Tiny Buddha

Category: love & relationships

  • How I Healed My FOMO and Started Saying No

    How I Healed My FOMO and Started Saying No

    “When you say ‘yes’ to others, make sure you are not saying ‘no’ to yourself.” ~Paulo Coelho

    My sister-in-law returned to Montreal after spending three months in Portugal. She told me that the biggest adjustment to being back was spending twenty minutes in the pharmacy aisle deciding which shampoo brand to get because the options were endless. She missed life in Portugal, where she only had one brand to choose from.

    Ah, the paradox of choice.

    I am a recovering indecisive person. I used to stand in line at restaurant counters, telling people to go ahead of me with their orders because I couldn’t make up my mind.

    What if I got the poached eggs on cod cakes but the French toast with apple butter was really the way to go? At least with brunch menus you can order both and split it with a friend, but it gets a little trickier when you’re talking about plans where you can’t be in two places at once, but you still try to be.

    When I was invited to four different Halloween Parties in my twenties, I attempted to go to all of them! I didn’t want to have FOMO (fear of missing out), so I spread myself thin trying to do it all by making an appearance at each party—always with one foot out the door.

    The downside to saying yes to each of my friends was that I wasn’t able to be fully present for just one person. I felt scattered and rushed to get on to the next party, and I left each of my friends feeling like they weren’t important enough to commit to.

    The other thing indecisive people like me used to say is, “I’ll try and make it.”

    Really? You’re going to try? We both know that probably means you’re a no show. Why don’t you just say yes or no? To quote Yoda from Star Wars, “Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.”

    I used to rush to say “YES!” to every offer that sounded good at the time. “Yes, I’ll be part of the book club,” “Yes, I’ll help you write that grant,” “Yes, I’ll launch a rooftop garden project,” “Yes, I’ll help you move,” “Yes, I’ll do a full day workshop for free and not get to talk about my business.”

    I said yes so many times I felt like I was spinning plates. Running around like a crazy person trying to please everyone, I wondered, “How did I get stuck with so many commitments?” (Ahem…well, Myrite, you did say yes to all those commitments).

    It was as if I didn’t know any other option but saying yes. That was until one day I met with a fellow coach to see if she was interested in co-creating a program with me. I ran the idea by her expecting her to say yes right away (as I would have!). But when we finished the meeting she said, “Do you mind if I sit with this and see if it’s a yes?”

    What? Say that again? These were new words to my ears. I had never heard of that option! I didn’t know that you could say that! It opened up worlds of possibilities.

    First of all, I respected her more for saying she’d have to think about it than if she rushed to please me with a yes. And it also taught me that I could give myself the time and space to sit with a choice to see if it was a genuine heartfelt yes or if I was saying yes out of guilt or obligation. Just so you know, saying yes out of guilt is a definite no-no.

    I also used to be so afraid of what would happen if I said no. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone, but what I realized is that when you say yes to other people at the expense of yourself, the hardest person to disappoint is really you!

    If you’re so concerned with what other people might think if you say no, then ask yourself whether you’re making other people’s needs more important than your own. Just like kids who throw a tantrum when they don’t get what they want, you can expect that when you start to bravely and gracefully stand your ground and say what you want instead of what others might expect of you, you’ll get some pushback. But that is part of living a brave life. .

    So here are some suggestions from my recovering people pleaser heart to yours, whether you’re indecisive, have FOMO, or rush to say yes.

    1. Learn how to be okay with disappointing some people.

    As Oprah so eloquently taught me, “In order to live a brave life you have to be okay with disappointing some people.”

    When you say no to someone else, you are saying yes to yourself. Instead of worrying about other people’s needs, take care of your own. As Brené Brown shares, one minute of discomfort while telling someone no is better than a few years of resentment after saying yes to something you didn’t want to do but feel obligated to.

    2. Create space before responding.

    When someone makes you an offer, before you say yes, try slowing it down. Take the time to check in with yourself and say “let me get back to you.” Or, “Sounds good! Let me sit with it and ill let you know by…” Or “Let me check my calendar/check in with my partner and get back to you.” Then make a choice: yes or no. Don’t sit in the in between or try and do both. On that note…

    3. You are not a magician.

    (Unless your name is Merlin, in which case I apologize). But if you can be in two places at once, that is a miracle. If you can be fully present in both places, that is a double rainbow miracle.

    The thing is, when you try and be in two places at once, you are setting yourself up for feeling split, torn and neither here nor there.

    Stop splitting and start choosing. Choose to be pulled by the loving choice that makes you feel like your best possible future self—the choice that makes you feel lighter, more expanded, more of the you that you want to show up as if you were living your brave life full out.

    4. Trade your “I will try” to “I will.”

    What are you really saying when you say “I’ll try?” Is it a way to get yourself off the hook, so you don’t have to be responsible for committing to anything? Trying only works when there is conviction behind it. When you mean it with commitment and effort. But when you use “I’ll try” as a scapegoat for “I wasn’t planning on showing up,” that’s when you get into trouble. You’re trying to use the easy button and replace “try” for the scarier “no.”

    So here’s my advice: Don’t say try when you really mean no. Start by practicing saying “no thank you.” And if it is a yes, then commit by saying “I will.”

    5. Realize there is no wrong choice.

    I have to keep telling myself this over and over when I’m torn between topics for which programs to launch next. Every time I am torn between choices. I am learning to just choose one. Start with that.

    Whether it’s a brunch order or Saturday night plans or a job offer. Choose one and stick to it. If you really don’t like it, you can leave, quit, or try something else, but at least start by choosing somewhere to focus your energy for now.

    Give yourself permission to choose and know that there is no wrong choice. What If whichever experience you will have is exactly the one you are meant to be having in that moment?

    Some choices will lead to positive outcomes; others will lead to more painful lessons. But not choosing will mean living in regret. Let not choosing no longer be the acceptable default choice, my dear, and see what kind of magic you create.

  • Why People-Pleasers Don’t Get the Love and Respect They Desire

    Why People-Pleasers Don’t Get the Love and Respect They Desire

    “Niceness is the psychological armor of the people-pleaser.” ~Harriet B. Braiker

    I used to think that being kind, gentle, and agreeable was guaranteed to win me love and acceptance from others. I’d tiptoe around destructive people’s behaviors, no matter how uncomfortable I felt about it, believing to my core that if only I could be nice enough to them, they would one day lead a better life.

    I lived my life constantly avoiding anything that might make me look like a bad, imperfect, antagonistic, or unlikeable person. Because as every people-pleaser knows, being disliked or disapproved of feels worse than ignoring your own feelings—at least at first.

    Some people were easy to please; a kind gesture or smile was all it would take. Getting their approval so effortlessly made me happier than a kid at Disney World. But with other people, it seemed the more I tried to please them, the more likely they were to treat me like an old dish rag; and the more this happened, the less I liked myself.

    Eventually, my efforts to please others left me feeling disrespected, violated, and disconnected—from life, from other people, and from myself.

    For many years, I silently endured the ongoing, relentless invalidation of who I was based on how others treated me. When someone close to me was feeling unsatisfied, negative, or in search of someone to blame, there I was, ready to take it.

    But no matter how unhappy I was, I still wanted to make them feel better. I wanted to see them happy, even at my own expense.

    At the core of these one-sided relationships I maintained with some of the perpetually dissatisfied people in my life was an enduring belief that if only I could solve their problems and make them happy, I’d finally receive the love and acceptance I desired all my life.

    I never stopped to think, “But what about me? What will become of me if I keep trying to satisfy people with an unquenchable thirst?” I couldn’t see that no matter what I did, it would never be enough. In fact, it wasn’t about me at all. I didn’t realize that no matter how good I am at solving problems, or how perfectly I can handle things, if someone wants to find fault with me, they will.

    Instead of seeing other people’s dissatisfaction as an issue for them to resolve on their own, I internalized it and interpreted it to mean I wasn’t good enough.

    But one day, I finally started asking myself some important questions: “What will become of me and my self-worth if I keep basing it on unhappy people’s perceptions? Who will love and respect me if I’m not even taking a stand for myself?”

    My conception of who I needed to be in order to gain love and acceptance was slapping me in the face over and over again like a flat tire driving on uneven pavement. But still, I wondered why my formula wasn’t working. I truly believed that living selflessly was a surefire way to get love, appreciation, respect, and lots of hugs in return.

    It took me a while to realize that living this way was actually having the opposite effect. My constant selfless giving and kindness didn’t automatically earn me a pass on the eternal acceptance subway. It actually seemed to be an invitation for people to take advantage of my generosity, allowing them to feel less anxious about their own lives.

    I set myself up to be other people’s emotional dumpster, personal life fixer, and convenient source of blame for their misfortunes.

    What I came to learn the hard way is that pleasing others isn’t the way to win their love and respect. I finally realized that if I kept taking on other people’s anxiety as my own, they would never change. And why would they, after all? They got lots of relief from me stepping in and resolving things. But at what cost?

    All this pleasing had left me feeling inadequate and stressed out as I watched the recipients of my pleasing play out the same problems and drama, over and over again.

    Love At All Costs

    One night I had a dream that I was standing in a field with nothing but the clothes on my back. I felt weak and tired, like I needed someone to come lift me up and ask me how I was doing.

    Slowly, my family and friends started to join me in the field. But they weren’t there to rescue me; they were there to bring me their troubles.

    One by one, they started pulling me in different directions. They wanted me to solve their lives for them, even though I was alone, tired, defeated, and left with nothing.

    The dream was showing me the truth about how I was living. When my life and health started to collapse around me like a burning building, I had to take a hard look at my perspective and decisions. I started to question my beliefs about what it meant to be a truly good person, and what it took to receive the love and respect I so desired.

    That dream helped me understand that my people-pleasing behaviors weren’t getting me what I desired; they were getting me the very experiences I spent my life trying to avoid.

    Back then, it would have been easier for me to blame others for their ungratefulness and neediness; but deep down, I knew that blaming would have been another way to avoid taking a look at myself.

    I was sick of exhausting myself trying to help and change other people, only to find that it didn’t work. I knew I had to change myself and, as cheesy as it may sound, give myself the love and respect I so desired. Because the truth is, no one can give you what you should be giving yourself from within—especially not those people who need the pleasing you so easily offer.

    After much reflection, I came to see that my pleasing behaviors were a way for me to get the validation from others that I wasn’t giving myself. Of course my efforts backfired, because I alone was responsible for my happiness; other people’s happiness wasn’t my responsibility, and just because I was overly nice to someone didn’t mean they had to treat me the same way.

    I was trying to please other people so I could feel worthy of love. In reality, my kindness wasn’t coming from a place of vulnerability, honesty, or acceptance; it was rooted in anxiety and fear.

    In my attempts to make everyone else happy, I lost control of my own identity, and they lost their ability to solve their own problems. By changing myself to become who everyone wanted me to be, I made myself less desirable and implicitly invited people to take me for granted.

    Pleasing Yourself

    Do you find yourself people-pleasing and wonder how you can get the love and respect you desire? Well, the answer is pretty simple, but the actions it takes aren’t quite as simple. The first step involves changing your perceptions. Once that’s done, changing your behaviors will follow naturally. Here are some things to remember:

    1. You aren’t treating yourself with love and respect when you regularly do things for others that they’re avoiding doing for themselves.

    2. You aren’t treating yourself with love and respect when people violate your boundaries, and you don’t speak up about it.

    3. You aren’t treating yourself with love and respect when you say yes to something but really want to say no.

    4. You aren’t treating yourself with love and respect when you internalize others’ dissatisfaction and take it on as your own problem.

    5. You aren’t treating yourself with love and respect when you hurt yourself in order to make others happy.

    Over time, I came to understand that my efforts to make other people happy were like deposits made in a piggy bank with a giant hole at the bottom.

    If you’re stuck in a people-pleasing cycle, chances are you’re subconsciously attaching to people who need you to soothe their discomfort, because they can’t do it for themselves. Since they don’t know how to manage their own emotions, they’ll continue to reach out to you whenever they’re in crisis—and, on the occasions when your pleasing behaviors aren’t sufficient for them, they’ll blame you for their discomfort.

    If you want to make changes in your life, it’s time for you to see this pattern clearly and stop basing your sense of worthiness on other people’s approval of you.

    Change your perceptions, beliefs, and behaviors. Make contributions to a bank that pays interest. Receive the love and respect you so desire by celebrating your freedom from the longing to be accepted by others.

    —

    Editor’s note: Ilene has generously offered to give away two free copies of her latest book, When It’s Never About You: The People-Pleaser’s Guide to Reclaiming Your Health, Happiness and Personal Freedom. To enter to win one of two free copies, leave a comment below. You don’t have to write anything specific—”Count me in” is sufficient! You can enter until midnight PST on Sunday, November 5th.

    UPDATE: The winners for this giveaway have already been chosen. They are Emma Andmark Shishkin and Mari Toni.

  • How Our Smartphones Are Disconnecting Us and What to Do About It

    How Our Smartphones Are Disconnecting Us and What to Do About It

    “These days, whether you are online or not, it is easy for people to end up unsure if they are closer together or further apart.” ~Sherry Turkle, Alone Together

    There was rarely a time when my partner didn’t have her phone in her hand or, at the very least, in a place she could quickly grab it.

    We’d go out for a meal and it’d be there by her plate, positioned so she could dip in and out at any lull in the conversation.

    We’d take a walk and she’d have me in one hand and it in the other, ready to take a photo or catch the next Facebook notification.

    Even when we were in bed, if it wasn’t glued to her face, it’d be right by her side, lying between us like a small child who’d snuggled in for the night and ruined any chance of intimacy.

    It wasn’t good for our relationship, to say the least. Especially considering that, however unhealthy her relationship with her phone was, mine was worse.

    I didn’t realize it at the time. But in hindsight, I can see that most the time she retreated into her phone was when I’d long zoned out and been absorbed by mine: some random article or new app I’d downloaded, updates on the game, or a group chat with work colleagues.

    In that sense, we were perfect for each other. And looking around us, there didn’t seem anything too strange or excessive about our behavior. All our friends and the couples around us were also interacting with each other from beyond their screens, and they seemed perfectly happy—at least according to their Instagram posts.

    But something wasn’t right. Sure, we had our problems, I knew that. But it was something more than that: we were missing that deep feeling of connection. You know, that feeling you get when your partner understands you, without having to say a word. Or the fulfillment of being alone together and feeling like you’re the only two people in the world.

    Surely this fundamental pillar of how you feel about someone had nothing to do with our little glowing screens. So, none the wiser to what was going on, things gradually got worse and, eventually, we broke up.

    I wasn’t blind enough to see our phones had something to do with it, though. I mean, not being able to talk for two minutes without one of us phubbing the other was clearly an issue. And the non-stop messaging whenever we were apart couldn’t have been good for us.

    So when a similar thing started to happen with my current partner—both of us spending more time with our devices than each other and a feeling of disconnection growing between us—I knew there was something going on. And if one thing was for sure, whatever it was, I wasn’t prepared to let it ruin another relationship.

    I started to look more closely at our phone use and put it under the microscope: Why was it happening? Why did I prefer Candy Crush over spending time together? Why did we talk more via text than real life?

    What I found completely changed our relationship. Not only that, it changed my relationships with friends, family, and everyone I meet. And what’s best about it, I haven’t had to disconnect from social media or give up any of my beloved devices.

    I discovered the real issue wasn’t the physical presence of the phone, but rather how it had changed our idea of communication and influenced how we interact together.

    A prime example of this is phubbing—when your partner uses their phone while you’re talking.

    This was an everyday occurrence in my relationship. My partner would often ask me, “How was your day?” and start phubbing the hell out of me just moments into my response. I always thought she just wasn’t interested and was just being rude, but that wasn’t half the story.

    Because instant messaging was now our primary mode of communication, we’d trained ourselves to take words solely on face value—like you would a text or email.

    And so we would never stop to look beyond what was being laid out on the surface and consider all the other information-rich signals that make up the majority of communication—facial gestures, eye contact, tone, body language, and the emotions driving them all.

    Whenever we spoke, it was more like a means to an end. Something we did because we had to. Conversation was a chore that consisted of generic, predetermined questions and equally humdrum answers. All delivered in a way that was monotonous and unappreciative of the other’s attention and contributions.

    So it’ll be no surprise to hear our conversations were never stimulating and meaningful. And because of this, we robbing ourselves the chance to foster that deep sense of connection and understanding that’s so vital to a healthy relationship.

    Phubbing was only the tip of the iceberg. But it was enough to realize the fundamental effects phones were having on my relationships and wake me up to how they were undermining my ability to connect with people.

    Today, by simply being more aware of how we use our devices, me and my partner are closer than ever.

    What’s more, now we don’t use our phones as much as the average couple, but it’s not because we’re following orders from a couples therapist or because some rule from a relationship handbook told us to. We do it because we stay up all night talking and forget about them. Or because we go on a long walk and accidentally leave them at home.

    We do it because we’ve got back in touch with those deep, visceral feelings that nothing on Twitter or Facebook could ever come close to. And because there’s no way we’re going to let them fade away again.

  • How Our Egos Create Drama in Our Relationships (And How to Avoid It)

    How Our Egos Create Drama in Our Relationships (And How to Avoid It)

    “The ego is the false self-born out of fear and defensiveness.” ~John O’Donohue

    I started a new relationship in December 2015, then moved countries to be with my Swedish partner in August, 2016.

    The last year has been life changing in the best possible ways. I’ve learned so much about myself, things I didn’t have the courage to acknowledge before.

    But it hasn’t all been a bed of roses—some of the insights I’ve gleaned haven’t been that comfortable to see.

    We met on an intensive spiritual retreat in India. We’ve both spent many years working on ourselves and our issues, so it’s fair to say we’re both awake and aware. But this has not guaranteed an easy ride or a challenge-free relationship.

    We both still have to work hard on the problems that come up, affecting us both individually and as a couple.

    When our disagreements or arguments erupt, it is often over the smallest things, which seem so important at the time. A prime example is when my partner asks me to do something without saying “please” (something that’s common in Sweden.)

    Such a minor failing has the power to seriously irritate me, causing our argument to blow up out of all proportion—sending one or either of us into fits of temper tantrums that can end with one or both of us brooding and not speaking to the other.

    Although we’re both aware how childishly we’re behaving and can see our over-reactions, we are nevertheless at a loss to stop or change this process. Why? Because of our egos!

    For the first time in my life I am seeing, experiencing, and understanding the ego play that takes place in every conflict I have. These insights are allowing me to unravel the true nature of my ego and its workings.

    If I were to describe my ego, I would compare it to an irritable, barely containable caged monster on the one hand and an irate, screaming five-year-old on the other. And just like a child that doesn’t get her own way, she’s constantly throwing tantrums.

    These tantrums take the form of anger, hurt, fear, defensiveness, exaggeration, frustration, self-preservation, insecurity, self-pity, and tears—all mixed with large quantities of drama.

    In the heat of an argument, my five-year-old ego is very quick to feel hurt, so she reacts by jumping, stamping her feet, cursing, and defending herself. Then, just as quickly, the caged monster surfaces, rearing up like an angry giant, sword and shield in hand, ready to inflict hurt in return.

    I literally see my ego self rising up like a dark shadowy character, looming menacingly above my head.

    Of course I know this ego play doesn’t solve anything—it only serves to trigger my partner’s own ego defense games. Suddenly we’re both wounded five-year-olds, shouting and throwing ugly insults back and forth at each other.

    Then, invariably, we have to argue about who started it and which one of us is right.

    As you can imagine, these ego battles take up a lot of energy and are very stressful, not to mention emotionally draining.

    I notice that when I’m in this heightened state of drama, my ability for logical thinking goes out of the window. I lose all connection to my grown-up self and I feel the adult receding, regressing me back to an insecure child.

    I see myself adopting the same body language and survival strategies I used when I got into disputes with my mother during childhood.

    Looking back, it’s obvious to me that my current over-reactions have a lot to do with how I was brought up. My mother was a strict matriarch with black and white views—grey areas didn’t exist in her world. She was always right and everyone else wrong, and there was no room for argument.

    If I ever dared to argue, I would be quickly silenced with a barrage of cutting words or physical blows that would leave me hurt, feeling powerless and seething for hours. My voice was quashed, my will controlled, and I felt small and stifled.

    As a child, I didn’t have the awareness to recognize the surge of my ego during these altercations with my mother, when my very existence felt under threat. But of course, every part of me screamed silently in protest, including my ego.

    Now, as a so-called mature fifty-year-old adult, it’s quite disconcerting to visibly witness my conditioned responses popping to the surface during heated conflicts, especially when some part of me feels threatened.

    These responses haven’t altered or evolved at all since my childhood. Sometimes it feels like I’ve never really grown up.

    I still discover myself seething in the same helpless way to emotional triggers and feeling the same powerlessness when my will is challenged or when I feel controlled, as I often do during conflicts with my partner.

    My ego rears up in anger and defense in exactly the way it did when I was a child.

    And yet, even in the most extreme spells of ego drama, I’m sometimes able to take a step back from my hurt, stealing a momentary pause from the heat of my frustration.

    These short breaks allow my anger to calm, giving space for my ego to stand down. Then I’m able to recognize the reasons for my exaggerated reactions, understanding that a part of me was feeling threatened.

    I’ve observed that my biggest over-reactions occur when my partner threatens what I deem important; for example, the time and money I spend on my spiritual activities.

    In these brief moments of lucidity, the ego is fully exposed with technicolor clarity. In this instant, the cause of our argument, which seemed so important just a few minutes before, completely loses its power and dissolves, rendering the whole situation funny and somewhat ridiculous.

    My ego’s true nature is laid bare during these points of pure seeing.

    It’s utterly clear to me that my ego simply functions to protect the parts of myself I feel I must defend, secure, or guard, like my will, my way of expression, my beliefs and moral values.

    My ego jumps up in defense of these values because of the importance I’ve given them, effectively giving my ego permission to react whenever these values feel challenged.

    Amazingly, the truth is, these morals can only exert power over me if I allow them to. I can equally decide not to give them any power at all, which should gradually stop my ego’s need to defend them.

    I know it will take time to break this pattern of over-reactions to emotional triggers, since my conditioned responses are almost automatic now. However, in conflict situations, if in one time out of ten I don’t react, it will certainly make a difference to my life and relationships, won’t it?

    What a liberation that will be!

    For years I’ve unknowingly been trapped in the same ego cycle of trigger/reaction, trigger/reaction that developed when I was a child.

    Now, with the benefit of being able to witness my ego play in action, I no longer feel a prisoner of its games. For the first time in life, I am learning to choose whether or not to react.

    These other insights around my ego are helping to improve my partner relationship, as well as the relationships with family and friends.

    The ego wants to blame others.

    We have all become so accustomed to blaming other people and circumstances that we are often not even conscious that we’re doing it.

    On the surface, it’s much easier to blame others, because it removes the burden of accountability from us and places it firmly at the feet of the other. However, although blaming others appears to be a quick-fix solution, in all honesty, it isn’t.

    Believe it or not, blaming others takes away our control of the situation and passes it onto the other. It prevents us from seeing the whole truth of the issue and blocks us from fully understanding ourselves, which can keep us stuck in the same obstructive patterns of behavior.

    For years I blamed my mother for everything that was wrong in my life. I blamed her for not being there for me, for not supporting my dreams, and for not being the parent I expected her to be. Spending so much time and energy blaming her, I wasn’t able to see my own part in the situation.

    When I finally had the courage to stop blaming my mother, it came as quite a shock to me to realize that I was equally responsible for the things I was unhappy with.

    It’s clear to me that my ego’s fear of admitting culpability kept me in blame mode.

    I naturally progressed onto blaming my partner, because my ego makes it difficult for me to accept my part in a conflict that I am at least partly responsible for. So it’s no surprise our arguments escalate as they do.

    Ultimately, we must all strive to accept responsibility for every action we take, even the ones we’re ashamed of. The more we’re able to do this, the stronger we become and the weaker our egos will be, gradually loosening the grip they have on us.

    The ego covers up.

    Another thing I can say about the ego is that it will do anything to cover up its mistakes, especially when it sees it’s wrong. Its attempts to cover up increase when caught red-handed, behaving just like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

    I remember when I was a child, even when I was caught in the act, I would do everything I could to cover up my mistake, trying my best to deny the blatant truth.

    Maybe my actions as a child could be excused, but sadly, my behavior as an adult hasn’t improved—I still find myself fighting to deny the truth when I’m unexpectedly caught off guard. Like when my partner surprises me, by correctly guessing the trivial cause of my upset.

    My ego hates being so easily called out, so it must cover up and defend.

    One of the hardest things for any of us to do is to admit we are wrong, because when we own up to being wrong, it automatically makes the other right.

    And being wrong is something our egos cannot bear. As a result, we find it difficult to say sorry or to ask for forgiveness, which exacerbates our conflicts.

    I’m also recognizing that our inability to admit our wrongdoing keeps us stuck in our defensive positions, which allows our egos to fool us into fighting, justifying, and defending every point of view—a complete drain of our energy.

    I’ve noticed, however, that when I see the truth and can openly admit it to my partner, surprisingly, rather than separating us, the admission brings us closer together, healing some of the hurt we created during our conflict.

    So admitting that we are wrong need not be a negative experience, but can instead empower us, lessening some of the control our egos have on us.

    The ego wants to hurt back.

    For me, one of the worst things in the world is the pain of feeling hurt, as I imagine is true for most of us.

    Sometimes, the hurt we feel paralyzes us and we’re unable to fight back, but at other times, the only thing we can think of is how we can hurt the other person back.

    Our egos trick us into believing that hurting the other will alleviate the pain we’re feeling.

    I’ve realized that in all conflict situations, it is actually our egos that feel hurt. Again because some value or aspect of the image we have internally built up of ourselves is being challenged, threatened, or undermined in one way or another.

    I’m ashamed to say that on many occasions, both in my childhood and adulthood, my ego has wanted nothing more than to inflict as much pain on others as possible, as a way of lessening some of the hurt it was feeling.

    But retaliation is not the answer; it only adds more fuel to the fires of our egos.

    Maybe I can be forgiven for saying that in my childhood, hurting others was an unconscious reaction to my own feelings of hurt. And in the recent past when I was still unawake, hurting someone who hurt me was my natural course of action. But now, with my increasing awareness, knowingly hurting another is not something I can condone.

    In the heat of ego fights between me and my partner, when my ego rears up ready to defend itself, it’s hard, but I am becoming more and more able to check myself before I go over the line with insults I know will cause my partner pain. Even when I feel he has crossed the line with me, I can still consciously stop myself from going too far.

    I consider this a huge triumph over my ego, and something I’m proud of.

    Every time I can stop myself from blindly over-reacting to a perceived threat to my values and can become an observer of my ego and its games, I know I’m taking a step in the right direction.

    The more conscious we can all become of our ego play in action, the more freedom we will gain from our egos. Then, over time and with consistent effort, positive changes to our life journeys and relationships are inevitable.

    Artwork by artbymanjiri, CC 2.0

  • How to Dissolve Social Anxiety by Doing Nothing

    How to Dissolve Social Anxiety by Doing Nothing

    “Your thoughts have to understand one thing: that you are not interested in them. The moment you have made this point, you have attained a tremendous victory.” ~Osho

    “What do you do when you go out alone to the forest for the whole day?” my friend asked.

    “Nothing. I just sit there, enjoy the peace, and let my thoughts be,” I replied.

    “So you meditate,” she said.

    “No,” I objected. “I just sit there and do nothing.”

    “But that’s meditation,” she insisted.

    I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. “Okay, if that’s what you want to call it.”

    At that time, most people and society were a big, mean, frightening monster I kept trying to get away from—if not physically, then at least mentally by blasting music through my headphones, escaping far away in my daydream world, or by drowning my invasive negative thoughts and feelings in drugs and alcohol.

    Yet, the real monster was inside of me and didn’t plan on leaving any time soon.

    I remember how my social anxiety got worse around some people, usually the ones who seemed to feel superior, arrogant, and judgmental toward others. At least that’s how I perceived them in my subjective reality as a socially anxious person. But this wasn’t the only determining element for the intensity of my fears.

    Authority figures were frightening, too, even the kind ones.

    The truth is, when you have social anxiety, you have such low self-esteem and an intense feeling of inferiority that you think pretty much everyone is superior to you.

    So as a general rule, my brain decided that everyone is better and cooler than me, and that pretty much everyone thinks I’m ugly, stupid, and worthless. Therefore, I better stay away from people if I want to avoid mocking, judgment, and rejection.

    Every time I didn’t respect my brain’s wish, an alarm in the form of severe anxiety would go off.

    Actually, that alarm went off even when just the thought of some people crossed my mind.

    But after hours of my special meditation, these thoughts lost their grip. I would think of people, and no unpleasant emotions would arise, or if they did arise, much less than before.

    I would feel at peace… until the chaos of the city and society would get the best of me again. It would usually take just a day or two before I’d feel pretty much as my old anxious self, which might seem too short to be even worth the time to get out of a big city. It might seem like my few-hours long trip was meaningless.

    Yet, every meditation made me a little bit stronger and a little bit more peaceful.

    Nothing is meaningless. That’s one of the precious lessons I’ve learned from nature.

    When everything seemed to lose its meaning, I would look at nature’s beauty surrounding me. I would look at plants and know they are not meaningless. Besides having their special roles in the ecosystem, they appease me. So if they are not meaningless, nothing is, because in nature, everything breathes and lives as one.

    There are many more lessons the natural world has taught me.

    You know what’s best about being surrounded by meadows, trees, birds, and butterflies?

    You feel the life around you, but you know there’s no judgment or rejection involved, not in the same sense as in human society. No thoughts. Nature just is.

    Especially plants. There’s something about them that is very calming.

    Wild landscapes inspire me to just be. And when you “just are,” without judgment of good and bad, you become incredibly peaceful.

    You have probably heard of Jim Rohn’s quote, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” While it might not always be true, I believe it generally is. That’s because we are influenced by our surroundings and social interaction.

    Spending time in nature is like becoming infected with that peaceful just be feeling.

    What does this have to do with social anxiety?

    At first glance, it doesn’t have much to do with the “social” part of anxiety, but read on.

    Social anxiety is born out of a feeling of unworthiness, of not feeling good enough, of judgmental thoughts defining you as “bad” and defining other people as “bad,” “good,” or “better.”

    When you just are, all the good and bad disappears and gives place to indescribable peace.

    You become stronger and untouchable.

    As I sit there on a meadow with the forest surrounding me, I just let my thoughts be.

    I don’t try to stop them, create them, or analyze them. I don’t even observe them.

    I probably can’t say I get lost in them either.

    It’s more like I get lost in the peaceful part of myself while I let all the thoughts do whatever they want. I let them be, and with that, I let them go.

    I am emptying myself.

    One of my friends once said, “Why do you say you are emptying yourself? You should say you are refilling, not emptying.”

    I say emptying because I don’t think that you have to fill yourself up to become the highest version of yourself.

    Your true self is blissful, happy, loving, and peaceful. Unhelpful thoughts cover up that peace and make you get lost in the labyrinth of heavy and unpleasant feelings like anxiety, low self-confidence, fear, anger, and sadness.

    When you let go of those thoughts, you automatically become everything you ever wanted to be.

    So in the end, I like the idea of calling “just sitting in nature, doing nothing” meditation. After all, it creates the effect meditation is supposed to create.

    If you haven’t already, I invite you to try this “meditation” yourself. Sit there for a few hours. Or at least for one hour. Needless to say, looking at your phone doesn’t count as “doing nothing,” so leave it at home or in your pocket.

    No need to analyze, observe, stop, redirect, or create your thoughts. Just be there. Don’t try to be present, and don’t try not to be. Don’t try to be without thoughts, either, because as soon as you try to do anything with your thoughts, you are creating new thoughts, more thoughts, and the “just be” state is gone.

    Just be. And let thoughts be too. It’s one of the best paths to yourself because when you lose all the unhelpful thoughts, you find yourself.

  • How to Ask for What You Want and Need (No, It’s Not Selfish)

    How to Ask for What You Want and Need (No, It’s Not Selfish)

    “It’s not selfish to put yourself first—it’s self-full.” ~Iyanla Vanzant

    I’ve always thought of myself as individualistic. When I was a teenager, I often felt the desire to go against the grain, dressing alternatively and shunning bands my peers liked because I felt they were too popular. So it came as a huge surprise to me when my therapist called me a people pleaser the other day.

    I recently started cognitive behavioral therapy for insomnia, and during the first session my therapist identified that I put other people’s needs and wants ahead of my own.

    He’d asked me to give an example of a situation that is currently making me anxious (since anxiety is both a cause and symptom of insomnia), and I told him a landscaper made a mistake in my yard and I was feeling bad asking him to fix it.

    I’d hired the landscaper to build a fence and incorporate a parking pad into my backyard space. While the fence turned out awesome, the landscaper brought too much loam and turned the parking pad area into a hill that sloped down from the fence to the garage. When I asked him to level it, he got angry and said he had already spent man-hours on the project and would be losing money.

    I started to feel bad. Was his business doing okay? Did he have kids?

    “The job you agreed upon was for him to level it,” my therapist said. “It has to be level.”

    “But what if he is losing money?”

    “That’s none of your business. You wanted it level. It has to be level.”

    It took him repeating that sentence to me a few more times before the concept clicked, and I knew he was right. I was putting someone else’s wants and needs above my own. I do it all the time.

    “Why don’t I put myself first?” I asked him. “It’s like I think I don’t deserve to be treated as well as other people.”

    I expected my therapist to say I have low self-esteem and needed to work on that, but instead he said, “Because you’re framing it wrong.”

    Then he asked, “What’s your favorite ice cream?”

    Thrown off by the change in topic, I stammered something about Maple Walnut.

    “And is there an ice cream flavor you dislike?”

    “Tiger.”

    “So when you go to an ice cream store, do you ask yourself whether you deserve Maple Walnut or if you should just accept Tiger?”

    “Of course not.”

    “There you go. It isn’t about whether you deserve to have something, it’s that you want it. Plain and simple.”

    It was simple. Suddenly I felt like I’d been let in on the secret all the confident, take-no-crap, boundary-setting people in my life have known forever. If they want something, they go for it. They don’t stand around questioning whether or not they deserve to have it.

    In my case, I wanted the parking pad incorporated into my yard so that I could enjoy the added space. Therefore, the backyard has to be level.

    “Now that you know your position, the next step is to communicate it correctly,” my therapist continued. “Do not ask, ‘Can you please make this level?’ Simply say, ‘We agreed it would be level, so it has to be level.’”

    We ran through hypothetical life situations where I could apply this technique, and each time I made the mistake of asking the other person to “please” grant my wishes instead of communicating my wants and needs. Every time I smiled sheepishly at the mistake, it hammered home how I unconsciously present myself to other people.

    While trying to be polite and accommodate everyone else, I might actually be telling people I’m a doormat. Of course people are going to walk all over me because I haven’t given them guidance on where they can and cannot step!

    At the end of the appointment, I resolved to start setting boundaries and ask for what I want in life, and I saw results immediately. When I told the landscaper the yard had to be level, he fixed it. By no longer questioning whether or not I “deserved” the same treatment as everyone else and simply asking for it, I gained self-confidence.

    Granted, not all situations in life are as clear-cut as standing up for yourself with a landscaper. There are times to stand your ground and times to compromise, and the trick is to learn to tell the difference.

    Sometimes our wants and needs can directly affect other people, or their wants and needs can be in conflict with our own. In this case, it’s important to remember to balance healthy self-assertion with consideration and respect for others.

    For someone who habitually puts other people’s wants and needs ahead of her own, putting myself first simply means treating myself the same way I treat them—not trampling on everyone else!

    The ice cream story has changed my perception on putting myself first. It’s not selfish—it’s self-full. Sometimes I slip back into old habits and wonder if I deserve something, but then I remind myself I wouldn’t accept Tiger when I want Maple Walnut.

    Here are a few simple steps to setting boundaries and asking for what you want and need in life:

    1. Know your position.

    The most important step in setting boundaries is to know your position—what you want—and to stick with it. That way when someone comes back at you trying to change your mind, you can simply go back to your position.

    Imagine you’re at a dealership and you tell the salespeople that your budget is 10K. If they respond, “We have a newer model with leather seats and a sunroof for 13K,” your response should be, “My budget is 10K.” If they tell you only rust buckets go for 10K, tell them your budget is 10K and then walk away.

    Don’t forget what you want or need. It’s easier not to be bullied or walked on when you are confident in your position.

    2. Communicate your position.

    Communicate your position properly is just as important. When you ask someone to honor your wishes or approve of your position, you’re asking them to make you happy. But when you tell them what you want or need, you’re making yourself happy.

    If a friend asks you to go to a party with them but you don’t want a late night, you can choose to say no or agree to go on your own terms. Rather than asking if it’s okay if you leave early, tell them that you will go with them for a bit but you want to get a good sleep.

    If a friend is having an elaborate and expensive birthday and you can’t afford to attend multiple events, tell them. You do not have to apologize. Simply communicate what you can and cannot do.

    People don’t necessarily aim to walk on you, but if you don’t communicate what you want and expect, there is a greater chance it will happen. Have you ever felt taken advantage of but didn’t communicate your feelings, and the frustration built up inside of you until you finally snapped? Or worse: snapped at the wrong person? I’ve definitely been guilty of that.

    If you set boundaries and communicate them, everyone will know where they stand, and it will prevent future blowups.

    3. Stop asking if you “deserve” what you want.

    In my opinion, this is the most important principle. Do not question whether or not you deserve things in life. Simply know what you want and go for it.

    People who don’t set boundaries often don’t feel they “deserve” to set boundaries, and they feel that way because they’re used to always putting other people first. Their low self-esteem has been reinforced by their own inability to state what they want. It’s a vicious cycle.

    We can’t always get what we want in life, but we definitely won’t get it if we don’t ask. By focusing on what you want or need in life, rather than questioning whether you’re worthy to receive, you will help guide your own success and self-confidence will follow!

  • A 7-Step Plan for Finding Love After a Devastating Breakup

    A 7-Step Plan for Finding Love After a Devastating Breakup

    “Resilience in love means finding strength from within that you can share with others.” ~Sheryl Sandberg

    It took me a couple months to start repairing my broken heart after the toughest breakup of my life. I thought we were going to spend our lives together, but the gods of love had other plans.

    After I’d grieved in healthy (and not-so-healthy ways) I knew I could take two paths: stay stuck in my misery or pick myself up, dust off my sadness, and make a plan to move on.

    And now it’s time for you to move on and find love again, too.

    I know it’s not easy. For years I believed my ex was “the one” and the thought of finding someone new after our breakup was terrifying.

    But I got back on my horse and kept riding. I felt the fear of rejection, putting myself out there again, playing the “dating game,” trusting someone new, and wasting my time with people I didn’t connect with.

    But finding love doesn’t have to be complicated and scary if you follow a plan, just like anything else in life.

    You want to start your own business, take a vacation, or get out of debt? Make a plan.

    You want to find love? You’ve got to make a plan for that, too.

    If you don’t have a plan you’ll continue stumbling around in the dark hoping you’ll miraculously find true love. So if you’re struggling to find love and tired of the same old patterns leading you into the arms of the wrong people, then listen up…

    Step 1: Let go of your ex.

    Have you really let go of your ex and moved on from your breakup?

    If you haven’t let go, you’re not going to find love. Period.

    On the first date I went on after my breakup I talked about my ex. A lot. I knew I was breaking the sacred rules of first dates, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t about to hide my true feelings. Because the fact was I was still sad about it. It was clear to me that I wasn’t yet over the breakup.

    But I also understood that if I had my ex and my breakup on my mind there was never going to be room for new love to enter.

    Do you still have negative feelings around your breakup? Are you holding onto anger, shame, or resentment?

    If you want to find a new partner and true love, you’ve got to let that stuff go.

    Whether you’re getting over a recent breakup or a breakup that happened months or even years ago, you have to let go.

    How?

    First, stop avoiding and suppressing your negative feelings. We avoid dealing with our feelings in all sorts of ways: binge-watching television, eating, sex, alcohol, drugs, and telling people, “Everything is fine,” when we’re actually a hot mess.

    Instead of avoiding and suppressing, let your feelings flow through you and get comfortable with the discomfort. Don’t chastise yourself for the feelings. Ask yourself, “Where is this coming from?” and, “Why is this coming up NOW?” Getting curious is always healthier than suppression.

    Second, get back to doing things you love. Sometimes when we’re in a long-term relationship, we lose ourselves. Go do things that light you up inside and bring you joy. Go take that hip-hop dance class, join a new gym, or write the book you’ve been putting off.

    And finally, make sure you have someone who listens to you without judgment and will let you vent when you need to. You think you don’t have someone to talk to? Think harder. You might be surprised of how willing people are to help and listen when you tell them how much you’re hurting. Exploring solutions is always easier when we have someone who listens instead of feeding us useless clichés like, “Time will heal.”

    Other solutions to exploring our feelings are support groups in your community, online forums, or starting a journaling practice. Get the stuff out and you’ll be surprised how much easier it becomes to let it go.

    Step 2: Believe that you have more than one soul mate.

    “But Eric,” you say, “I already found my soul mate and now they’re gone!”

    It’s okay. All is not lost.

    Because there’s no such thing as having only one soul mate on this planet. If you’ve already found one, good for you! But guess what? There are more out there!

    How do I know that for sure? I don’t. But if you want to go on staying stuck in your breakup and feeling sad about losing your soul mate, I can guarantee you won’t find a new person who brings out the light inside of you, who makes you feel special, wanted, and supported.

    Believing you have only one soul mate is nothing more than a limiting belief—and limiting beliefs are meant to be overcome.

    If you haven’t yet found a soul mate, this is still an important point to understand. If you convince yourself there’s only one soul mate for you out there, you’re going to put too much pressure on every new relationship you enter into. Remember, there are multiple soul mates out there for you. But I promise, if you’re lying on the couch watching Netflix, you’re not going to find them.

    Step 3: Don’t date people just because they’re the exact opposite of your ex.

    When you go through a devastating breakup you convince yourself that you’ll never date someone like your ex ever again! “That’s it!” you scream, “I’m going for someone totally different than my ex!”

    Your ex hated spontaneity and adventure? You’re going after a rock-climbing, world-traveling, adrenaline-seeker.

    Your ex had blonde hair? Only brunettes from now on!

    Your ex didn’t like reading, cats, Star Wars, trying new restaurants, the opera, camping, people-watching, or road trips? You get the idea.

    But the problem with this approach is that it’s a knee-jerk reaction. Instead of thinking about what you really, truly want in a relationship, you jump in blindly. Dating someone just because they’re not like your ex probably won’t end well.

    The solution?

    Go to Step 4.

    Step 4: Get clear on your values.

    Our values are the guiding lights in our lives.

    If you’re not clear on what you value, how can you find someone who shares your values? Because if you’re dating people who don’t share the same values as you, it’ll never work.

    Think about your past relationships. Remember those times when you first started dating someone and you discovered something that didn’t jive with your values? And remember how you brushed it to the side and said, “It’s probably not that big of a deal. Maybe I’ll change….or maybe they’ll change.”

    Sound familiar?

    Fast-forward to your breakup. I’ll bet some of those old clashes in values came up throughout the breakup process, didn’t they?

    Get clear on your values and don’t negotiate, undermine, or reduce them. Stay true to them and find a partner who shares your values. If you do this, you’ll be taking a huge step toward finding love again.

    Step 5: Say “no” to relationships that are a waste of your time (and theirs).

    It’s hard to say “no.” We don’t like hurting people’s feelings and letting people down, so we say “yes” to things we shouldn’t. Then we kick ourselves afterward for not having had the guts to say “no.”

    When we delay our “nos” we’re wasting our time and the other person’s time. We go on third, fourth, and fifth dates with people who we’re really not interested in, but we just can’t tell them the words, “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be with you.” Instead, we draw it out into a painful process of indecision, stress, and fear.

    How do you say “no” to someone you’re not interested in continuing dating?

    You say, “I’m sorry, but I know what I’m looking for in a partner and you’re not that person.”

    Now, you don’t have to use those exact words. You have to find your own balance between honesty, compassion, and staying true to your values. Because if you’re clear on your values after Step 4, there’s no reason to waste your time with people who don’t align with what you’re looking for.

    And really, what’s so bad about saying, “You’re not the partner for me?” Personally, I’d rather hear that and say my goodbyes than feel attacked by a laundry list of all the areas I lack and reasons we’re not a good couple. Just because things didn’t work out with someone doesn’t necessarily mean I should change; maybe it just means there’s a better match out there for me.

    Yes, people might feel hurt by your honesty. But ultimately, that’s for them to deal with. I don’t say that to be callous; I say that because people aren’t going to grow if you lie to them, coddle them, and keep saying “yes” when you’d rather say “no.” Ultimately, that honesty is going to help both of you move forward in a healthier way.

    Step 6: Improve yourself.

    No matter how many self-help books and articles on Tiny Buddha that you’ve read, we all have blind spots and weaknesses.

    After my latest breakup, I realized I needed to work on some things. I reflected on my fear of commitment. I got clear on my core values. I worked on my ability to communicate my feelings around tough subjects like sex, money, and having children.

    I read new books, worked with a coach, and traveled by myself. I met new people and shared life experiences with them in a vulnerable way.

    It’s really hard to take a long, hard look in the mirror and ask ourselves, “Where have I been going wrong? What can I do to make myself better?” It’s so much easier to point a finger and say, “It’s your fault! Not mine!”

    But true growth can only happen when we look inside ourselves. When you grow and become a better version of yourself you’ll develop more confidence—and we all know confident people are a lot more likely to find true love.

    Step 7: Work it!

    If you’re ready to find someone new, you have to go out and find them.

    It drives me a tad crazy when people say, “I want to find love, but if it happens it happens. I’m not going to go out looking for it! I’ll let the universe do its thing.”

    Are you kidding me? When is the last time something that made your life better came to you while you were sitting around doing nothing?

    If you want to find love, go out there and look for it!

    When we put ourselves out there, get out of our comfort zones, and face our fears, amazing things start to happen.

    Go to social gatherings with new people. Find common interest groups in your community. Talk to a stranger on the bus or metro. Hell, give online dating a try!

    If you want to find love, you have to get out there and meet new people. Sure, each time isn’t going to be a fruitful experience, but that’s what it’s about. When good things start to happen (which they will) you’ll look back and understand all the effort was worth it.

    Now, this seventh step isn’t about obsessing over finding love to the point that it’s unhealthy. If you’ve followed the steps above this shouldn’t be a concern because you’re now feeling more confident in your own skin. If you get better at saying “no,” get clear on your values, and improve yourself, then you’re ready to find love.

    But if you’re afraid of being alone for the rest of your life and desperate to find a partner no matter how wrong they are for you, you’re not ready for Step 7. Go back and work through Steps 1 to 6 until you’re ready to find love for the right reasons.

    Don’t forget…

    Finding love isn’t easy. This plan can take a long time to master.

    But when you find that special person you’ll know that all the effort, struggle, rejection, failure, and time-investment was worth it.

    True love is a beautiful thing. It shouldn’t be degraded to a pipe dream for the lonely-hearts-club. True love is something that everyone should strive for because life is a lot more fun when we can share it with a person who brings out the light inside of us.

    If you haven’t found love yet, please don’t give up. It’s out there. And if you follow the right plan, I know you’re going to find it.

  • Kindness Isn’t Weakness (and We Need It to Survive)

    Kindness Isn’t Weakness (and We Need It to Survive)

    “Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” ~Leo Buscaglia

    Many of us are brought up today to look after number one, to go out and get what we want—and the more of it we can have, the better.

    Our society preaches survival of the fittest and often encourages us to succeed at the expense of others.

    I was no different, and while I noticed a tendency to feel sorry for others and want to help, I was too busy lining my own pockets and chasing my own success to act on these impulses. I worried that kindness was me being soft and, therefore, a weakness that may hamper my progress, especially at work as I moved up the ranks.

    It was only when I quit my corporate career, after years of unhappiness, to realign my values and rebuild a life around my passions that I learned the true value of kindness and how it has impacted my life since.

    I volunteered overseas with those less fortunate. I lived in yoga ashrams and spent time with Buddhist nuns and monks across many different countries. I learned how compassion and kindness can be a source of strength, and since then I’ve applied this wisdom, with success, repeatedly into my own life.

    Our natural response to seeing someone in distress is to want to help. We care about the suffering of others and we feel good when that suffering is released. This applies if we do it ourselves, see it in a movie, or witness it in real life. It makes us feel good. Feeling like we’re making a difference in the world and helping those who need it brings us joy; it gives us meaning.

    My grandma was the most giving person I ever knew.

    When her weekly pension arrived she delighted in giving the grandchildren money, even though it meant having little to spend on herself.

    Family members would get upset that they bought her lovely gifts, which she then re-gifted to others, often less fortunate. Over the years I began to understand that it if she gifted it to someone else, it meant that she liked it and thought it was worthy of sharing.

    Knowing the pleasure she got from giving to others and that she wasn’t in the position to buy things herself, I saw it as her getting the gift twice: the pleasure of receiving it but then also the pleasure she got from being able to give it to someone else. The recipients were always grateful and touched by her kindness too.

    Buddhists say, “All the happiness there is in the world comes from us wishing others to be happy.” When we do good deeds for others it makes us feel good.

    James Baraz quotes statistics on why giving is good for you in his book Awakening Joy. “According to the measures of Social Capital Community Benchmark survey, those who gave contributions of time or money were 42% more likely to be happy than those who didn’t.”

    Psychologists even have a term for the state of euphoria reported by those who give. It’s called “helpers high,” and it’s based on the theory that neuroscience is now backing up: Giving produces endorphins in the brain that make us feel good. This activates the same part of the brain as receiving rewards or experiencing pleasure does.

    Practicing kindness also helps train the mind to be more positive and see more good in the world. There’s plenty of it out there; it just doesn’t seem like it because, while the kind acts outnumber the bad, they don’t make as many headlines.

    When I think back to how life was before, I realize that I wasn’t even being kind to myself, so it makes sense that I didn’t value kindness for others. I’ve learned it’s about self-respect first, and from there it’s much easier to respect others. Kindness as a skill taps into our true strength. We can respect ourselves when we are being kind to others and to our planet.

    Friends would warn me I was too soft and that people would walk all over me. Whether I was buying a coffee for a homeless man (he should get a job and buy his own coffee) or letting someone else go in the queue before me (you were here first, don’t let them push in).

    Sometimes I think this comes from fear, or a sense of entitlement and protection of one’s self. I guess that’s the ego at play.

    Most of us are kind. I believe it’s part of our innate nature. It just gets a bit lost sometimes or drowned out by all the noise of a more selfish sense of being—particularly in our consumer-driven society where we’re taught we must have things for ourselves, and the more we can get, the better. Where money is such a force and where we put up fences rather than inviting people to share in what we have.

    In business as a senior manager, I used to think that any signs of kindness would be viewed as weak. I used to dumb down skills like empathy and try to act like the tough business leader I thought the world expected me to be. In more recent years I’ve noticed that having time to be kind builds trust and relationships and garners the sort of respect that leads to strength in a leader.

    Don’t get me wrong, it is not about being lenient, giving in, and not holding people accountable. It’s about being reasonable, fair, open, and trustworthy; supporting others, empathizing with them, recognizing them when they’ve done well, and showing you care. Not by overpaying them or extending their deadlines, but by asking how their weekend was, getting to know what motivates them, how they feel and who they are.

    It’s too easy to justify desire, self-indulgence, and miserliness with the survival of the fittest mentality. We tell ourselves this is based on Darwinian evolution and competition to survive. What we have overlooked is that a fundamental part of our survival is cooperation, working together, looking after each other.

    Humans did not evolve to be big and strong or with big fangs. We survived because we helped each other. Look how ancient tribes lived. They didn’t see competition as a priority but thrived on cooperation. It is the essential nature of living things to cooperate, not dominate. Yes, there’s competition in nature, but the basis is cooperation. In The Descent of Man Darwin did mention survival of the fittest (twice), but he also mentioned love (over ninety times).

    I’m not suggesting we all need to donate our savings to charity or move overseas to rebuild huts in poor villages. There are many small gestures and so many opportunities every day: getting coffee for a coworker who’s struggling, helping a mother with her shopping, holding the door open for someone, smiling at a stranger, or asking the store assistant how their day is going.

    It makes people feel good when they are on the receiving end, but also it makes us feel good because we are being kind and connecting with others on a genuine level. Kindness increases our sense of fulfillment and joy, it helps us build resilience, and it’s also a source of strength, as well as a skill that aids our success.

  • How to Start Liking Your Body More (Just as It Is)

    How to Start Liking Your Body More (Just as It Is)

    “Body love is more than acceptance of self or the acceptance of the body. Body love is about self-worth in general. It’s more than our physical appearance.” ~Mary Lambert

    This past week, I got married.

    For me, this symbolized not only a new chapter in my life with a partner, but also a new chapter in life with myself.

    Here, in this new chapter, I officially left behind the woman who was constantly trying to mold herself into whatever she needed to be to (hopefully) be accepted and loved by a partner.

    And instead, I found the woman who was unapologetically herself and loved for it. In fact, that’s what ironically got her to this point in the first place.

    And I left the girl who used to get by on a diet full of grapes, lettuce, and coffee. Who thought the thinner she was, the more worthy she was.

    This sad, hungry girl was replaced by a woman who didn’t think twice about losing an ounce to fit into a white dress, and who embraced her curves, thighs, cellulite, wrinkles, and all that goes along with the celebration (yes, celebration) of aging.

    My twenty-something self would be amazed.

    To be honest, my thirty-something self is amazed.

    If you had told me how I’d feel about my body and myself today, even ten years ago, I wouldn’t have believed you.

    And that realization got me sitting here, reflecting, thinking, “Wow, what a journey.”

    How did I get to this radical place of self-acceptance?

    While it’s difficult to pinpoint any particular moment that landed me here (because there isn’t any one moment), there are certain things that pop up that I distinctly remember that allowed me to begin liking my body (and myself) more.

    That allowed me to stop obsessively counting calories and to start actually enjoying food.

    That allowed me to trade frantically exercising for mindfully moving (and connecting with) my body.

    That allowed me to swap feeling shame about my thighs for gratitude that I have thighs.

    Here are a few of those things that allowed me to start learning how to like my body more. I hope they help you just as much as they helped me.

    1. Get clear on how you want to feel in your body and why that’s important to you.

    First thing first, you need to know how you want to feel in your body.

    Because you can’t get to where you want to go if you don’t know where that is.

    So make the time, grab a pen and journal, find a quiet calm space, and ask yourself, “How do I want to feel in my body?”

    Or, if it’s easier, ask yourself, “In my ideal world, where I am kind to myself, what would my relationship with my body look like?”

    Write your answers out.

    When you have your answers, ask yourself, “Why is this important to me?”

    Know that you may need to ask yourself “why” five to seven times and really dig deep to uncover the core reason changing your relationship with your body is important to you. Just continue asking “why” until you feel your heart is speaking instead of your head.

    You’ll need this reason to understand yourself more and to reflect upon when you feel frustrated and like you want to throw in the towel, because you will have those moments. But when you remember your WHY, you’ll rekindle your connection to being kinder to your body and yourself.

    For me, my “why” centered on the fact that I couldn’t imagine going through my entire life at war with my body. I just couldn’t. I wanted to feel confident and free in my body, not shameful and controlled.

    It took time and daily work to get to a new place, but my “why” and my vision of where I wanted to go was so strong I continued showing up.

    You can do this too.

    2. Flex your gratitude muscle.

    One of the most interesting tools I used to like my body more was gratitude. Today, you see this word everywhere, but there’s a huge difference in seeing it all over social media and online mediums versus putting it to use.

    When I began making the shift to what my body allowed me to do versus what my body didn’t look like, I was amazed.

    I slowly began forming this new perspective that my body was a gift and a vehicle that allowed me to move through life. And it was my job to nurture it, take care of it, and stop being so mean to it.

    What happened is that I became appreciative. I appreciated that I had thighs to hike, that even though I had cellulite, I could run a half marathon or participate in a yoga class. And it was through this viewpoint that I also came to like who I was as a person more.

    I appreciated that I was open to growth, that I was compassionate, and that I had the ability to inspire others. Ironically, I found that I was more than just a body.

    And so are you.

    You’ll be able to see this if every day, you bullet point one or more things that you are truly grateful for or appreciate about yourself.

    I promise that practicing gratitude is popular for a reason—it works.

    3. Surround yourself with healthy bodies.

    A huge part of my journey was surrounding myself with healthy bodies, all sorts of shapes and sizes, online and offline.

    Because what can so easily happen is that we end up comparing ourselves to ideals that aren’t even real or that aren’t physiologically possible for us because they’re simply not the intended shape of our bodies.

    For example, I used to be obsessed with model-type thighs. And then one day, it hit me. Those thin, “leggy” model-type thighs are not a part of my body shape. No matter how much I exercise or how little I eat, my body will never go there.

    And it was through this realization that I began paying attention to all types of bodies—smaller bodies, bigger bodies, in-between bodies—and I found that there are no better types of bodies; they’re just all bodies. And it’s how we treat them that matters.

    So if you’re struggling here, I highly recommend unfollowing social media accounts that make you feel bad about your body. And, if you haven’t, find a place to move your body where you feel comfortable and accepted. Because if you don’t feel comfortable in your body or accepted, you won’t want to go there to exercise, and movement is such a huge part in connecting with your body in mind, soul, and spirit.

    4. Connect and acknowledge your underlying fears.

    Acknowledging and understanding your underlying fears when it comes to your body is so huge. Those fears hold answers. But so many times, we’re taught to simply brush them under the rug and try to fit in and look like everybody else.

    But what if you allowed yourself to dig into your fears?

    To understand what you’re actually worried about?

    And then to dig deep and question if that fear is an actual truth or if it’s something that is truly just a fear?

    For me, when I allowed myself to examine my body fears, I found that I was afraid of not being accepted, of not being the way a woman was supposed to look.

    You see, as a little kid, I was always teased or left out because I was on the chunky side. I wasn’t one of the popular girls. When I realized that I could overexercise and undereat to become thinner, and that I looked more like how the girls in the magazines and the popular girls looked, that’s what I did.

    My deep underlying fear was not being accepted; it actually wasn’t about my body size.

    I internalized this and then realized that the key people in my life didn’t care about my body size (in fact, they were concerned by my shrinking size and misery). Rather, they cared about who I was as a human being.

    In other words, they accepted me for what was beneath my skin.

    So my fear that if I weren’t a certain size, I wouldn’t be accepted was just that—it was a fear. There wasn’t truth behind it.

    Wrapping my mind around this was revolutionary (and it still is).

    You can begin to connect and break through your fears too by first playing with the idea that you may have body fears. And then get curious and see what comes up for you. If fears come up, examine them and allow yourself time to question if they’re true or just a fear.

    5. Focus on actions that make you feel good in your skin.

    Releasing the need to lose weight or look a certain way and instead focusing on doing things that make you feel confident and good in your body is a game-changer. When you do this, your body will come to its natural state of being, no question.

    And trust me, I know this is so much harder than it sounds, but by really showing up and experimenting in your life and then keeping what works well for you and leaving behind what doesn’t, you will naturally like your body more.

    Simply because you’ll feel more “at home” in it.

    For example, when I first started down my body acceptance path, I realized I actually really disliked spending two hours a day in the gym. It made me feel worse about my body. So I experimented with walking and strength training and discovered I loved it.

    Later, I’d discover yoga and go on to become a yoga teacher.

    Yoga, during my body hate days, was something I said I’d never ever do.

    Today, I love it.

    You never know what you’ll find when you let go of the outcome and follow what feels right.

    I also discovered that I actually loved cooking healthy, nutritious meals with lots of veggies and tasty food. Before, I only allowed myself bars and wraps where I knew the exact calorie amount.

    You see, when I started truly allowing myself to let go and to experiment with enjoying food, moving my body in ways that felt good, and talking to myself kindly and coming at my body with gratitude instead of hate, something miraculous happened.

    I learned how to not only accept but my body, but to like my body.

    And I know that when you focus on actions that make you feel confident in your body, you’ll begin to like your body more too.

  • A Letter to My Exes: I’m Sorry You Never Knew Me

    A Letter to My Exes: I’m Sorry You Never Knew Me

    “Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.” ~Brené Brown

    To all of my ex-boyfriends, ex-lovers, and especially my ex-husband, I am so sorry.

    I’m sorry because I never gave you the chance to really know me. I hid myself from you. I showed you the smallest version of myself because I didn’t trust you to meet me in my strength, my bigness, and my desire. Well, in truth it was I whom I did not trust with my strength, bigness, and desire. I was scared to be in my full expression, afraid that I would die if I were to really presence myself.

    I didn’t know I thought this; I didn’t know I was driven by fear and shame. But I was.

    I wasn’t courageous enough to be vulnerable and exposed. I needed you to want me, so I tried to fit the mold of what I thought you needed me to be for you. I convinced myself that I was happy to be the object of your desire. I thought I was okay with the way you touched me, and the way you judged my body as an object.

    I didn’t know any other way to be with you, but each time I allowed this to happen, allowed myself to be an object for you, a part of me died.

    This is the irony of being driven by fear. In being afraid that I would die if you saw all of me, I killed parts of myself in the simple act of hiding from you.

    It was a slow, painful death.

    I blamed you.

    If it was your fault that I felt small in the world, I didn’t have to look at my own limitations and flaws. If it were you who weren’t enough for me, then I wouldn’t have to look at my own fear of not being enough.

    My dissatisfaction with you was not your fault. It was mine. I had a fantasy of what a relationship would look like, and I tried to make you into the object of my imagined relationship. No real connection could emerge when I hid myself while trying to make you into the man I thought I needed. I’m sorry for only wanting my wishful version of you, rather than the real you.

    I wanted you to be better, but you seemed happy with this small version of me. I resented you for that. How could you be happy with “small” me?

    I cooked, I cleaned, and I performed well in bed, never expressing my truth, my passion, or my desire. When I felt hurt by you, I led you to believe that I was okay with everything. I never told you. I never let you see my pain or how I was impacted by you. I just tried to be better for you, to be less of who I was and more of who I thought you wanted.

    I took your satisfaction with “small” me to mean you didn’t want me to be big and self-possessed. But I never asked you. I never even let you know that there was more to me. I never gave you the opportunity to know the depth of who I really am, and for this I am so sorry.

    By staying quiet and complicit, I led you to believe that I was my mask. That my body and mind were all that there were, and I hid my soul from you.

    I never let you see the immense bigness of my heart or the power of my spirit. I never let you touch me deeply in these hidden places, and I took your lack of trying as lack of interest. So I pretended that I was okay with this, that a surfaced connection was enough for me.

    It wasn’t.

    I wanted you to know all of me. I wanted you to see the vast and endless range of my being. I wanted you to touch every single part of who I am. I wanted your soul to make love to mine, and I never let you have the chance because I hid all of that goodness from you.

    I am so incredibly sorry.

    From the far reaches of the universe, where my soul touches the hands of the divine mother and father, I am sorry.

    And to my future lovers, I promise to never rob you of the opportunity to really know me. I will be revealed to you, fully and wholly. I promise to let you know who I really am and what I really want. And I promise to meet you there, too, seeing your vastness and immense power. I will gift you the opportunity to lift me up with your masculine strength as I will embrace you with my feminine openness.

    No more games. I am here for real love, a love that is deep and powerful and expansive—a love that is aligned with the greater good.

  • How I Stopped Trying to Please Everyone and Started Prioritizing Myself

    How I Stopped Trying to Please Everyone and Started Prioritizing Myself

    “When you say ‘yes’ to others, make sure you don’t say ‘no’ to yourself.” ~Paolo Coehlo

    My whole body was shaking. Tears streaming down my face, my nose blocked and throat sore from crying. Yet, no sound escaped my mouth except an occasional gentle sigh or hushed sob I was unable to control.

    My husband was lying in bed next to me. I held my breath and lay motionless whenever he stirred in his sleep.

    He had an early start ahead and needed rest. I didn’t want to disturb him, bother him with my silly crying fits. I didn’t want him to know that I was unhappy.

    He wouldn’t understand, I didn’t even understand myself. I had a good life. A loving family, caring friends, a promising career I enjoyed.

    I should have been happy, fulfilled, and grateful for the blessings in my life. But instead I felt numb, empty, and lifeless, as if a grey veil was covering every part of my being. And the crushing wave of desperation washed over me night after night.

    Because the nighttime tears were my only release. I drowned in overwhelm, stress, and exhaustion. I was so tired.

    Drained and worn out by the myriad of tasks every new day had in store. Weighed down by tons of work projects, household chores, family demands, and favors. Broken from being kind, loyal, considerate, caring, and hardworking for others, non-stop.

    I never had time to rest and relax. I couldn’t even remember when I last read a novel, walked on the beach, or followed my passions. And I had pushed my dreams to the back burner so many times that they lost all their pull and sparkle.

    I was trapped in an endless loop of “work, eat, cry, sleep,” and I couldn’t escape. Too many people relied on me, depended on my help, and counted on my support.

    I couldn’t let them down. They would be upset, displeased, maybe even angry. And they would be disappointed if they discovered the truth: that I wasn’t strong enough to cope with it all, that I was a failure.

    That night, as I secretly cried in my pillow, I realized that I was on the fast lane to burnout. I couldn’t go on like this without killing myself. And I knew something had to change.

    The Impossible Task of Relaxation

    In the following days, I attempted to take time out for myself—do things I enjoyed, pursue my hobbies, have a well-deserved nap. But my diary was too full, bursting with appointments, events, and meetings.

    My boss expected me to take on yet another project, my work colleagues asked for support with their problems, my friends needed help with wedding preparations, house moves, and childcare. My charity volunteering position as a treasurer of a local cat shelter demanded constant attention, and the household suffered in silence even without me taking a break.

    And how could I not put my family first in everything I did? I was their wife, sister, daughter, and mother. I loved them, was responsible for them, and wanted them to be happy and healthy.

    But sometimes I struggled to find the motivation, energy, and strength to get out of bed. And nobody noticed; nobody offered help or support. They took for granted that I would get it all done. They didn’t realize that I hated myself for being too weak to juggle it all.

    I felt overburdened, resentful, abused, and irritated. Why did they all take advantage of my good nature? Why did they not see how exhausted I was, how their demands swallowed my life?

    How could they do this to me? I knew nothing back then.

    The True Problem of the Ever Helpful, Chronically Selfless, and Desperately Exhausted

    I spent several weeks angry and resentful. People around me wondered why I was so unbalanced, upset, and grumpy.

    They had no idea that I was suffering because of their unrealistically high demands and expectations. That they were selfish, mean, and inconsiderate for shifting their burdens on to me. At least that’s what I thought.

    But then they started to ask whether something was wrong, whether I needed to talk about it, and what they could do to help. “Just holler,” they said. “Anything you need, any time, we are there for you, okay?”

    I was gobsmacked. I had convinced myself that they didn’t care, that they were taking me for granted and considered me their personal property.

    But the truth was that I had kept my suffering a secret. I never told them that I was stressed and exhausted; I never said “no” if they asked me for yet another favor. They didn’t know that it was all too much, that I wasn’t coping.

    They weren’t malicious, exploitative, or taking advantage. But they saw me smile, heard me say that “I was fine,” and were used to me helping out without a second thought.

    I had fooled them all those years with my happy face and bubbly spirit. So I could help, support, save, and rescue. So they could be grateful and I could feel useful, valuable and appreciated.

    There was no way around it: I was a people pleaser. I needed the praise, recognition, and gratitude of others to feel worthwhile. I was addicted to serving others.

    And I was hurting myself in more ways than I realized.

    6 Compelling Reasons to Break the People-Pleasing Addiction

    I knew that my people pleasing compulsion left me exhausted and drained of energy and joy. But only when I examined my predicament more deeply did I recognize the devastating impact it had on my life:

    1. I lost myself.

    Because I was so desperate to please others, I not only did what they expected from me, I also was who I thought they wanted me to be. I assimilated their interests, behaved according to their preferences, and kept my opinions to myself. My true self was buried under an enormous pile of adaptation and lies in the hope to please others.

    2. I felt unloved.

    I was always ready to help others but, when I needed support, I felt that nobody cared. They were taking from me without any intention to give back. Many of my friends back then only contacted me when they had a problem but seemed to forget about me when things were going well. Simply because they weren’t used to me asking for anything in return.

    3. I created co-dependencies.

    Many of my relationships relied on me giving and the other person receiving. I depended on the service to get my fix of appreciation and recognition. The others depended on me for my help and support. And I was never sure whether the relationships were based on affection or co-dependence.

    4. I was vulnerable.

    Because of my overwhelming desire for acknowledgement and appreciation, I would have done anything to please others. Looking back now, I understand how vulnerable this made me. How easily somebody could have abused me, forced me to do things to “make them happy.” I was lucky, but others might not be.

    5. I damaged my health.

    Because I was hard-wired to please others, I ignored my body when it screamed for rest. I couldn’t stay in bed if I had promised others my help or my company. I couldn’t live with myself if I let them down. So I ploughed through the exhaustion and drained my immune system until I seemed to have colds, coughs, and flus non-stop.

    6. I beat myself up.

    And when I was lying in bed with a high fever I still beat myself up for disappointing others. I felt down and upset because I was a useless inconvenience. I was horrified my family and friends would get sick of me if I bothered them too much and needed help. And I wondered how I could justify my existence if I got seriously ill or too old and frail to please everybody all the time.

    As I saw the damage my people pleasing caused in my life, I knew it had to stop. I had to break my addiction this time. I would finally learn to say “no.”

    But it was far more difficult than I imagined.

    The Real Motivation of a People Pleaser

    After the shocking realization of the true consequences, I was mindful of my people pleasing tendencies. I was determined to prioritize myself.

    But, while my body cried out for a rest, I felt lazy every time I settled down for a nap. I felt selfish when I indulged in a hobby and inadequate if I didn’t give 400% in everything I did.

    Whenever I attempted to do something for myself, rest, or say “no,” I was gripped by crippling guilt. It spread through my body, stinging in my chest, choking my breath, and weighing on my heart.

    My mind was racing with all the tasks I should do, all the chores I ought to complete, and all the support I was supposed to provide.

    Instead of enjoying my me-time, I beat myself up for not focusing on more pressing matters. Instead of deriving pleasure from my hobbies, I punished myself for letting others down. Instead of recharging vital energy, I condemned myself for not cleaning the bathroom.

    The guilt sucked all the joy out of my life and left me in an unbearable state of self-punishment, self-loathing, and self-condemnation. It seemed like I had only two options in my life: be miserable because of overwhelm, or be unhappy because of guilt. And none of these choices was acceptable.

    But why could I not prioritize myself? Why did I feel so guilty?

    The Tragic Reason Why We Sacrifice Ourselves to Please Others

    As I contemplated these crucial questions, I soon discovered that all my problems were caused by lack of self-worth.

    I was pleasing others because I believed that I wasn’t good enough for their friendship, respect, and attention. I didn’t deserve their love.

    I was convinced that others only tolerated me as long as I was useful, contributed my share, and proved my worth. I was terrified that they would abandon me if I didn’t comply, disappointed them, or ever dared to say “no.”

    Low self-worth caused fear of rejection. And fear of rejection produced guilt. An all-consuming pressure to do more, be better, and try harder if I wanted to maintain my relationships and keep my job.

    So pleasing others became an addiction. A compulsive overcompensation for my lack of self-worth and self-love. With guilt overpowering me every time I withdrew from my self-invalidation and chose to prioritize myself.

    I was burning myself out, sacrificing my life for others. Not because they demanded it but because I was convinced it was necessary to be accepted. Because I thought I had nothing to offer but my tireless service, commitment, and dedication.

    Because, deep down, I believed I was unacceptable, unlovable. Worthless.

    I knew that I had to say “no” to others if I wanted to prioritize myself. Yet, I never could. At least not without feeling like a nasty, unhelpful, selfish bastard.

    Yes, I could force myself to say “no.” But afterward, I would plummet into a turbulent sea of unhappiness, guilt, and self-punishment. It wasn’t the way out.

    Because my people pleasing addiction wasn’t the real problem, it was merely a symptom. If I wanted to learn to prioritize myself without suffering I had to treat the root cause. I had to heal my low self-worth.

    Learning to Prioritize Yourself

    I grew up believing that our worth is defined by our achievements, our usefulness to others and society. That we are inherently worthless but can earn worthiness by gaining qualifications, wealth, popularity, and success. And that we are only deserving of love and friendship if we sacrifice ourselves to please others.

    But I was wrong because the truth is that we are worth personified. Worth isn’t the result of our actions, accomplishments, and possessions; it isn’t increased by self-sacrifice. It is the essence of our being, the foundation of our existence.

    And it is our task to remember. To let go of our society’s misunderstanding and wake up to the exquisite value and deservedness that is inherent to all of us. To realize our infinite worth that does not depend on any outside factors.

    We are worth. And as long as we treat others with respect and kindness we will always be good enough to deserve their love—without sacrificing our happiness, damaging our bodies, and betraying our values.

    I must have repeated “I am worth” a million times. I affirmed it twenty times a day, told myself when I felt guilty for putting myself first. And I assured myself when I finally told my colleagues, family, and friends that I was stressed and exhausted, that I couldn’t go on like this, that I needed time for myself.

    And they understood. All those years I was horrified they would leave me if I didn’t cater to all their needs. But they knew my true worth better than I did.

    They cared for me, not for the tasks and favors I did for them. They respected my needs. And, after a while, I managed to prioritize myself.

    I now have time to pursue my dreams, give my body the rest it needs, and read a book in the sun. Without guilt or fear of rejection.

    I still enjoy helping and supporting others, granting favors, and doing my best at work. But my motivation has changed. I no longer do it because I am terrified of negative consequences.

    I do it because it makes me happy. And I now know that I deserve happiness. I deserve love, rest and time for myself. Because I am worth.

    And so are you.

  • To Be AND Not to Be: Honoring a Life Lost to Suicide

    To Be AND Not to Be: Honoring a Life Lost to Suicide

    “To be, or not to be—that is the question.” ~William Shakespeare

    This Sunday marks one year since my friend took his own life. It both is and isn’t a big deal. It is in the sense that we like to commemorate things: one-year-old, one year at a new job, one year since 9-11, one year sober.

    It isn’t in the sense that my to-do list that day includes “thaw and marinate chicken.”

    When a person takes his own life, it creates a cosmic shift in the universe.

    It also doesn’t.

    The first few days after a person takes his own life are the weirdest. He was here. Now he’s not.

    The disappearance of a human being is beyond comprehension. A whole human vanishes. Six feet one inch tall. One hundred and sixty pounds. Blue eyes. Salty blonde hair. Brilliant veterinarian. Father of two young daughters. Husband. Son. Friend.

    Perhaps the coroner has determined that the cause of death was self-inflicted gunshot wound. But it is equally as believable that he took a last minute trip. He had to go unexpectedly, but he will be back. He is out running errands. His flight was delayed.

    But as time passes and the person doesn’t come walking up the drive and through the door, his favorite hat bee-bopping up and down with steady gait in the yard, deep sadness swells around the supernatural weirdness of it all. The sadness makes it difficult to breath, at times. It is life altering and universe shifting. It is monumental.

    Except that it isn’t. No matter how deep our grief, schools continue to meet. Clients continue to call. Crimes continue to be committed. Babies continue to be born. Cars still need oil changes.

    Neighbors still drive out of their driveways in the mornings. They still look carefully before exiting their driveways into the street. They still stop to check their mail, which keeps coming by the way, even when someone we love is suddenly gone.

    Just as our own serious injuries may frantically send us to the ER, once we are sitting in the waiting area, we look around and realize we are merely one of many. Death is plain.

    The ordinariness of it all can make it seem like our person didn’t mean very much. Sometimes it feels like he never even existed.

    Except that he did. His half-used soap bar remains in the shower. His razor sits on the counter with tiny hairs embedded in its blades. His cell phone rests on the nightstand with three unread text messages. His bills sit an unopened still-life on the kitchen counter. His half eaten banana slowly turns brown.

    His stuff suggests he was real. That he was here despite his sudden disappearance.

    As his loved ones tasked with cleaning up what he left behind begin to eradicate the trail he left of his final days, when the soap has cracked and the fruit has become rotten, it can feel as though all evidence of his existence has vanished.

    Still, even if every shred of evidence of a person’s existence is lit on fire and turned to ash, our memories, or experiences, and our love for people who disappear will live on. Those memories, intangible ghosts in our minds that cannot be touched, seen, or proven, both are and aren’t real.

    For me, the best space within which to honor those we have lost is to live in the in-between, a place where they both did and did not exist. Where they both did and did not die. Where their loss both is and is not extraordinary.

    This Sunday, I plan to commemorate the day by getting what is and is not meaningful: a tattoo. The experience will and will not be important. It will be important in the sense that I am getting a semi-colon tattoo to represent mental illness and suicide awareness in honor of my dear friend. It isn’t in the sense that millions of people get tattoos every day.

    This Sunday, I will be sad. The sadness that comes with suicide doesn’t ever truly disappear. Because it is always there, I suppose the sadness left over after a person takes his own life both is and isn’t important. It is in the sense that it lives down low beneath the joy, laughter, excitement, and other emotions that continue to be felt despite the life altering loss.

    But it isn’t all that extraordinary either. Sadness is not exclusive to me. And despite my sadness, this Sunday will be regular. We will laugh when it makes sense to laugh. We will watch our usual TV shows. We will wash laundry for the week. We will return emails. We will grade papers.

    When someone we love dies, we swear we will never take our lives for granted. Every moment will count; every day will be lived fully. Similarly, we swear we will never take for granted our friends, our spouses, our children. We will keep our eyes on the big picture. We won’t sweat the small stuff. We will stop drinking, stop smoking, stop yelling, start meditating.

    Except when we don’t. And that is okay. Because although we aim to see the death of our loved ones as a monumental turning point in our lives—one that will push us to live our best life—the fact also remains that life is ordinary. Death is common. Our health will fail one way or another. We will yell again. We will take things for granted.

    Because the finite nature of our capacity for understanding pushes us into the realm of “either/or,” we believe that we either appreciate our lives, or we don’t. We are either happy or we are sad. We are either healthy or we are sick. We are either alive or we are dead.

    I suspect that, if we could hear the voices of ghosts, they’d tell us that our finite view causes us much suffering. That Hamlet’s contemplation of his own being when he asks “to be or not to be?” is the wrong question with no real answer. For even when one takes his own life, he does not cease “to be.”

    After all, my friend is gone, but his memory lives on. I can see his sweet spirit in the eyes of his children. I can feel his love for nature as the wind blows through the leaves of trees, dancing alive. He is here, and he is not. His ashes will return to the earthen ground from which he came. Perhaps he will become part of a cloud, a stream. Perhaps his remains will enrich the earth that grows the tea we drink.

    The sooner we accept that the universe is infinite and that our capacity to understand is finite (despite whatever technological advances we believe humans have made), the sooner we will find the peace that can only come from living outside of the duality of either/or.

    For me, I accept that my dear friend died because he took his own life. I also accept that he did not die.

    This sort of wild, fantastical thinking is not the kind one might see in popular culture movies depicting communication with the deceased in the afterlife. It is the kind of thinking that arises from acceptance of the infinitesimal universe that is beyond our own finite understanding. Once we accept this truth, the spirit of those we have lost is freed beyond the grave.

  • How to Be There for Others Without Taking on Their Pain

    How to Be There for Others Without Taking on Their Pain

    “Letting go helps us to live in a more peaceful state of mind and helps restore our balance. It allows others to be responsible for themselves and for us to take our hands off situations that do not belong to us. This frees us from unnecessary stress.” ~Melody Beattie

    When our loved ones suffer, it’s hard not to get swept up in their pain. We want so desperately to fix them, to take away their hardship, and to see them flourishing.

    As a control freak, I often find myself going into “fixer mode” when my partner is struggling with work stress, which only makes me more anxious when nothing I suggest works, and him more frustrated when I get so preoccupied with his issues.

    Then, after all my frantic attempts at control, there’s a little voice inside that tells me to stop. To listen. To be there for him without trying to change anything. To witness his pain and sit next to him while he feels it.

    In this way, it’s not my job to fix his problems. It’s my job to be there for him with love as he figures out how to handle his own suffering. I am freed from feeling the responsibility of taking on his pain.

    Here are a few tips for how to not get overwhelmed when others are suffering.

    Realize that being supportive doesn’t mean fixing their problems.

    I often think back to when my mental health was at its worst. I dealt with debilitating panic disorder, agoraphobia, and depression, and I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for my family to see me suffering so greatly.

    But what I am most grateful for during that time is that my loved ones never tried to fix me. They didn’t become obsessed with finding a solution, and they didn’t rush me to get better. All of that would have increased my anxiety tenfold.

    Instead, they simply supported me. They constantly let me know that they were there for me if I needed them. Just knowing that I had someone to count on if things got hard was incredibly helpful.

    One way we can be supportive of others is to practice listening without the intent to respond with solutions. What would that be like if we simply held space for others without needing to respond?

    I took a yoga workshop recently where we partnered up with a stranger and took turns sharing our struggles. The one not speaking had to simply listen and was not allowed to respond.

    So we practiced listening with our whole bodies, hearts, and minds, released from the need to think of something to say in return. Instead, we got to be a loving witness to this person’s experience.

    Sometimes all that our loved ones need is to be seen and to know that someone is there for them.

    Allow them to find their own way.

    This can be hard. It’s hard to let go of control so much that you allow other people to have their own journeys. If my family or partner had stepped in during my rough patches with panic disorder, I wouldn’t have gone through the trenches of it myself.

    I wouldn’t have learned my own strength. I wouldn’t have been so amazingly transformed, body, mind, and soul, as I am now.

    At that time, I didn’t need someone to take away my pain; I needed someone to be there with love and patience as I experienced my own pain.

    Can we offer loving suggestions? Sure. Can we help them in productive ways? Of course. But at the end of the day, it is their lesson to learn. And we have to practice letting go of the outcome.

    When a relative passed from cancer a couple of years ago, it was horrifying to see her transform from a vibrant woman to a frail, bedridden one, writhing in pain. Those last few days, she lost her vision. She couldn’t eat or drink. All she wanted was for the suffering to end.

    After witnessing this, I automatically wanted to take on that pain. I felt it as my own. I started to suffer the pain she was experiencing.

    Eventually, I had to realize that this was her journey. This was her pain, not mine, and I didn’t have to take that on. It actually doesn’t help anyone or anything for us to carry around pain that isn’t even ours.

    Realize that you’re only responsible for yourself.

    You can’t control other people. You can’t control who suffers and who doesn’t. And what a burden that would be if we felt we needed to safeguard everyone in our lives from pain. That’s too overwhelming.

    You are only responsible for yourself. So how can you take better care of yourself as you care for others?

    If there’s someone in your life who is going through a rough time, you have to respect your own limits. You have to set boundaries in how much you can safely and lovingly give.

    Giving to others when we are depleted ourselves doesn’t serve us, and it doesn’t serve them if they aren’t receiving your help out of love, but out of obligation or fear.

    Instead, find ways you can care for and respect yourself so that you can be available as a support if that feels appropriate and safe for you.

    Practice grounding back into your own body and energy field often.

    When we’re caring for others, we may have a tendency to take on their energy. It’s like when we’re around an angry person. Even if we’re not angry ourselves, we may feel our heart quicken, our breathing become shallow, and our temperature start to rise.

    Practice grounding back into your own body so that you can recognize what’s yours and what is not.

    One way to do this is to get physical, connecting back to your own body through yoga, exercise, and dance.

    Immerse yourself in nature. I love to go hiking when I get overwhelmed with others’ energy and allow the grounding energy of the earth to support me. Spend time alone.

    Anything you can do to bring your attention back to your own body will serve you in grounding your energy.

    —

    It can be very difficult to separate ourselves from others and to let go of needing to take away our loved ones’ pain. It’s something I still struggle with, but I’m learning every day that I am not responsible for anyone else. I can be there with love and kindness, but beyond that is out of my control.

    All I can control is how well I care for myself, so that this love can then ripple out in support of others.

  • What I Learned from Loving the “Wrong Person” and Why I Don’t Regret It

    What I Learned from Loving the “Wrong Person” and Why I Don’t Regret It

    “Some people come into your life for a reason, some a season, and some a lifetime. However long it was, be thankful for the gifts you received from them.” ~Unknown

    When I first met him, we instantly clicked. We became fast friends aided by the fact that I was dealing with my father’s death and he was by my side whenever I needed someone. He was empathetic, easy to talk to, and very open. I related to him immediately.

    Early on, it became clear to me that while we were friends, we would not make a good romantic pair. We had extremely opposing political views and philosophies on life, as well as different communication styles.

    For example, in the beginning we would get in arguments about religion. I consider myself spiritual, but I am not very religious. He would constantly try to get me to have religious conversations with him. From my point of view, it felt as if he was trying to push his beliefs on me. It was exhausting. I didn’t feel respected or heard in my spiritual journey.

    I also felt like he was a different person, depending on what group he was with, which made me uneasy. I try to be authentically me wherever I am, and I love who I am. As he shifted personalities, it was very confusing to me. It made me wonder, “Who are you really?”

    My friends shook their heads, telling me he wasn’t good for me. “Angela, he is too judgmental,” they’d say. “I just feel like there is something very off about him; he makes me nervous.”

    As I got to know him better I suspected that one reason for his behavior was that he had previously been involved in an extremely toxic relationship. In fact, it was so dysfunctional that law enforcement got involved.

    It made me ponder, “Do I really want to be with someone who attracts this kind of relationship into their life?” But I stuck by him during that time because he had been so present in my life when my father passed. I believed he deserved the same thing from me.

    On the day he kissed me, things started to get fuzzy. When we were alone, things felt very relationship-y. However, when were in our regular environment, we acted like best friends. I told myself that I could balance the division, but I couldn’t.

    I started to shove the multitude of reasons we shouldn’t be together under the rug, only to take them out occasionally to shame myself for wanting to be with him.

    As the months passed by and our weird relationship continued, I realized I was starting to have authentic feelings for him. I was wearing rose-colored glasses and only saw the good parts of him, but I still didn’t feel right about the nature of our relationship.

    One morning it finally hit me. I’d had a dream that he slapped me across the face. In the dream, I was sobbing, begging him for forgiveness as I held my hand over my black eye. I woke up crying because the dream felt so real. While in “real” life he had never physically hurt me, I realized I was feeling disrespected emotionally by him and myself. I knew I had to make a change.

    I broke things off with him about a week after that. It was beyond difficult. He was mature about it and apologized for his part in the ordeal, but it was not the route I wanted to go. So many parts of me wanted to go on acting like nothing was wrong, but my heart knew that it wasn’t a path I could travel any longer.

    While loving someone “who is not right for you” can be painful, you can also find some amazing lessons. Love isn’t always meant to stay forever. Sometimes it only stays for a season, but that doesn’t make it any less beautiful or valuable. Here’s what I learned from my relationship.

    1. Sometimes even when we know something won’t necessarily end well, we still have to go through it.

    When we took our relationship to the next level, I knew in my gut that this was likely not going end in a happy way. I would never change to be the agreeable, conservatively Christian girl he wanted to date and eventually marry. My mentor told me. My sister told me. My friends told me. But, I still wanted to go through it. Why do we this?

    I remember talking to a therapist a few years ago about this phenomenon. She said, “Honey, we aren’t here on this earth to rise above life. We are here to walk through the mud. The magic is in the mess.” We learn our lessons by going through intense life experiences, not by skipping through them.

    2. We need to release the shame.

    This goes along with lesson one. Shame is such a tricky emotion, and one I wrestle with daily. I felt so much shame for having feelings for someone I knew in my heart was not the best person for me. I would beat myself up constantly. I realized that if I wanted to move on I had to stop putting myself down. Shame was keeping me stuck.

    To release the shame, I would talk to myself like I would talk to my best friend. My best friend went through a similar situation this past summer and I always told her, “Honey, I don’t know if this is going to end well and this doesn’t look healthy. However, if this is what you need to go through for your growth, I will be here to hold your hand and catch you when you fall.”

    After she moved on from the situation, she told me how much this meant to her. “You were the only friend who didn’t judge me. You acknowledged my journey. It helped me move on a lot faster to have someone accept me exactly where I was.”

    In this case, I needed to be my best friend. I wish that in the past, I would have metaphorically taken my own hand and told myself that I would be there for myself through the mess. I needed to do that for me.

    3. Giving and receiving love are natural human needs.

    I realized that part of the reason I’d chosen to be with this man was that I wanted to give and receive love. That’s a beautiful thing. I love loving people romantically. It feels great, and when it was just us, living in the present moment, it was a beautiful experience.

    On the flip side, I do believe it’s important that give your love to someone who can receive it with a pure intention. I recently saw a quote by Lisa Chase Patterson, “I always say, never sleep with someone you wouldn’t want to be.” I wholeheartedly agree with Lisa, but I believe it goes deeper. Don’t give your heart romantically to someone you don’t want to be.

    4. Acknowledge the dark parts in yourself and love them.

    I have been involved in mindfulness studies since I was sixteen. I hold myself to a high standard and want to be an example of a mindful being, but I am still human.

    There are still parts of me that seek love out of neediness and wanting to be accepted. There are parts of me that are attracted to fixing people and feeling in control. While I have worked through a lot of pain and trauma in my life, there’s also still this little girl inside of me who wants everyone’s approval. These are parts of myself that I work on daily, but I have to be patient with myself.

    Lots of times we attach to beliefs about ourselves at a very young age and we have to peel them away layer by layer. It can take a long time. Patience is required. However, I think this process is what makes it beautiful. Life is not a race; it’s a journey.

    While this love story will not end in a relationship status update on Facebook or a proposal, it ended with some beautiful memories and some even more extraordinary lessons. I realized I don’t regret our kisses. I don’t regret sharing my secrets with him. And I especially don’t regret loving him. Instead, I choose to be grateful for how the relationship helped me grow.

  • 4 Ways to Get Your Mind Off Yourself and Replace Worry with Joy

    4 Ways to Get Your Mind Off Yourself and Replace Worry with Joy

    “The only way to be truly happy is to get your mind off yourself and help somebody else.” ~Joyce Meyer

    A couple of years ago, I was dealing with two major life changes at the same time.

    The first change was that my husband and I moved from Maryland to Delaware after our son finished high school. And though the distance wasn’t far (about a three-hour drive from my parents’ house in Washington, D.C.), I had grown up in D.C. and this marked the first time I had ever moved away from that area.

    The second change was that our son was heading off to college and I would have to learn to navigate life without him being physically with me.

    I remember a time when he was in first grade and I was so busy dealing with work that I forgot to pack his lunch. When I picked him up from school, he climbed into the backseat and said, “You forgot to send my lunch today.” And while other kids who had paid for lunch got hot dogs, my son told me he didn’t get one.

    I immediately burst into tears from guilt and the thought of him being hungry all day. He said, “Mom! It’s okay. There will be other hot dogs!” And he was right. It certainly wasn’t the end of the world, but I sometimes think of that incident because it sums up how much I want to protect him from everything that could go wrong.

    In the midst of these life changes, my anxiety levels were at an all-time high. Every morning I woke up with a racing heart and an overwhelming sense of losing control. I was getting used to living in a small town, faced with making new friends, and missing our son all at the same time.

    Then one day, I heard Joyce Meyer say something that helped me put things in perspective and propelled me to take charge of my life in a way that I had never done before. The simple advice: Get your mind off yourself and start focusing on others, and see how that makes you feel.

    I was willing to try it. And sure enough, it didn’t take long before I began waking up feeling calm and refreshed.

    The heart palpitations subsided, and I embarked on a path of acceptance—acceptance that change is a natural part of life, that we raise kids to be independent and go off on their own, which meant it was okay that I had moved away from my hometown and it was also okay that my son was leaving for college.

    I also accepted the fact that I’m not supposed to be in control of everything in the universe anyway. What a relief!

    Here are four tips that worked for me.

    Tip #1: Spend time with children.

    One of the first things I did was sign up to help kids with reading and other homework at the Boys & Girls Club in our area—one afternoon a week after I finished work.

    I looked forward to it because it was energizing to see the kids make progress with their reading skills over time. Kids also are masters at living in the present moment. One minute, kids argue and the next minute they share cookies. Adults need more of that forgiving spirit.

    And the laughter—kids laugh and laugh with wild abandon. Their antics always brought me joy, and I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. I admired their ability to play, let loose, and have fun.

    Tip #2: Accept a new challenge.

    When a friend invited me to join her in leading the kids at church in song and dance for Vacation Bible School, I wasn’t so sure at first. Could my brain even learn the material? But I decided to take on the challenge and worked hard at learning the words, hand motions, and dance moves for five songs.

    We were charged with demonstrating the songs during the week of Vacation Bible School so that the kids could follow along. This meant lots or preparation beforehand—watching videos and practicing dance steps over and over.

    If I slid into worrying about my son or other negative thoughts, I could pull up a video, practice a song, and fill my brain with inspirational messages. And I surprised myself because I did learn. Then when Vacation Bible School rolled around, it was so inspiring to see all the kids’ excitement at learning all the songs and dance moves.

    Tip #3: Volunteer for a cause that’s close to your heart.

    One day I came across a newspaper article about a beach home in my area that serves as a place where families dealing with cancer can have a place of respite and enjoy family fun time. It’s meant to be a place of joy and peace at the beach, and it truly is.

    I think it especially caught my attention because the family that launched the beach home did so in honor of their son, who died of a brain tumor while he was in college. During his illness, he had been happy to have the beach as an escape, and his family wanted to pass on that feeling to others.

    There is a great group of volunteers who take turns greeting the families when they come to stay at the beach for a week. I was immediately drawn in to this wonderful cause and joined the effort.

    Tip #4: Join a group class.

    I have always loved ballet and took classes as a child. So when I signed up for an adult ballet class near my home, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. What I found was pure joy as I met each week in the studio with other women and danced all my worries away as we moved along to fabulous music.

    Nobody cared how high you could lift your leg. It was all about moving and having fun. There’s something about a group class that heightens your awareness of others around you. We all had the same goals and tried to stay in step with the music. We even had recitals where we performed in small groups for an audience. We all worked together so that the group could succeed. And for an added bonus, I met some of my best friends in that class.

    —

    I’ve learned that getting my mind off myself frees me to not only pay more attention to the needs of others, but also to take action to connect with them and help them. Less time dwelling on my fears means more time practicing compassion and making a difference. I believe that’s what a positive, meaningful life is all about.

  • What I’ve Learned About Life While Volunteering in a Rwandan Youth Village

    What I’ve Learned About Life While Volunteering in a Rwandan Youth Village

    “Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” ~Maya Angelou

    Have you ever been in a situation where your thoughts and beliefs are put to test and you have to reconsider who you are? Do you adapt to a new environment or hold on to the values and cultural norms of your past?

    I’m living in Rwanda for the next year, volunteering at a youth village that also serves as a boarding school for over 500 vulnerable youths.

    All our students are orphans and they are some of the most vulnerable youth in Rwanda. I chose to volunteer at the village because I wanted to better understand how I could make a sustainable difference for those I saw as less fortunate than myself.

    On many levels I went into this year with a somewhat warped aim of what I could accomplish. To start, the idea of “having an impact” can be seen as a very ego-driven perspective. I think the real impact has been on me. Every minute of every day—both the good and bad—plays a role in how I perceive the world and how I behave.

    For a fast-paced American, it’s easy to get frustrated in Rwanda. “Africa Time,” the slow-paced lifestyle that many attribute to cultures throughout Africa, is very real, and Rwanda is no exception. Tasks take long, people are less straightforward, and you say “hello”’ to every person you pass on the street. Do you know how many “hellos” that is in a village of 650 people?

    People who know me, know I embody a lot of the qualities we associate with a typical American. I speak my mind, I’m hyper-productive, and I prefer to skip the niceties and jump straight into a meeting. Clearly this cultural clash would create a struggle.

    Not only that, but life in Rwanda is difficult. I see things and feel things I never have before. As someone who does not like to feel emotions too deeply, this has proved challenging.

    My life here is different than what I am used to, and it requires great patience, questioning, and self-awareness. But I have begun to ask myself the question: “Does that make it a bad thing?”

    Lately I have been contemplating if my American capitalistic mindset of “go, go, go” and “get, get, get” is actually the best one to have.

    While I do not expect any insights I mention here to be unheard of, I do think they are unique when you consider them through the context of the vulnerable Rwandan youth at the village where I work.

    Slow down.

    The slower pace of life in Rwanda is a gift. It allows me time to be present and concentrate on living in the moment. Every moment I am reminded that life is a gift that I shouldn’t take for granted. If we rush through our day, we miss the chance of really enjoying it. Why do I need to walk at record speed to the dining hall? Why pass someone on the street and decide not to say hello? I have no idea.

    Body perception is just that—perception.

    The other day a few girls in my Rwandan family told me I have big legs. While this is not revolutionary to me, it still stung a bit.

    I told the girls that it’s mean to say that and they replied, “Are you kidding? I want your legs.” Cultural differences anyone? Accepting your body isn’t the lesson here. The lesson, to me, is understanding that the way we think about ourselves is totally dictated by societal norms. And, when you step into a different culture, that norm changes.

    While I am still conscientious of being seen as fat, I now give myself a break and embrace that one culture’s obsession with being stick thin is another culture’s version of extreme poverty.

    Human touch is a gift.

    Typically Americans embrace upon introduction in a formal handshake. Rwandans first greet each other with a warm two-armed hug lasting a good five seconds, followed by a handshake. Then they’ll hold your hand (men and women), sit on your lap, rub your back, etc. And, the benefits of all this touching are real.

    I didn’t want to believe it because I am a self-proclaimed “anti-hugger,” but I couldn’t be more wrong on this one. Human contact makes you happier, improves how you feel, changes how you behave toward others, and allows you to express yourself in new ways. I’m an addict now. (Watch out!)

    Sharing feels good.

    I’m still experimenting with this one. In a communal society (especially within our village), sharing is the go-to way to do pretty much anything.

    The other day I had a little donut left. I gave it to one girl in my family and she split it up into six pieces! Every girl got a little tiny piece of this donut instead of the girl just finishing the bite herself. How awesome is that!

    I struggle with this one because I do have the scarcity mentality that can exist in Western culture. But, I strive to make small improvements. Yesterday I brought my hot sauce to share at lunch. Seeing the kids get excited when I pulled out the little bottle was pretty great. I guess it’s a muscle I will just need to stretch.

    Death—it’s just part of the life cycle.

    This insight has been one of the more shocking and harder for me to grasp. Last week I saw a dead body. This week I saw a girl get hit by a car and break both legs. (I pray she is not paralyzed.)

    I’ve seen more car accidents in the last four months than in my whole life thus far. Understanding death from the Rwandan culture, where death rates are higher and life risks are so much greater, gives me strength in my ability to just live and not let my fears shatter everything that I can achieve within my life.

    And, while these events were deeply upsetting for me, more than anything they have made me realize how truly grateful I should be for the life I have been given, and they’ve reminded me to live life to the fullest. In addition, these experiences have taught me how much I can give to those around me in helping them bring more meaning and happiness into their own lives.

    Don’t get me wrong; I still very much believe that some of my best qualities are those I have gained from my American upbringing. But it is so refreshing to stop fighting against those behaviors that separate the Westerners here from Rwandans, and instead embrace them.

    Not only does it make it easier to do my job and live here, but just maybe, there will be some long-lasting effects which will improve the quality of life way beyond my experience in Rwanda.

  • The Delusion of Separation: We Don’t Need to Feel So Lonely

    The Delusion of Separation: We Don’t Need to Feel So Lonely

    “The fundamental delusion of humanity is to suppose that I am here and you are out there.” ~Yasutani Roshi

    You know those moments? Those brief, fleeting moments that shine through the grey of everyday life like motes of glitter caught in a sunbeam. The moments when you suddenly feel a connection to the world around you, when the quotidian alienation of modern life falls away and color pulses back in.

    Walking through the torpor of another generic day, the background static of depression distorting the colors of the world, I often don’t realize I’m on a downward spiral until I look up and realize the sun seems a long, long way away.

    The spiral staircase in my mind has steps that aren’t just worn smooth from use, but more often than not seem to be lubricated, too. At the bottom, the door marked “suicide” is always standing there, waiting… and how much easier it would be to push it open and walk through, rather than trying to climb back up those endless, slippery steps.

    And then, out of nowhere, I lock eyes with another person and, unplanned and unplannable, we see each other.

    I don’t mean we just notice one another, or that we look and immediately glance away before continuing our automaton stomping along the street. No, I mean we actually share a moment of mutual recognition: we see each other and share, for a long second or two, something fundamentally human. A connection.

    Stereotypes and defence mechanisms flicker, before revealing themselves to be the smokescreen of fear they really are—a hazy distortion field which blurs our vision of what’s right in front of us. A barrier that we hide behind, but which has no more substance than fog.

    The mind loves shorthand and shortcuts, but nobody can be accurately reduced to these crude symbols, and nobody really fits into the boxes that we’ve learnt to shove them into to make the complexity of the world more manageable.

    “Manageable” is the spreadsheet, not the thing itself. It’s a lens, but like reading glasses, it helps us see something at one level, but distorts everything else if we look up and try to see anything more.

    If stereotyping reduces, then these moments of connection distill. The essence rises and we can taste the purity of it. In these moments, looks aren’t deceiving, but revealing.

    Recently I was walking across a narrow footbridge over a stream, heading back to the flat I was staying in. Just a few paces ahead of me, a couple of young men in tracksuits are leaning on a railing, chatting quietly. They hear me coming, and one of them looks around, a little tense as his instincts alert him to my approach.

    We lock eyes. We don’t smile; we don’t exchange reflex pleasantries. But we both nod slightly and in that small moment wordlessly exchange several deeply human things.

    A greeting; an acknowledgement that we see each other going about our day without need to intrude, question, or interfere; that we’re both enjoying the bright, beautiful morning; that there might theoretically be cultural and class divisions between us, but we are not bringing them into this simple interpersonal moment; that, in some ephemeral but weighty sense, we respect each other.

    But even that sounds too cold. Because this, like all such moments, is definitely warm. The stranger on the terrace raising a glass to you in silent toast; the knowing look you exchange with a parent trying to control their young children; holding a door for a stranger and sharing a smile, or waving to someone on a distant ship and seeing them raise a hand in return.

    These aren’t rituals, politeness, or other rehearsed and mechanical behavior. This is what all the meditation teachers are talking about when they exhort us to be present with what is, rather than the stories we impose on ourselves and the world around us.

    It’s a brief mutual knowing, a wink around the corner of the matrix, when you both silently acknowledge the absurdity of the conventions that we live inside.

    It’s the barista who doesn’t reel off the heavily scripted line when they pass you your coffee, because in the moment before they do, you see each other and smile, acknowledging in no words at all that the artifice is all pretty silly and you don’t need those lines to appreciate the exchange that’s taking place.

    I’m not saying that we’d all become great friends and enjoy each other’s company if we actually got talking. But beyond those layers of accreted cultural, social, and personal compost, there’s a core of shared humanity, which, in these brief moments, we instinctively recognize and feel heartened by. When the zombie apocalypse breaks out, perhaps we will, after all, be able to rely on our fellow humans.

    Zombies aside, I’m not being flippant. Disaster movies and the mass media love to scare us with visions of society and basic humanity rapidly collapsing in the face of major disasters.

    After Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans was soon portrayed as a terrifying regression to a Hobbesian world of man-as-wolf-to-man, but this was simply untrue. The fears of the government, police, and media became the lenses through which they and then we perceived and approached the situation. The reality was altogether different.

    As Rebecca Solnit describes in her fascinating book A Paradise Built in Hell, not only do the vast majority of people not turn savage in the face of disaster, they rapidly begin helping complete strangers, setting up ad hoc shelters, kitchens, search parties, and hospitals.

    And the survivors of the natural and manmade disasters Solnit describes, even if they experienced terrible personal losses, they frequently look back on these periods as some of the best in their lives. In large part, this is because they felt that rarest of things in the modern industrialised world: that they had meaningful and consequential things to do.

    Why? Because they were suddenly talking and cooperating with other people in the same boat as them, from complete strangers to neighbours they’d never spoken to in twenty years, despite living next door.

    It was as though external circumstances triggered a different human mode of operation, back to something more fundamental and less complex.

    Studying the same phenomenon, Sebastian Junger calls this a return to tribal existence, but this isn’t a story of reversion to an idealized pre-modern existence. It’s simply the rediscovery of what’s already there: it’s the collapse of the fiction Yastunai Roshi described—the delusion “that I am here and you are out there.”

    Don’t get me wrong – there are plenty of times when I find myself actively avoiding any connection with the people around me. When I’m standing on the street, some part of my mind often starts whirring away hoping no one strikes up a conversation with me. What if they want something from me and make me feel bad for not giving it to them? Why can’t I just be left alone to my thoughts?

    And yet being closed off to those external inputs isn’t much of a way to think or to live. It is, after all, based on fear. Fear of change, fear of disruption, and fear of a loss of control.

    Those fears are simultaneously completely valid and entirely foolish: change is the only constant in life, so there’s no benefit in fearing it. And control is always an illusion and a constraint.

    We imagine the moment of interruption as inherently negative, and yet we’ve got no idea what might happen next. Maybe this person simply wants to know the time, or they’re lost, and when we can help them out we end up feeling really good about it.

    So far, so nice. And perhaps familiar. But why highlight these little moments, if we all know them?

    Because each one seems to come as a surprise, or a slight relief. Because until they do, at least for those of us in big cities, we’re surrounding ourselves with countless Schrödinger’s boxes of uncertainty regarding the people around us. And so we cast our eyes downward, or keep our gaze frictionless when we look at the people around us, avoiding contact for fear of rejection or accusation.

    It can feel so much easier not to open the boxes and keep things unknown, but the vertigo of what Pema Chödrön calls “groundlessness”—of leaning into the unknown with heart and mind open—is precisely where life happens. 

    We must learn to relax with groundlessness—of having no certainties, nothing solid to which we can cling, and no promise our smile will be returned. As Chödrön explains, Buddhism encourages us “to remain open to the present groundless moment, to a direct, unarmored participation with our experience,” with no guarantees at all that everything will work out the way we might want it to.

    The trick is not to look for a reaction. Not to expect anything at all (and thereby avoid the ego’s spluttering outrage that this or that person was so damn rude for not returning our smile or greeting). That’s just giving with strings attached.

    Instead, moments of connection happen when something is given freely, without the higher functions of the brain coming into play. In the same way we smile at a cute animal or a child laughing, we can remain open to everyone around us, because they are also us, living a different life. There’s no need for “why”; we can just do.

    When we act without expectation, there’s no disappointment. Which isn’t to say something nice will definitely happen, but whatever does happen will simply be data—not something weighed in the scales of our prior expectations and found wanting.

    For me and many others, depression creates a sense of desperate isolation; it seems to close us off from all connection. But while the sun can seem so far away—a pinprick of light at the top of that spiral staircase—this is just another distortion.

    In truth, that light of Bodhichitta—the “awakened heart”—is still inside us and always accessible. Like the idea that we are separate from other people, it’s another delusion to think that we can ever be separated from the heart of Bodhichitta within us.

    Being alone isn’t the same as being lonely, and in those fleeting glances and connections we can be both alone and yet deeply connected with the people and the world around us. We just have to be present enough to be open to them.

  • Are You Really Listening? 4 Ways to Understand and Connect with People

    Are You Really Listening? 4 Ways to Understand and Connect with People

    “The most basic of all human needs is the need to understand and be understood. The best way to understand people is to listen to them.” ~Ralph G. Nichols

    My partner and I were in our first few months of a long-distance relationship. This was a new stage for us and it meant altering our communication practices. Instead of sharing meals and museum exhibits, we had weekly emails and Skype chats.

    Every week, I would pour my heart into long, detailed emails to him. I would describe everything that I had done and thought over the past few days.

    On Skype I would do the same. Excited to tell him about my life, I would recount all of my recent experiences.

    On one such Skype call, my partner paused the conversation with a long and frustrated silence.

    “What?” I asked.

    He said, “You just told me all about you, but you didn’t respond to anything I said.”

    His reaction surprised me. Weren’t we taking turns talking about our lives? Wasn’t that how a long-distance call was supposed to go?

    Around the same time, I received a letter from a friend who lived across the country. We had been writing to each other for several years. I had recently sent her a letter telling her about my new job and my vacation plans.

    She wrote back in exasperation, “You didn’t respond to anything I said in my last letter.”

    Now I was shocked and a bit panicked. My first instinct was to be defensive. Didn’t my partner and my friend want to know about my life? Didn’t they care about me?

    A troubling realization soon set in. If two different people were upset with me for the same reason, there was a good chance that I was the source of the problem and that I would have to take ownership of it.

    I had always thought that conversations between people in any relationship meant taking turns talking about yourself. I believed that was how you found out information about each other’s lives. Wasn’t knowing about each other the framework of a relationship?

    After thinking for a while, I realized that this approach had never been very successful for me. I had always struggled with feeling disconnected in my relationships. My bonds with others felt flimsy, as if they could crumble at any moment.

    Despite being surrounded by people I called friends, I felt chronically detached and lonely. I often wondered, were relationships this shallow for everyone? Was I doing something wrong that kept me from tapping into true connection?

    The moment that I realized my partner and my friend had both given me the same feedback—that I was not responding to anything they said—set me on the path to answering these questions. No, relationships did not have to be shallow. Yes, I was doing something wrong.

    I was being a poor listener. My lack of listening skills was holding me back from truly connecting with the people I cared about most. I did not know how to listen receptively and responsively in conversation.

    This realization was both terrifying and freeing.

    Conversation is the workspace to create, build, and expand connection. Listening is the glue that fuses that connection. If we take turns talking without truly listening, the connection is brittle.

    Fortunately, excellent listening can be learned. With dedication, I was able to dramatically improve my listening skills. As a result, I have built deeply fulfilling relationships that nourish my heart and soul.

    Here are four power moves that I use to increase the quality of my listening and build stronger bonds with the people I care about.

    1. I bring mindful attention to asking, “How are you?”

    The way in which we choose to ask “How are you?” has the power to set a tone of either detachment or connection for the rest of a conversation.

    I used to treat “How are you?” as if it were interchangeable with “Hello,” flattening it into a greeting instead of a question. I expected a perfunctory response and so that was what I received in return. This approach to “How are you?” communicated that I was more eager to talk about myself than to listen to the other person and thus set the stage for disconnection.

    Now I treat “How are you?” as an invitation to connect by saying the words slowly, breathing into the phrase, and maintaining physical stillness. I transition my full presence to listening and bring the precious gift of my attention to the conversation. Attentiveness shows that I care and I want to learn more about that person.

    2. I communicate interest by asking follow-up questions.

    When I ask “How are you?” I may get the response “Good, I just got back from work.”

    In the past, I would have responded “Great!” and moved on. Now I know that this common exchange is an important opportunity to ask follow-up questions.

    Follow-up questions are linked to the speaker’s previous statement so they demonstrate the listener’s level of interest and attention. My favorite follow-up questions are open-ended and begin with “what” or “how” because they create the most space for the other person to expand their thinking.

    Some examples that would apply to the situation above include “What are you currently working on?”, “How do you like your colleagues?”, and “What do you enjoy most about your work?”

    Asking follow-up questions shows that I value my conversation partner’s ideas and experience. Communicating that someone’s words are valuable increases their self-worth. When I foster a relationship with someone that mutually feeds our senses of self-worth, we both find ourselves wanting to spend more time together.

    3. I deepen the conversation with “Tell me more,” and “What do you mean by that?”

    When we talk, we learn more about ourselves. We can explore our desires, motivations, and fears. When we support others to talk more about themselves, we help them uncover useful information about who they are.

    By telling my friend, sister, or partner to “tell me more,” or by asking, “What do you mean by that?” I’m inviting them to learn more about themselves. I’m opening space for them to expand their thinking and thereby take up more space in our relationship and the world.

    Invitations to take up more space are among the greatest gifts we can give in relationships.

    4. I share the conversation space with “What do you think?”

    Asking, “What do you think?” is my favorite technique to manage myself during conversations in which I am sharing opinions, theories, and ideas.

    I am a passionate person and when I am inspired, I have a lot to say! However, unless I am giving a speech, I have a responsibility to my listener to maintain a shared speaking space and I honor this by ending my opinions with “What do you think?”

    There is a distribution of power inherent in any exchange involving speaking and listening. If one person chronically dominates the speaking space without the other’s consent, there exists a violation of boundaries. Asking, “What do you think?” helps to maintain equality and respect in conversations and, consequently, in relationships.

    —

    These days, I employ these listening power moves regularly and continue to reap the rewards. I recently used them in a conversation with a former colleague. When she reached out to me via text message to ask a simple question, I took it as an opportunity to deepen our friendship.

    She texted, “Have you renewed your professional license?”

    My younger self might have responded with “yes” or “no” and left it at that, resulting in a shallow interaction. Because I wanted a richer relationship with this person, I used the listening power moves to connect with her. I brought my mindful attention to the interaction and responded with an open-ended follow-up question.

    “No,” I texted back, “I have other career ideas right now. What is your thinking about your career?”

    We switched to email and she shared her latest career goals with me. I responded to her ideas and then she asked me about my career goals. Over the course of our emails, we expressed and explored our thinking about who we were professionally and personally, made plans to spend time together, and ended up going on a road trip.

    Feeling connected means feeling seen, heard, and valued for who we are. Our choices around how we speak and listen have the power to generate connectedness. When we bring a mindful presence and generous spirit to our listening, we open the doors to rich and fulfilling relationships.

  • Addicted to Helping: Why We Need to Stop Trying to Fix People

    Addicted to Helping: Why We Need to Stop Trying to Fix People

    Caregiver

    “Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals.” ~Pema Chodron

    After college, I was hustling hard to get a work visa so that I could stay in the US.

    But then my mom got caught up in a political scandal, and without much reflection on how much this would alter my life’s plans, I dropped my dream of staying in America, drove 1,000 miles, and flew another 500 to be by her side.

    Would she have crumbled without me there? My mama is a tough chick, so I highly doubt it.

    But at the time, I (subconsciously) believed that when the ones we love are hurting, their pain trumps everything. Their pain gets top priority, and whatever goals and dreams we’ve been working toward now pale in comparison.

    At the time, I thought that love meant tending to the other person’s needs first, always.

    And this form of self-sacrifice came naturally to me (I’d behaved this way even as a young child), so I was lucky, right? Having inherent caregiver qualities is a beautiful gift, right?

    Yes. And maybe not.

    Are You a Natural Caregiver?

    You’ll know if you have this trait too, because people will often tell you their secrets mere minutes after meeting you.

    When someone has just been in a car accident or broken up with their boyfriend, you wrap your arms around them and for the first time that day, their body fully relaxes.

    People tell you they feel at home in your presence. Safe. Heard. Cared for.

    There’s so much beauty in having a trait like this. Without much effort, you nurture and care for those around you. It is a gift you give us all.

    But there’s another side to the caregiver coin.

    Helping other people can become addictive. It can begin to feel like the only way to show your love is to prostrate yourself at the needs of others.

    Oh, you’re hurting? Lemme swoop in and save the day.

    Oh, you’re broke? Lemme dump my savings into your bank account and all will be well.

    Oh, you’re single again? Lemme set you up with my neighbor’s son.

    Whatever your ailment, I’ve got a fix for you!

    And the gratitude from the people we’re supposedly ‘fixing’ tends to flow so steadily that we become convinced of the healthiness of our stance.

    We’re confident that healing every sore spot we see is not only natural and enjoyable, but it’s the main reason we were put on this planet.

    When you carry the Nurturer Gene, fixing other people can easily become a destructive self-identity. 

    You will martyr yourself over and over again in order to meet the invisible quota of Lives Helped that floats above your head.

    You will obsessively analyze how every choice you make might impact those around you.

    You will assess every meal, every dollar spent, every vacation taken (or not taken) based on how it will impact the people you feel a responsibility to care for.

    Because, in this unhealthy version of caregiving, our understanding of love has become warped. Love now looks like a relentless string of sacrifice.

    Your thoughts might go something like this:

    If I don’t love her with my constant presence, she will feel sad and lonely.

    If I don’t love him with my attentive eye observing everything, he’ll get sick again, or maybe even die.

    If I don’t love them with my efficiencies managing everything, someone will get hurt. Things will go very wrong if I’m not here to take care of them all.

    Sometimes, love calls on us to invest our energy and time in tending to someone else’s pain.

    But not 100% of the time. And not with the nurturing going down a one-way street, pouring out of the same person, over and over again.

    If you see this pattern in any of your relationships, consider what it would take to expand your definition of what it means to nurture, to love, to care for.

    A healthy caregiver not only nourishes the needs of others, but also nourishes her own.

    Holistic nourishment. Nourishment of the whole of us, for all of us—which includes you.

    Self-nourishment might look like hiring a babysitter so you can have a romantic getaway with your hubby.

    Self-care might mean taking the job on the other side of the country, even though it means you’ll only see your parents twice a year.

    Self-love might be quietly soaking in a bubble bath instead of probing everyone for a detailed account of their day.

    You are not responsible for the world’s pain.

    Share your talents and resources. Generously give your time and attention. But you cannot pour a magical tonic on the wounds of every person walking the planet. It’s not your job. And if it were, it’d be a sucky job because you’d fail at it every single day.

    Especially when we identify as being “spiritual,” we can lift up words like “compassion,” “generosity,” and “kindness” to such a degree that we forget that even “compassion” sometimes must say no.

    Even “generosity” has to allocate some of her resources for herself.

    And even “kindness” must muster the nerve to walk away sometimes.

    If you are the person in your relationship or family or company that defaults to caregiver and wound-tender, give thanks for the ease with which you dish out your love.

    But be careful about inhaling that caregiver role to such a degree that your identity becomes dependent on having someone nearby to nurture.

    Give your love. Freely and deeply.

    And trust that even if you’re not there to ‘fix’ them, everyone will be just fine.

    Photo by Valerie Everett

  • Accept and Value Yourself: 11 Ways to Embrace Who You Are

    Accept and Value Yourself: 11 Ways to Embrace Who You Are

    “You’re imperfect, and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” ~Brené Brown

    I can’t remember exactly what it was my friend was trying to convince me I could do, but I had an argument to counter every bit of encouragement. There was no shortage to the ways I believed I wasn’t good enough.

    She was trying to help me see myself the way she saw me—as someone smart, capable, and full of potential. I wasn’t buying it.

    I’d been pretending for so long to be a better person than I really believed myself to be. I thought any positive thing another person said about me was just an indication that she was fooled by my illusion. If she could see who I really was, she’d change her mind about me.

    I was tired of trying to convince her that I wasn’t actually as good as I’d been pretending to be. In desperation I finally asked the question I thought would end the conversation. Tears streamed down my face and the muscles in my chest squeezed so tightly that I could hardly choke out the words, “Do you have any idea how much I hate myself?”

    “Yes,” she said, “I do.”

    I was taken aback. I guess I’d expected my revelation to shock her. Apparently I hadn’t been hiding my self-loathing as well as I’d thought.

    Part of me was relieved to know that maybe someone did actually see how much I was hurting. At the same time, I was terrified to discover that anyone could see more of me than I chose to reveal. I didn’t trust that she, or anyone else, could ever really understand.

    Looking back, I think she did understand more than I originally gave her credit for. She may not have known exactly what I was feeling, but she knew what it was to hate oneself. She’d hated herself too.

    While I was filled with self-loathing, my life was focused on keeping others from seeing who I really was. I didn’t like myself and couldn’t see how it was possible for anyone else to like me either. I hid while pretending to be someone I hoped was more loveable.

    I chased after accomplishments to prove to myself and to others that I was worthy of love, but it was never enough. I couldn’t do or be all the things I thought were expected of me. There was always something more to prove.

    For years I thought life would always be that way, but recently I was surprised to realize that I don’t hate myself anymore. Of course, there are still plenty of things about myself I wish were different, but my self-loathing is being replaced by acceptance.

    I didn’t set out specifically to learn how to stop hating myself—I didn’t think that was possible. Instead, I was searching for direction in terms of a career. I was wondering how to make friends.

    I read books and articles, listened to podcasts, and even worked with a life coach with the hope of making myself better. There wasn’t a particular experience or single idea that made the difference. What I found is an array of small practices and simple concepts that are helping me learn to embrace who I am.

    The shift has been gradual enough that I didn’t notice how much I’d changed until I relived the memory of that old conversation. I’m no longer paralyzed by the belief that no matter what I do I’ll never be worthy of love. I’m slowly learning to trust and value myself for who I am, even as I acknowledge that there’s always room for growth.

    1. Allowing myself to be a work in progress

    I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself to always know what I’m doing and never make mistakes. I’ve missed opportunities to try something new because I was so afraid of looking silly. I’ve given up on things I want to do because I couldn’t do them as well as I thought I should.

    Being a beginner is just plain uncomfortable, but we all have to start somewhere. I’m learning that my value doesn’t come from getting everything right the first time. Instead, it’s the mistakes and failures and trying again that help me learn and grow.

    I can be proud of myself for being willing to practice again and again. It’s the baby steps, tiny changes, and consistent willingness to try again that develop the qualities I hope to embody.

    2. Being curious about who I am

    For much of my life, I defined myself by the ways I didn’t measure up to the person I thought others expected me to be. I didn’t know who I was—only who I was not.

    I’ve started shifting my questions. Instead of wondering why I don’t care about what’s supposed to matter to me, I’m discovering what does matter to me. Instead of looking to others for clues about what I should think, I’m asking myself what I actually think.

    I’m learning that being different from someone else doesn’t necessarily mean one of us is wrong. Recognizing that there’s more than one right way to be is freeing me to start exploring my own strengths, personality, values, and preferences.

    3. Letting go of what I can’t control

    I’ve fallen into the trap of believing that if I could just do and say all the right things, then people would like me. I’ve made it my responsibility to try to make sure the people around me are always happy. That’s a lot of pressure.

    The thing is, I can’t control what others think of me or how they experience life. I can only be responsible for my own actions and intentions. I’m learning to focus more of my time and energy on living in a way that reflects my personal values instead of trying to control other people’s perceptions.

    4. Doing things that scare me

    A lot of things scare me. I’ve let my fear hold me back from many things I want to do. I’ve hated myself for being a coward.

    I’m learning that bravery isn’t the absence of fear. Courage isn’t something a person either has or doesn’t. Fear doesn’t just go away if we wait long enough.

    I’d always wanted to waterski, but was afraid of looking silly or getting hurt. I did take a few tumbles while I was learning. To be honest, I still get nervous every time I get behind a boat, but now I’m also anticipating the fun of skimming across the water.

    I want to have deep friendships, but inviting an acquaintance to get together for coffee or introducing myself to someone I admire online feels vulnerable. What if she doesn’t like me? What if I say the wrong thing? The thing is, I don’t always click with everyone I talk to, but through taking the risk to reach out I’ve met some wonderful friends.

    Every time I do something that scares me, I build trust that I’m capable of doing more than I previously believed possible and that a failure isn’t the end. I’m learning to work with my fear instead of letting it define me.

    5. Chatting with my inner critic

    My inner critic can be incessant and quite mean. For the longest time I believed everything she said about me and accepted the way she talked to me.

    Then I started paying attention to what I was actually saying about myself. What if some of the awful things I believed about myself weren’t actually true? How might my life be different if I talked to myself with encouragement instead of criticism?

    One of my favorite ways to question the critical thoughts inside my head and translate them into more helpful language is to write out a dialogue with my inner critic in my journal. In these back and forth conversations, I can uncover what my inner critic is trying to accomplish by being so mean.

    As counterintuitive as it seems, often she’s actually trying to protect me. She tells me I’m awkward and annoying in hopes that I’ll be careful to only say things that are sure to win approval…or even better, that I’ll stay home where there’s no risk of being rejected. She tries to discourage me from sharing my writing anywhere it might be criticized by warning me I’ll never measure up to all the other amazing writers out there.

    When I take the time to understand the motivations beyond my inner critic’s harsh words, I can decide for myself which risks I’m willing to take instead of just believing I’m not good enough. I can also start shifting how I talk to myself by asking her to rephrase her concerns in a kinder way.

    6. Asking myself what I think

    I have a tendency to try to figure out what other people think before deciding what I’ll do or think or say. I’ve made a lot of decisions based on what I believe other people think I should do. When those decisions aren’t a good fit for me, I’m quick to assume it’s an indication that there’s something wrong with me.

    I’m learning that I can consider other people’s opinions without denying my own. Disagreeing doesn’t have to mean I’m wrong. When I take the time to ask myself what I think, I get to know myself better, reinforce my trust in my own value, and choose a life that’s right for me.

    7. Feeling all my emotions

    I used to think certain emotions were wrong to feel. I didn’t believe I had a right to feel angry or sad or hurt. There was always someone who had it worse than me.

    I tried to suppress my feelings, but they’d get stuck inside and lash out in unexpected ways. I hated myself for not being able to control how I felt.

    But there is no quota on feelings. Feeling my emotions doesn’t take away from anyone else’s experience. On the contrary, it increases my compassion for others.

    How I feel doesn’t make me good or bad, but it does give me information about what’s going on inside me. I’m getting curious about what is behind the emotions I’m feeling instead of criticizing myself for feeling them. It’s not my job to control how I feel, it’s my job to choose my response to those feelings.

    8. Making space for fun and joy

    I used to feel guilty when I took time for anything fun. I didn’t think I deserved it. Hard work and sacrifice were the only truly noble uses of time.

    These days I intentionally make space in my schedule to do the things I really enjoy—sewing, experimenting with art supplies, walking in nature. Not only does having fun energize me, it also reminds me that I’m worthy of care. I’m learning so much about myself and how I can create more beauty and connection in this world.

    9. Sharing vulnerably with another person

    Self-hatred prompted me to hide from others. I tried to only show a version of myself that I thought would be accepted. I was terrified I’d be rejected and alone if people knew the truth about me.

    It’s hard to let another person see my fears, disappointments, and hopes. I don’t want anyone to know I make mistakes. It’s painful enough to hate myself—I couldn’t bear the thought of other people hating me too.

    But it’s actually when I’m willing to share my vulnerable parts with another person that I’m reminded I’m not alone. We all have struggles. I can choose to hide mine or give another person an opportunity to support me.

    10. Asking others how they see me

    I have a tendency to assume I know what others think of me…and I tend to assume it’s bad. Making these assumptions keeps me from knowing the truth about how others actually see me. It also denies the support and encouragement they try to give me.

    One of the scariest exercises I’ve done is asking people close to me to share what our relationship means to them, what they see as my strengths, and what qualities they like about me. It feels so presumptuous to ask another person to say something nice about me. What if they think I’m arrogant? What if they can’t think of anything positive to say?

    And yet, in taking that risk, I get a glimpse of myself from another perspective. Sometimes I get stuck filtering my view of myself through all the ways I believe I’m not good enough. I need someone else to point out the parts of myself I just can’t see.

    11. Compiling evidence

    I still often default to focusing on the ways I don’t measure up. Sometimes I need a reminder of the best parts of who I am. I’m continually working to develop a habit of noticing the qualities I value instead of just looking for things to criticize.

    I journal most days and I reserve the last three lines of the page for a set of small lists. I look back over the previous day and list what I am grateful for, evidence that I am loved, and ways that I am good enough. Each day these lists help me practice looking for my worth instead of just all the ways I fall short.

    When I’m feeling low, it’s hard to remember the good things about myself. I keep a small notebook where I record compliments and positive comments others make about me, as well as the things I’m learning to value about myself. I turn back to this notebook when my opinion of myself could use a boost.

    —

    We don’t have to wallow in self-hatred, but leaping straight to self-love can feel impossible. Instead, we can make small shifts and adopt simple practices to help us learn to accept and value who we are right now, even as we continue to change and grow.

    Will you join me? Choose one idea or practice to try this week. Remember, you’re allowed to be a work in progress!

    I’d love to hear how it goes. What are your biggest obstacles to self-acceptance? What has helped you learn to appreciate who you are instead of beating yourself up for something you’re not? Let me know in the comments!