Tiny Buddha

Category: love & relationships

  • Forgiving People Who Show No Remorse: Have You Suffered Enough?

    Forgiving People Who Show No Remorse: Have You Suffered Enough?

    “That which I do not forgive in you, lies unforgiven within myself.” ~Buddhist Proverb

    When I decided to forgive the driver that killed my nine-year-old son, I struggled to believe I could or should.

    In the beginning of my grief I had so much anger toward her, and because she was not showing remorse, I wanted to find ways to punish her so that she would be in the same pain that I was.

    She did not come forward to say she was sorry or try to meet up with me after the accident, and this was hard for me to understand. Trying to cope with my overwhelming grief, as well, it was easy to stay angry with her.

    It was about six months after our son’s tragic death when I began to read a few books on grief, and read that forgiveness is an important factor in moving forward.

    In order for me to even think of forgiveness, I first tried to understand the driver’s emotions, thoughts, and feelings. When I realized she also had a story of her own, forgiving her actions became plausible.

    Even though I had never met her, friends of mine had heard she was not doing well emotionally. Not long after the accident she began spending more and more time in her room, feeling overwhelmed by her guilt, and she began to withdraw from her three sons and her husband.

    They felt they had lost their mother. When I heard this, it shifted my image of her. I realized she was a mum, too, who was also experiencing overwhelming feelings, and so this softened my anger.

    Still, there was nothing easy about forgiveness. It took courage and a true consciousness of will to let go and allow myself to come to a place of peace about the accident.

    When I began to write a letter to the driver, I tried not to think too much about what I was doing and was surprised how the words flowed. I was ready to forgive.

    After finishing the letter I knew that I would have to send it without being attached to an outcome. I knew it was about a release of emotions for me, and that I couldn’t be concerned with whether she would thank me or not.

    A few weeks after sending it, I began to feel lighter, and over time I began to feel less agitated and angry toward her and more compassionate about her journey.

    I thought less about my anger and seeking justice, and focused my energy on healing and growing through my grief, even though she never replied to my letter.

    I want you to know that forgiving doesn’t mean that you have given the message that what someone did was okay. It just means that you’ve let go of the anger or guilt toward someone and yourself, and that gives you both freedom.

    Yes, it is difficult. I have found it is my daily practice of meditation and yoga that has overtime enabled me to let go. Allowing time in stillness each day helps slow the negative and guilt-ridden thoughts.

    I’ve also learned to consciously shift from negative thoughts about the accident to positive memories. We may not be able to choose our circumstances, but we can choose how we think about them.

    When you hold resentment toward another, you are bound to that person or condition by an emotional link that is stronger than steel. Forgiveness is the only way to dissolve that link into freedom.

    We need to learn to forgive ourselves too. When we have wronged others with our words or thoughts, we need to forgive and let go of our guilt and remorse.

    Whenever you feel yourself clinging to guilt or anger, go to a place of stillness and take some deep relaxing breaths. Imagine the person you want to forgive (or seek forgiveness from) standing in front of you.

    Tell them exactly how you feel or what you wished you said before. Then either ask their forgiveness or forgive them.

    Now, visualize the other person receiving those words, and see that they have accepted this offer. Then take a deep breath in and as you let go, see your guilt or anger lift from both of you, and see yourself surrounded in light. Thank this person and then release them in love.

    When we hold onto anger and pain in our hearts, we stop the flow and love and abundance into our lives.

    Psychologist Sonja Lyubomirsky notes that when we feel wronged, our first inclination is to respond negatively, and this is a natural feeling for most people. You can’t convince those in deep anger that forgiveness will help free them from pain.

    It seems that most people need to experience a great deal of suffering before they will relinquish resistance and accept—before they will forgive.  The question is: How long will you suffer before you feel it is time to work on forgiveness?

    I encourage you to consider it now, because while we are trapped in our past hurts we cannot live fully in the truth of this moment.

    When I released my anger toward the driver, I believe I released it for my family too, and unconsciously this brought us closer together and has helped us move forward in our grief.

    Denying forgiveness blocks the flow of love and positive energy within you and around you.

    If you’re feeling heavy and burdened, and are ready to stop suffering, know that when you lift the weight of your pain, you are lifting it for all your loved ones, and this is a powerful gift to give.

  • Making Changes When the People Around You Resist Your Plan

    Making Changes When the People Around You Resist Your Plan

    Standing Alone

    “The greatest step toward a life of simplicity is to learn to let go.” ~Steve Maraboli

    So I took the plunge. I stated out loud that I wanted to simplify my life.

    I wanted to have a life where what I did for a living and how I lived were more in balance with the person I am and aspired to be. The waterfall effect of that verbal declaration catapulted my life into a stratosphere of change that I am still learning to just “go with.”

    Three weeks after that declaration, I got “downsized” at work. Okay, I thought, the universe is listening, so no turning back now.

    I started with putting my house up for sale. Up went the “for sale” sign.

    Next came the purge. Closets were emptied, for-sale ads were posted, and stuff began to clear out. I donated and sold what seemed to be the physical barrier to my new life of “less is more.”

    Finally came the decision: What did I want to be when I grow up? Who we are and what we do always seemed to melt into one for me, so now I had a clean slate, and the “life worth creating” journey began.

    I scoured the career guides, took all the personality tests, hired a life coach. All the while, my external search for career satisfaction was in misalignment with my new values and the journey I had begun.

    So, I finally decided: No more suits, no more cubicle life, and no more aspiring to climb a ladder that I did not even care about.

    I read a great quote: “Better to be at the bottom of the ladder you want than the top of the ladder you don’t.”

    I decided that I was not searching for a new job; I was creating a life. I wanted to write and share my adventures and experiences along the way. I had a dream of inspiring people to dare to dream and achieve what they once thought was impossible. So the new life career began.

    In all my newness and transformation the one thing I had not counted on was the resistance I would receive from those in my inner circle.

    I guess I had assumed that people would be genuinely happy for me if I were happy.

    Unfortunately, that was not the case. They questioned why I wanted to sell my house and belongings, and worse yet, even give my stuff away. People asked me daily where I was going to live.

    A friend runs a charity that enables physically challenged people to experience outdoor adventure. Fantastic, I thought!

    This was exactly in alignment with what I believed to be an essential part of my journey. A donation of gear to the charity enabled additional people to get out and adventure where they had never before.

    This brought about a series of objections and questions from multiple parties about why I wasn’t selling my stuff rather than donating. I was really starting to think that people were missing the point.

    The largest objection of all came in regards to my career, or lack of a career pursuit. A declaration of not wanting to go back to an office, sit all day under fluorescent lights, and climb the invisible ladder to misery seemed to stun family and friends alike.

    I frequently heard, “But you went to university and have all this experience,” especially from family members who helped fund the academic letters behind my name. No amount of explaining seemed to dull the sound of objections.

    So in all of this, I have managed to stay on course, even if it has been a bumpy road, by learning a few lessons and following a few guiding principles to keep the wolves at bay.

    If you’re also making a life change and experiencing resistance from the people around you, these ideas may help:

    1. Realize that other people’s objections often have more to do with the noise in their heads than the words you say.

    Safety, security, and a certain amount of life predictability cloak the people in my life like Linus’ security blanket.

    As they watched me doing the proverbial running naked down the street thing, throwing caution to the wind after acknowledging that there was no security net, no new career prospects, and that I wanted to create a life based upon writing and adventuring, there came about an incessant need to throw their blankets over my shoulders to keep me safe from my goal of living a life of simplicity.

    Objections are often about other people, not us.

    2. Those closest to you may believe they’re an expert on your life.

    If I had received a dollar every time I heard, “If I were you, I would…” I would already have a steady stream of income coming in. Remembering that I am the expert of my own life and know why I am on the path I am has helped dull the volume of platitudes I heard on a regular basis.

    Trust that you know what’s best for you.

    3. Prove to yourself this you’re making the right choice.

    Some days it felt like I was the weak animal waiting to get preyed on during my transformation into a new life, because as soon as I would show doubt, insecurity, or even waffle a tiny bit on whether I was doing the right thing for me, the people closest to me pounced.

    The best defense to these challenges was proof. As time went by and I stayed on course, their challenges began to decrease in volume. Anyone with doubt became less resistant and some even became satisfied as I became happier and in balance with my new life choices.

    When you stay the course, people start to accept it.

    4. Have a plan.

    I have learned in my new journey that without a plan, I am just a leaf blowing in the wind. It is not enough that I say that I want to make a change. That does not make a parent feel confident in their child’s quest for a new life or allow a partner to have faith that an income will be generated.

    So I have made an actionable plan, with milestones and tangible goals that, when achieved, help reinforce my adventurous journey of a new life.

    Making a plan helps you and reassures the people who are trying to look out for you.

    5. Be patient.

    I’ve learned to have patience with others and myself. Recognizing where people come from, the stories in their own heads, and the story in mine assists in keeping me on track.

    Keeping perspective and learning to let go of other people’s fears and objections enables you to continue on, one step at a time.

    I am by no means an expert on self-help, making life changes, or living a life of simplicity. What I have learned, though, is that other people’s objections can fuel the flame and reinforce our decision to create a new life.

    Photo by Alcino

  • People We Don’t Like: When Others Push Our Buttons

    People We Don’t Like: When Others Push Our Buttons

    I have a confession to make: there’s someone I know who I really don’t like.

    I know this isn’t exactly front-page news. It’s not like I’m the first person to ever dislike someone else. But this situation has brought me face to face with all my strongest relationship triggers.

    I find it incredibly difficult to do all the things I’ve written about when it comes to this person. Let’s call him Harry. (I’ve never in my life met a single person named Harry, but let’s just roll with it.)

    I regularly find myself wanting to judge Harry before giving him the benefit of the doubt—even though I know I’d want that courtesy if I did the things he did. But that line of thought brings me back to judgment, because I remind myself, “I would never do the things he does.”

    I find it easy to suspect him of poor intentions and conclude that maybe “he’s just a jerk,” even though I know that I get to decide what meaning to give his actions, and I also know that things are rarely black and white.

    In dealing with Harry—and perhaps more importantly, my reactions to him—I’ve found myself considering three important questions:

    • We’re always talking about letting go of judgments; is it possible that sometimes, someone is just a jerk?
    • Is it judgmental to decide someone’s actions are “wrong” when you feel strongly opposed to them?
    • Just because we know there are emotional triggers influencing our response to someone, does that mean they shouldn’t be accountable for their actions?

    I’ve decided to break these down, one by one, to see what there is to learn in this situation.

    We’re always talking about letting go of judgments; is it possible that sometimes, someone is just a jerk?

    I’ve wanted to use this label for Harry because of assumptions I’ve formed about his behavior: that he thinks he’s better than other people; that he’s really selfish, despite pretending to be caring and well-intentioned; and that all of this amounts to unfairness.

    When I break this down, I realize the “he thinks he’s better than me” assumption goes back to my childhood experiences with being bullied, when I felt inferior to most of my peers—and their actions seemed to reinforce that.

    The “he’s selfish” belief is a projection of my own fear that I’m actually a selfish person (something I’ve wrestled with all my life, no matter how giving I try to be).

    And the conclusion about “unfairness” relates to my life-long aversion to all things unjust—both a response to my childhood and a natural human reaction.

    When I pull it all apart like this, I realize I’m having a strong emotional reaction based on lots of things that aren’t solely related to him.

    So my desire to sum my feelings up with one harsh label isn’t only about his actions. It’s also about my past experience.

    And when I really think about it, whenever I’ve wanted to label anyone as a “jerk” (or something stronger), I’ve dealt with these same (and other related) triggers.

    That doesn’t mean no one has ever done anything to justify my anger. It’s just that usually, when I feel unable to access even a shred of understanding or compassion, it’s because there are strong layers of resistance, reinforced by years of my own pain, in the way.

    I suspect that’s true for most of us: the more tempting it feels to give someone one reductionist label, the deeper and more complex the triggers.

    This brings me to the next question…

    Is it judgmental to decide someone’s actions are “wrong” when you feel strongly opposed to them?

    While I realize there’s a lot more contributing to my feelings than his actions, that doesn’t change that I don’t agree with everything he says and does.

    Once I peel away the layers of my complex response to him, I can then objectively ask myself, “Which of the choices he makes don’t feel right for me?”

    This isn’t judgment—it’s discernment. It’s forming an assessment without the emotional weight behind it. And it’s essential to maintaining my own moral compass and forming boundaries within my relationships.

    That means I don’t need to label him anymore. Instead I can say, “I wouldn’t make the choices as he makes, and I don’t want someone in my life who makes them.”

    It’s not about me deciding he’s a “bad person” and, therefore, feeling better than him; it’s about me realizing he’s a bad match for a friendship and then feeling better about the situation.

    The positive consequence: I give him far less power over me and my emotions. He’s not wrong—just wrong for me.

    And then that brings me to the last question…

    Just because we know that someone’s actions trigger us, does that mean they shouldn’t be accountable for their actions?

    Now that I’ve accepted responsibility for my reaction to him, and acknowledged that his choices can make him “wrong” for a friendship with me without making him universally “wrong,” I no longer need to “hold him accountable.”

    But if I were to want to maintain a friendship with him, I’d have two choices: accept him as he is, or share my reactions to his choices and let him into my process.

    I know from past experience that people rarely respond well when they feel judged or attacked.

    But people sometimes surprise us when we explain how we feel in response to the things they do—not because they’re responsible for our feelings, but because they care about them.

    And if they don’t care, well, this brings us back to the first two parts: It doesn’t make them jerks. It just gives us a reason to be discerning about whether or not we want to care about them.

    So where has all this left me? I’m going to continue peeling away the layers of my issues around others “being better than me” and my fears of “being selfish.” And I’m going to silently thank Harry for reminding me to continue doing this work.

    Then I’m going to stop communicating with him. Because as much as I value the gifts he’s given me, I value myself enough to realize he’s given a lot more that I don’t want to receive.

    Have you ever felt a strong reaction to someone else and realized it had a lot to do with your own triggers?

  • Why We Need to Accept That Some People Just Won’t Like Us

    Why We Need to Accept That Some People Just Won’t Like Us

    “If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.” ~Maya Angelou

    I’ve been a world-class worrier about what other people would think about me for a long time.

    The clothes, the hair, the shoes. The books I read, the movies I liked, the music I listened to. The hobbies, the people I hung out with. The things I liked and the things I disliked.

    They all got scrutinized under the “am I doing the right thing?” filter.

    Am I being exactly the right amount of cool? Am I being reasonable and responsible? Am I being interesting enough?

    It was a full-time job, making sure I was being the “right” version of me.

    It was time-consuming. It was energy-consuming. It was draining.

    I was going through the motions of living a life that looked great. But without realizing it, I became more and more absent in my own life.

    What were the clothes that I really liked? What were the books that I really loved? What were the hobbies that could really make my heart sing and soul soar?

    Those became tough questions to answer. Those became questions I forgot to ask myself. Those became questions I stopped asking myself.

    Instead, I did the next logical, reasonable thing. Instead, I was busy reading other people’s minds to figure out what they liked. Instead, I did my best to be the flawless perfect version of me.

    Because that’s what happens when we believe that we will be happy once everybody likes us. When we believe that everybody will like us once we are perfect. When we believe that it’s possible and vital to our happiness to make everybody like us.

    I’ve learned that it doesn’t work like that. It’s not possible to make everybody like us. And it sure is not vital to our happiness. Quite the contrary.

    When we believe that we will be happy when everybody likes us, we work hard to make everybody like us.

    So we figure out who we think we’re supposed to be. We figure out the “right” things to do and the “right” way of doing things. We figure out the “right” amount of being quiet or outgoing, the “right” amount of being enthusiastic or cool, the “right” amount of being interested or bored. We figure out the “right” things to have and “right” things not to have.

    And slowly but inevitably, we turn ourselves into some manufactured version of ourselves. The “right” version. The “perfect” version.

    Even that “right” and “perfect” version cannot guarantee everybody liking us. There will still be people thinking we’re too quiet or too outgoing. There will still be people thinking we’re boring and stupid. There will still be people thinking we’re uncool and ridiculous.

    And that leaves us feeling scattered and alone, lost and insecure, small and lacking.

    Because our only conclusion can be that we’re doing it wrong. That there’s something wrong with us.

    So we resolve to work even harder to be flawlessly perfect and to do the “right” thing at the “right” time in the “right” way even better.

    The thing is that even that “right” and “perfect” version cannot guarantee everybody liking us…

    See the vicious circle coming?

    The irony is that even when people do like us, hang out with us, approve of us, we still feel disconnected and alone—because we’ve unknowingly and unwillingly gotten out of touch with ourselves.

    We are working hard to hang out with people that don’t get us. We are working hard to do things that we pretend energize us, but that, in truth, drain us. We are working hard to be someone we are not, never sure we’re “doing it right.”

    Was I too loud? Too quiet? Too thoughtful? Too outgoing? Too polite? Too harsh?

    We’re always second-guessing ourselves, eating away at our confidence.

    Not everybody will like us. Accepting that creates space for happiness to come into our lives. Accepting that creates space for us to be who we truly are.

    It allows us to hang out with people who get us, because we are willing to alienate people that don’t.

    To do things that inspire us and make us feel fulfilled from the inside out, because we are willing to be seen as boring and stupid by people that don’t get what we’re doing.

    To connect with people over something that genuinely inspires them and us, because we are willing to be seen as silly and crazy by others who don’t feel the same way about it.

    That’s a win for us.  And a win for them. Because we both get to spend time with people that are a great fit. And it’s a win for the world.

    When we allow ourselves to be who we truly are, we get to share our unique message with the world.

    We use our talents instead of hiding them because they’re “not right.”

    We use our voice instead of shutting ourselves down because we might say the “wrong” thing.

    We use our style instead of copying theirs.

    We use our ideas instead of figuring out what they’d think.

    We create our own brilliant unique work, which only we can bring into the world.

    Not for everyone to like, but to delight some, who will love it. Need it. Crave it. Get inspired by it.

    And to delight ourselves, making our heart sing and soul soar.

    We thrive and feel fulfilled, from the inside out.

    And all that happens because we were willing to upset some.

    Who are you willing to upset?

  • A Powerful Lesson in Self-Compassion: Are You Allergic to Honey?

    A Powerful Lesson in Self-Compassion: Are You Allergic to Honey?

    Smile

    “If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.” ~Dalai Lama

    When things don’t go as planned, is your go-to explanation that it’s because you did something wrong, or because there’s something wrong with you? For many people, self-compassion is a real challenge.

    Most of us want to be kinder to ourselves, but our self-critical, perfectionistic patterns are often well-established, and it’s hard to know how to interrupt them.

    When I was in graduate school, I was driving home from school one evening when I noticed that my car was overheating. Just as I arrived in front of my building, the engine stalled completely.

    It was 5pm on a Friday, I was blocking the bike lane, and traffic was backed up behind me. Two cars sped past beeping their horns, and then a cyclist turned and waved his fist as he rode around me. I flipped on my hazard lights.

    As I dialed Triple A, the self-critical thoughts and stories started to spin:

    “Why didn’t I notice earlier that the car was overheating? I should have had it serviced. If I had been more on top of things, this wouldn’t be happening.”

    I heard more car horns beeping as the woman at Triple A promised that a tow truck would be there within 30 minutes. After I thanked her and hung up, the self-critical stories resumed:

    “I’m in the way; inconveniencing everyone around me. I’m taking up too much space.”

    I was startled by a knock at the passenger window. A guy with a goatee and a beanie stood next to my car, and I suspected that he was going to give me a hard time for being double-parked. Reluctantly, I lowered the window.

    “Hey,” he said. “I work at the cafe right here—do you want a latte or a chai or something?”

    I stared at him, speechless, blinking through the beginnings of tears.

    “We’ve also got hot chocolate and tea,” he said.

    He actually meant it.

    “Oh,” I said. “Wow. Thank you. I’d love some chamomile tea.”

    “You got it,” he said and headed back to the cafe.

    I sat there, stunned. This experience did not fit into the story my inner critic had been telling. All of my self-criticism had been completely silenced by this stranger’s spontaneous impulse of kindness.

    Suddenly none of this was my fault; it was just something that was happening, and I could allow it. All the stories had been just that: stories.

    A few moments later he reappeared with the chamomile tea and handed it to me.

    “Here you go,” he said.

    “Thanks.” I pulled a couple of bills from my wallet.

    “Oh, no, don’t worry about it,” he said.

    “Really?”

    “Yeah,” he said.

    I looked at him and took the tea.

    “Thank you,” I said.

    “Hey, I’ve been there.”

    He tapped the passenger door twice as a goodbye. I put the window back up. The tea was too hot to drink, so I held the paper cup as it warmed my hands.

    I let it register some more: This wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t evidence of me having done something wrong. It was just something that was happening, and it could just be that.

    And what was so wrong about taking up space, anyway?

    I was startled again by another knock. He was back. I lowered the window.

    “Hey, are you allergic to honey?” he said.

    “Huh? Mmm, no.”

    “Oh, good. I put honey in it. I didn’t think to ask if you were allergic. If you are, I can make another one.”

    “Oh, no. I love honey. Thank you,” I said.

    “No worries, then.” And back to the coffee shop he went.

    I smiled and blinked through a few more tears. He had put honey in my tea without me even asking? This baffled my inner critic even more; it had nothing to say.

    I thought about how the self-critical stories had flared up as soon as I found myself in a challenging situation, how automatic it was for me to think that the coffee shop guy was there to criticize me, and how immediately the trance of self-judgment was broken by his act of kindness.

    In five minutes, he had given me a life-altering lesson in how compassion alchemizes criticism. He had no ulterior motive: he was simply being kind and generous, and he inspired me to be more kind and generous with myself.

    If you struggle with self-judgment, tuck this simple phrase into your back pocket.

    The next time you notice that critical thoughts are present, experiment with asking your inner judge, “Hey, are you allergic to honey?” It just might help you interrupt those all-to-familiar patterns, and start creating new, self-compassionate ones.

    Photo by Ashley Campbell Photography

  • Lessons from Love and Loss: Lean into Your Life While You Can

    Lessons from Love and Loss: Lean into Your Life While You Can

    Alive

    “Learn to appreciate what you have before time makes you appreciate what you had.” ~Unknown

    I was standing there crying harder than I had ever cried before in my life. I was so emotionally moved that I totally lost control and was even drooling. It’s a good thing I was wearing a surgical mask.

    I was witnessing my wife giving birth to our first-born child.

    A nurse had to remind me to take pictures when she saw me standing there with a camera in my hand, crying more than a…well, a baby. It was the happiest moment of my life. I felt joy with a touch of relief and a sense of responsibility toward my wife and son.

    It was the most intense rush of emotions I had ever experienced, until…

    Fast-forward a year minus five days later. I experienced the saddest and most difficult feelings of my life. It was the same intensity of emotions I felt when my son was born, but it was pure sadness, grief, and emptiness I felt.

    I was standing in a small room in a different hospital in a different section. A large man opened a freezer door and rolled out a body wrapped in white sheets. He opened the sheets while I stood there in disbelief. A few seconds later, I began crying uncontrollably.

    I was looking at my dead father (even writing this sentence hurts).

    His nose was a little wrinkled to the side from the pressure of the sheets. I turned around and walked toward the wall weeping uncontrollably. I wanted it to be a bad dream, but it wasn’t.

    My cousin embraced me as I cried more. I turned back around and asked the large man to wait, because I wanted to see my father again. I stood there looking at him, hoping silently he would say it was all a huge mistake. I would have forgiven the hospital if that had been the case. But it wasn’t.

    Later when we were burying him, he still didn’t wake. I knew it was silly, but I had hope.

    A Changed Perspective On Life

    These two experiences had a huge impact on me. For one, they triggered the most intense emotions I’ve ever felt. They also gave me a new perspective on life.

    Redefined Priorities

    Having a son changed my priorities. I resolved to do anything and everything to ensure he has the happiest life possible.

    I choose to shower him with unconditional love, protect him from harm until he can fend for himself, teach and guide him so he can navigate his way through life, and open doors for him so he has choices and possibilities.

    Most importantly, I savor every moment I have with him. I decided to balance life and work better. Although work is important, it will not come at the expense of people I love. Working 15-hour days no longer makes sense.

    Life is Transient; Make it Worthwhile

    Losing my father made me realize how transient life is. He was a figure of strength for me when I was a child. I assumed he would always be there. Time passed and now he’s gone.

    His death reminded me to live a meaningful life. It reinforced my resolve to savor it. When my time comes, it won’t be the material possessions that I will miss. It will be the people I love and the experiences I had with them.

    I choose to go after my dreams rather than just think about them and waiting for the right moment. Whenever I catch myself hesitating, I choose to either get started or drop it and pursue something else. Hesitation is not an option.

    I realized that I don’t necessarily have to risk it all and drop everything to pursue my dreams. That might work for some, but I don’t want to subject my family to the hardship of the dip until things work out.

    The journey can be longer. The important thing is to keep moving toward it and savoring the trip along the way.

    Lean Into Life

    I realized we have three choices in how we approach life and life’s events: we can either go with the flow (i.e. lean back), walk away (quit), or make the most of it (lean in).

    I decided to lean into life and things I choose to pursue. Instead of just going with the flow, I choose to set course toward something worthwhile to me and fight for it when I face resistance. Something I’m good at (I will get good at it if I wasn’t already). Something that fits my values. Something I love so much that I lose track of time while doing it.

    I choose to do things I’m proud of. I choose to read and learn new things that will light my way and fuel my mind.

    Choose To Be Happy

    I choose to help others even if they don’t ask for it. I choose to take care of myself. I choose to be around people who add to my life and ignore those who don’t. I choose to experiment with new things and constantly evolve my self, my life, and my work. I make time for my hobbies.

    I choose to breathe and relax when I’m stressed about something. In good and bad times, I remind myself that “this too shall pass” and focus on what I can control.

    Focus On What’s There, Not What’s Missing

    I enjoy the moments I have with my son. I watch him every night while he sleeps. I kiss his chubby feet and play with his toes as he giggles. I relish the rare moments when he settles down and sits on my lap. I savor the moments when he wraps his hand around my finger.

    I also cherish the good memories I have of my dad. I feel warmth and joy each time I do.

    I encourage you to do the same and lean into life. Prioritize what’s important in your life. Pursue and protect your dreams. Nurture your relationships with people who matter to you. Don’t waste energy on what isn’t important. You can start today.

    Photo by Max F. Williams

  • 4 Questions to Turn Your Anger Around and Forgive

    4 Questions to Turn Your Anger Around and Forgive

    Talking

    “To forgive is to set a prisoner free and realize that prisoner was you.” ~Lewis B. Smedes

    For a long time, I had a stressful relationship with my dad. We had a falling out after I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa. He didn’t understand what I was going through in regards to eating and body image, and I tried to push him out, so we stopped talking.

    Somewhere inside of me, I had built up anger that was directed at him and I just couldn’t bring myself to forgive him or let go. And he was just clueless, not knowing what was wrong with me and why I didn’t like him, so he stopped trying, too.

    Before I knew it, it had been almost a year without saying anything to each other, and I was heading off to college. I was still angry inside until my mom gave me a book called Loving What Is, by Byron Katie. Everything changed after that.

    Not overnight, but slowly things began to improve between my dad and me.

    The book has to do with four simple questions that you ask yourself about a thought or emotion you are experiencing.

    Because I felt like my dad had distanced himself from my problems, and believed that he loved my brother more than me, I had thoughts like, “He doesn’t love me,” and “I’m never enough for him,” so I worked on these thoughts with what Byron Katie calls “The Work.”

    I took the thought “I am never good enough for him,” and put it up against the four questions.

    1. Is it true?

    Is it true that I am never good enough for my dad? Yes.

    2. Can you absolutely know that it is true?

    Can I absolutely know that I am never good enough for my dad? No.

    3. How do you feel when you think this thought?

    When I think that I’m not good enough for my dad, I feel angry and sad. I become defensive and hot.

    4. Who would you be without this thought?

    Without the thought that I am never good enough for him, I would be calm, relaxed, and not so upset. My relationship with my dad would improve and I wouldn’t worry so much about his approval.

    The next step is to turn the thought around. Here are my turnarounds with examples as to why these are true for me.

    • My dad is never good enough for me because I am constantly judging him.
    • I am good enough for my dad because he does show he is proud of me.
    • I am not good enough for myself because I do not approve of who I am.

    After doing this work on my thoughts about my dad, I began to see things differently. My eyes started to open to things I haven’t seen before.

    If I wanted my dad to approve of me and accept me for who I was, I first had to approve and accept him as he was.

    When I turned around my thought, even though it was hard to realize, I saw that my behavior toward my dad was the problem, not him. I failed to remember that he was just doing what he knew how to do; he was trying his best. It was me who needed to approve of myself, not my Dad.

    Forgiveness had never come easy to me. I always felt as though I was the one who deserved the forgiving, but something changed the day I read this book. I forgave my dad. I forgave him and accepted him, and in turn, I accepted myself.

    I gave my dad what I wanted from him and our relationship turned around. I gave myself what I wanted from him and I turned myself around.

    The Work can be helpful for every thought you have or problem you are facing, as it allows you to look at your life and yourself in a new light. I understand that sometimes it can be painful questioning your thoughts, especially ones that have been with you for a long time, and it’s not an overnight process.

    Sometimes I would cry myself to sleep over my responses or want to tear the page apart because there was no way I could forgive my dad. But if you give it time and patience, a change will start happening inside of you.

    You will learn to see the person in a different way. You will see that everyone is just trying their best with what they have in this moment, and even if you believe they don’t deserve forgiveness, you deserve to be at peace.

    Photo by morstan

  • Listen Instead of Correcting Others: What We Gain and Give

    Listen Instead of Correcting Others: What We Gain and Give

    Two friends talking

    “When you judge another, you do not define them. You define yourself.” ~Wayne Dyer

    I have a tendency to want to show off what I know, and in the worst cases, correct other people.

    Instead of listening and connecting I unconsciously try to sell to others an image of myself that I wish to project. Some part of me believes that if people are impressed with me then they’ll like me and be interested in my knowledge and point of view.

    In this way I fall into the trap of constructing the false self. This is the person I wish for others to see, a person without vulnerabilities, incorrect knowledge, or who makes mistakes. A thing that is more of a product than a person.

    Many of us fashion these false selves not only as an idealized version of ourselves, but also to keep other people’s judgments of us at bay. Before we realize what has happened, we have made our skills and knowledge into weapons that we wield on others while all the while we hide our true selves behind a shield. Without planning to, we have declared war.

    The constructed, false self is a one-way gate. Like a character in a stage play, the false self puts sights and sounds out to the audience while all the while it stands behind the fourth wall of separation from the observers. The audience sees the character, but the character doesn’t see the audience.

    I have someone in my life who deals with a fairly severe mental illness. Through most of my life I have tried to help him by showing him what was “wrong” with his thinking and actions. I wanted to use my logic and knowledge to set his perceptions straight.

    I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was mostly lecturing him. I did not listen and understand his point of view, but instead stayed behind my shield and wielded my weapons of logic at him. I thought I was being a good influence.

    Constructive influence, though, flows through positive human connections. When we judge others we sever those connections and directly destroy our chances of influencing others with our best information and ideas.

    But real, positive influence travels in both directions. Discovering wisdom works best as a collaboration formed through the conduit of relationships. There is give and take and neither person needs to be “the right one.”

    When we give others space to make mistakes, to have different skills and expertise than our own, then we also give ourselves space for the same things. No one of us is an expert at everything, but when we come together we close the gaps into a working whole.

    A few years ago, while preparing for a volunteer program, I took some training in listening. I learned that it’s more valuable to reflect back what people say, and to show understanding of them without judgment.

    I learned that if I showed understanding of the other person’s feelings and thoughts, that alone would ease their burden and do worlds of good.

    I learned that acceptance and understanding aren’t necessarily the same things as approval and agreement.

    We needn’t be afraid that we are compromising our own views or knowledge when we simply choose to understand another’s. In fact, the openness of understanding can strengthen our own point of view.

    We must receive what we wish to give and give what we wish to receive. If we want to be listened to, then we must listen to others. If we want to be valued for what we know, then we must value others for what they know.

    And if we want to be forgiven and loved, then we must forgive and love others.

    Lately I’ve been applying my new listening skills in conversations with my mentally ill loved one. I allow myself to relate to difficult things he experiences and have even tried to be brave enough to be honest when I see a bit of myself in him, when I see the same passions, fears, and mistakes.

    The funny thing is that by backing off I’ve gained more of his trust. By not pretending to have all the answers for him, I’ve strengthened our bond.

    Now I only give him my opinion if he asks for it. Sometimes this comes after a long spell of silence, when we are simply being together. And I’m honest enough to tell him when I don’t have a clue how to answer his question.

    And you know, I’ve learned a whole lot from him, too.

    Photo by pedrosimoes7

  • Don’t Control Anger, Control Yourself

    Don’t Control Anger, Control Yourself

    “Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.” ~Ambrose Bierce

    I once had a much-cherished friend who meant the world to me. The problem was that we were both short-tempered individuals and the word patience was fictional to both of us.

    There is a thin line separates right from wrong and when one is blinded by anger; it can be near impossible to see this line.

    Invariably, my friend and I kept crossing it and ended up destroying what was one of the most beautiful bonds anybody could ever have.

    One day in a fit of anger we said some mean things to each other in front of a lot of people, and that was the end of our relationship. From days of completing each other’s sentences, crying on each other’s shoulders, and growing together as best friends, we are strangers who walk this planet today.

    Much has been said about anger, an emotion that most of us experience often. We read about anger, we learn anger management tips, and we know that it is an emotion with the power to destroy, and yet when it comes to our own lives, it’s an altogether different story.

    When I replay the way I “reacted” to the whole incident instead of “responding” to it, I think of a hundred different things that I could have done right. I still wonder why I said those things, and in front of so many people.

    When we were little kids we used to write with pencils. It was a sign that told us that our mistakes could be corrected. As we grew older we received permanent markers to paint with on the canvas called life. This is because we were expected to take the responsibility of not making irreversible mistakes.

    How we manage our anger will decide if there are ugly marks on this canvas.

    Anger may be an emotion that we cannot evade, but the truth is that life is much more beautiful when we learn not to succumb to it.

    I have always been a short-tempered person. I’ve tried various things to control this, in vain. After having ruined many relationships because of this, I decided it was time to do something about my anger.

    I’ve been asking myself “Is it possible to be someone who never gets angry?”  

    There was once a saint who felt like having a bottle of beer. He asked his disciples to get him one. When the shocked disciples did as they were told, the saint simply folded his hands and stared at the bottle.

    Later, he asked his disciples to take it away. When one of them asked him, “What was it that you did?” the saint told him something that we all need to understand. He said, “I cannot control the feelings, the emotions, or the temptations but I can definitely control my actions.”

    As long as I keep my hands folded, there is no way I can grab this bottle of beer, and even though I cannot control my temptations I can control my actions.

    While anger is something we cannot control, what we do when we are angry is something that we definitely can control.

    Imagine you are working on a beautiful painting and suddenly there is a power outage and it’s pitch dark. Would you continue to make strokes on the painting, hoping that it miraculously became a masterpiece?

    In the same way, when you are angry the best thing to do would be nothing at all. Anger is like a power outage for the thinking part of your brain.

    These days, when I get really upset I choose not to say anything. I retire to my room for a couple of minutes, listen to some music, or distract myself. I let myself feel the emotion, but I don’t let myself react.

    Like the saint, I hold my hands and control my tongue, because if I cannot control anger, I will control myself at least.

    The Buddha said, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”

    When I look back at the incident with my friend, I feel like a lot could have been different had I not succumbed to my emotions. In the process I have hurt myself more than I have hurt my friend.

    So I ask you, the next time you get angry, don’t try to control the anger; instead try to control yourself. With a little practice, it becomes a part of your life and you become a person who never lets anger ruin a valued relationship.

    Photo by Scarleth White

  • Releasing Resentment: Who You’re Really Angry With and Why

    Releasing Resentment: Who You’re Really Angry With and Why

    “Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” ~Malachy McCourt

    “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

    I didn’t particularly want to kiss him, but it had been a benign first date, and I didn’t know how to say no without hurting his feelings.

    We were standing by my car in broad daylight, and what could be the harm, right? So I rather unenthusiastically nodded my head.

    He, on the other hand, was quite enthusiastic, more than I was prepared for.

    As he leaned in, I closed my eyes and endured the kiss, which most definitely did not tingle my toes. And it went on longer than I wanted, because, again, I didn’t know how to end it without hurting his feelings.

    So I waited. And after enduring a second, even longer, more enthusiastic and less-desired-on-my-part kiss, I finally managed to extricate myself, thank him for lunch, slip into my car, and drive away.

    I was relieved to be done with that date, and I was quite honestly annoyed. No, strike that—I was resentful.

    This perfectly inoffensive man had now acquired a downright unpleasant aura in my mind. Couldn’t he read that I wasn’t interested? Why did he have to pull me into a second kiss? Oh, how I resented him! 

    As I navigated the waters of online dating in search of a compatible life partner, scenarios similar to this one played themselves out over and over.

    After (I kid you not) fifty-seven first dates in a two-and-a-half year period, I’m of the opinion that there may be no greater route to self-growth than dating, if you go about it with the amount of self-examination that I did.

    One of the great gifts I got from my quest for a life partner was the realization that I needed to get clear in my own head where my limits were, before leaving my house for the date.

    In fact, I needed to learn to set limits in a lot of areas of my life, and it was dating that taught me how. Before I gained this clarity, though, I got very familiar with the emotion of resentment.

    I remember one moment, as I stewed with resentment toward a thoughtful, considerate, perfectly wonderful man, that I had an epiphany.

    I’d allowed him to go just a tad further than I really wanted, but when I thought about it, the guy had done absolutely nothing wrong. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and would no doubt be horrified if he’d known his advances had been unwanted.

    His good intentions and obvious respect for me forced me to question what was really going on here. Why was I resentful at him, I wondered?

    The only one who really deserved the brunt of my anger, I realized, was myself. The guy was just following my hazy lead, and would have backed off in a heartbeat, if I’d simply asked.

    That was when the light bulb clicked on over my head.

    That was the moment it became clear to me that resentment isn’t anger with someone else at all; resentment is anger with oneself, misdirected at someone else through the lens of victimhood. 

    Everything changed in that moment.

    When you’re trained to be a people-pleaser, like I was, setting clear limits is hard. It was easier to just go with the flow, and then get resentful and blame my dates when my true wishes weren’t magically honored.

    It was easier to play the victim.

    But playing the victim doesn’t lead to happiness or empowerment. And once I acknowledged to myself that this is what I’d been doing—playing the victim—I resolved to take responsibility.

    When I realized that my resentment wasn’t serving any useful purpose, and that it was really me I was angry with for not setting clearer, stronger limits, I could release the resentment and work on making the changes I needed to myself.

    The more I took responsibility for my desires—or lack thereof—and set clear boundaries with my dates, the less victimized I felt. And the fewer unwanted kisses I had to tolerate!

    And of course, taking responsibility for yourself extends to every area of your life, not just first dates! Learning to set boundaries and communicate them is an essential tool for anyone looking for a happy life.

    Resentment is anger with oneself, misdirected at someone else through the lens of victimhood.

    This simple statement was like a magic formula for me. It became my mantra for a while, helping me chart a less turbulent course through my dating days.

    Time for a Recharge

    Knowing something and always integrating it in your life are two different things, however. I recently discovered that I needed to remind myself of my resentment epiphany.

    That thoughtful, considerate, perfectly wonderful man I mentioned above? He’s been my life partner for over three years now, and he’s still perfectly wonderful.

    He does not, however, have any interest in physical exercise.

    I, on the other hand, am rather more concerned with my fitness than your average Joe. But even so, I don’t always reach my goal of daily exercise.

    I want to be fit, but I don’t always want to pull myself away from other things and get to the gym.

    In a psychology class I was taking, I learned that low physical fitness is actually “contagious.”

    Studies have shown that people are more likely to become sedentary and/or obese when people in their close social network are sedentary and/or obese, and I latched onto this data just the other week, as I was frustrated with myself for letting work get in the way of my exercise commitments.

    It would be so much easier to go to the gym if my partner had any interest in being my workout buddy! And it was so much easier to resent him for not having such an interest, than to take responsibility for my own failings.

    Thankfully, before I got too deep in the poisonous pool of resentment, I remembered my epiphany from years ago: Resentment is anger with oneself, misdirected at someone else through the lens of victimhood.

    Yes, it would be easier to get to the gym if my partner were gung-ho to get there himself, but he’s not to blame for my lack of exercise, I am.

    I was the one who chose to keep pounding away at the computer instead of going to the gym. The responsibility was mine alone, and any anger directed elsewhere was a pointless waste of energy.

    Whew! I felt like I’d escaped a close call. Instead of stewing in resentment toward my sweetie, I was filled with gratitude for the lessons I learned during my dating days!

    It was a good reminder. Now my antennae are back up again, watching for the niggling feeling of resentment so I can nip it in the bud before it blooms.

    Whether it’s unwanted kisses or a visit to the gym, when you take 100% responsibility and realize your anger is really toward yourself, resentment melts away and makes space for greater happiness.

  • Dramatically Improve your Relationships by Becoming a Team

    Dramatically Improve your Relationships by Becoming a Team

    Team

    “We may have all come in different ships, but we’re in the same boat now.” ~Martin Luther King Jr.

    I once had a totally commonplace, uneventful thought that transformed the way I viewed relationships.

    I’m not sure that it was mine; it certainly wasn’t anything groundbreaking or unique. I may have read it somewhere, I can’t remember now.

    It was the notion that when two people in a relationship think of themselves as on the same team, things get much easier. Positive feelings grow freely. Score-keeping and resentment are nonexistent. 

    Insights are very personal—a simple phrase that turns my world upside down might do absolutely nothing for you, and vice versa. Perhaps this notion was so life-changing for me because I grew up surrounded by people who seemed self-focused, always looking for where they had been wronged.

    They weren’t selfish or egotistical people. They were insecure people.

    My father had insecurities that led him to make everything about himself—if you didn’t say the right thing at the right time, trouble was sure to follow. I spent years walking on eggshells, trying to anticipate my next misstep. It was exhausting.

    And I remember women who constantly, endlessly talked about what was wrong with the “deadbeat men” who never seemed to treat them the way they deserved to be treated.  

    As a kid, it seemed as if adults everywhere put everyone else on the hook for their own happiness. In my childhood innocence and natural wisdom I wondered, why they didn’t take care of their own happiness? 

    Being on the hook for someone else’s happiness not only felt like enormous pressure, it was an impossible task.

    No matter how much my dad approved of something I did one day, he might disapprove of the very same thing the next day. No matter how nice a man was to a woman, he’d inevitably forget to compliment her dress and she’d have him back in the doghouse.

    All of this look-what-you’re-doing-to-me, you-should-be-treating-me-better business is not born out of independent, empowered women (or men) simply refusing to put up with less than what they deserve. That’s often how they like to view themselves, but that’s not it at all.

    Scavenger hunting for all the ways you aren’t being treated fairly is not an act of self-love. It’s an act of insecurity.

    It’s born out of fear and looking to someone else to be your savior. It’s born out of the belief that your happiness comes from what others do, which manifests as manipulation, guilt trips, and passive aggressive behavior aimed at changing them so that you can feel better.

    “Us” Not “Me”

    When you’re focused on yourself, keeping score, and making sure you’re being treated properly, you’re not actually in relationship with another person—you’re in relationship with your thoughts about the other person.

    You’re focusing on yourself, what you can get, and where your partner is falling short.

    Thinking of the two of you as a team shifts your focus. Suddenly it’s not “me versus you”; it’s “us.”

    It’s no longer “I did the laundry every day this week, what did you do?” It’s “We’re a team. I do the laundry more than you at times, and you do a million other things for me at times.”

    It’s not “If you cared about me you’d call twice a day”; it’s “I’d love to talk to you more.”

    The you-and-me-together way of looking at things is exactly what was missing for all of those disgruntled women complaining about their deadbeat men. The extreme look-out-for-myself-first approach is what made my relationship with my dad defensive and inauthentic.

    Teammates

    A couple weeks ago, I was talking with a friend about her marriage when she confessed that she was once a score-keeper. She used to keep a mental tally of what she had done and what her husband hadn’t, and she gave a whole lot of meaning to that score.

    When I asked how she came to leave the score keeping behind, she told me that her husband said something one day that completely turned it around for her.

    In the midst of one of her score reports, her husband said the reason he never thought that way was because he saw them as a team. She gives more in some ways and he gives more in other ways, but why keep track when they are always working together, in the end?

    She instantly knew that was true. He did give more than her in many ways, but her rigid, defensive outlook hadn’t allowed her to even notice what he did for her.

    Although insights are personal, she had the same game-changing one I did. She never looked at her relationship in quite the same way again. When she found herself feeling wronged, she remembered that she and her husband were teammates, not adversaries.

    Being on the same team takes the frailty out of a relationship. My relationship with my father always felt fragile and temporary, like I was one wrong look away from being disowned. In fact, I was.

    Don’t you see this in romantic relationships—especially new ones—all the time?  One or both people are afraid to fully be themselves in fear of what the other might make of their honesty.

    I can clearly remember the wave of relief that washed over my now-husband’s face when we had a disagreement about six months into our courtship. He sat me down to assess the damage and I assured him that we were past the point of breaking up over a petty dissimilarity.

    He says he knew in that moment that we were an “us.” It wasn’t “me” evaluating and judging him,” or “him” deciding whether “I” was right or wrong.

    We were a team, and teams are infinitely more resilient than individual identities trying to coexist.

    I wonder what this shift in perspective might do for you. Even if you aren’t a score keeper always looking for where you were wronged, taking on the team viewpoint can bring a new sense of closeness to your relationships.

    Can you imagine what might happen if we extended this beyond personal relationships—if we saw entire families, communities, or all of humanity as part of the same team?

    Imagine how we’d treat each other.

    Here’s to spreading the insight to our teammates everywhere.

    Photo by ClickFlashPhotos

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

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

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

    “You’re too quiet.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Sometimes I just tried faking it.

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

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

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

    Or maybe not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Be kind to yourself if you decide to change.

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

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

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

    Don’t be afraid to lose false friends.

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

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

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

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

    Could your supposed weakness actually be your strength?

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Speaking Your Mind Without Being Hurtful

    Speaking Your Mind Without Being Hurtful

    Friends Talking

    “If you propose to speak, always ask yourself, is it true, is it necessary, is it kind.” ~Buddha

    Many of us allow other people’s opinions to dictate what we believe, value, or perceive. It’s not always easy to stand up for our beliefs and opinions when others, particularly those we care about, constantly bombard us with their views.

    You might be thinking, “No, not me! This never happens to me. I’m strong in voicing my beliefs.”

    At one point or another, we all conform our opinions, either to avoid confrontation or judgment or because we’re losing faith in what we feel is right.

    Ask yourself, “Do I often justify what I believe after engaging in conversations with others? Am I continuously second guessing myself?” If so, you may be losing yourself.

    I used to be someone who always avoided conflict with others at all costs. Needless to say, I was passive by nature, and I shied away from standing up for my beliefs.

    I would avoid and distance myself from any means of voicing my opinions. In turn, I became submissive and engaged in both romantic and platonic relationships with people who were more dominating in demeanor.

    While I lacked the willpower to express my own ideas, I found myself in a state of annoyance and frustration from allowing others to indirectly control my life. Feeling helpless and unaware of who I really was took a toll on my mental well-being.

    I longed for the ability to express my thoughts and opinions freely. I craved the feeling of acceptance by others, without judgments being passed.

    I deeply admired and looked up to my sister as a role model, one who possessed the internal strength to be truthful to herself and others, regardless of the consequences.

    Sometimes my sister would discuss her issues with her friends and seek my advice, perhaps to validate if she was doing the right thing. Sometimes she wasn’t sure if she was coming on too strong and pushing others away because of her honest and strong-minded nature.

    She’d often find herself in situations where she would lose friends. Perhaps her honest opinions were too much to handle.

    When she would come to me in full-blown tears, asking me, “Why do my friends keep leaving? Why don’t they understand that I am just trying to help them?” I would respond to her by saying, “They don’t want to hear the truth from you, because sometimes the truth hurts.”

    Friends who resent one’s openness and honesty are usually, in turn, not worthy of the friendship.

    Looking back at the way I used to be led me to a conclusion. It’s not what you say to others; it’s the manner in which you say it that truly matters.

    I finally realized that, although my sister and I had opposing approaches of maintaining our relationships, neither of us was necessarily wrong in the way we went about constructing them.

    We often want to give genuine advice or opinions. However, we also need to understand that it’s not always easy to accept the truth. We need to find the balance and set limitations in order to maintain positive relationships.

    While I had no problem in maintaining mine, I often felt repressed in terms of being expressive. In contrast, my sister’s strong-minded character eventually caused her relationships to slowly dissipate.

    Over the years, I have learned that using appropriate language, word choices, and tone is the key to flourishing relationships.

    Speaking constructively and delivering tactful criticism eliminates the chance to pass biases. This also creates a healthy environment and opportunity to grow.

    As I’ve matured, I’ve recognized that my opinions actually matter and have the right to be heard. Having said this, I have learned that it is more effective to give an opinion or advice when it is sought.

    When I engage in conversations, I always try my best to think before I speak. Then, I contemplate, “Is it worth saying? How will what I say make a difference to this person?”

    If I proceed to give my opinion, I then decide, “How can I say this in such as way that it comes across as genuine, yet constructive?”

    By nature, we all have the tendency to overreact; it’s important to choose our battles wisely and release the negative energy that surrounds us.

    Be real; tell the truth using kind and heartfelt words. Respect will follow.

    Even though telling the truth may be difficult for many people, it’s the approach that we take that allows us to earn the respect of others.

    Often enough, people are so preoccupied with verbally offending others that we end up feeling as though we need to “walk on egg shells.” We may also end up saying something we didn’t originally intend.

    When I was one of those people who worried about what others thought, I allowed my life to be dictated and controlled by someone else’s agenda.

    I always felt obligated to adopt the views of my partners and friends, in fear of disappointing and upsetting them. I struggled to find the courage and willpower to rid myself of this imprisonment, in search of a voice, love, and passion.

    Through some of my ongoing romantic relationships with over-bearing, possessive men, I have come to terms with the fact that telling the truth will not always yield a positive or expected outcome.

    Still, I think that it is most important to be true to yourself. You need to be happy first before you can make others happy, and that means not self-sacrificing for unappreciative, non-reciprocating individuals.

    Speaking up for what we believe and sharing our opinions can be helpful and beneficial—when it’s appropriate, kind, constructive, and consistent.

    Photo by Seniju

  • Releasing the Need for Approval and Making Peace with Yourself

    Releasing the Need for Approval and Making Peace with Yourself

    “Lean too much on other people’s approval and it becomes a bed of thorns.” ~Tehyi Hsieh

    In the face of a conflict with another, the wisdom that most often brings me peace is the reminder that the only thing I can change is how I react. Whatever or whoever else is a part of the conflict, that is outside of my control.

    While I certainly advocate using your excellent communication skills to work through problems with the ones you love, I am a firm believer in finding my own way to cope rather than being a victim of circumstances.

    These are three powerful tools on the road to doing just that:

    1. Realize that no one else is paying attention.

    Back in high school, I faced the typical struggles of being a teenage girl who was well outside of the in crowd. It was no fun to feel like such an obvious misfit, and I remember more than once worrying about what my peers would think of something or other that I’d done.

    It was then that my dad spoke one of the most liberating truths into my life, harsh as it may sound: “Who says they care enough about you to have an opinion in the first place?”

    And what a revelation it was. Humans of all kinds (even, and perhaps especially, teenage girls!) are obsessed with themselves. Each of us lives in a universe that revolves around me; you, if anything, are a mere blip on the radar.

    In my adult life, this same wisdom continues to guide me.

    Too often, I find myself thinking that I’ll do something to “prove” something to a person I’ve been in conflict with.

    I’ll think that by staying single and being obviously happy and fulfilled, those who’ve expressed sympathy or tried to set me up will realize that their efforts were unnecessary. I’ll be tempted to pursue a job or another degree because someone, somewhere will be impressed by it and maybe realize they underestimated me.

    And then I hear my dad’s words again, and I remember that no one is paying that much attention.

    No one but me cares that much about the direction my life takes, the principles I stand on, or the lines on my resume. Any fraction of this life lived for the approval of someone else is wasted; “they” will never notice, and I will be unfulfilled, waiting for something that will not happen.

    The only one whose opinion matters is the only one I have to look at in the mirror at the end of the day. If she is not okay with who I am and what I’m doing, then I have failed.

    2. Do what you can, and then let it go.

    In the last year, I met the first person who was really difficult for me to be around in a long time; probably since those troublesome teenage days. We didn’t get along, and so I avoided him. I was not unkind, but the feeling of dislike was unfamiliar, and not one I enjoyed.

    One day, I got the idea in my head that I should “make peace.” At a gathering for a mutual friend, I said the things I felt needed to be said, in the best way I could say it, and was disappointed that the result was not what I had intended. We did not become friends, but rather he continued to treat me in a way that made me uncomfortable and left me feeling disrespected.

    For a while after that interaction I wondered if I should try the conversation again with a different approach, hoping for a different result. I think even then I knew I was barking up the wrong tree, but I suppose it’s a part of human nature to want to be liked and understood.

    I then remembered another valuable image that helped me make peace with the matter. Everything we see or experience is filtered through our own unique personality and worldview. How can we say for certain that a color we see or a flavor we taste is the same for anyone else on the planet?

    The same was true for my conflict. No matter how many different ways I tried to send the same message, I could not control the way it would be received by this person. I had to trust that I’d done my part as best as I could, and if and when it was ready to be received it would be.

    No one likes to be nagged. I’ve found wisdom only makes sense when you’re ready to receive it, and the pushier the message-bearer, the more resistant the recipient. Do your part, say your piece, and leave it alone.

    3. Be kind to yourself.

    In all of this, we walk away from the need for the approval of others, focusing on finding our wholeness in ourselves. But this journey will not be a peaceful one if we step from the disapproving voices that surround us to a similarly unkind voice that comes from within.

    I’ve caught myself more than once berating myself for making a mistake. “You colossal screw-up! Way to go, moron!”

    Imagining someone else speaking to me that way opened my eyes. If a friend or coworker talked to me the way I was talking to myself, I’d walk away. I know without a shadow of a doubt that I do not deserve to be treated that way.

    So why would I treat myself that way?

    There is a quote attributed to Plato that I aspire to live by: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” If we are to give others the benefit of the doubt and treat them kindly regardless of their actions, should we not do the same to ourselves?

    I challenge anyone reading this, myself included, to tread carefully the next time you make a mistake. If someone you loved had done the same thing, wouldn’t you respond gently? “That’s alright; you’ll try again another time. No worries.”

    Let’s use that same voice the next time we talk to ourselves, whether we feel we deserve it or not.

  • Use Your Heart as a Wall: Make It Stronger Instead of Shutting Down

    Use Your Heart as a Wall: Make It Stronger Instead of Shutting Down

    Heart

    “The pain you feel today will be the strength you feel tomorrow.” ~Unknown

    “I’m done here. It’s time for me to move on,” she spoke softly as if unsure herself. For a moment, I swore she said “I’m not done here,” but she didn’t. She was leaving me.

    The poison in the words numbed my body and my soul. All of a sudden, there seemed to be a big hole where my heart used to be.

    Survival mode kicked in and I started protecting that “empty” space. For me, it was isolating myself from social situations, even work. I sunk myself into spiritual reading, grasping for any words that might fill the hole.

    This was the first time I had felt it. Heartbreak. This was my first experience feeling something so painful that I fell into the cycle we all do.

    In Your Own Defense

    That sense of an empty heart is something all of us are familiar with.

    When we are hurt, we immediately want to protect ourselves. We change some behavior to act as a defense mechanism for the “next time.” These mechanisms compound to build a thicker and thicker wall “protecting” our heart.

    For me, it took forever. The pain began to have breaks, yet came back with the same intensity. After more forever, the breaks became longer until the pain began to be only spikes during memories. Finally, the pain began to slowly subside in intensity.

    Leaving only emptiness.

    What About the Emptiness?

    It turns out that emptiness is atrophy. When there is no love in the heart, it is like a precisely tuned machine with nothing to produce. It just sits there and begins to rust.

    So, I, as do many of us, waited for the pain to subside behind the walls built from heartbreak. All the while, my heart sat rusting.

    Hmmm. Now I’ve got a rusted heart and a bunch of walls to break through.

    There’s got to be a better way…and there is.

    A Different Kind of Wall

    It is said that there are two ways to deal with pain. One is to shut your heart off so it won’t be hurt; the other is to open it bigger to allow more love to find it.

    These are odd phrases, you know? Your heart is a muscle. It has inherent strength that can be made stronger, like every other muscle, by using it.

    Choose to use your heart as the wall to protect you.

    Even when hurt, continue to build the heart muscle from use. Yes, it’s weakened by the sting, but it’s still capable of all the strength it had before.

    A strong, loving heart is more prepared to absorb hurtful blows than weak attempts to hide it from the world. Even a broken heart continues to feed the body.

    Grow your heart by learning from the pain and continuing on. Continue on as before, loving as deeply as you can. The more you love, the more strength your heart retains and builds.

    Love. Learn. Love more.

    Imagine your heart as a castle. When something approaches, let it in just as a castle’s drawbridge lets in its guests. Let your still loving heart’s strength protect you from emotional attacks, catapulting letdowns, and poisonous relationships, like the stone walls of those castles.

    You see, walls are built stone by stone. Let your stones be loving acts both given and received, instead of compounding defense mechanisms. Give and be grateful for receiving each piece of strength to your wall, knowing there’s still a drawbridge.

    Un-loving Is Impossible

    I loved “her” dearly, you know?  No matter how much it hurt, though, I couldn’t un-know that love. The pain subsided, but the love was just as strong—just still there.

    Those that I meet now that approach my castle are greeted and welcomed with the love I learned from her. Sure, some may aim to hurt, or do so unintentionally, but they have no idea the strength they’re up against.

    Love after love, my heart becomes stronger. With each loss, a new layer of muscle rebuilds over the last.  With a stronger a heart, a stronger love, and a new, different, more beautiful cycle is born.

    Of Nothing

    So, what was the point of the defense mechanism walls? Nothing. They only served to contain, block, and otherwise stifle the beautiful strength the heart could build.

    The more you compound your defenses, the more you stifle your heart. The longer you wait to love, the more your heart rusts. Conversely, the more you simply love, the stronger your heart-wall becomes and the more able you are to absorb the hurt and build again.

    Crazy In Love

    The pain still comes, soft and far between. My eyes still tear. But now, it’s for the memory of that time we shared, the gratitude for the biggest lesson, for the little piece of my heart that tells her it’s okay when she’s staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night.

    Crazy, isn’t it? I left a piece of my heart with her. My heart shouldn’t be as strong as it was, let alone stronger.

    But it is, because the heart, like any other muscle, gets strong with use.

    Build your heart. Love with every opportunity. Be readily prepared to open that left ventricle when the charming knight or beautiful princess arrives.

    Or even the pizza guy.

    Photo by nanny snowflake

  • Start Believing in Yourself: How To Adopt A Language of Love

    Start Believing in Yourself: How To Adopt A Language of Love

    “Once you have learned to love, you will have learned to live.” ~Unknown

    We are powerful, vivacious, brilliant creatures. Our thoughts and ideas create the very world around us. We constantly, and often unconsciously, exude and radiate palpable energy that permeates through every crack and crevasse of our lives.

    Our words hold especially powerful energy and the ability to uplift and inspire others and ourselves, or send us spiraling down the ladder to Bummersville. Learning to recognize our inner Negative Nancy allows us to pump up the volume on our love lingo to bring us back to a place of clarity, peace, and happiness.

    As a young woman in my early twenties, I am no stranger to the pitfalls of self-criticism. As a child of divorced parents, I grew up with the belief that I was somehow imperfect. Inadequate. Just shy of being good enough. 

    My teenage years proved to be of little consolation, as I was suddenly introduced to the world of comparisons. The desire to be as thin as, rich as, and cool as whoever was entirely consuming. I validated this belief of not being good enough with constant self-judgment.

    I clouded every move I made with the veil of criticism. No goal or achievement was ever really celebrated, just held up in comparison to someone else’s triumphs.

    Finally, after being introduced to the idea of self-love, I did an experiment in which I tried to mentally note each time I said something negative about myself in one day. Holy eye-opener. Before I even finished breakfast I had already torn myself apart with self-criticism and harsh judgment.

    I would never think to speak to someone I dislike in the way that I was thought-bashing myself.

    It’s no wonder I didn’t feel enthusiastic or passionate about anything. All of that garbage mind chatter was blocking my ability to see the reality: I am outrageously perfect. I have purpose. My life has meaning. I am an integral part of the whole.

    I still struggle from time to time to tune out my inner critic and embrace my inner cheerleader; beliefs that we hold onto for a long time as truths are never easy to let go of. But I have found that there is a distinct correlation with the words I use as a part of my regular vocabulary and the way that I feel.

    Adopting a language of love is essential in keeping me aligned with my highest self. 

    Here are my no-no’s and big YES!’s when it comes to speaking the language de amor:

    • Stop saying, “I can’t.” You can; you just haven’t done it yet or you haven’t tried.
    • Stop saying, “Always.” Actually, just stop generalizing. Nothing is black and white.
    • Stop saying, “They did, he did, she did…” It’s a subtle (or sometimes not-so-subtle) form of blame. Observe your current situation and ask, “What can I do now? How can I make this better?”
    • Stop saying, “I wish this or that.” Instead say, “I want this and these are the steps I am going to take to get me there.”
    • Really stop saying “I am not good enough. I am fat. I am ugly. I’ve made too many poor choices. I’ve tried before and it didn’t work out.”

    I like to imagine that I am made up of a team. I’ve got inspiration, truth, gratitude, enthusiasm, ambition, worry, deprecation, blame, and sadness. The game’s all tied up, this is the crucial moment that decides whether my team moves forward or is left behind.

    Who am I gonna put in the game? Who’s gonna be on the bench? This isn’t practice…this is life! Keep worry, deprecation, blame, and sadness off the court. They’re gonna lose the game.

    Adopting a language of love is not about positive affirmations. It’s not about trying to convince yourself that you feel something else other than what you feel, or that a situation is something other than what it is.

    It’s about consciously choosing thoughts and words with uplifting energy. It’s about embracing what is intrinsically true and inherent: You got this. 

    Whatever your situation, whatever your roadblock or mental block or financial block, you’ll figure it out. How do I know? Because we all contain inside of us the capacity to manifest our deepest desires and stay the course all the way to the end.

    Let’s adjust our thinking and speaking to reflect that, shall we?

    May love become our new modus operandi.

    Photo by aussiegal

  • Get Past It Instead of Getting Even: Revenge Isn’t Winning

    Get Past It Instead of Getting Even: Revenge Isn’t Winning

    “For every minute you are angry you lose sixty seconds of happiness.”  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

    The first thing many of us think of after someone has wronged or disrespected us is how to get even—how to hand out a dose of that person’s own medicine in an attempt to feel totally vindicated.

    Most of us have thought about revenge at one point or another.

    Maybe it’s a co-worker, a classmate, a family member, or even a boyfriend or girlfriend, but regardless of the relationship it’s often an instinctive reaction when someone attacks the deepest, most fragile part of ourselves

    Does this really accomplish anything positive?

    We might gain some personal, though temporary satisfaction, but it does little to ease the pain others have inflicted upon us.

    I recently received an unexpected email. While the sender was certainly a surprise, the content of the message and its motivation were not.

    The sender was my father, and in what has become my parents’ only way of communicating with me over the last few years, it was a familiar message filled with anger, blame, and defensiveness.

    Though this wasn’t the first time my parents had defamed me in this way, it still saddened me for much of the next few days.

    Children, especially adolescents, are known for “mouthing off” to their parents while growing up, but it’s hard to imagine this coming from someone who taught you that this was disrespectful.

    My relationship with my parents has become difficult to maintain as a free-thinking adult.

    I suppose some might say that we should always forgive family members for their faults, especially parents.

    But regardless of the relation, at some point you grow tired of others not telling the entire truth; tired of having to defend yourself; tired of being referred to as the cause of someone else’s issues.  

    Growing up I had a great deal of respect for my parents. They provided for all of my worldly needs, taught me invaluable lessons and skills, and maintained a true sense of family and tradition within the walls of our home.

    Yet something was missing for me, as I was burdened by an inner need to always seek my parents’ approval and acceptance, which rendered me incredibly insecure and anxious growing up.

    Eventually, I became completely dependent on them for emotional stability and continual guidance. I didn’t love and trust myself enough to be the keeper of myself, so I allowed my parents to fill that role for me.

    As I evolved into an adult, found someone who loved me without conditions, and began to develop a deep appreciation for the person I was, I realized I no longer needed the family dynamic that I was so dependent on for so long.

    My parents, however, had a difficult time understanding that I was no longer that insecure, anxious, easily manipulated little boy trying to find his place in the world. I was now an adult, ready to chart his own course.

    We started arguing regularly, and many times rather than deal with the repercussions, I would just say I was sorry and return to how our relationship had always been.

    This dynamic continued on for many years until one day I offered my opinion and perspective on a complex, delicate matter they were considering. I questioned their motivation and feared the possible outcome, and thought voicing my concern would be appreciated.

    I was truly stunned by their reaction.

    Letters, emails, character attacks—they even posted hateful comments on a newspaper’s website I contributed to frequently, dragging my name through the proverbial mud in an effort to convince people that I wasn’t the man I proclaimed to be.

    I never expected something so heinous from my own parents. I was so taken aback, hurt and angry that my first thought was how to get back at them—to do a little mud-slinging of my own in an attempt at destroying their character, just as they had done to mine.

    Then I stumbled upon the following quote, and suddenly everything I thought I understood changed.

    “An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind.” ~Gandhi

    How could I possibly be so naïve to believe that seeking revenge on my own parents would make my actions any better than theirs, let alone change the course of what had already been done?

    My revenge would only keep the wound open longer, perpetuating my bitterness and squandering my time on something I couldn’t change. Though never easy, acceptance is key in putting the pain behind you and moving forward with your life.

    I began to ask myself: Will I find any inner solace by propagating my anger? If I succeed at getting even, will it really change my reality? Does it make me the better person to do to them what they’ve done to me?

    As difficult as it was, instead of arguing and trying to defend myself, I simply said nothing. No replies, no rebuttals, no communication, nothing to engage us in the kind of negative confrontations we were accustomed to.

    I’ve learned that living without the drama that so many people thrive on is the only way to live a meaningful life.

    I’m far from perfect and those feelings of retribution still creep up now and then, especially when I get an email or letter as I did the other day. But each time the thought pops into my head, I begin to realize something:

    Regardless of how justified you might believe you are in seeking your revenge, it’s important to remember that life isn’t a game and simply getting even doesn’t mean you’ve won the battle; it just means you’ve lost your self-respect.

    It’s taken me a while to accept that I probably will never see my parents again. Yes, there will be times when I miss the family unit I remember from when I was a little boy; but then I’m forced to remind myself that things will never be as they were again.

    It saddens me that my parents are missing out on getting to know the man I truly am, instead of the insecure, anxious little boy they’re convinced still exists.

    In truth, I would not be the person I am today without them—a person of character and integrity who’s managed to touch the lives of many, even theirs I’m sure.

    In my heart I forgive them for everything that’s gone on, and the peace that provides me is much greater than the fleeting satisfaction of seeking revenge.

    Though it might seem impossible, even the bad things that happen in life have a funny way of leading us to a better place. At least, they did for me.

    Photo by joybot

  • How the Need to Be Right Can Lead to Guilt and Regret

    How the Need to Be Right Can Lead to Guilt and Regret

    Sitting Together

    “The obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings.” ~Ralph Blum

    I think we all have this issue: guilt, followed by its sister, regret.

    I didn’t realize how dark a blemish it was on my heart until I fully felt the anguish of my mother’s death. I never quite realized my full potential, courage, or strength until her passing.

    Her greatest sacrifice, leaving this earth, proved to be my greatest motivation to search myself for the answer of whom I was and why; it was the major catalyst in my life for change.

    Sometimes the best things for you are the hardest.

    Admitting the darkness you’re carrying inside is one of the hardest things to do. Convincing yourself that you have been wrong and need to change can be even harder.

    Forgiving yourself because you are human, and loving yourself enough to know you deserve more, and deserve to give others more, is the hardest task of them all.

    I was an embittered person almost my whole life. I could hold a grudge with the best of them. I felt I had a lot to be resentful for, and truthfully, much of it was not unwarranted. But with my inability to never let go of things, I was miserable, making everyone else around me miserable, as well.

    This went far beyond just being angry. I felt I was being terribly misunderstood and never heard. I also felt the constant need to have to defend myself and my views with a strong argument.

    I had a very strained relationship with my mother starting when I was 14. I was at that age when I thought my parents knew nothing and I was smarter than they were.

    I can now fully understand why I felt that way, beyond just normal teenage rebellion. I was projecting a lot of my older siblings’ perceived unpleasant experiences with my parents onto my own, and letting that determine my relationship with them.

    There was a lot of friction between them, and I somehow felt that if I didn’t share their same resentment I was somehow betraying them.

    Because of this, I went through my youth and into my adulthood expecting my mom to give more than she could and blaming her, instead of blaming myself for not having enough compassion and never taking the time to understand that she was a person, too.

    I seemed to always be aggravated at everything she did.

    I held onto the need to be right, never letting up and always needing to argue. I grew into this person who could never listen with a compassionate heart and lived with resentment instead of love, kindness, and forgiveness.

    I was very hard-hearted instead of soft and pliable and forgiving.

    We would have bouts of calm when we got along great, then something would shift in her mood or mine and it would turn volatile. I see now that, because we were so much alike, it caused much of that friction. This went on for our whole relationship, up until just a couple of years before she died.

    I’m not saying she was without her faults, too. But now that she’s gone, and since I am much older, I can see everything so much clearer. That’s where the guilt comes in.

    We had been working on our relationship, though we didn’t acknowledge that openly, and we were really making headway. You see, I couldn’t even hug her, hadn’t done since I was a kid. But I was getting closer to her and hugging her more because I knew she needed it, and so did I.

    My great wall was crumbling.

    We had always done things together for years, not that that stopped the bickering. But that was all but over for a long while. Not long enough, though. And this is where the regret comes in.

    I wasted so much time being angry and self-righteous that I missed out on having a better relationship with my mother.

    If I had only known then what I have learned in the last few years and especially since her death, I could have saved myself the burden of that guilt and regret.

    There are so many moments each day where I will have a memory of us together and I will feel shame for the way I reacted to a situation. In my mind I can change the outcome to something that I should have done to handle the situation better.

    When she would be difficult, and she could be at times, why did I have to make it worse? Why couldn’t I have just stayed calm and had compassion for her feelings instead of getting overwhelmed and lashing out?

    I was incapable of doing that at the time because it’s hard to do when you are totally unconscious. You act before you think, lash out before you embrace.

    Oh, how I wish I had known this calm before it was too late! I think about the agony I could be saving myself now, and I am filled with remorse. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You can save yourself from the pain that I am trying to overcome.

    All it takes is a step in the right direction.

    It is so important to put your prideful ego aside and try the softer way. Ask yourself these three questions:

    1. Will it destroy me to “give in,” take the barriers down, and not have to be right all of the time? 

    When you “give in” it is not to lie down and be trampled on, but to slow down and reflect on what’s most important. The egotistical need to be right is what will ultimately destroy you. It leaves no room for compromise or compassion for another’s feelings, and will cause you more damage in the long run.

    2. Is it worth it to be right, making the argument more important than making someone else happy?

    When you constantly reinforce to the people in your life that you value your own opinions more than their feelings, it can cause a lot of hurt. Why not take the higher road and save the moment by saving your voice?

    3. Will my actions now cause me pain and regret later? 

    My biggest lesson learned was that, if I had only known then what I know now, I could have prevented so much grief.

    I wish I had had more generosity in my heart at that time. I wish I knew how to pause and let myself have that moment to feel the clarity that I needed to make a better choice in how I handled the situation at hand.

    I know that, when she did things that I considered unforgivable, it’s because she didn’t know any better and was only doing the best she knew how at that time, as was I.

    I am so grateful that I have learned these lessons now so that I can have the opportunity to live this way from here on out. I’m a big believer in things happening for a reason, and though I don’t quite know how to justify this one, I thank my mother every day for her sacrifice in that in losing her, I gained the greatest insight.

    I just wished I’d learned these lessons sooner.

    Photo by Kevin Krejci

  • 10 Ways to Deal with Negative or Difficult People

    10 Ways to Deal with Negative or Difficult People

    “Dwelling on the negative simply contributes to its power.” ~Shirley MacLaine

    I love her to death, but it’s draining to talk to her.

    Every time I call this friend of mine, I know what I’m in for: a half-hour rant about everything that’s difficult, miserable, or unfair.

    Sometimes she focuses on the people she feels have wronged her, and other times she explores the general hopelessness of life. She never calls to see how I’m doing, and she rarely listens to what’s going on in my life for more than a minute before shifting the focus back to herself.

    I tell myself I call because I care, but sometimes I wonder if I have ulterior motives–to pump up my ego offering good advice or even to feel better about my own reality.

    I’m no saint, and if there’s one thing I know well, it’s that we only do things repeatedly if we believe there’s something in it for us. Even if that something is just to feel needed.

    I thought about this the other day when a reader wrote to me with an interesting question: “How do you offer compassion to someone who doesn’t seem to deserve it?”

    While I believe everyone deserves compassion, I understand what she meant after reading more. She went on to describe her offensive, sexist, racist boss who emotionally exhausts everyone around him. He sounds a lot more hateful than my friend, who is, sadly, just terribly depressed.

    But these people have one thing in common: boundless negative energy that ends up affecting everyone around them.

    So today I started thinking about how we interact with negative or difficult people. People who seem chronically critical, belligerent, indignant, angry, or just plain rude.

    When someone repeatedly drains everyone around them, how do you maintain a sense of compassion without getting sucked into their doom? And how do you act in a way that doesn’t reinforce their negativity–and maybe even helps them?

    Here’s what I’ve come up with:

    1. Resist the urge to judge or assume.

    It’s hard to offer someone compassion when you assume you have them pegged. He’s a jerk. She’s a malcontent. He’s an–insert other choice noun. Even if it seems unlikely someone will wake up one day and act differently, we have to remember it is possible.

    When you think negative thoughts, it comes out in your body language. Someone prone to negativity may feel all too tempted to mirror that. Try coming at them with the positive mindset you wish they had. Expect the best in them. You never know when you might be pleasantly surprised.

    2. Dig deeper, but stay out of the hole.

    It’s always easier to offer someone compassion if you try to understand where they’re coming from. But that can’t completely justify bad behavior. If you show negative people you support their choice to behave badly, you give them no real incentive to make a change (which they may actually want deep down).

    It may help to repeat this in your head when you deal with them: “I understand your pain. But I’m most helpful if I don’t feed into it.” This might help you approach them with both kindness and firmness so they don’t bring you down with them.

    3.Maintain a positive boundary.

    Some people might tell you to visualize a bright white light around you to maintain a positive space when other people enter it with negativity. This doesn’t actually work for me because I respond better to ideas in words than visualizations. So I tell myself this, “I can only control the positive space I create around myself.”

    Then when I interact with this person, I try to do two things, in this order of importance:

    • Protect the positive space around me. When their negativity is too strong to protect it, I need to walk away.
    • Help them feel more positive, not act more positive–which is more likely to create the desired result.

    4. Disarm their negativity, even if just for now.

    This goes back to the ideas I mentioned above. I know my depressed friend will rant about life’s injustices as long as I let her. Part of me feels tempted to play amateur psychiatrist–get her talking, and then try to help her reframe situations into a more positive light.

    Then I remind myself that I can’t change her whole way of being in one phone call. She has to want that. I also can’t listen for hours on end, as I’ve done in the past. But I can listen compassionately for a short while and then help her focus on something positive right now, in this moment. I can ask about her upcoming birthday. I can remind her it’s a beautiful day for a walk.

    Don’t try to solve or fix them. Just aim to help them now.

    5. Temper your emotional response.

    Negative people often gravitate toward others who react strongly–people who easily offer compassion or get outraged or offended. I suspect this gives them a little light in the darkness of their inner world–a sense that they’re not floating alone in their own anger or sadness.

    People remember and learn from what you do more than what you say. If you feed into the situation with emotions, you’ll teach them they can depend on you for a reaction. It’s tough not to react because we’re human, but it’s worth practicing.

    Once you’ve offered a compassionate ear for as long as you can, respond as calmly as possible with a simple line of fact. If you’re dealing with a rude or angry person, you may want to change the subject to something unrelated: “Dancing with the Stars is on tonight. Planning to watch it?”

    6. Question what you’re getting out of it.

    Like I mentioned above, we often get something out of relationships with negative people. Get real honest with yourself: have you fallen into a caretaker role because it makes you feel needed? Have you maintained the relationship so you can gossip about this person in a holier-than-thou way with others? Do you have some sort of stake in keeping the things the way they are?

    Questioning yourself helps you change the way you respond–which is really all you can control. You can’t make someone think, feel, or act differently. You can be as kind as possible or as combative as possible, and still not change reality for someone else. All you can control is what you think and do–and then do your best to help them without hurting yourself.

    7. Remember the numbers.

    Research shows that people with negative attitudes have significantly higher rates of stress and disease. Someone’s mental state plays a huge role in their physical health. If someone’s making life difficult for people around them, you can be sure they’re doing worse for themselves.

    What a sad reality, that someone has so much pain inside them they have to act out just to feel some sense of relief–even if that relief comes from getting a rise out of people. When you remember how much a difficult person is suffering, it’s easier to stay focused on minimizing negativity, as opposed to defending yourself.

    8. Don’t take it personally, but know that sometimes it is personal.

    Conventional wisdom suggests that you should never take things personally when you deal with a negative person. I think it’s a little more complicated than that. You can’t write off everything someone says about you just because the person is insensitive or tactless. Even an abrasive person may have a valid point. Try to weigh their comments with a willingness to learn.

    Accept that you don’t deserve the excessive emotions in someone’s tone, but weigh their ideas with a willingness to learn. Some of the most useful lessons I’ve learned came from people I wished weren’t right.

    9. Act instead of just reacting.

    Oftentimes we wait until someone gets angry or depressed before we try to buoy their spirits. If you know someone who seems to deal with difficult thoughts or feelings often (as demonstrated in their behavior), don’t wait for a situation to help them create positive feelings.

    Give them a compliment for something they did well. Remind them of a moment when they were happy–as in “Remember when you scored that touchdown during the company picnic? That was awesome!” You’re more apt to want to boost them up when they haven’t brought you down. This may help mitigate that later and also give them a little relief from their pain.

    10. Maintain the right relationship based on reality as it is.

    With my friend, I’m always wishing she could be more positive. I consistently put myself in situations where I feel bad because I want to help, because I want her to be happy. I’ve recently realized the best I can do is accept her as she is, let her know I believe in her ability to be happy, and then give her space to make the choice.

    That means gently bringing our conversation to a close after I’ve made an effort to help. Or cutting short a night out if I’ve done all I can and it’s draining me. Hopefully she’ll want to change some day. Until then, all I can do is love her, while loving myself enough to take care of my needs. That often means putting them first.

    —

    I’ve learned you can’t always save the world, but you can make the world a better place by working on yourself–by becoming self-aware, tapping into your compassion, and protecting your positive space. You may even help negative people by fostering a sense of peace within yourself that their negativity can’t pierce.

  • Don’t Let Anyone’s Criticism or Judgment Define Who You Are

    Don’t Let Anyone’s Criticism or Judgment Define Who You Are

    Hiding in the Shadows

    “There is a huge amount of freedom that comes to you when you take nothing personally.” ~Don Miguel Ruiz

    I was a chunky, shy little girl who was attached to my mom’s leg. She was my protector and served as a source of unconditional love.

    As I left my mom’s side and went off to school, I encountered many new faces that introduced me to criticism and judgment.

    Being judged by your physical attributes as an adult, in a society that constantly strives for physical perfection, is hard enough, but understanding those judgments as a little girl can be quite the challenge.

    At such a young age, I had no way to process the mean words tossed my way, so I built a shell around myself and often wished I could become invisible to avoid hurting. I tried to carry on as if others’ words could not impact me.

    What I quickly learned as I went through life is that we all encounter many people along the way who will attempt to tear us down and break our spirit. What I couldn’t realize then is that it’s truly up to us to decide how we allow others to make us feel and whether or not we allow them to shape us into a person we are not.

    That little girl in a shell grew older, moving on through middle school, high school, college, and the career world post graduation.

    I encountered each day, each year, and each new opportunity with the same feeling of insecurity that formed in that little girl so many years ago.

    Even with all of the growth I’d experienced as I went through relationships, graduated college, lived on my own, and accomplished many goals, I somehow still felt like that vulnerable little girl who wished to remain unnoticed and wanted to crawl into a shell to avoid judgment.

    What makes the feeling worse is that those judgments don’t end when we leave childhood. They are simply just beginning. We will always encounter critics along our journey through life.

    When I began college, I joined practically every activity related to my major. In my personal life, I went on dates and tried to play the confident girl with a smile.

    After I graduated from college, I had to go on job interviews and pretend I was self-assured. Once I got the job, I had to give presentations, speak at meetings, and continue to fulfill my role with confidence.

    I pushed myself to achieve and continue moving forward, but I never felt truly fulfilled. I still remained insecure and began to question why I felt that way, why I was always stuck in my own head, and why I seemed to carry that shell on my back.

    Ultimately, I realized that I felt insecure because I was carrying around the words and judgments I’d heard at different points in my life as if they were written into the code of my DNA.

    I allowed people who held no significance in my life to take from who I am and hinder the person I have come to be.

    We have all had someone say something that does not reflect who we truly are, but sometimes we give it so much power that we allow it to define us.

    Because we are human, it is not always easy to instantly deflect how certain words make us feel, but we can search within ourselves to recognize when they become detrimental to who we are and how we live our lives.

    Have you ever let judgments or criticism from your past hinder who you are in the present? Have you allowed those words to impact what you are truly capable of? Now is the time to take back that power.

    Bring Those Feelings to the Surface

    It wasn’t until I was twenty-five years old that I could dig deep enough to peel away the layers I had built over the years and be honest with myself. Those layers masked the pain that had followed me wherever I seemed to go.

    If we are not honest with ourselves, it’s easier to remain in that shell and continue on as if those feelings don’t exist. We then relinquish our control and convince ourselves that maybe we are that person as we continue on the same path.

    Share Your Feelings With Someone Close to You

    Oftentimes, we find shame in the criticisms and judgments we’ve faced, so, we keep them to ourselves. After all, they’ve already hindered us enough. Why expose such raw feelings?

    Saying it out loud to someone who genuinely cares and supports you can minimize some of the vulnerability you feel from those who have been so quick to judge you.

    It can be therapeutic in not only bringing it to the surface, but in sharing it with another person who can be there for you and serve as a support system.

    Surround Yourself With the Right People/Eliminate the Wrong Ones

    While I did not have a choice to be surrounded by those kids in school, I have discovered the power in surrounding myself with positive people who have my best interests at heart.

    It’s not always easy to let go of people we form relationships with, but if those relationships enforce the negative feelings we are trying to release ourselves from, they only become counterproductive.

    People who truly care about us and deserve to be in our lives will not attempt to bring us down or carry the same judgments the people of our past have carried.

    Remind Yourself Who You Are

    It’s easy to get so caught up in what others say that we begin to see ourselves in that light. Don’t lose sight of who you truly are and the unique qualities you’ve built within yourself.

    As I go about my days, form new relationships, take on new challenges in my career, encounter obstacles, and celebrate accomplishments in life, I take the time to remind myself of who I’ve come to be on my own terms, not who other people have deemed me to be.

    I find that the more I change my old habits of thinking as that little girl with the shell, the easier it is for me to truly be the person I’ve chosen to be.

    It took me a long time, but I was finally able to recognize that the little girl with the shell is not who I am today. She will always be a part of me, but I cannot allow her to dominate my days or I will not be living up to my full potential.

    If there’s one thing I’ve learned on my journey so far, it’s that people can only take from you what you allow. If you allow others to define who you are, you are giving them the power to dictate where your path will lead.

    Photo by craigCloutier