout and atmosphere with loud, pumping music and drill-sergeant-like yellings of encouragement.

    The training for this position was an intense week-long ordeal. I worked my butt off during that week with no guarantee of a job (which they neglected to tell us until the week of training was almost over).

    When I was ready to teach my first class, I was excited and nervous, but I ended up loving coaching the classes. There were many unfit individuals who barely knew how to do a squat, and I loved not only teaching them but encouraging them and helping them believe that they could master these exercises and become good at them.

    I helped many people see themselves as athletes when they went from barely being able to walk for three minutes straight to actually running for three minutes straight.

    We had member challenges, including a weight loss challenge. I loved it, and given my background battling an eating disorder, this was my chance to come at weight loss from a place of healthy living—not losing weight to measure up to some ridiculous standard.

    After each class, members of my team would stay after to ask questions about nutrition, exercise, and recovery. I loved sharing my knowledge with them as well as cheering them on. I knew they could reach their goals, and they did. My team won the challenge.

    During this period of time working for this company, I was struggling with my own personal hell. I would show up to class to coach and put on my high-energy, happy face, blast the music, and yell those firm, but loving words of encouragement for my athletes to give it everything they had during each interval. But inside, I felt like I was dying.

    I lived with a sinking, sick pit in my stomach. I’d often leave the studio and cry in my car before going back to the lonely home that once housed a family.

    During my tenure at the studio, I was hospitalized for severe depression twice. Both times required me to take a short leave of absence—a few days the first time, and nearly a week the second time.

    I also took a last-minute trip on Christmas Day back home to see my family so I would have some family support for that first Christmas without my kids (they were with their dad that year). I got someone else to cover the class I was scheduled to teach.

    When I returned from my trip, I came back to work and taught my scheduled classes. As I was leaving, the head trainer and one of the main investors of all Maryland franchises made me stay so they could fire me.

    They told me that my performance wasn’t up to par and that they had to let me go.  

    Funny, I had never had anyone give me any indication that I needed to improve anything to keep my job. Not even in my evaluation with the head trainer—she gave me some constructive feedback but also indicated that I was doing a good job. There had been zero warning signs.

    After my departure, a large number of my students reached out to me asking where I was and why I wasn’t teaching anymore. When I told them the reason, they were appalled and angry. One or two even canceled their membership.

    They loved my classes and would come because they liked my style of teaching. I asked to see member surveys for my classes, but management refused to show them to me stating that “surveys don’t tell the whole story.”

    Other trainers, including another head trainer who had been with the Maryland franchises since the first location opened, thought the whole thing was absurd and offered that I could come back and teach at his location. As much as I loved coaching, I was still too upset at the way the company had handled my dismissal to take him up on his offer.

    I tell this story because what happened to me was cruel and heartless and should never happen to anyone who is genuinely giving their best effort in a job. It should never happen to anyone without proper warning.

    I was struggling on a level I doubt either the twenty-something head trainer or bougie investor ever had to endure, and they let me go for some made-up reason that, below the surface, really came back to my mental health struggle.

    Authenticity is a topic that is near and dear to my heart, and I feel that authenticity in the workplace is sorely lacking.

    All too often, we feel like we can’t show up as our authentic selves for fear of looking weak or incompetent. We need to be competitive and not show any sign that we aren’t anything but perfect for fear someone else might get ahead because of an incorrect perception (one that is wrongly distorted by mental health struggles) that others have of our ability to get the job done.

    I did my job as a coach and trainer, and I did it well. Ask any of my students. But on some level, management sensed my weakness and decided I didn’t fit the “brand image” of this very popular and trendy international fitness studio chain because I was struggling with mental illness.

    If you asked them, I am quite certain that they would argue their reasoning had to do with other factors, but the facts just don’t add up.

    I had never been let go from a job in my life. This added to my depression and anxiety. I understand that if I had not been able to perform my duties, that would have been grounds for dismissal. But I gave it my all and never received any negative feedback indicative of my job being in jeopardy.

    My struggle with depression at that time was no different than someone struggling with a physical illness.

    If I was undergoing treatment for cancer, I am quite certain this scenario would have gone quite differently. I am certain there would have at least been a conversation about the situation, rather than just flat-out making up an excuse that my performance wasn’t up to par and firing a single mom without another job to go to.

    We have to remove the stigma mental illness has in the workplace. We have to make it okay for people to show up and say, “Hey, I’m struggling right now. I am doing my best, but I’m having a hard time.” That shouldn’t be a weakness. If anything, it’s a strength to admit when you’re struggling and need some help.

    Are strides being made? Yes. But the disparity between the perception of physical illness and mental illness is still too great. This needs to change.

    How could my former employer have handled this differently?

    First of all, if they didn’t think my performance was good enough, they should have given me a chance to improve. They should have told me that I needed to change something, because I’m the type of person that, when given feedback, will do everything possible to nail it. At that point in my life, I was still firmly rooted in perfectionist mode, and the very thought of someone thinking I’m not perfect would have been enough to send me into a frenzied mission to correct that perception.

    If they were not thrilled with the time I had to take off for my hospitalizations and my last-minute trip where I had someone else cover one class, the head trainer should have communicated to me that it was unacceptable and given me a warning. That would have given me a chance to have an honest conversation about the struggles I was having.

    In even a minimally caring environment, it makes more sense to help employees succeed rather than throw them away the moment you don’t like them. It’s much more expensive to go through training a new employee than to try to improve one you already have.

    In the fitness industry in particular, I feel that there is little room for perceived imperfection, and there is even less room for a flawed trainer or coach. The fitness industry perpetuates the lie that trainers and coaches have their sh*t together—that’s why they’re the ones training you. That’s why you can’t get these results yourself—because you’re not perfect and you don’t know how to be perfect.

    Authenticity in any workplace is so important. When we are afraid to show up as ourselves with not only our flaws but also our gifts and talents, that’s where creativity ends. When we aren’t able to exercise our creativity, innovation is thwarted. And when innovation stops, that’s where everyone gets stuck.

    Looking back, I now know that I never want to be employed by such shallow and uncompassionate people, but I also know that just wasn’t the place for me. There is no place I want to be where I can’t show up as my true self and say, “Hey, I can bring a lot to the table, but I’m also flawed and I’m okay with that.”

    The reaction should be “Yeah, me too. Welcome to the club,”

    Because we are all imperfect. And that’s a fact.

  • What Helped Me the Most When I Thought My Life Was Over

    What Helped Me the Most When I Thought My Life Was Over

    “What I’m looking for is not out there, it is in me.” ~Helen Keller

    I used to think that life should be easy, and if it wasn’t easy, then I was doing it wrong.

    I’m older and wiser now, and I’ve learned that if it is hard, that means I am probably doing something right.

    I had a good childhood. I had a loving family, plenty of opportunity, and I excelled at whatever I put my mind to. But I was a high-anxiety kid, and a relentless perfectionist. As I grew older, that need to have everything flawless impeded my ability to be happy because I didn’t like myself very much.

    When I got married, I felt like I had added a notch to my self-worth belt. As someone who didn’t have a whole lot of self-esteem or love for herself, when someone else loved me, it was just what I needed to feel validated, or so I thought.

    But that wore off too.

    Then, I had kids, which was amazing—I love being a mom. But there was still something missing. I was happy enough, but I didn’t feel alive. There was this little whisper the whole time that said you are not where you’re supposed to be.  

    I felt this urgency to figure out how to be happy, but at the same time, I didn’t. I was happy enough, and there was that guilt. I should be happy. I was so blessed with two beautiful children, a husband, a gorgeous home—you know, the American dream. I’m a terrible, selfish person if I’m not thankful for everything I’ve been blessed with.

    And life was comfortable. It wasn’t what I had dreamed of, or as beautiful as I had thought it would be, but everything was “fine.” And the comfort of “fine” and certainty seemed better than the unknown.

    And then it happened.

    That whisper turned into a very hard and abrupt shove into another lane, as if I didn’t get the hint the first time.

    I could have taken it as a punishment for not being one hundred percent happy with where I was at, and, I suppose I did for a while. But now, I know it was the universe trying to tell me something, and it wasn’t whispering anymore.

    The universe was now yelling at me, loudly.

    The lane-changer happened the day I discovered my husband of seventeen years had been cheating on me with another man.

    The life I knew—the life that I was happy enough with—was gone in an instant on a hot, sweaty July day.

    I did not handle it gracefully. I was an utter hot mess for months and months. The better part of a couple of years, really.

    But I made it through the other side into my “new lane.” and I want to share a little bit about what helped me get here, and what helped me be truly happy here.

    The reason I was so devastated when I was thrust into my new lane is that I had been clinging to this vision of the life I thought that I should be living—the life that was “normal.”

    I was attached to so much—having a husband, having children, having a home, doing married-people-with-kids things. I could have never imagined my life a different way. In fact, it was scary to imagine my life differently.

    As I got older, my world shrunk. My comfort zone got bigger.

    When the crisis with my marriage happened, I tried to hold on tightly to everything that had just crumbled in front of me. But there was nothing left to hold on to –I was experiencing complete groundlessness.

    That attachment to the way things had been was all I had. I didn’t have a ton of self-love, or “I’m okay on my own” mentality. My identity was “we” with my partner for nearly twenty years, and I didn’t know how to function as a “me.”

    I had taken the little things, and the big things for granted.

    So what helped me survive this?

    Someone asked me this after I was feeling like my life was back on track, and after really thinking hard about it, three things came to me.

    Gratitude, mindfulness, and self-love.

    I’m often amazed at how succinctly I was able to boil down these lessons into a few things that were the tipping point for me to find myself, and my happiness again.

    Start with Gratitude

    Focusing on what we are grateful for is a super-simple and powerful tool that is often overlooked. We have access to gratitude at all times, and it is absolutely free. How’s that for a deal?

    Practicing gratitude on the regular has a ton of benefits. Focusing on what you’re grateful for has been shown to increase self-esteem, make us less self-centered, improves health, helps us sleep better, improves our relationships, and… gratitude makes us happier. Boom!

    Remember, gratitude is a practice. The more you cultivate it, the more you will feel it. Stick with it and try these simple ideas:

    1. Make the decision to be grateful. It all starts here.

    2. Keep a gratitude journal. Putting pen to paper (or a gratitude journal app if that’s more your speed) is a great way to get in the habit of focusing on the good things in your life, rather than the not-so-good things. Aim to write down at least 3 things you are grateful for every day.

    There are other neat ways to do this too, such as sharing something you’re grateful for at the dinner table each evening, or keeping a gratitude jar, in which you write what you’re thankful for on slips of paper and drop them in the jar.

    3. Create visual reminders of things you’re grateful for. Maybe a vision board? Or just a journal filled with images you love. If you’re an artist (or even if you’re not!), an art journal can be fun!

    4. Think of ways you can show your gratitude in everyday life, like doing something nice for a homeless person because you are grateful to have a roof over your head

    5. Think about how you can be grateful for the setbacks you’ve had—it’s hard, I know, but I promise you can find a silver lining in anything if you try! Journal about them.

    6. Think about how you’d feel without something. How would you feel if you had ZERO family or friends? Or if you hate your job, how would you feel if you didn’t have a paycheck?

    Next, Practice Mindfulness

    I know, I know. Everyone talks about how mindfulness will help you be happier.

    That’s because it works.

    The benefits of practicing mindfulness are many. Personally, in terms of the quest for happiness, I think the greatest thing that you can learn being mindful is how to observe your thoughts without judging them.

    Have you ever tried meditating, and found thoughts popping in and out of your head like a whack-a-mole game? And, if you’ve been in that space, have you been hard on yourself for not being able to meditate “properly”?

    There is not a right or wrong way to meditate. You will have thoughts that pop into your head and that’s the way it’s supposed to be. The point is to notice the thoughts and let them be there without any judgment (good or bad).

    Starting to pay attention and notice your thoughts is a huge step toward seeing which thoughts and patterns are getting in the way of your happiness. And then, once you begin to notice those thoughts and patterns, you can start to form new ones that will better serve you on your quest for happiness.

    Finally, Treat Yourself Like You’d Treat Someone You Love

    Once you’ve become more mindful of your thoughts, you might notice that your inner critic can be quite nasty sometimes, telling you you’re not _______ enough or not worthy enough.

    Chances are, you’d never speak that way to your children, best friend, or partner. So why on earth do we say such horrible things to ourselves?

    Think about it this way: Your inner critic has a lot of information that it has assimilated over the many years of your life. Some of it is helpful, and some of it just isn’t.

    I used to hate my body. I was not nice to myself at all.

    One day, it occurred to me that I would never say the things I said to myself to my daughter, and as someone who spent much of my adult life struggling with an eating disorder, I certainly did not want to pass that on to her.

    I committed that day to work on talking to myself like I would talk to my daughter. To caring for myself like I would care for my daughter.

    That started with telling myself I was worth self-love and self-care.

    The second step was noticing when my inner critic was telling me that I was not worth that love and care.  Once I was able to notice those thoughts, I was able to start replacing them with more helpful thoughts and words.

    Is any of this going to happen overnight?

    Nope.

    Happiness is something we all spend an awful lot of time looking for, and this feeling of peace and contentment that we all hunger for seems pretty elusive sometimes. But remember, it is in you. You already have everything you need inside of you. These three practices are some pretty simple things that you can do to start your journey toward happiness using what is already inside you.

    Everything is a process. You don’t get from point A to point B overnight. It’s the little things that you take the time to do every day that get you there. If you stare at a blade of grass, you can’t see it growing minute-by-minute, but when your lawn needs to be mowed, you can be pretty sure it grew a lot!

    The end result will come, but you must have patience. You must be grateful for the process to learn and grow. And during the process, you must treat yourself with love, kindness, and respect.

    When you can embrace this truth, you are sure to end up in a beautiful place, and one day, you too, will live from a place of happiness, purpose, and fulfillment.

  • How Being in a Toxic Relationship Changed My Life for the Better

    How Being in a Toxic Relationship Changed My Life for the Better

    “Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars.  You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” ~C.S. Lewis

    My ex and I split up about five years ago. We had been married for seventeen years, and after that long, I figured we were home free, as far as lasting marriages go. Needless to say, when it happened, I was devastated. Over all those years of being a couple, I had lost a big part of myself. Without that relationship, who was I anymore?

    I was terrified of being alone, which led me to start exploring the dating world much too soon.

    I dated a really nice guy that I just wasn’t into and we became friends. I dated a guy (once) that freaked me out and taught me never to get in a car with a stranger. I dated a guy that ghosted me. Finally, I dated a guy that I thought was my soul mate. He nearly ruined my life.

    When I met him, I wasn’t all that into him. He seemed too quiet for me, but he was cute and after a few dates, I started to really like him. We were both mid-divorce, and we had a lot in common. We could talk for hours. He was thoughtful and offered his time and affection freely.

    After a couple months, he changed. He became very quiet and contemplative, and the conversation waned. He was always lacking in energy and never wanted to go out and do anything fun, which was totally the opposite of me. In a healthier mental state, maybe I would have seen the red flags.

    We connected on a deeper level though, when he did talk. We were both in search of meaning in our lives. We were both trying to make sense of it all. I felt like we had this deep bond unlike anything I had experienced in a partner before. We both struggled with depression and with finding our places in this new life after divorce.   

    I needed someone to fill the hole that my ex-husband had left, and I wanted connection so badly. People told me I had to learn to be alone and get to know myself again first, but I didn’t want to hear that. The only thing I wanted was to feel whole again, and at the time whole meant being with someone. 

    As he grew distant, I tried harder and harder to get attention and affection from him. And, of course, the more I tried to get the affection, love, and attention I so desperately wanted, the more he pulled away.

    I felt like I was drowning in a rushing river, trying desperately to grasp onto something—anything—that would help me fill the void left by my failed marriage. I wanted him to treat me like he loved and cared for me, and he was just not willing to do that, or maybe he just wasn’t capable.

    The constant fishing for him to say the words I wanted to hear and to make me feel how I wanted to feel was exhausting and unbearably frustrating. I couldn’t understand how someone could be so selfish when I was giving so much.

    We’d been together for about five or six months when he started having debilitating anxiety accompanied by suicidal thoughts. One night, when he was afraid to be alone, I rearranged my schedule with my kids so I could stay with him to make sure he was okay. He ended up feeling like he needed hospitalization to stay safe.

    I stayed by his side the entire time, and when he was admitted to the inpatient program, I visited him every day, without fail. I rearranged my days so I could be there for him. I was practically existing to be needed by him.

    As he was preparing to be released from inpatient, he was afraid to be alone in case his anxiety worsened and he started having suicidal thoughts again. He asked if he could stay with me, which was tricky since I have two kids who were going through this difficult time of divorce as well. It wasn’t ideal, but in my state of needing to be needed, I was ready to help him however I could—whatever it took.

    His parents ended up coming to stay with him, so that measure wasn’t necessary, but it also meant he didn’t need me anymore.

    All of his attention was focused inward and on getting better, and not at all toward me or showing any appreciation for the sacrifices I was making for him. Let’s be clear—this is how it should have been, and I know that he absolutely needed to take care of himself, but it made me crazy.

    I wanted him to love me like I (thought) I loved him. I just couldn’t see that he was not in a place where he could really love anyone. That hole I was trying to fill just kept getting wider and deeper.

    When he was hospitalized, it almost normalized the experience for me. He got a break from life for a few days and I basically dropped my life to save his.

    Maybe he’d do the same thing for me, and maybe he’d finally give me the attention I craved. Maybe, just maybe, I could start to fill in that big hole in my heart. This was, of course, a subconscious line of thinking at the time, but in hindsight, I can see that I was grasping for any shred of validation from him that I was worthy of his love. 

    I was severely depressed. I had thrown myself so hard into this relationship, and I wasn’t getting anything back. I ended up being hospitalized too because of the depression, pain, and hopelessness I was feeling.

    He spent a little time being supportive, but he didn’t drop everything to be there for me like I did when he needed me. He only came and visited me once.

    I had never felt so alone in my life.

    The relationship had grown to be so dysfunctional that I had lost any shred of sanity that I had left. Looking back, it feels a little embarrassing that I stayed in this place when everyone I knew told me to get out. I wanted the relationship to work—at any cost.

    He broke up with me right before Christmas that year, which was also completely devastating to me.  I didn’t take it well, and I hated him for it.

    To make matters worse, in the new year, he texted me to tell me that he missed me. We started hanging out again and maintained a “friends with benefits” kind of relationship. How dumb could I be?? 

    Again, I was there whenever he needed me, at great cost to my own well-being. I held on to this shred of hope that maybe things would work out. Somehow, someday.

    His depression and anxiety eventually flared up again, and he took some time to go to North Carolina to stay with his parents for a month while he attended a partial hospitalization program.

    We stayed in contact the whole time, and toward the end of his stay there, he talked about how he was starting to feel like we should get back together. I was still in heart hole-filling mode, so in my mind, it was like things were finally coming together—this was why I had stuck it out so long, after all, right?

    When he came home from North Carolina, we didn’t really talk about “being back together,” but it sure felt that way. It finally felt nice—like I had wished for, for so long.

    And then one day, everything changed.

    I invited some friends over for my birthday, and he was supposed to help me with the food, but he was late. Really late. I tried calling him multiple times with no answer. As I hung out with my friends and tried to make fun conversation and pretend nothing was wrong, I felt hurt, unimportant, unworthy, and small. When he finally did show up, something was odd about him. When he left that night, I went to kiss him, it felt forced and awkward.

    Later that week, when I pressed him on it, he told me he was on a date with the woman he knew would be his future wife.

    After one date we were over. Like a switch flipped.

    After one date, he was exclusively dating another woman whom he would marry someday, and he didn’t even apologize, explain, or get how crappy all of it was. 

    I was so angry, but I was also blindsided, hurt, and I felt like an idiot. I had given so much of myself for him, and he treated me terribly and without care. The rest of the details aren’t necessarily important, but in the end, I told him to f* off and that I didn’t ever want to see or talk to him again.

    All of my hurt was finally starting to turn into something useful—anger and self-respect.

    I think I needed anger to leave that relationship behind and realize how much better off I was going to be without him.

    I didn’t really start to heal from the pain of my divorce until after this moment, and I didn’t really date for a while after that.

    I reconnected with friends I saw much less of when I was dating him. I reconnected with myself. I learned how to be alone, and how to appreciate that time.

    I learned what I want and need in a relationship.

    Most of all though, I learned that I am worthy of love and I deserve someone who wants to give back. I learned that I shouldn’t settle for less than someone that wants to be an equal partner in my life.

    Despite how horrible that time was, I am so grateful for the experience because of  how much I learned about myself and grew during that time.   

    We were just two people who were struggling with where we were in life. We weren’t right for each other, but we were put in each other’s path to teach each other something.

    He ended up getting married to the woman he was with when he was late to my birthday party, and I am so thankful that she ended up as his wife and not me.

    I like to believe that he really is a good person that was just going through a tough time when he met me. I do wish him the best. We all deserve that, right? I could even go so far as to thank him for the things he helped me learn.

    The lessons that came out of this very painful experience are many, and I want to summarize them so that you, too, can learn from my mistakes. I hope you find these helpful.

    You Are Absolutely Worthy of All the Love

    You deserve the world, even if you have to give it to yourself. It doesn’t matter who you are, you deserve love. Yes, you. And if you are with someone who doesn’t love you like you deserve to be loved, you should look elsewhere, or even better, within.

    Move on. For real.

    Figure Out How to Love Yourself First

    It’s been said that you can’t really love anyone until you learn to love yourself. I don’t think you can really truly accept and feel love until you learn to love yourself first, either.

    What’s more, when you learn to love yourself, you don’t need another person to fill any emotional holes. You are already whole all on your own. The love you find when you are whole is a different kind of love, and it’s beautiful.

    How do you learn to love yourself? Start by simply being with yourself. Fill the hole with your own care and attention. This will lead to respecting yourself, which in time will lead to valuing yourself.

    You Have Value as a Person

    Part of your journey in life is seeing that you are worth making the trip. It might be hard to see, but you most definitely are.

    If you are with someone that can’t see how valuable you are, you’re with the wrong person. You have unique talents. You are beautiful, and you are amazing. There is someone out there that will see it. But you have to believe it, too.

    Every Experience in Your Life Has Something to Teach You

    I bet if you look at all of the challenging experiences in your life, you can find at least one thing you learned from each. If you don’t agree with me, I can almost guarantee that you’re not trying hard enough.

    It’s through challenges that we grow. If I hadn’t had this difficult experience, it wouldn’t have led me to my current partner, who loves me and supports me more than I could have ever dreamed of. I learned so much about relationships, and myself, that I wouldn’t have otherwise learned, and who knows, I might not have been ready to meet the love of my life.

    Letting Go Can Be a Beautiful Thing

    Letting go is hard.

    We want what we want, and it takes a lot of trust to walk away from a sure thing when you don’t know what the future will hold.

    It’s hard to accept that sometimes what we want isn’t the best thing for us. But you have to trust that by letting go you’ll open up to better things.

    And sometimes the best thing for you is to simply to live without a person who isn’t good for you.