Tiny Buddha

Author: Louise Watson

  • Leaping into the Unknown: Why We Don’t Always Need a Plan

    Leaping into the Unknown: Why We Don’t Always Need a Plan

    “You don’t always need a plan. Sometimes you just need to breathe, trust, let go, and see what happens.” ~Mandy Hale

    Wake up.

    Wish I could go back to sleep.

    Get up and ready for work. Tell myself that today I’ll leave earlier but then leave the same time as usual.

    Walk to work. Pass all the same people I did yesterday. At the same time.

    Arrive at work. Listen to the same people complaining about the same things. Complain about the same things myself.

    Teach my classes. Tell people off for being late—the same people as yesterday and the day before that.

    Go home. Try to work toward my dream life. Collapse from exhaustion after about half an hour and wonder what the point is.

    Go to bed. Cry lots. Hope that I don’t wake up in the morning.

    Wake up again and repeat.

    This was my routine for a good number of months before I finally couldn’t take it anymore.

    Did I have the world’s worst job? No, not really. Did I live in a hell hole? Not at all. In fact, you could probably say that I didn’t have any problems, yet I was possibly more miserable than I’d ever been.

    I couldn’t believe it. How had I ended up like this? I’d tried so hard to change my life. I’d meditated, done yoga, followed my dreams, made a vision board, and bought lots of self-help books. I’d even read them, too!

    What more was a girl supposed to do? Why wasn’t my life changing?

    I desperately wanted to leave my job, but couldn’t. I wouldn’t have the money to pay the rent. I wanted to leave my apartment but I had nowhere to go. Not unless I went to stay with my mother and, I couldn’t do that—not at my age!

    So I plodded on, I tried to be a good ‘spiritual’ person and accept my life as it was. I tried to make the best of things. And sometimes, it worked, but not for long.

    Eventually the feelings of dissatisfaction would return. The feeling of helplessness. Feeling stuck. Wanting to escape.

    But there was no way out. I’d be repeating this day forever. And ever.

    Let It Go

    Around this time, I was reading a lot about how we need to close one door before another can open. I was also seeing colleagues leave work to pursue a life of their dreams.

    Rather than giving me hope, this made me feel more downhearted. It was all right for them; they had money, a partner, a new job, or an already-up-and-running business.

    I was all alone. I was broke. I had no husband to support me. No rich relatives to bail me out.

    Everything I’d done to try to make a living out of work that I loved had already failed. I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore. I just knew I didn’t want what I had.

    I’d get irritated when I’d read about how I had to simply quit my job, how I had to follow my heart. What if my heart was only telling me what I didn’t want? What if it was refusing to tell me what was next?

    What if I closed one door and the other one got stuck?

    What then?

    I was so afraid of what would happen, I held on for months, hoping for an answer to drop out of the sky.

    Until the pain of staying where I was suddenly became too much to bear. I couldn’t take it anymore. Suddenly, what happened next didn’t matter.

    I didn’t care.

    I saw the madness of what I was doing: staying in a job I didn’t want to do, to live in an apartment that I didn’t want to live in, to stay in an area that I didn’t particularly like. Just to survive. And even surviving wasn’t much fun.

    So I surrendered. I did what I’d felt called to do all along: I said goodbye to the security I’d been clinging to. With no idea of what was coming next. With no income and little money. And no idea where I was going to live.

    But as soon as I made my decision, I felt a huge sense of relief. I wondered what had taken me so long.

    Of course, it wasn’t long until the fear crept back in. I had moments when I wondered what I was doing and how I would survive.

    But even in those moments of doubt, there was a knowing that leaving my present situation was the right thing to do.

    All my life, I’d put survival first. Now it was time to put myself first.

    My happiness. My sanity. My peace of mind.

    The worst-case scenario may not be so bad. In fact, it might be quite good.

    I was lucky. I was never going to be out on the streets. I knew I had the option of returning to stay with my mother until I sorted myself out. But I really didn’t want to do that. I was far too old for that now.

    Besides, that would mean living in a town far away from anywhere, with no transport of my own. I’d be so lonely. I’d have even less chance of finding work I loved. I’d be even more stuck!

    Despite my best hopes that something else would magically turn up, I indeed ended up returning home. I tried telling myself it would be fine, but the scary thoughts were still lurking.

    However, within a couple of weeks of the move, I saw the new path begin to emerge—chance meetings with like-minded people, work opportunities in unexpected places, community events where I thought there’d be none.

    And for the first time in months, I actually felt happy. Because for the first time in my life, I was truly putting myself first. And I was truly living in the present. Survival was no longer the name of the game. My own peace of mind and happiness was.

    When the pain of being where you are is too much to handle, when life is shoving you in the direction of the unknown, dare to trust it.

    As I said, I was lucky. I know not everybody can do exactly as I did. Not everyone has someone who can help them out while they make a drastic life change.

    I also know how annoying it can be to be told to change your life when you simply don’t see how. But the point here isn’t to do what I did, but to let go where you can even if you have to face your own worst-case scenario.

    When you begin to take care of yourself, when you follow what feels good for you and put your own physical and mental health first, you’ll find the path will begin to open up. You’ll find support from unexpected places.

    You may even find that your worst-case scenario turns out to be the best thing you could have hoped for.

    What I’ve learned is that having a plan is overrated. Sometimes we really do need to let go and see what happens next.

  • How Taking a Step Backward Can Be the Way Forward

    How Taking a Step Backward Can Be the Way Forward

    Moving Forward

    “Your dream doesn’t have an expiration date. Take a deep breath and try again.” ~KT Witten

    As I said goodbye on my last day of work, I couldn’t help feeling smug. When my colleagues turned up for work on Monday morning, I’d be at home, free to do whatever I wanted with my day.

    I’d resigned to explore the possibilities of a career in writing. With no clear idea of what the immediate future held, I was both nervous and excited.

    I imagined myself in a few years’ time, happily making a fortune from all my creative endeavors, living a life of adventure, appearing in magazines and on TV, chatting with Oprah about my latest project and my fabulous life.

    I was so cool.

    About eight months later I was back. My “bestseller” was still waiting to be published; I’d abandoned the blog that was going to take the world by storm; I’d dropped several other ideas that had barely even started; and my bank balance was looking very sorry for itself.

    Not so cool.

    Thankfully, I successfully managed to ignore my inner critic, who was doing her best to tell me how stupid I’d been. Nevertheless, I felt confused about what had happened.

    Over the past couple of years I’d been hearing how we should all have the courage to go for our dreams—that we should trust our instincts, follow our hearts, embrace uncertainty, and dare to believe in ourselves.

    And that’s what I’d done. I’d followed my heart, which had told me to resign from my job and pursue writing. Then I followed it back again to the same job I’d spent a year telling myself I had to leave.

    If I was supposed to follow my heart, why was I back to square one? On reflection, I realized the answer was simple; I wasn’t back to square one at all. In fact, I wasn’t even back to square two.

    When we try something new, when we dare to take a risk, it rarely, if ever, works out as we imagine.

    When unexpected challenges arise, when things go “wrong,” it’s tempting to tell ourselves that we’ve failed; that we should stick to what we know. That we should just play it safe and leave dream-following to those who have what it takes.

    Don’t do it; don’t let the negative thoughts and self-doubt bring you down. Instead, consider the following questions to keep you focused on your goal and going in the right direction.

    What have you learned from the experience?

    I knew becoming self-employed would be hard work, but I wasn’t prepared for the psychological shift it would take.

    I’d always worked for other people, and I’d always pretty much done what I was told in every other area of my life, too. It takes a huge change on the inside to be able to go from one extreme to the other.

    But if I hadn’t left my job, I wouldn’t have known that. I’d still be at work, resenting every moment, wanting to jump but not daring to do it and always wondering, “what if…?”

    I’ve learned that I don’t have to sacrifice everything to go for what I want. I don’t have to eat baked beans and live in a squat until I’m discovered.

    Going back to work has meant that I can afford to invest in myself, both in terms of my physical well-being and getting my ideas off the ground.

    Prioritizing your dreams doesn’t mean you mustn’t ever work a day job again. It means making time for the things that are truly important to you.

    I’ve also learned that taking a big risk isn’t always that risky after all. Before I left work, I procrastinated for months, alternating between excitement at the thought of going for my dream and fear over what would happen if I ran out of money.

    And what happened in the end? I ran out of money and went back to work. No biggie.

    Very rarely do the calamities we imagine happening come true.

    What have you achieved?

    It can be all too tempting to focus on the things you haven’t done, but try instead to focus on what you did manage to do.

    I finished the project I was working on before leaving my job and researched the world of publishing, which I didn’t have time for when I was working. I started a blog, and while it didn’t work out as I’d hoped, the experience gave me some more ideas to work on. It also led me to discovering that people liked my writing, which gave me the confidence to believe that I had something to offer.

    Even your “failures” can be achievements, as when you know what doesn’t work for you, you’re one step closer to finding out what does.

    How have you changed?

    Going back to work has shown me just how much my mindset has changed. For so many years, work was something I had to do to survive, and everything else had to come second.

    Now I understand that life isn’t supposed to be about cursing the alarm clock on Monday morning and living for the weekend. I can see the pointlessness of arguing over who gets the best parking space (especially since I don’t even drive) or complaining about things we’re not even going to try to change.

    Use the negative as a positive. Sometimes, a healthy dose of what you don’t want can help remind you of what you do want and where you want to go.

    Once you’ve taken the first step toward your dream, there really is only one direction to go in. Keep your eye on the goal and use any step you take backward as a tool for moving forward.

    Photo by Simon

    Editor’s Note: Louise has generously offered to give away two free copies of her book, Stop Making Your Life a Misery. Leave a comment on the post for a chance to win! You can enter until midnight PST on Friday, July 25th. 

    UPDATE: The winners for this giveaway are Amy and MAustin. 

  • Why You Should Do That Thing You’ve Always Wanted to Do

    Why You Should Do That Thing You’ve Always Wanted to Do

    snowboarding

    “Better to do something imperfectly than to do nothing flawlessly.” ~Robert H. Schuller

    In March this year, I did something I had wanted to do since the age of nine: I had my first piano lesson. At the time I was nearly thirty-five, so it had only taken me twenty-six years to get around to it.

    Why the delay? Well, when I was little, we couldn’t afford lessons, but looking back I see that was only an excuse until I got my first part-time job at sixteen—which means that the last nineteen years of procrastinating were entirely down to me.

    Over those years, thoughts of playing the piano had come back to me on quite a few occasions.

    Whenever I talked about it with anyone, we would usually end up agreeing that either it would be too expensive or that I was now just too old. After all, piano lessons are for kids, and posh kids at that.

    Then, one day, I heard that the TV presenter Jonathan Ross was learning to play. He wasn’t posh! And he was older than me! If he could do it, surely I could too. After hearing this, I decided I’d really have to start thinking about having lessons.

    And I did—think about it, I mean. I thought about it a lot. Every time I saw Jonathan Ross on TV, every time I met someone who could play the piano, every time I saw a piano, every time I heard the word “piano.”

    “One day I’ll learn,” I’d think, “when I have more money.”

    Then, when I was teaching in Italy, a golden opportunity came my way: one of my students was a piano teacher. I was very excited when she told me this and instantly told her that I’d love to be able to play.

    Guess what? She offered to give me a lesson. For free! I leapt at the chance and rushed to her house first thing the next morning. Of course, I didn’t really do that. That’s what I should have done.

    Instead, I told her I thought it would be easier for children and asked her if it would be difficult to learn at my age.

    “Maybe,” she said, and that was that. We quickly forgot all about it and the idea was pushed aside once more, with me safe in the knowledge that there really was nothing I could do about it.

    Fast-forward about seven years and I was teaching a group of mixed nationality students in Bournemouth, England. At one point a student asked me if I played an instrument.

    I gave him my usual answer: “No, but I’ve always wanted to be able to play the piano.” He smiled at me and asked, “What have you done to make your dream come true?”

    I was slightly stunned by this question. Not only did I realize I had done nothing, but I hadn’t really thought of it as a dream before; I just thought it was something that I’d quite like to do, if only I could.

    But it was a dream. It had come back to me again and again. Why hadn’t I done something about it? Why couldn’t I do it? What was stopping me?

    I would like to be able to tell you that I ran home and found myself a teacher right away, but I didn’t.

    It wasn’t until a few months later that I finally went for it. I was writing a list of all the things I’d like to start doing in my free time and again, piano lessons were on my list. My student’s words rang in my ears: “What have you done to make your dream come true?”

    “Right! That’s it!” I thought. Turning to my trusty friend, Google, I did a search on “piano teachers in Bournemouth” and found one who lived five minutes from my flat.

    What’s more, she gave free trial lessons. I had nothing to lose. I emailed her right away and booked a lesson for later that week.

    Eight months and a few “good job” stickers later, I am quite amazed by how much I’ve learned in such a short space of time. But one question still bothers me: Why did it take me so long?

    It wasn’t the money; I could have had free lessons in Italy. It wasn’t a lack of a good teacher; I hadn’t even tried to look for one before. When I finally did, she lived a stone’s throw away from my flat.

    What it really boiled down to was this: I was scared.

    I was scared that I wouldn’t be good enough, posh enough, young enough, confident enough, and Lord-knows-what-else enough to learn how to play a musical instrument. People like me just didn’t do that sort of thing.

    How many of us do this? How many people put off doing the things we want to do through fear of failure or being ridiculed?

    What was the worst thing that could have happened? I would have been a rubbish piano player, that’s all. And only my teacher would have known.

    Why do we do it? Why are we so afraid of stepping out of our comfort zone?

    Because that’s just what it is. It’s comforting; we know what’s going to happen. There’s minimal stress involved; we’re safe.

    We’re also most probably, bored rigid. Staying in our comfort zone doesn’t allow us to grow into the people we were meant to be.

    Why is it so important to do that thing you’ve always wanted to do?

    Learning to play an instrument is hard, but not as hard as I thought it would be. Seeing that you have the ability to do something that you didn’t think possible helps to boost your confidence and leads you to think, “Hang on a minute; what else could I do?”

    Nowadays, I’m busy taking my first baby steps toward self-employment and getting my writing out to the world. I’m fully invested in going for my dream.

    While that’s not entirely because of the piano lessons, they have helped give me the confidence to see that I can do whatever I put my mind to.

    It’s never too late (except that sometimes, it kind of is).

    I was originally going to title this post something like “It’s never too late to…” but then I realized that’s not entirely true.

    The truth is, none of us know how long we have, or what condition our health will be in if we do reach old age.

    You never know when the chance will pass you by completely.

    And while I’m happy with my progress, as I practice my latest masterpiece in the hope of another sticker, I can’t help but wonder what I could be playing by now if I’d started earlier.

    So my message is simple: Whatever you want to do, go for it, whether it’s pottery, rock-climbing, tap dancing, or knitting.

    Think of the worst thing that could happen, which will probably be that you’ll be no good.

    So what?

    You have everything to gain and nothing to lose.

    There’s no reason not to go for that thing you’ve always wanted to do.

    Photo by Alex Indigo

  • Accept Yourself as You Are, Even When Others Don’t

    Accept Yourself as You Are, Even When Others Don’t

    “What other people think of me is none of my business.” ~Wayne Dyer

    “You’re too quiet.”

    This comment and others like it have plagued me almost all my life. I don’t know how many times I’ve been told that I needed to come out of my shell, to be livelier, or to talk more.

    As a child and teenager, I allowed these remarks to hurt me deeply. I was already shy, but I became even more self-conscious as I was constantly aware of people waiting for me to speak.

    When I did, the response was often, “Wow! Louise said something!”

    This would make me just want to crawl back into my shell and hide. I became more and more reserved.

    The older I got, the angrier I became. Each time someone told me I was “too quiet,” I wondered what exactly they were hoping to achieve anyway. Did they imagine I had a magic button I could press that would turn me into Miss Showbiz?  

    If only it were that simple, I thought. I felt I should be accepted as I was, but apparently that wasn’t going to happen. There was only one thing for it; I would have to become the extrovert the world wanted me to be, but how?

    At seventeen, I thought I’d found the perfect solution: alcohol.

    When I was drunk, everyone seemed to like me. I was fun and outgoing; able to talk to anyone with no problems at all. However, it began to depress me that I needed a drink to do this or for anyone to like me.

    Another strategy was to attach myself to a more outgoing friend. I did this at school, university, and later when I began to travel a lot in my twenties.

    Although I didn’t do it consciously, wherever I went I would make friends with someone much louder than me. Then I’d become their little sidekick, going everywhere with them, trying to fit in with all their friends, and even adopting aspects of their personality.

    Sometimes I just tried faking it.

    When I was twenty-four, I began teaching English as a Foreign Language, and a month into my first contract in Japan, I was told my students found me difficult to talk to. I was upset because I thought I had made an effort to be friendly and I didn’t understand what else I could do.

    After crying all night because once again I wasn’t good enough, I went into work the next day determined to be really lively and talkative. Of course, it didn’t work because everyone could see I was being false.

    It seemed that I was doomed. I would never be accepted. Being a naturally loud person was the only way to be liked.

    Or maybe not.

    Over the years, I’ve spoken to several talkative, extroverted people who’ve been told they’re too loud or that they talk too much. It seems whatever personality you’ve got you’re always going to be “too much” of something for someone.

    What really matters is: do you think you need to change?

    My shyness has made some areas of my life more difficult. It’s something I’ve been working on all my life and I always will be in order to do all the things I want to do.

    However, I’ve realized I’m always going to be an introvert, which is not the same thing.

    I enjoy going out and socializing, but I also enjoy being alone. At work I talk to people all day, every day. I like my job, but as an introvert, I get tired after all that interaction, so later I need some quiet time to “recharge my batteries.”

    I can overcome my shyness. I can’t overcome my introversion, but actually, I wouldn’t want to because I’m happy being this way.

    Be kind to yourself if you decide to change.

    While I’m still shy, I no longer worry about it.  When speaking to new people, if something comes out wrong or I get my words mixed up, I just laugh to myself about my nervousness rather than telling myself how weird the other person must’ve thought I was.

    In the past I was terrified of any form of public speaking. Now my job is getting up in front of people and talking. After a rocky start in Japan, my students now see me as funny (sometimes!) and confident.

    So I think I’m doing alright. No, I don’t understand why I can’t just be like that with everyone, but I’m not going to beat myself up about it. I’m doing my best and that’s all I can do.

    Don’t be afraid to lose false friends.

    When you’re always being told you’re too much of this or not enough of that, it’s easy to start thinking you have to be grateful that anyone is willing to spend time with you.

    I used to put up with friends who treated me badly because I thought if I stood up for myself, I’d lose their friendship and I’d end up all alone.

    Eventually, in my last year teaching abroad, I did stand up for myself and my worst fear came true. I was left completely friendless.

    And you know what? It was okay. The time alone taught me to enjoy my own company, and gave me the chance to learn more about myself. This has gradually led to me attracting more positive people into my life.

    Could your supposed weakness actually be your strength?

    I’m a good listener, so friends feel able to talk to me if they have a problem and they know I’m not going to tell anyone.

    I’m an efficient worker because I just get on with the job. I can empathize with shy students in my class. I don’t force them to speak but leave them alone, knowing that they’ll talk when they feel more comfortable.

    There’s a reason why you were made the way you are. If we were all supposed to be the same, we would be.

    I’ve stopped trying to make everyone like me and I’ve stopped trying to be something I’m not. As a result, any changes in my character happen naturally as my confidence continues to grow.

    The “quiet” comments are also now few and far between. When you learn to accept yourself, you’re likely to find that others will accept you too.

    But if they don’t, it really doesn’t matter.