Category: Blog

  • 5 Lessons About Change I Learned from Moving to a New City

    5 Lessons About Change I Learned from Moving to a New City

    “You may not be able to control every situation and its outcome, but you can control how you deal with it.” ~Unknown

    I recently moved to Florida, a decision thirty years in the making.

    Growing up in Haiti, I always longed to return to a warm climate. I remember being on our layover in Miami when we first moved to the States and thinking, “Why don’t we just stay here?” Moving to Boston at ten, the cold rain was a shock, and I’ve been dreaming of Florida ever since.

    Here’s the thing about dreams—they take time, and life sometimes gets in the way. I stayed in Boston for college, built a career, and raised my daughter, and every time I thought about making the move south, something else needed my attention.

    When my daughter graduated from high school, I felt the time was right. So I handed in my resignation, let our landlord know that we would be moving out, and started planning our move to Florida.

    You might be wondering, “Did you really move just for the sunshine and palm trees?” Well, yes and no. Those are wonderful (especially after decades of Boston winters!), but the truth is, it goes much deeper. It’s about finding a sense of belonging and reclaiming a piece of myself that I felt I lost along the way, reconnecting with the warmth that reminds me of my childhood in Haiti.

    Leaving Boston wasn’t easy. The friends, the routines, the community—I had built a life there. It was a terrifying decision. There were nights I lay awake wrestling with doubt, but deep down, I felt it was right.

    Reflecting on the move, here are five lessons it taught me, which I hope you can relate to.

    Lesson 1: Embrace the unknown.

    The fear of the unknown is usually one of the most daunting parts of any major life transition. And for me, moving to Florida was no different. I had to leave behind everything familiar to enter a world of uncertainty.

    I spent thirty years building a comfortable life in Boston. But comfort can be a double-edged sword—it can keep you from exploring and from finding new parts of yourself.

    During one of my first morning walks in Florida, I noticed how different everything felt—the air was warmer, the pace rather slow, and the faces were all unfamiliar. It hit me then: I was truly starting over.

    But it also reminded me of when I first moved to Boston from Haiti as a child and how different everything felt back then. Just as I adapted then, I knew I could do it again.

    Yes, the unknown can be scary, but growth happens when you embrace it—when you open yourself up to new experiences, people, and places.

    You have to be willing to explore, to try new things, to make mistakes and learn from them.

    Lesson 2: Plans don’t always work out.

    I’m a big-time planner. I love having everything mapped out, knowing exactly what’s going to happen and when. So, before our move, we knew where we were going to live, what college our daughter would attend, and how we would adjust to the new city.

    But life had other plans.

    We faced unexpected challenges—delays, changes in schedules, and problems we didn’t see coming.

    For example, right before our move, the moving company that had agreed to transport our belongings, cancelled at the last minute. I remember standing in the middle of our packed-up living room, filled with hundreds of packed boxes, and feeling utterly overwhelmed. How could something so important go so wrong at the last minute?

    In the end, we scrambled to find an alternative. When we finally did, the new company was delayed by several days, leaving us in limbo with everything packed but nowhere to go.

    So here is the thing—no matter how perfectly you plan, life has a way of throwing you curveballs. I had to accept that plans don’t always work out and that being adaptable is what really gets you through when things don’t go as expected.

    Lesson 3: People handle change differently.

    One thing I have learned about change is that everyone experiences it differently. We each have our own perspectives and our own ways of processing and reacting to what’s happening around us.

    My daughter was a bundle of nerves and excitement, stepping tentatively into adulthood, balancing her part-time job with college orientations and a whole new social scene. My husband, usually the rock, struggled to adapt to our new surroundings and missed his after-work routines and his usual grocery store.

    As for me, I was managing the logistics and emotional toll of the move, trying to keep everything on track—all while running a business still in its foundational stages.

    What worked for us? Regularly checking in with each other.

    It was powerful to ask—and really listen—about each other’s well-being and how each of us was dealing with this move. Taking the time to understand and connect with each other made all the difference.

    Lesson 4: Find your anchors.

    Amidst all the uncertainty and chaos that comes with a big life transition, finding things that ground you (I call these anchors) becomes your lifeline. These can be routines, habits, or places that give you a sense of stability when everything else is in flux.

    For me, journaling has become that sacred anchor. It’s my time to slow down, be present, and listen to myself. Every morning, I grab my journal and simply ask:

    “What am I feeling right now?”

    This one question opens up so much for me. It’s not just writing things down—it’s about connecting deeply with myself. It helps me embrace all the newness here in Florida, from the excitement of fresh starts to the occasional twinge of missing what I’ve left behind.

    Lesson 5: Don’t forget to laugh.

    Mistakes happen, especially during a big move.

    Like the time we realized we had packed essential items in the wrong boxes. We tore through boxes at midnight, finding only kitchen utensils and winter coats. We ended up using towels as makeshift pillows.

    We were stressed, tired, and frustrated beyond belief. But then we laughed about it.

    In moments of frustration, finding something to laugh about can shift your perspective and remind you that even in the most chaotic times, there are moments of joy and connection.

    Take a moment to think about these points.

    • How do you handle change? Do you find yourself trying to control every aspect, getting frustrated, or using humor to cope?
    • What unexpected changes have you faced recently? How did you adapt, and what did you learn about yourself in the process?
    • How do you support the people around you at times of change? Remember, you’re not the only one experiencing change; those around you are, too.

    Change is inevitable, but how we handle it defines our journey. Embrace the unknown, support each other, and don’t forget to laugh along the way.

  • How to Turn Shame into Self-Love and Emotional Resilience

    How to Turn Shame into Self-Love and Emotional Resilience

    “The less we talk about shame, the more control it has over our lives.” ~Brené Brown

    The pain and suffering I experienced as a child, which I kept hidden for over a decade, was the very seed that gave me the strength, resilience, empathy, authenticity, and courage that I possess today—but only because I surrendered the old story to embrace a new one. I alchemized my pain into my fuel, my traumas as contributions to my triumphs, and my curses into my greatest blessings.

    But all of this came with a very hefty price.

    Growing up with a single mother who worked two jobs to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table and with an estranged, abusive father who robbed me of my innocence and self-worth taught me that life’s odds were against me. This shaped my identity.

    I believed I couldn’t rely on or be safe around men and that a scarce number of resources were available for me. The abuse plunged me into a world where I felt I wasn’t good enough to be loved, heard, or seen, or to have the shiny life that the “Jones’s” had.

    Over the next decade, this led me down a long, windy path of reckless rebellion. It wasn’t safe to be home, and it wasn’t safe to be in my own body, so I found outlets to continually check out from reality because, back then, reality sucked most of the time.

    I had no concept or actual experience of life having consequences besides being grounded occasionally. While my mother was doing her best to keep the lights on, and without a healthy masculine role model at home, nothing was slowing my self-sabotage down, or so I thought…

    Then one spring day, life came crashing down, and sheer chaos unfolded, all in a flash. A careless moment brought unspeakable chaos. It shattered families, a community, and life as I knew it—my friends, my identity, my safety, my privacy, and what little dignity I had left.

    This was the first time I faced real-life consequences, not from my parents but now from a judge. I was forced to be sober and sit with all my demons. For countless reasons, this was one of my life’s scariest moments. It was a time when I was constantly living in flight-or-fight, hating myself and fearing my own existence.

    Little did I know this hell would be my chrysalis of transformation.

    It was the first time I had no choice but to face what I had been running from. I was forced to stop pretending and face the truth.

    To my surprise, it was only when I had to dig deep into the dark, sticky, monstrous shadow within myself and sit in the excruciating truths that I found what I unknowingly wanted all along—to be accepted and feel worthy. But not the outside acceptance of validation and popularity. I’m talking about the internal acceptance of what I had been through. Realizing that I am still lovable, worthy, bright, and beautiful, even with the shameful experience of being abused and all the hurt I had caused thereafter.

    As this process of healing and transformation unfolded over many years, I learned this: shame cannot live where there is truth.

    When we either hit rock bottom or make the courageous choice to turn inward and face the parts of ourselves that we have denied, abandoned, sabotaged, ignored, or hidden, it is, in fact, the same place where we find inner peace and power.

    This is the most profound paradox of life. The darkness we avoid is precisely where the miracles and healing wait for us.

    So, although I was, as some may say, dealt a crappy hand with a traumatic start to life, it was the fertile soil I needed to grow.

    Here, I found my voice and learned the wild lesson of how hiding is much more painful than being seen. OMG, if I could scream that from every rooftop for everyone to hear, I would! So this is me shouting and sharing, not as a concept but as a lived experience.

    When we lean into making our hardest trials into our greatest attributes, it creates deep internal strength and emotional resilience. It allows us to have a new perspective on what actually matters, enabling us to let trivial things roll off our backs.

    Life is going to have its challenges, and it’s inevitably going to give us uncomfortable experiences. So, the question is, which discomfort do you want to live with? The discomfort of hiding your truth, staying in self-sabotage, and being a victim of your past, or the one of growth, courage, authenticity, and writing your new story?

    If you’re ready for the latter, here is my advice within four practices to ultimately create unshakeable self-love, emotional resilience, and the fearlessness to be seen for who you truly are.

    1. Share your shame.

    It is critical to find a trusted person (or people) to share your shame with.

    When I began sharing, it was first with my brother, my best friend, and then my therapist.

    When you hold on to the shame, it festers. This often leads to chronic feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness, which can turn into self-sabotage and destructive behaviors of self-harm and addiction.

    Shame also creates barriers in relationships because it often comes with a fear of vulnerability and being seen with flaws, which often leads to blaming others and being defensive, and in extreme cases, turns into abusive and toxic behaviors.

    Another way shame shows up is in a professional setting, contributing to imposter syndrome, lack of confidence, and feeling unworthy of success or accomplishment. Overall, holding onto shame can significantly reduce our quality of life, both personally and professionally.

    As I shared earlier, shame cannot live where there is truth because when you shed the light of truth onto the pain, it no longer carries its power over you; it dissolves. It turns from something to hide into a wish for something better.

    When you share with a trusted person, you get to experience being seen, heard, and accepted and feeling that you are still worthy of love.

    2. Seek discomfort.

    Yes, seek it. You’ve got to get out of your comfort zone.

    I first began to do this by sharing my shame, as I mentioned above. I know how excruciatingly uncomfortable it is to share a deep, dark, shameful secret for the first time. It nearly brings me to tears as I write this, because I still remember what it was like. But, speaking from experience, the thought of it is way more terrifying than doing it. I promise that when you do it with that trusted person, you will feel so relieved.

    I also sought out discomfort through embodiment practices like yoga. In the beginning, this was very foreign to me because I was so used to being disconnected from my body, but as time went on, I became obsessed with yoga and got certified as a teacher!

    Lastly, when I was sober from all substances for five years, this was the first time I truly felt the sadness, guilt, confusion, and shame that I carried for over a decade because of the abuse from my father. Talk about discomfort!

    Resiliency and inner strength are not created in your comfort bubble. When you step into new experiences that stretch what you already know about yourself, it not only expands your capacity to be vulnerable, but it also empowers you in new and profound ways.

    3. Be authentic.

    There’s nothing more diminishing to the soul than not being who you truly are, whatever that means for you at this stage in your life. Authenticity breeds authenticity. It is contagious. When people feel you are authentic, it takes the pressure off them to pretend and invites them to let their guard down and be authentic, too. It’s a win/win!

    If you have a hard time being authentic because you fear rejection or judgment, then keep reading because what I’m about to tell you is a hard truth and requires a dose of tough love.

    If your family, friends, co-workers, partner, followers, or whomever rejects you for being truly, authentically you, then they are not meant for you! The world needs your authentic expression. This life is too short and too precious to waste not being your most brave, wild authentic self!

    And as far as judgment goes, another truth bomb here: People are going to judge you no matter what! Literally screaming this in my head as I type. Seriously though, whichever path you pick, people will judge—so you might as well be judged for being you.

    Practice being authentic in a small, low-risk situation first. For example, say no to something that doesn’t align with your values, even if it’s something minor, or wear an outfit that feels more “you,” even if it’s outside your usual style.

    4. Let yourself be seen.

    As I mentioned earlier, hiding is much more painful than being seen. Being seen goes hand in hand with self-acceptance. The more you accept yourself, flaws and all, the more willing you are to be seen. And the more willing you are to be seen, the more you will accept yourself! It is a mirror that shows you how you feel internally. When you allow yourself to be seen for who you are, you disarm other people’s judgments because you have created confidence and embraced yourself.

    If you’re going through hardship now, or the next time life gives you a disguised blessing, come back to these steps. They were not only my saving light in the darkness, but they are also proven tools for creating resilience and living empowered.

    I could have stayed in my destructive behavior, but I chose to lean in when I was at the scariest point of my life because I knew deep down there was something better for me on the other side.

    Remember, we all have crappy hands dealt to us at times, but in the end, it’s how we play our hand that matters most.

  • Creating Massive Change: How to Get Out of Our Own Way

    Creating Massive Change: How to Get Out of Our Own Way

    Has it ever occurred to you that maybe your life isn’t changing because you’re holding yourself back but don’t know it?

    Like maybe there’s something in your conditioning or a subconscious belief that’s preventing you from doing something that could bring you the change you seek?

    I’ve been thinking about this a lot since I took Nadia Colburn’s five-day mindful writing challenge because one of the prompts elicited a profound insight about why I’ve struggled to create the change I want most in life.

    Part of the prompt was “Don’t go off somewhere else,” and after a brief meditation at the start of the challenge that gave me a deep sense of calm and clarity, the following insight came to me: 

    Roots and wings—that’s what I’ve always wanted. And I always thought roots meant my home, my family of origin. Life away from them was wings. But I’ve spent my whole adult life feeling like I’ve had one foot out the door because I haven’t allowed myself to have roots and wings at the same time. And that’s what I really want. To allow myself to be fully where I am. To believe it’s safe to be where I am. It’s not wrong to be where I am. I’m not wrong, wherever I am.

    This was a big aha moment for me because it gave me further insight into something I’ve been reflecting on lately: that in all my moves—fifteen of them within twenty years—I never allowed myself to really settle in. To commit to things. To become part of a community.

    This isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy my varied chapters or that I regret a single one of them. I did and I don’t. I just never allowed myself to do anything that might make me feel hemmed in.

    For a long time, I thought it was insecurity and self-protection—my conditioning from abuse and bullying telling me that no one would truly love me, and that it wasn’t safe to be part of the group. To some extent, it was.

    But I know now that I was also trapped by the invisible fence of a limiting belief—that it’s wrong to live far from my family. Both of my siblings still live not just in my home state but in my parents’ home, mere minutes from extended family. And I’ve always felt like the black sheep while desperately wanting to be part of the flock.

    So I’ve lived in many places like a traveler, not a resident, to avoid digging my heels in too deep to ever go home, or to visit home whenever I wanted.

    That’s all changing now that I have kids because I want them to feel at home. To make real friends. To have commitments and routines. So I’m putting down roots, a second set, and working through the fear that this might mean losing my family.

    I have more responsibility and ties than I’ve ever had as an adult, and I always assumed this would mean clipping my wings, yet I feel free. Because the thing I’ve feared the most is also the thing I want the most. And I’m finally overcoming the biggest barriers to experiencing it—the limitations of my own mind.

    It’s hard to get past our own internal blocks because they’re often hidden. They’re the stories we’ve told ourselves over and over for years, the lies we tell ourselves so regularly they feel like truth.

    But they’re not truth. They’re misinterpretations of past events that have hardened into worldviews. They’re assumptions based on (often painful) experiences that we’ve backed up with so much ‘evidence’ they now seem like facts.

    They’re essentially circus mirror glasses, distorting what we see and limiting our options—unless we decide to start the work of taking them off.

    It starts with asking ourselves some questions to discover how and why we’re holding ourselves back, including:

    What’s the story I’m telling myself about why I can’t do what I want to do? What do I gain from holding onto this narrative? And what might I gain if I let it go?

    Which beliefs have I inherited or absorbed from others? Why don’t these beliefs serve my highest good? And what would I do differently if I considered that they’re not actually true?

    How might my inner critic be lying to me, attempting to keep me safe? How is this ‘safety’ actually a prison? And what’s the truth that would set me free?

    It’s taken me over two decades to get past my internal block to settling in, and only in recent years did I even recognize it was there.

    This makes sense, given that I also spent decades cementing the paralyzing beliefs that family should be close but distance = safety.

    That’s often the case for a lot of us: Our beliefs were engrained over many years, which means it can take time to unearth and challenge them—and even longer to find the courage to consistently act in spite of them so that we can slowly build up evidence that it’s safe and beneficial to do so.

    But it all starts with internal inquiry. It starts with looking within. It starts in silence and stillness and a willingness to question what we think we know.

    If you do this, perhaps, like me, you’ll find that sometimes the most important piece of knowledge is the one you’re willing to let go.

    If you’re interested in taking the mindful writing challenge I mentioned at the beginning (from Tiny Buddha contributor Nadia Colburn, who’s one of this month’s site sponsors), you can access it for free here.

    Each day for five days, you’ll receive a fifteen-minute recording including a short meditation, an evocative poem, and a writing exercise inspired by that piece.

    I hope you find the practice as illuminating and empowering as I did!

  • How to Honor Our Grief While Rebuilding Our Lives

    How to Honor Our Grief While Rebuilding Our Lives

    “Grief is not something that ever goes away. You just learn to accommodate it so you can move forward in your life and over time it gets less intense, at least most of the time.” ~David Baxter

    Grief is a natural response to loss. Loss can mean the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the loss of a job or home, or a response to trauma, abuse, or betrayal. Grief shows itself differently in different people. But the common denominator is that grief goes deep, and grieving is painful.

    Around six years ago, my life was turned upside down and would never be the same again.

    I was raised in a cult from the age of nine. I was a child of domestic violence and divorce. My father abandoned the family, and we subsequently suffered abuse from my mother’s partners.

    By age seventeen, I met a young man, and we began dating. In line with the strict moral code I was raised with, we were married by the time I was nineteen.

    We had two children, and I struggled to be the perfect wife, mother, and cult member, as I suffered from severe anxiety, coupled with feelings of self-loathing and mistrust of others.

    My husband was selfish and narcissistic, which led to me carrying the weight of the family almost alone. Yet, I battled on, wanting my children to grow up with both parents, feeling safe and in a strong, supportive community.

    Eventually, things came to a head, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. After twenty years of marriage, I separated from my husband and was subsequently excommunicated by the cult. This meant that I was completely cut off from my mother, my community, and childhood friends—basically everything and everyone I knew and loved.

    Outside of the cult, I had no one and nothing.

    Almost overnight, I had lost my whole identity and support network along with beliefs that I had held on to for the whole of my life.

    A few months after the excommunication, a close family member who was only twenty-seven took his own life. I was devastated and still reeling from the other losses that were still so raw.

    Despite all of this, I was determined to rebuild a life for myself and my children. I educated myself, got a better job, made new friends, had relationships, and eventually met a good man who would go on to support and love me with all my struggles.

    I was all about ‘moving on’ and building the life I wanted! But every now and then, I would get so very sad.

    I was receiving counseling specific to my situation, which was helping, I had a good life, and those things that hurt me were in the past. I was doing all the ‘right’ things, so why was I getting so sad to the point that I wanted to push everything and everyone away and be alone?

    I would feel like I had accomplished nothing and would be plagued with guilt and shame and regret. It would make me feel vulnerable and unsafe, and I couldn’t understand why.

    Then, after another tearful and anxious weekend, I decided to try to focus on myself, meditate, journal, and do some yoga—all the things that usually helped at least ease the symptoms.

    It was during my meditation session that it occurred to me: I am still grieving. I am grieving the loss of a childhood, the loss of my community, of my beliefs, of my family and friends. I am grieving the loss of my parents and of my beautiful nephew. I am grieving what I imagined my life would be and what I imagined my children’s lives would be.

    I realized that grief doesn’t have a time limit; it doesn’t get ‘done.’ It’s not something we get through and tick off at the end.

    My grief wasn’t just going to go away over time or with lots of positive thinking.

    When we suffer loss, it hits us throughout our lives. And that’s okay. It’s uncomfortable and it’s sad, but it’s okay. It’s sometimes so painful that it is overwhelming or debilitating. We can allow ourselves to feel that sadness. We can grieve. We can allow ourselves a little space to honor that loss.

    I write this because so many of us have suffered loss in our lives, and we so want to move on, do better, be better, and heal, and we can. But we also have to remember that the loss we felt was real, that grief is not a linear process, and that it’s okay if years later, we are still sad and grieving the loss. We have not gone back to the beginning. We’re not starting again or getting nowhere.

    We cannot force ourselves to ‘get over it.’ We can, however, make room for that grief and still live a rewarding life. By honoring our grief, we can allow place for the loss but see that we can have a future and continue to work toward that.

    I know I will never ‘get over’ the effects that abuse, abandonment, betrayal, and loss have had on me. I know I will always miss and feel sad about the loss of my nephew. I know I will always return to the grief because those things cannot be erased from my memory and because those things were my life and mattered to me.

    But I can allow myself to grieve those losses without guilt or shame. I can soothe myself and take care of myself during those times when I am feeling fragile instead of beating myself up and berating myself for feeling that way and for not ‘being strong.’

    When I do this, I come back feeling comforted and validated, and I can move on for a while to crafting the life I want to live. I can appreciate the friendships and relationships I have formed. I can explore new beliefs. I can entertain hope.

    When I honor my grief, I honor the people I have loved and lost; I honor the beliefs I held and the hopes I had; I honor my hurt; and I honor that they were part of me and my journey and, in some ways, always will be. But I also allow myself to accept that I can honor my grief and still have a good life. I can rebuild. I can be happy.

  • Easily Annoyed by Your Partner? A Relationship-Saving Approach

    Easily Annoyed by Your Partner? A Relationship-Saving Approach

    “You are not your feelings. You just experience them. Anger, sadness, hate, depression, fear. This is the rain you walk in. But you don’t become the rain. You know the rain will pass. You walk on. And you remember the soft glow of the sun that will come again.” ~Matt Haig

    Being a relationship-oriented person all my life, I’ve found it fascinating and frustrating how easy it is to feel annoyed with one’s spouse—the person we are supposed to feel most happy to be around.

    I used to feel quite annoyed with my husband on a nearly daily basis. But with a bit of effort, annoyance has now become only an occasional companion who I feel pretty much at peace with.

    But boy, it was no fun back in the day. Little things that probably wouldn’t bother others really rubbed me the wrong way: How he hums sometimes when he chews. The slightest aggravation in his tone when speaking to our sons. The way he’d ask me to move when he was putting the dishes away and I was chopping veggies for dinner.

    When I learned I was a highly sensitive person (HSP)—one of the 25% of people who have a genetic trait that leads to processing all stimuli, including emotions, more deeply than others—it put things in perspective. And it helped me begin learning how to go from feeling overwhelmed by annoyance to it being a very occasional and mostly mellow experience.

    HSPs have a stronger tendency to feel easily annoyed or irritated by our significant others, as our systems are sensitive, and we tend to notice every little thing about others—so even small imperfections can loom large and get irritatingly under our skin.

    But you don’t have to be highly sensitive to feel frequently annoyed in your intimate relationship! I know plenty of non-HSPs who are also often accompanied by that old annoyance monster.

    Whether you are an HSP or not (here are some positive clues that you may be!), annoyance and irritation are much more likely to crop up when you are already in a state of stress or overstimulation, which happens more quickly for HSPs than it does for others.

    The frantic pace of the holiday season a few years back brought this into sharp focus. And it wasn’t just me. Many friends and fellow HSPs around me expressed sentiments like “I’m so irritated lately,” “My husband is so annoying,” “He’s just driving me crazy,” and “I’m worried that I’m annoyed with my partner so often.”

    Several women even confessed that their annoyance had led them to question the foundation of their relationships, fearing that something was fundamentally wrong and that perhaps it meant they shouldn’t be with their spouse anymore.

    I heard this more often from the HSPs I know. This is because HSPs tend to be highly aware and conscientious, and so we recognize this tendency to be more irritable than others, and we worry about its impact on our relationships and ourselves.

    Although I never personally feel that worry anymore, I remember it well, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I had started to feel a resurgence of that annoyance toward my dear hubby during those holiday weeks. So I know how uncomfortable these feelings can be, and how hard they can be on our partner as well.

    Because when we feel annoyed, we act—dare I say it—annoying, or at least difficult. And that can be hard for everyone—kids, our partner, and others—to be around.

    So, let’s delve deeper into why we can be prone to annoyance in our intimate relationships, why HSPs are particularly susceptible to strong feelings of irritation, and how I successfully stopped letting these feelings damage my marriage—and how you can stop feeling so bad about your annoyed feelings and allowing them to be a problem in your relationship.

    Why Do We Get Easily Annoyed by Minor Issues?

    The human brain is more focused on things that go wrong (about two-thirds of the time) or things that are lacking than those that are going well (about one-third of the time). This is called the negativity bias of the brain, and it’s a survival thing: If it’s really zoned in on what’s wrong or missing, its primal logic goes, it will keep us alive longer! So it judges things as bad or wrong at the drop of a hat, always keeping a vigilant lookout for all that is not right. In more truly threatening situations, this tendency gives rise to such emotions as fear and anger.

    But in times of less actual threat, such as a hectic holiday season with loved ones, the emotions this part of our brain generates are less intense. Say hello to annoyance, aggravation, and irritation!

    Pair that with all the time we spend living and navigating choices and chores with one particular person who may do things differently than we would—our intimate partner—and we are bound to have lots of opportunities for annoyance to crop up regularly.

    And since HSPs experience all stimuli with greater intensity, for us, even the most subtle or minor irritants, which might not faze others, can become quite aggravating.

    That holiday season I mentioned was particularly hectic for me. Juggling three kids’ needs, running my own business, and managing a large extended family, I anticipated that these few weeks would test my patience. Therefore, when I found myself persistently irritated, it wasn’t unexpected.

    When I began to get aggravated by every small thing my husband did (such as retelling the same story over and over) or didn’t do (like failing—again!—to light the wood stove first thing in the morning as I’d requested regularly), I didn’t let myself spiral into despair about my marriage.

    Instead, here’s what I did to gracefully get myself through those days of annoyance.

    How to Handle Your Annoyance with Your Partner

    1. Own your feelings as your own.

    The first thing I did was to remind myself that my frustration wasn’t a result of my husband’s actions. I realized that he hadn’t changed or become any more bothersome than usual. He was just doing things as he usually does them. My feelings were entirely about what was happening within me.

    2. Acknowledge what your feelings feel like in your body.

    Next, instead of simply being in those feelings, I examined them, like a scientist might examine a cell through a microscope—with real curiosity—specifically, about what they felt like in my body. I noticed the heat they created, especially in my arms, and the almost prickly sensation in my head and chest.

    As I stayed with these sensations, I noticed they were not comfortable, but not really so bad, either. And that the feelings seemed to fade as I simply acknowledged and sat with them like a good friend. I learned that this was a great way to ease my annoyance and stop letting it erupt out of me at my husband.

    3. Delve into what is fueling these emotions.

    With continued curiosity, I examined what could be driving these feelings, again, knowing it had everything to do with me.

    I recognized that physical factors were contributing to my irritation: fluctuating hormones, stress, the endless gray skies, and the long, dark nights—all contributing to a sense of cabin fever.

    I also noticed that I was fixating on what was wrong, slipping into a critical mindset, rather than acknowledging what was going well. My thoughts were very fixated on the ways my husband wasn’t being who I wanted him to be or doing what I wanted him to do. They were quite engaged in a big old game of judge, judge, judge (hello, negativity bias)!

    Seeing this freed me up to deliberately shift my focus to the positive aspects of my partner and our current situation—of which there were plenty. This change in perspective helped ease my irritation a bit.

    4. Notice the stories your mind is weaving about what these feelings mean—and disbelieve them.

    Most of us, especially HSPs, take our thoughts about our feelings really seriously. As in, “If I feel irritated, something must be wrong with my husband, or with me, or with US!”

    How do you feel when you think like that? Likely worried. And pretty upset. I know I did when I used to buy into that kind of thinking.

    Although I no longer believed my thoughts about what this upsurge of annoyance “meant,” they still came up, such as:

    Could something be wrong with me and my ability to love? Does this annoyance mean I’ll never feel good with my husband again? Does it mean he’s an annoying person and I made a mistake marrying him?

    I knew those thoughts were normal, and I didn’t give them much stock. Truly, thinking such anxious thoughts and analyzing their implications through a fear-based lens is typical for the human mind—like a habit (especially, once again, for the sensitive human mind). It doesn’t mean they have any truth.

    I realized more than ever that these emotions, rather than being an indication of a problem in our relationship, were signaling that something was off for ME, about ME. In and of themselves, they mean nothing about my husband’s character, whether I love him or not, or how compatible we are.

    So, when any “meaning making” thoughts came up about my annoyance toward him, I’d just let them drift on by like passing clouds. I reminded myself I am human, and humans feel annoyed around other humans sometimes, no matter who the other person is. And it’s just no biggy.

    The ironic thing about this was, as the annoyance stopped feeling like a threat and I felt less stress around it, it actually stopped rearing its head so much.

    5. Look at what you’re doing to annoy yourself.

    My biggest realization was that I was the one annoying myself. Because I had not been supporting myself well during the chaos of the season.

    For highly sensitive people, a lifestyle full of genuine self-care and quiet moments is essential. Without it, we easily become overstimulated, which naturally leads to irritability. Actually, anyone who is overstimulated or stressed is easily irritated—and in our modern world, most of us are chronically stressed.

    By neglecting to schedule adequate downtime, skipping my walks, staying up later and later each night, and cramming every available minute with work to finish everything before my vacation, I had been putting myself in a chronically over-aroused state and therefore annoying myself.

    Often, the amount of annoyance we feel is in direct proportion to the amount of nervous system-regulating self-care that we practice. In other words, if you feel annoyed, try adding some self-care—specifically things that regulate your nervous system.

    So I did just that when I could make time for it during the holiday bustle. Once the festivities ended, I dedicated even more time to quiet and relaxation and got back to a much more peaceful place inside myself.

    The result of doing these five things?

    My annoyance was completely replaced by natural and strong feelings of affection and appreciation for my husband. I started feeling so much love for him and being more loving, so he, too, became more loving, and our time together became fun once again.

    That’s because it’s easy to love and enjoy someone who is so obviously loving and enjoying you.

    You can follow the same approach I did to alleviate the annoyance you might be experiencing.

    We all want to feel relaxed and content, truly enjoying the company of our chosen partner—and to feel that love reciprocated! Sometimes, it requires a bit more intentional effort to achieve this. It’s simply part of being a person, highly sensitive or not, navigating a hectic modern world.

  • How I Turned My Pain and Anxiety into Personal Growth

    How I Turned My Pain and Anxiety into Personal Growth

    “The only way out is through.” ~Robert Frost

    When I reflect on the past fifteen years of my life, I sometimes joke about my struggles to lighten the weight of what I’ve endured. “What struggle don’t I have?” I’d say, laughing, but beneath that humor is a real story of pain, burnout, and learning to rebuild myself, piece by piece.

    I faced chronic pain, anxiety, emotional abuse, two burnouts, long COVID, and emotional eating—all before I hit my thirties. It’s been a long journey, and while I still have days where I’m not as happy as I want to be, I’m getting better every day.

    I was born and raised in the Netherlands, quite literally in the home where I was born. I’m now twenty-seven and have spent most of my life in this same place.

    Growing up, I had what you’d call a “normal” childhood until I turned twelve and began experiencing chronic pain—a constant burning sensation in my abdomen that no doctor could initially explain. For years, I pushed through it, unwilling to be the person people pitied or labeled as “sick.”

    This pain was eventually diagnosed as ACNES (Anterior Cutaneous Nerve Entrapment Syndrome), a condition where a nerve in my stomach was trapped, causing me constant pain. For years, it was a mystery, and it wasn’t until I was seventeen that an injection finally brought me relief, almost like a miracle. But while this should have been a breakthrough, the universe had other plans.

    Around the same time, I developed severe anxiety and panic attacks, triggered by an emotionally unhealthy relationship I’d been in since I was fourteen. The boy who had once been my best friend slowly became someone who contributed to my anxiety, often leaving me stranded when I needed support most.

    By the time I was nineteen, I had burned out completely. My anxiety was overwhelming. I was juggling a full-time internship and school while trying to please a boyfriend who didn’t understand or care about my emotional needs. My body gave in. I had to quit my internship, forcing me to repeat a year of school. This felt like an enormous failure, especially since all my friends had moved on without me.

    At my lowest, I often wondered if I could keep going. I cried endlessly, I felt isolated, and I was consumed by anxiety. My parents were my lifeline, but even they couldn’t fully pull me out of the depths of what I was feeling.

    For years, I stayed in that relationship, convinced that my unhappiness was somehow my fault. But eventually, I became numb to the chaos. When we finally broke up, I felt a wave of relief I hadn’t known was possible.

    Yet, the struggle didn’t end there. I managed to graduate with my HR degree and even found a job I enjoyed. Then ACNES returned with a vengeance.

    I spent two years practically bedridden, unable to work, exercise, or socialize. I turned to food for comfort, which led to weight gain, further chipping away at my self-esteem. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I caught COVID at the end of 2020. Long COVID added brain fog, exhaustion, and concentration problems to my list of challenges.

    But in the midst of all this, there was a turning point. About two years ago, during a particularly rough throat infection, I broke down. I couldn’t take the suffering anymore. As I cried, a realization hit me: I couldn’t control what was happening to me, but I could control how I responded.

    That moment sparked a change in me. I began taking small steps to regain control over my life, starting with my mindset.

    I began reading more about mindset and habit change. Books like Atomic Habits by James Clear and Good Vibes, Good Life by Vex King helped me see that I had the power to shape my own reality through my thoughts and actions.

    I sought out therapy and started working with a therapist who reinforced that I was the only one responsible for my happiness.

    I began making conscious decisions to take care of myself, even in small ways.

    I also started implementing routines that helped anchor me. Each morning, I wake up at the same time, make my bed, do some light skincare, and journal. It sounds simple, but these small habits have helped me feel more in control, even when my health is unpredictable.

    That said, I’m not here to advocate for any one-size-fits-all solution. I tried antidepressants when my anxiety was at its worst, and it was a good decision for me at the time. But what works for one person may not work for another. The key is to stay open to your options and trust your instincts.

    Long COVID, ACNES, and anxiety are still part of my life, and I’m still working on losing the weight I gained during those difficult years. But I’m learning to be kinder to myself and take things one step at a time. I’ve learned that there’s no quick fix for deep-seated pain—physical or emotional—but there are ways to make life more manageable.

    One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is the value of self-worth. For years, I didn’t believe I deserved better than what I had, whether that was in relationships, my career, or how I treated myself. I had to remind myself daily that I was worthy of love, respect, and happiness. I used affirmations on sticky notes, mood boards, and even as my phone background—anything that would remind me of my worth when I felt down.

    I also learned to prioritize rest and recognize when I needed a break. Especially with long COVID, I’ve had to listen to my body and respect its limits. I created a list of small, manageable tasks I could do when my energy was low, like organizing a drawer or dusting a room. These small actions helped me feel productive, even on days when I couldn’t do much.

    It’s also worth mentioning that having a solid support system can make all the difference. I’m fortunate to have incredibly supportive parents and two close friends who I can open up to without fear of judgment. Sharing my struggles with them has been healing in itself, even though I still hesitate to be vulnerable with others.

    If I could leave you with one piece of advice, it would be this: You are your greatest advocate. You are responsible for your well-being, and that means setting boundaries, prioritizing your mental and physical health, and not settling for less than you deserve. You’re worth the effort it takes to care for yourself properly.

    As I continue to rebuild my life, I’ve started to share more of my experiences online through my personal growth site. I was once hesitant to be so open, but now I see the value in sharing my story. If my journey can help even one person feel less alone or inspire them to take action in their own life, then it’s worth it.

    Ultimately, life will always throw challenges our way. We can’t control everything, but we can control how we respond. And sometimes, that’s enough.

  • Free 5-Day Meditation and Writing Challenge

    Free 5-Day Meditation and Writing Challenge

    Hi friends! Today, I’m thrilled to share with you an empowering five-day meditation and writing challenge from Tiny Buddha contributor (and this month’s site sponsor) Nadia Colburn.

    Founder of the online creative writing school Align Your Story, Nadia is a poet, memoirist, and yogi who has a talent for helping people access their creative voice on a deeper level. And that’s exactly what she’s done with this challenge.

    Each day’s fifteen-minute recording will guide you through a short meditation, share an evocative poem, and lead you through a quick writing exercise inspired by that day’s piece.

    When she first told me about the challenge, I was intrigued because I know how powerful it can be to pair meditation with creative practices—and writing specifically.

    By taking a few minutes to calm our minds and create mental spaciousness, we allow for the kind of clarity that can lead to profound insights about ourselves, what we need, and what we might want to do going forward.

    That’s exactly what I got out of this experience.

    I was energized by the ideas the prompts elicited and excited to recognize a common theme within my writing—a consistent message that illuminated what I most need at this point in my life.

    Due to the demands of work, parenting, and a recent move, I’ve been a little disconnected from myself as of late. This five-day challenge helped me reconnect with my center and access the quiet voice within that knows what’s best for me.

    You don’t need to be a professional writer or even an aspiring author to get something out of this challenge. It’s for anyone who wants to connect with themselves more deeply and perhaps find some of the answers they’ve been seeking externally within the quiet of their own mind.

    Some of Nadia’s past participants have noted how easily their writing flowed after meditation and how the prompts brought them unexpected insights.

    If you decide to give this a challenge a try, I have a feeling it could do the same for you.

    You can access the 5-day challenge here.

  • How I Created a Beautiful Life on the Other Side of Burnout

    How I Created a Beautiful Life on the Other Side of Burnout

    “If you dont give your mind and body a break, you’ll break. Stop pushing yourself through pain and exhaustion and take care of your needs. ~Lori Deschene

    For forty-five minutes, I lay on my yoga mat in child’s pose, unable to move.

    The exhaustion in my body felt like a thousand kilos, and the ache of failure pricked my eyes with tears.

    Despite all my early morning runs, after-work bootcamps, and restricted meals, my body did not look like the bikini models I saw on Instagram.

    Despite all my energy, efforts, and attention, my romantic relationship had fallen apart. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, he didn’t love me anymore, and I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong.

    Despite my long working hours and high levels of stress, my boss didn’t recognize me, and I had to face the fact that I just wasn’t the talented designer I was trying so hard to be.

    As I wallowed in my failure and the heartbreak of ‘not enough,’ I felt my body pleading with me.

    “Why don’t you love me?” she asked. “Why do you push me so hard? Why is it NEVER enough?”

    I was taken aback, as it was the first time I heard this voice, and it was full of the pain of rejection.

    In that moment, I realized that everything I had been pushing for had been sending the message that I was ultimately unacceptable as I was. I needed to change or be different in order to be loved, valued, and successful.

    The harder I tried to be perfect, to achieve, to prove my worth, the more exhausted, broken, and small I felt. By desperately trying to win other people’s approval, I was actually rejecting and abandoning myself.

    This realization flooded me with grief. What had I done to myself???

    Since this was clearly not working, I made a decision that changed my life.

    “Okay,” I said to my body. “We’re going to do things differently.”

    “From now on, I’m going to listen to you,” I promised. “We are going to do this TOGETHER.”

    As soon as I made this commitment, I felt my body exhale with relief. She had been waiting for this moment my whole life.

    In the months that followed, I left my job, I left my friendships, and I left the home my ex and I had built together.

    I found refuge on my parents’ couch with severe burnout. After years of pushing, my body had finally collapsed.

    My body struggled to walk to the end of the street. Being in a store was so overly stimulating that I felt like I was going to pass out. I couldn’t sleep for months. I had severe stomach pains and terrible migraines, and I couldn’t think straight. My heart was broken. I felt like my life was over.

    It was physically excruciating. It was emotionally devastating. It was the biggest blessing.

    My body was giving me the chance to start again.

    The thing about burnout is that you can never go back to how you were living before. That way was clearly not working: the lifestyle, the thought patterns, the identity, the environments—it was not serving you.

    Burnout burns it all to the ground and forces you to start over.

    My identity used to be a “hardworking, people-pleasing perfectionist addicted to external validation.” If I hadn’t done the inner work to let go of that pattern and completely rewire my identity, I would have ended up straight back in burnout just a few years later (which is, sadly, something that happens to others).

    Trust me, burnout is not something you want to repeat. I promised myself I would NEVER end up in that situation again.

    During my healing journey, I focused on building a relationship with myself and my body. Not one where I commanded and pushed my body, but one where I regularly checked in with her, learned to listen to her, and respectfully honored her needs.

    Every morning, I sat on my meditation cushion and took time to go within.

    What was I feeling?

    How was I speaking to myself? 

    Where was I judging myself?

    What did my body need from me that day?

    My burnout took two years, almost three, to recover from fully. To say I felt impatient to feel “normal” again is an understatement.

    Any time I felt frustration toward my body, I quickly shifted my attitude to compassion and gratitude, recognizing that my body had been through hell and was doing her best to recharge back to optimal health. My impatience was only adding more stress that, honestly, she didn’t need to deal with.

    It was in this way that I learned to love myself, as I was, without all the labels of achievement. Burnout had stripped away everything I had worked so hard for—my career, my relationships, my physique, my home. I had to learn to truly love myself without the badge of productivity.

    Through this loving commitment, my body guided me on how to live a life that was right for me.

    I found I was a Human Design Projector, which is an intuitive guide who needs to manage their energy to stay happy and healthy in this hectic productive-obsessed world. I adjusted my schedule based on my energetic rhythms to include more rest and play in my day (which, admittedly, was not easy at first with my workaholic tendencies, but now I can’t imagine any other way).

    Creating more space allowed me to find my soul’s purpose in teaching others how to connect to their bodies, love themselves unconditionally, and create successful lives in a sustainable way. I created a business based on what I love to do, began coaching women, and held retreats all over the world—without the extreme hustle I had been used to.

    All the pressure to shrink down was gone. Instead of counting calories and pushing my body to the extreme, I focused on nutrition and movement that felt good. I didn’t care if my cellulite was showing or what people thought of the outfits I chose. The space that this opened up in my mind after years of obsession was the most freeing thing ever.

    Learning to love my body changed my entire approach to life. It made me aware of my boundaries for the first time and helped me to create balanced relationships that felt truly fulfilling.

    I went from overworking in a job I hated and over-giving in terrible relationships to running a purpose-led business where I get paid to be myself and surrounding myself with truly supportive people.

    All because my body pulled the breaks on my old life and made me change direction. She showed me there was a more sustainable, more joyful, and more aligned way to make my dreams come true.

    And for that, I am eternally grateful.

  • The Consequences of Perfectionism and How to Embrace Life’s Messiness

    The Consequences of Perfectionism and How to Embrace Life’s Messiness

    “Perfectionism doesn’t make you feel perfect. It makes you feel inadequate.” ~Maria Shriver

    My name is Steffi, and I am a recovering perfectionist. This might come as a surprise to those who know me because I don´t fit the stereotype. The inside of my bag is as messy as my hair, and I always give off the impression that I left the house five minutes too late (which is usually true). My wardrobe is not color-coordinated, and I haven’t organized a flawless birthday party yet.

    It also goes against how I have always seen myself. My greatest life skill is my ability to freestyle—to think on my feet and go with the flow. Because it goes against everything I believed about myself, it took me a long time to recognize and accept my perfectionism.

    And yet, in the areas that I truly care about, I hold myself to the highest standards. I become rigid and controlling. I feel no joy or flow, just a crippling pressure to be perfect.

    In my work, I am always analyzing where I need to do better. I constantly wonder whether I am a good enough partner, friend, and family member (and the answer is usually no). And I really want to live a sustainable life and feel guilty when I am not meeting my own standards.

    Even in the areas where I seem to have embraced my own messiness, I kind of wish it was different. I judge the inside of my bag and my mediocre event planning skills. I feel judgment about all the parts of my life that don´t feel perfectly put together.

    To my great frustration, my perfectionism has the opposite of the desired effect: I become worse at what I do. I am no longer able to be flexible, experimental, and curious. I notice that when my perfectionist tendencies are at their strongest, my creativity doesn’t flow, and I can’t show up in my relationships the way I want to.

    When my perfectionism feels extra strong, I self-sabotage by just not showing up at all. I choose the disappointment of what could have been over the potential pain of being confronted with my own shortcomings.

    The difference between healthy self-reflection and perfectionism feels very clear to me. When my perfectionist tendencies show up, my body becomes tense, my breathing shallow, and my thoughts scattered. I want to immediately go and fix things and drop whatever else I was doing in that moment.

    Perfectionism can be seen as a positive force for improvement and progress, but it does not come from a positive place. It is a fear-based approach, and underneath it lies a fear that if we are not perfect at what we set out to do, we are not good enough. And because we set the standards impossibly high for ourselves, we will probably not live up to them.

    Underneath it lies a fear of criticism, not just from others but mostly from ourselves. When someone finds fault in what we do, that is the confirmation of what we feared all along: that we simply are not good enough at what we care about the most.

    While, for some people, perfectionism brings them great success in their career, it often comes with a high cost. It can lead to frustration, exhaustion, and burnout. The intense pressure we put on ourselves can rob us of our joy and peace.

    When the pressure gets really intense, it can even lead to procrastination. As we are convinced that we can never live up to the standards we put on ourselves, we stop trying altogether. This way, we avoid criticism from ourselves and others, but it also robs us of the chance of achieving something meaningful.

    Perfectionism is, in essence, the fear of not being good enough. We believe that if only we are perfect in that area, we will finally be worthy of good things: a successful career, money, love from other people, or health and well-being. We subconsciously believe that by giving it our all, we can protect ourselves and our loved ones from the pain of feeling that we are falling short.

    The problem is that, eventually, we do fall short. Because perfectionism means we have set standards for ourselves that we can´t always fulfill. Life and other people and their opinions are simply not always within our control.

    The irony is that perfectionism not only can’t stop us from falling short, but it can also encourage it. Oftentimes, we become so critical of ourselves that we don´t even try, or when we do, it stops us from fully showing up.

    While my perfectionism pops up from time to time, I now know how to recognize it and stop myself from spiraling. I focus on calming my mind and body and making space for the joy and messiness of life. If you recognize this feeling of your perfectionism running the show, here are some things you can do.

    1. Learn to recognize your own critical voice.

    What are the areas of life that you feel most protective of? What are the fears and doubts that come up when you think about those areas of life? What do you believe it says about you when you don´t live up to your standards?

    You can even go back and see if you can remember when you first heard that critical voice. Does it sound like your own, or like the voice of a teacher, parent, or someone else you know?

    Reflecting on what your critical voice sounds like and becoming familiar with it will give you insight into where it comes from. It also helps you recognize your perfectionism when it comes up in your day-to-day life.

    2. When your perfectionism shows up, pause and take a deep breath.

    This might feel counterintuitive, as your perfectionism probably wants to propel you into action. It can be very tempting to follow the voice and fix what you feel needs fixing. But this only supports your perfectionism.

    Focusing on your breath gets you out of your head and your critical thoughts, even if it is just for a moment. It then gives you a choice: Do you want to act from a place of fear or move forward with more kindness toward yourself?

    3. Notice the sensations in your body and make loving space for them.

    When you have taken a moment to breathe, see if you can notice your physical sensations.

    Perfectionism means your nervous system feels activated, so where do you notice that in your body? Where do you feel tension or contraction?

    Give yourself the space to really experience what you are feeling. It does not need to go away or be any different. Make loving space for your experience. Just breathe and feel.

    As you breathe into the tension, you might feel emotions coming up. Just let them flow. With some loving attention, you will probably feel the tension dissolve, even if it is just a little.

    Your perfectionism is a form of self-protection. It is there to keep you safe from pain, disappointment, and rejection. By giving the experience your gentle care, you are giving it the opposite from the criticism it usually receives.

    4. Implement a calming practice.

    Perfectionism is fear-based, which means you are no longer looking at your situation from a neutral perspective. Calming your nervous system helps you open up to a new perspective, as your mind feels calmer when your body is relaxed.

    It is really helpful to find out what feels calming to you. It could be humming, taking deep breaths, practicing gentle movement, or looking at the clouds. For me personally, it is walking barefoot, feeling soft fabrics around my body, and hearing the sound of the ocean.

    Finding your own calm resources means you will always be able to access them. Over time, this will help you feel triggered for shorter periods of time, and it will be less intense.

    5. Allow yourself to be a little messy.

    Make the conscious choice to be a little messy in the areas that you feel most perfectionist about. Life is a little messy, and so are we. When you choose your messy moments, you become more equipped to handle them when they inevitably happen.

    Now, I am not saying “let everything go and be messy.” Instead, I encourage you to choose flexibility where before you felt rigid. It is like you are gently stretching your resilience for messiness.

    That could mean leaving the laundry for the next day, buying a birthday cake rather than making one, or allowing your unfinished art projects to be seen by your loved ones. Maybe it means giving yourself a day to eat unhealthy food, starting a new hobby that you have no talent for, or freestyling a presentation at work.

    6. Connect with your joy.

    Perfectionism and fear are the opposites of joy. Finding a little bit of joy in the areas you feel perfectionist about changes the narrative that you have about those areas. It can be incredibly liberating to invite in joy where you previously just felt pressure.

    So, whether your source of pressure is parenting, cooking, cleaning, your work, or all of the above, see where you can be a little creative. Try out a new recipe, make cleaning more fun with music, or go crazy with the decorations at the event you are organizing. Do a course that you enjoy, give yourself space to experiment at work, or take your kids to a theme park that you love.

  • 5 Pillars of Mindful Awareness That Transformed My Life

    5 Pillars of Mindful Awareness That Transformed My Life

    “When things change inside of you, things change around you.” ~Unknown

    When I was twenty-three, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. It was not until two years later, when I stopped taking medication, that I discovered I had a mental health disorder linked to my menstrual cycles.

    Meditating daily has been foundational for my well-being. It helps me manage the physical expressions of anxiety and bad moods. It allows me to be more accepting of myself and grateful for the many positives in my life.

    But it is the awareness journey that mindfulness has paved over these last seven years that has reached so many different corners of my life.

    The awareness I developed from regular practice seeps into my life as a positive multiplier, pushing further progress in emotional regulation and health. It inspired me to start journaling daily. It encouraged me to face myself, my fears, and my choices.

    With awareness comes meaningful change. I completely pivoted my life, walking away from my career in the investment industry to prioritize things that I discovered I valued the most.

    This is just one transformation that has come from developing different types of awareness. Together, these form the pillars of a healthy, fruitful relationship with myself and the world around me.

    Everybody’s awareness journey will be different; you cannot know where yours will lead. But in case it helps with your reflection and journey, I am sharing the questions I faced on mine.

    Awareness of Emotions: Taking Back Control from the Unconscious

    Mindfulness practice revealed how much my emotions had a hold over me. I previously saw no separation between myself and my emotions. I let them convince me of things that weren’t true and lead my decisions.

    But now my relationship with my emotions has transformed from one of “I am this feeling” to “this feeling is happening to me.”

    Awareness of feelings reveals some key things. Firstly, emotions are temporary. Secondly, many emotions come from an instinctive, animalistic part of us, cropping up to protect us. This means they can often impact our perceptions and rationality.

    Emotions are there to serve us, as is our stress reaction. But we must recognize these bodily reactions for what they are—processes that need completing. Stress and negative emotions are often linked to significant health problems, but the power to minimize their impacts is within our reach.

    With awareness, I recognize my changing views, desires to act, and needs to service all the different parts of myself. The latter includes the person I am at my core, the part that houses my rationality and values. Quick, emotional reactions do not tend to represent this part.

    At first, it was difficult to accept all the parts of myself that awareness uncovers. But it paved the way for enhanced emotional regulation and management. I now know how to take the messages my emotions are trying to send me, feel them, settle them, and act in a way that represents all parts.

    When we do this, we change unconscious reactions, led by emotions, to conscious responses. It’s okay if we still have racing thoughts; it’s how we act that matters. We take back ownership of our lives from our emotions by making constructive choices.

    Reflecting on your emotions:

    • Can I name my emotions and the feelings toward the events or people involved?
    • How did the desire to react manifest?
    • Why might I feel this way, and what are my needs?
    • Does this point to any unhealed pain, fears, or insecurities?
    • How did my feelings and perceptions change, and what contributed to this?
    • Which thoughts are supported by evidence, and where do I need more clarity?

    Awareness of Capacity: Getting the Best Out of Myself

    When we are not feeling like our best selves, we naturally blame our circumstances or problems. We often completely overlook how much our inner space influences our feelings, our functioning, and what we get out of the world.

    By paying attention, I discovered how so much inside of me is always changing. My motivation, my energy, and my physiology change across the month. Patterns started to appear—times when my self-doubt and limiting beliefs were louder, or when my cognitive or physical strength were weaker.

    Some things cycle naturally. Some are heavily influenced by “too much of this” or “too little of that.” I see the links between physical factors, mindset, and progress.

    You can consume all the motivational quotes about success and personal growth out there, but if you do not prioritize your health, you are setting out on the wrong foot.

    Intuitively, we function best when we look after ourselves. We are most confident when we can recognize our self-doubt for what it is.

    With awareness, I can identify and meet my needs. Whether that be self-compassion practice when my self-doubt is loud or fueling my brain when it feels slow. I also match activities to when they best suit my capacity, working with myself instead of beating myself up.

    Reflection questions for awareness of capacity:

    • When do I feel most energized, motivated, creative, focused, and confident?
    • What are my motivation and energy killers and boosters?
    • When do I find it easiest to make decisions?
    • Which activities work best for when my brain feels slow, my body feels weak, or my social capacity is low?

    Here are some things to consider: sleep, nutrition, movement, connection with nature, time with loved ones, stress management, and downtime.

    Awareness in Relationships: Finding Peace and Improving Connections

    Reflecting on some past relationships, it often feels like I wasn’t a part of them at all. Driven by unconscious reactions and people-pleasing, they hardly felt authentic, and this really limited their richness.

    We can learn a lot about ourselves from our approach to relationships. Our deepest traumas manifest in our triggers. Our actions are mostly driven by our fears and insecurities, often underpinned by the need for validation and fear of rejection.

    Once we deal with these at the root and take back our life from our emotions, we enter a new space. Challenges with other people stop becoming reasons to walk away or make an enemy, but instead become opportunities to build something stronger. Or at least they give us a chance to act more authentically.

    Awareness of my own changing feelings, needs, and typical behaviors provides a level of empathy that is nothing less than superhuman.

    Known as a main ingredient for successful relationships, empathy is the understanding and patience we need to lovingly consider things from another’s perspective. Most of the time, everybody is trying their best to navigate the world and their relationships, acting in ways they’ve learned from their experiences rather than out of selfishness.

    Boundaries are still key when there is a misalignment of standards and values. But empathizing is useful for finding acceptance where needed. Where alignment exists, empathy is the tool that helps relationships grow and enriches connections.

    Reflecting on relationships:

    • What are my values, wants, needs, and expectations, and do I know where they come from?
    • Do I approach things authentically, or do I have ulterior motives?
    • What challenges do I often face in relationships, and what is my approach usually?
    • What assumptions do I make about how others should behave?
    • Do these answers reveal areas of required self-work?

    Awareness for Connection: Feeling Present in the World

    Becoming aware and being present are one and the same thing. When we practice mindfulness, we pay attention to the present moment. Mindfulness isn’t just about cultivating self-awareness; we also train our brains to be aware of everything around us.

    Before my awareness journey, I lived in my head. Mulling over events, worrying about things that could be, and constructing scenarios, I took attention away from everything around me.

    With mindfulness practice, you transform your relationship with your thoughts, just like you do with your emotions. You realize thoughts are just thoughts, and you don’t have to get so wrapped up in them. They become much easier to let go, and with time, your mind can become quieter.

    When we practice being present, we train ourselves to notice the little things around us. I hear the birds in the morning. I feel the wind against my skin. I see the pattern on the tie of the person sitting opposite me.

    Awareness of the world is connection to the world. And it is connection that ultimately helps us feel mentally well. This kind of awareness gives us the sense of grounding we need to get out of our heads and feel alive in the world.

    Maximizing external awareness:

    • Practice awareness of sounds, sensations, and smells during meditation.
    • Take mindful moments during the day for a few deep breaths.
    • Get out into nature.
    • Make activities mindful by engaging the senses. What can I see, hear, smell, and feel?

    Awareness of Living: Leading an Intentional Life

    Previously, I worked toward other people’s ideas of success and things I thought I “should” have or do. And I know I’m not alone.

    Again, fear underpins a lot of our motives, as we dread being judged or not accepted. We often prioritize conforming over doing things that are meaningful to us personally. We lack self-compassion, compare ourselves to others, and find it hard to say no.

    Intentional living starts with really understanding why we want the things we want and do or don’t do certain things. Then we can take ownership of our life direction and make choices in line with our values, not what we feel is expected of us.

    With awareness, we can trust that any consequences of living authentically are insignificant compared to the benefits.

    It is totally possible to go through life passively, going with whatever is presented to us. It is easy to pick up short-term pleasures and continually get sucked into the moment. But if we do this, we will always be haunted by a sense of unfulfillment.

    Awareness shines a light on passive living and encourages us to enjoy the present while making decisions for the long term.

    Reflecting on your approach to life:

    • Why do I want the things I want?
    • Am I measuring progress by comparing myself to others?
    • What is meaningful to me, and what are my values?
    • Which parts of my life lack alignment to these?
    • What do I think is expected of me, and how can I deal with these pressures?
    • When did I last make active decisions or changes for alignment in my life?

    Your Awareness Journey

    Ultimately, this is a journey that will never end. We are constantly changing, and life around us is forever moving, so there will always be a need for reflection. You might become great at recognizing your feelings and staying present, but it will still be something you should practice to maintain.

    When we accept that, like our mental well-being, awareness is not a destination, we can enjoy continually managing life rather than redundantly wishing for things to be different.

    With awareness, life becomes an art. Regardless of what it throws at you, you have a powerful tool to navigate and make something out of it.

  • The Benefits of Vipassana Meditation and How to Start Your Practice

    The Benefits of Vipassana Meditation and How to Start Your Practice

    “Meditation is not a way of making your mind quiet. It’s a way of entering into the quiet that’s already there.” ~Deepak Chopra

    Have you ever felt overwhelmed by the chaos of daily life, longing for a sense of calm and clarity? That was me a year ago, trapped in a cycle of overwork and unhealthy habits. It wasn’t until I rediscovered meditation, particularly Vipassana, that I began to find true peace and transformation. Here’s my story and how Vipassana changed my life and how it could change yours too.

    My Personal Journey with Meditation

    I’ve always been drawn to self-improvement activities like meditation, exercise, and healthy eating. However, I often ignored my own advice and indulged in moderate-to-heavy drinking and overworking, embodying a “work hard, play hard” mentality. In college, I was introduced to meditation and yoga, but my practice was inconsistent, lacking the structure or commitment needed for lasting change.

    About a year ago, I became determined to transform my life. I was drinking more than I liked, eating poorly, overweight, and overstressed from my highly demanding job as an actuary. I committed to a daily practice of meditation, exercise, and healthy eating.

    After browsing for books on meditation, I discovered 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-Help That Actually WorksA True Story, by Dan Harris.

    The book’s simple approach—eyes closed, focusing on the breath—resonated with me. My OCD tendencies made mantra-based meditation daunting; I worried a mantra might exacerbate my symptoms.

    The Limits of Breath-Based Meditation

    After a few months, the commitments were paying off, but I wasn’t getting the mental calm and peace I’d read so much about with meditation.

    As I started listening to podcasts about meditation and sober living, I noticed a recurring theme: Many people, including myself, found it challenging to stay committed to focusing solely on the breath because it can become monotonous. This led me to question, “Is all I get just 10% happier? Why not aim for 100%?”

    Breath-based meditation has become incredibly popular and is often seen as the beginning and end of meditation practice; however, there’s a common perception that it is the ultimate form of meditation. While it is great for beginner meditators or for those comfortable with a more casual practice, it may be insufficient for those seeking more. Vipassana offers a deeper, more transformative experience.

    Discovering Vipassana Meditation

    During my exploration, I found The Art of Living: Vipassana Meditation as Taught by S. N. Goenka, by William Hart. Vipassana meditation is believed by some to be the actual method of meditation practice used and taught by the Buddha over 2,500 years ago. Vipassana takes meditation to the next level by addressing the deeper layers of the mind.

    According to The Art of Living, breath awareness is the foundation, but true progress comes from observing bodily sensations. It emphasizes maintaining equanimity, or mental calmness, while experiencing these sensations. Practitioners maintain a balanced mind in the face of physical and mental discomfort, heal past traumas, and foster mental resilience.

    The book is organized into ten chapters, in sync with the typical ten days of a Goenka-style meditation retreat, described more below. To put the importance of breath-focused meditation, or Anapana meditation, into perspective, seven chapters are dedicated to Anapana, while only three focus on Vipassana. Breath-based meditation’s importance is fundamental to a successful Vipassana practice.

    Vipassana in Practice

    My own experience with Vipassana has helped me tremendously. As one who has struggled with severe anxiety, panic attacks, and hypochondria, it has helped me break the cycle of interpreting daily aches and pains as life-threatening illnesses and to accept the bodily sensations with more equanimity.

    By observing sensations without reacting, I have trained myself to dissociate minor physical discomforts from anxious thoughts. As a result, the frequency and severity of my anxiety and panic attacks have been significantly reduced.

    Even on the days I do have stronger aches and pains, I focus on the pain itself and notice the physical sensations are constantly changing. They don’t feel as bad as what my brain tells me the pain should feel like.

    I continue meditating on the pain and let the physical sensations come and go. Eventually, the pain becomes more tolerable and often forgettable.

    Another benefit is that I feel more at peace with childhood traumas and that some of the experiences I’ve clung to for all these years aren’t as bad as I’ve made them out to be. When a memory of these bad experiences arises, I observe and feel my bodily sensations with equanimity. I permit the feelings to be with me until they subside.

    It isn’t always easy. Recently, there was a meditation session where I had a more profound realization that brought forth deep-rooted feelings of fear and terror.

    I began to struggle to breathe and started to hyperventilate. I was scared. Goenka teaches during these times to refocus back on the breath until the emotion and sensations subside and equanimity returns.

    I rode that wave and trusted the process, and my breath eventually calmed down. That session was one of the most profound experiences of my life and really helped me on my spiritual journey toward peace and calm.

    Mechanics and Technique of Vipassana Meditation

    For those interested, the technique of Vipassana meditation involves several steps:

    1. Preparation

    Sit comfortably with your back straight and eyes closed. Take a few moments to settle and focus.

    2. Anapana

    Start with Anapana meditation, focusing on your breath. Observe the natural flow of breath as it enters and leaves your nostrils without trying to control it. This helps calm the mind and prepares it for Vipassana.

    3. Body Scan

    After calming the mind, begin the Vipassana practice by systematically scanning your body from head to toe. Observe each part of the body in turn, noticing any sensations—tingling, heat, pressure, etc. Keep your attention moving without lingering too long on any one sensation.

    4. Equanimity

    As you observe sensations, maintain a sense of equanimity. Understand that sensations are transient and try not to react to them with craving or aversion. This helps in developing mental balance and insight.

    5. Focus

    When strong emotions and thoughts come, return the focus to the breath until they subside and equanimity can be regained, then go back to the body scan.

    6. Regular Practice

    Consistent daily practice is essential. Start with short sessions and gradually increase the duration as you become more comfortable with the technique. With repeated practice, some of the strong traumas begin to lessen and fade as you become more at peace with yourself.

    The Ten-Day Vipassana Retreat

    To deepen my practice, I hope to attend a ten-day Vipassana retreat. These retreats provide an immersive experience in Vipassana meditation with a structured schedule of meditation, instruction, and silence.

    The retreat offers a unique opportunity to disconnect from daily distractions and focus entirely on the practice. It is intense but promises profound insights and lasting benefits for those who complete it. It includes a strict schedule of meditation, instructions, and “noble silence,” providing a conducive environment for deep mental purification.

    The retreat is free of charge, funded by donations from previous participants. More information can be found on the dhamma.org website.

    My Progress to Date

    Since committing to meditation last year and strengthening my practice with Vipassana, I’ve seen significant improvements in my physical and mental health. I have weaned off all my prescription medications, lost twelve pounds, and gained a newfound energy I haven’t felt in years. I even went for a run the other day just for fun and to let off some extra energy, something I haven’t done in a long time.

    Even more dramatic, I realized my actuary job wasn’t worth the stress and long hours, and I quit. I bought an RV and have been traveling with my dog, exploring the country and having adventures. I’ve also started a blog dedicated to my passions in health and travel.

    Final Thoughts

    For me, maintaining a balanced sense of work and play where I can enjoy life’s rich pageant is what truly matters. Vipassana meditation is quickly establishing itself in my life as the doorway through which I am free to drop my past baggage at the door, step through, and live in the present moment like it was meant to be lived.

    I’m excited to see what the next year brings for me. If you’re curious about Vipassana, I encourage you to give it a try.

  • What I Know About Healing Now That I’ve Ended Contact with My Mom

    What I Know About Healing Now That I’ve Ended Contact with My Mom

    “Not all toxic people are cruel and uncaring. Some of them love us dearly. Many of them have good intentions. Most are toxic to our being simply because their needs and way of existing in the world force us to compromise ourselves and our happiness. They aren’t inherently bad people, but they aren’t the right people for us.” ~Daniell Koepke 

    If someone had asked me a year ago if I would ever cut contact with my mom, my answer would have been a definite no.

    After reconnecting with my dad in 2020 (we didn’t speak for over eleven years), I decided to handle this parent business differently.

    Part of me strongly believed that if I was healing and doing this inner work right, I would be able to find a way to coexist in a relationship with my parents, and that I had to do that at all costs.

    My mom and I were always very close. Although our relationship was toxic, we had a bond that I believed was unbreakable.

    She used to say that I was a rainbow baby since she lost my sister to a shooting accident before I was born. After my sister died, they told her she would never have more children. One year later, she got pregnant, and I was born. Everyone was saying that she was beside herself, and I believed it.

    Although there was a lot of abuse and violence happening in our household, I saw her as someone who was fighting for her life to move beyond the trauma of her past while losing it to a bottle of vodka to numb and escape.

    I believe this is why I always had this unsettling drive not to give up and be defined by the past while never shying away from addressing it. I saw the consequences we face when our souls are unhealed and how unaddressed trauma drives everything.

    The first time I clearly saw how toxic the relationship with my mom was and how it affected me was when I read the book Silently Seduced: When Parents Make Their Children Partners by Kenneth M. Adams, in 2020.

    It was the most difficult but revolutionary book that I had ever gotten my hands on. I remember times when I had to put the book down and take deep breaths to stomach the deeply confronting truth I saw myself in. Reading this book marked a breaking point for me when the dynamic between my mom and I started to change.

    As the years went on, her alcohol abuse became uncontrollable. I think she lost any desire to fight her addiction, which she always had before. Although we live on two different continents, I began to wake up to Facebook messages from her attacking me and calling me names while demanding I send her more money.

    Therefore, in December 2023, after pleading with her repeatedly to seek help and threatening her that I would stop talking to her if things continued the way they were, I decided to act on my word. I ended my contact with her for the first time. Since then, we haven’t been in touch. Here are four things this decision and reflecting on it periodically taught me about healing.

    1. Pain doesn’t always subside.

    Someone once told me that the pain that I feel regarding my mom will eventually subside. Although I am doing a much better job at dealing with this situation internally, I understand that pain of this sort doesn’t always subside. I must learn to carry it with grace.

    When we look at the person we love destroying themselves while not being able to do anything, how can we let go of the pain we feel? This pain comes from love, not from others doing us wrong. And those, to me, are two different types of pain. Although learning how to deal with our emotions is up to us, when we love, we also hurt.

    The two most empowering practices that have been helping me are accepting things I can’t change and allowing myself to release what I feel without stuffing it up. I don’t try to hold my emotions in or lie to myself that I don’t care when, in fact, I do. I choose not to shy away from the emotional discomfort and to take time to reflect on how I am progressing with this no-contact situation as I move through it.

    I also see my pain as a sign of the deep love I am capable of. Understanding that my capacity to feel pain reflects the capacity to feel love helps me ground myself and, in a way, befriend the pain instead of rejecting it.

    2. It’s important that we honor our healing.

    There is no right or wrong way to heal. It is one of the most complex and imperfect paths we will ever walk, and honoring every step of it is the only thing we “should” do.

    For all those years, I felt immense guilt that I couldn’t help my mom. I felt like a failure, working with women from all over the world to heal themselves while being powerless to help a woman who gave birth to me.

    Only those who have ever dealt with an addict close to them can understand the pain this brings. After some time, we realize that the only thing left to do is to sit back and watch the tragedy unfold, as if we are watching some heart-aching movie, while understanding that only an addict can help themselves.

    It took me many years to start accepting that I couldn’t fix this situation while paying attention to the pain I felt.

    Often, when a person struggles with alcohol or drug abuse, the focus is, understandably, on them. However, people around them are affected as well. For as long as I can remember, I battled with the desire to turn my back on my mom while shaming myself for wanting that.

    Eventually, I started to pay attention to the effect this had on me and stayed away from people who said things like, “But it’s your mom.” I was and am fully aware that this is my mom, whom I love deeply. I am also mindful that these remarks come from people who’ve probably never stood in my shoes.

    As Brené Brown said, “You share with people who’ve earned the right to hear your story.” This is especially true when it comes to our stories of shame. There were times when I thought about how easier my life would have been if my mom died and I didn’t have to deal with her alcohol. A few moments later, I felt paralyzed by shame, judging myself for having had these thoughts.

    Today, I choose to own my story of shame and work on forgiving myself. I understand that these thoughts come from desperation and a desire to escape her addiction, which, in a way, I did when I moved to the U.S.

    Recognizing the source of it while offering myself compassion and forgiveness helped me work through my unmet expectations of her recovery while becoming more resilient to face our dysfunctional relationship.

    3. Sometimes we have to love people from a distance. 

    One of the hardest lessons I learned on my healing journey was this: love doesn’t equal presence. Requiring presence to love is attachment.

    Eventually, I understood that I could love my mom while choosing not to be around her because it isn’t healthy for me. This, of course, came after a series of inner battles, and it certainly stretched me beyond my comfort.

    The biggest battle for a person who is in contact with an addict is to choose when to leave or when to keep fighting for them. This often comes with doubts because we don’t want to give up on them, and we constantly question whether we did everything we could to help.

    But when we choose to distance ourselves while keeping love in our hearts, we are honoring our mental health while still loving those who struggle. We understand that their paths are not ours and that our mental health, healing, and life matter as much as theirs.

    4. We heal better when we choose to understand. 

    One thing that helped me while healing my relationship with my mom was looking at her life from a place of curiosity and understanding.

    At first, I used this understanding to excuse her behavior while holding lots of anger and resentment toward her. Although I would call her every day and send her money every month, I resented her for the mother she was. As I progressed in my healing, I realized that I could only understand her actions and heal the pain from my past if I honored what was true for me. And that was to distance myself and go no contact.

    It helped me to look at her with more compassion while considering everything she had been through as a child and the fact that she had done no healing work (coming from the era where mental health was taboo). It also helped to recognize that she really tried. I know she did. And I think knowing that hurts the most.

    Reflecting on my mom’s life and understanding her while healing myself helps me to detach from her actions while knowing that whatever she did, it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t because she didn’t love me but because she didn’t know how to handle her own demons.

    It also shows me the importance of making healthy choices for myself. In a way, I am learning to hold her in my heart while, at the same time, holding my well-being there as well. It teaches me that there isn’t a right way to heal while navigating through our recovery.

    At the time of this writing, my mom and I haven’t spoken in seven months. As I am preparing to come home for Christmas, I am planning to reach out to her to meet and talk face-to-face.

    Although I have no idea how the conversation will go, I know that whatever will be true for me at that moment, whether to reconnect or keep things as they are, I will obey what my soul tells me.

    Because listening to what we truly feel and then honoring it, regardless of what it looks like on the outside, is the only thing that heals us and sets us free.

  • 4 Fears That Create People-Pleasers and How to Ease Them

    4 Fears That Create People-Pleasers and How to Ease Them

    “It feels good to be accepted, loved, and approved of by others, but often the membership fee to belong to that club is far too high of a price to pay.” ~Dennis Merritt Jones

    Like a lot of people, I grew up putting others’ needs and wants first. I learned early that doing things for other people and accommodating their wishes gained me attention and approval. It was only in those moments that I felt good enough and deserving of love.

    As a child, I liked nothing more than feeling indispensable and being told I was a good and nice girl. This praise was incredibly important to me, as was making others happy. My own happiness did not come into the equation; I was happy because they were happy. I felt loved, safe, and appreciated, in the short term at least.

    As I got older, my people-pleasing went into overdrive. I continually tried to gain people’s approval, make them happy, and help them whenever needed.

    I hated to see loved ones hurt or upset and felt it was my responsibility to come to their rescue and ease their problems and pain. Before long, I became so hyper-aware of others’ feelings that I lost sight of where I ended and where other people began.

    For many years, I didn’t question why I felt I didn’t have the right to say no to people’s demands. I just assumed this was how my relationships were meant to be. By the time I was in my late teens, however, I often felt lost, drained, and empty.

    After a terrifying anxiety attack, I realized I’d been unhappy for years. Trying to please everyone had made me miserable and ill, and my relationships felt draining and one-sided.

    I took a long, hard look at myself and realized I’d become a people-pleaser not simply because I wanted to be a nice person or help others, but due to a specific emotion, an emotion I’d felt since early childhood: fear.

    I realized I’d given control over my life to other people out of fear. I’d let an emotion steal my life and well-being.

    When I examined my past behavior, it was obvious I’d been compelled to people-please due to a fear of certain situations stemming from my childhood. I believe these specific fears are the reason why many of us become people-pleasers.

    Fear of Rejection and Abandonment

    Inside every people-pleaser is a little child who never felt worthy of love and was afraid of being rejected and abandoned by his or her loved ones. Being good and nice and striving for approval is a way to try to suppress the fear.

    Children know instinctively that their survival depends on other people. As a child, I felt I had to be good all the time—one misdemeanor would be enough to make my loved ones reject me.

    That’s not to say my family didn’t love me; they absolutely did. But they were often emotionally distant, worried, stressed out, and very busy with other things. My strategy was to do my best to please them so I wouldn’t feel even more rejected than I already did.

    Many of us take this fear into our adult relationships too. People-pleasers usually believe they cannot disagree, not do as their loved ones want, or displease them in some way because their family or partner will stop loving them and leave. They don’t feel emotionally secure in their relationships.

    Yet how realistic is this belief? Would our loved ones really reject and abandon us if we displeased them? Is our position in their lives so uncertain and fragile that they would do this?

    People-pleasers tend to overestimate other people’s imagined negative reactions to what they do or say. They work hard to gain and keep love and friendship, but assume those ties are easily broken.

    Realistically, it’s highly unlikely your loved ones will reject you if you don’t do what they want. They might be disappointed or upset, but ultimately they’ll be able to cope with their expectations not being met. Regardless of their response, you aren’t responsible for their emotions or actions.

    When we know this, we can feel more secure about saying no to others. And that in turn helps them to respect our boundaries.

    Fear of Conflict and Anger

    People-pleasers try to avoid conflict and others’ anger at all costs and will do anything to defuse a confrontation or argument. This usually means backing down or not disagreeing, even if the other person is in the wrong. It means saying yes when we really want to say no.

    When you fear upsetting someone and causing an argument, you don’t speak up about what’s bothering or hurting you, and you don’t reveal your true feelings. You do all you can to keep the peace, believing mistakenly that conflict of any kind is bad for relationships.

    The truth is, our peacekeeping behavior builds a barrier to intimacy. It stops our relationships from growing and maturing. As a child I feared doing something wrong and being told off and punished, and as I got older I often felt lonely in many of my relationships. I also found trying to keep the peace exhausting.

    The harmony I worked so hard to maintain was nothing more than a false harmony; there was often an undercurrent of anxiety and frustration.

    Healthy relationships aren’t without disagreements because conflict and problems are inevitable in life. But the difference is that good, balanced relationships are able to handle conflict and problems constructively and use them as a way to deepen learning and understanding.

    As a people-pleaser, I wanted to find instant solutions to problems in order to minimize any potential conflict, regain harmony, and soothe any negative feelings. I rarely took my time to find an effective solution, and as a result, the problems were never fully resolved.

    I was also afraid of my own anger and repressed it or directed it at myself, and this no doubt contributed to my anxiety disorder. I mistakenly believed nice people didn’t get angry, not realizing that we cannot change our behavior for the better or improve our well-being unless we feel and recognize all our emotions.

    Fear of Criticism and Being Disliked

    No one likes to be criticized or disliked, especially a people-pleaser. We hold in high regard other people’s good opinions of us. We crave approval and think that accommodating everyone else will somehow protect us, but that’s rarely the case.

    I used to feel a sense of betrayal whenever someone criticized me. Didn’t they know how hard I tried to please them? How hard I tried to be good and nice all the time? Their criticism was like an arrow in the heart.

    When we fear others’ lack of approval and acceptance, we rarely show them who we really are and often live a life that does not feel authentic. We hide ourselves behind a mask of niceness and find it near impossible to separate our self-worth from our actions.

    Fearing others’ bad opinions of you makes you feel you cannot show you are fallible and flawed—basically, a normal human being.

    People-pleasers judge themselves very harshly and often set themselves unrealistic expectations. They feel they need to be perfect in order to be accepted or loved. They feel they cannot make mistakes or risk upsetting or disappointing people.

    If you don’t voice your opinions or needs, people will assume you’re happy to go along with what they want. They’ll also assume you’ll accept disrespectful behavior. Like many people-pleasers, I became an easy target for others’ dissatisfaction and nastiness.

    When we hand so much control over to other people, their criticism can be devastating, but this is only because we vastly overestimate the importance of what they think.

    In time, I realized that someone’s opinion of me is none of my business, and it’s impossible to control their thoughts about me, no matter what I do. It seemed crazy to let their opinions dictate how I lived my life because the only person I needed to seek approval from was myself.

    Fear of Losing Control and Not Being Needed

    People-pleasers need to be needed. It’s their automatic response to help others and try to make others happy, and they very often take other people’s actions, behavior, and emotions personally, believing they’re responsible for making others feel better.

    I grew up in an environment that was often anxious. Many of my loved ones did not handle their anxiety very well, due to their own upbringing. I became a confidante at a young age, before I had the maturity to handle certain problems or others’ anxiety. It was simply too burdensome for my young shoulders, but it didn’t stop me from trying to make things better.

    Because my sense of self was closely tied to how other people felt, I couldn’t bear to see loved ones hurting, and so I tried my hardest to ease any upset. Each time I succeeded, I felt needed and in control, but when I failed, I felt like I had let everyone down.

    I would become anxious if I couldn’t soothe or help someone else. I readily soaked up their negative emotions because I’d become so attuned to how they felt, placing their emotional well-being before my own. Because people-pleasers believe it’s their job to make others happy, they feel they need to control others’ anxiety and pain.

    But it’s not our role to make others happy or their lives problem-free; that’s their job. The sky won’t fall in if you cannot help someone. You can still be there for the people you love and empathize with them, but you don’t need to rush in and rescue them or lose yourself in their business. You don’t have to make their problems your own; you can instead trust them to solve their own issues.

    When I stopped hyper-focusing on other people, I saw that the only thing I needed to control was my half of my relationships. There’s no need to try to control others’ reactions because I’m not responsible for their thoughts or emotions.

    Many of our interactions with people don’t need to have the sort of emotional judgments people-pleasers attach to them. It’s okay to say no and not feel guilty. You aren’t betraying someone if you don’t do what they want or disagree with them. Just because someone doesn’t like you doesn’t mean you’re unlikeable. Just because you sometimes want to focus on yourself, it doesn’t mean you’re selfish.

    You gain this self-empowerment by easing the fear that’s caused your people-pleasing. While much of the fear comes from your childhood, as an adult you now have control over changing aspects of your behavior that don’t serve you.

    This doesn’t involve any self-blame, nor is it about blaming our loved ones. We’re all the products of our upbringing, and we all have scars. Most people try to do the best they can with what they have and know. By changing our behavior, we can often encourage positive change in others too.

    People-pleasing is always linked to self-worth. When you create a strong sense of self, you realize that you aren’t your past, your thoughts, or your emotions. You know your self-worth isn’t linked to another person.

    How to Ease the Fear

    Instead of looking for validation from other people and the outside world, we need to search inward. In order to ease our fear, it’s important to face it, no matter how painful it feels. Understanding our fear helps us to move forward.

    Because our people-pleasing and our fears usually stem from childhood, we need to revisit our child selves. Try this exercise:

    Find somewhere quiet to sit and relax. Close your eyes and take slow, deep, even breaths, and imagine in your mind a time when you felt rejected as a child. Replay the events as you remember them and feel the feelings you experienced at that time.

    Then imagine your present self holding your child self’s hand as they go through that moment of feeling rejected. Tell your child self how much you love them and care for them, and that there’s nothing to fear. Each time your younger self feels afraid or rejected, soothe them and let them know they’re in a safe place.

    Think about what you’d like to say to your child self and what advice you’d like to give them, knowing what you know now. You are now able to protect, support, and encourage your child self. Think about how you want to feel and be treated rather than focus on any negativity.

    When I did this exercise, I told my child self that she was worthy, valuable, and precious. I advised her that what she wanted and needed was valid and important, and she had the right to speak up and say no.

    I told her she would never be rejected because she had my unconditional love and support, and she didn’t need to strive for love from anyone because she was already lovable. I encouraged her to think about her dreams and goals and not stifle them because of others’ opinions. Most of all, I kept repeating that I loved her.

    When you feel ready to end the exercise, bring yourself back to the present moment and think about what the exercise has taught you. Do you understand your child self more and your reasons for people-pleasing? Do you think about those past events in a different way?

    You can do the exercise as many times as you wish. It gives you the time to focus on how you feel about past experiences, and as a result, it also helps you come to terms with what happened and to heal.

    When I stopped basing my identity on my relationships and the past, I stopped hiding myself behind people-pleasing behavior. I started to set boundaries, and as my self-love, self-acceptance, and self-respect grew, my relationships improved too. People soon adapted to my new behavior because I showed them how I wanted to be treated—with respect and consideration.

    Self-love is essential. It isn’t selfish to think about what you want and need. It isn’t selfish to make decisions about your life based on what you want and need rather than to merely please others.

    You owe it to yourself to put your people-pleasing ways behind you. You owe it to yourself to take care of yourself first, because that is the only real way you can truly help other people.

  • The Dangers of Safety and How to Live Fully

    The Dangers of Safety and How to Live Fully

    “A ship in a harbor is safe, but that’s not what a ship is built for.” ~John Augustus Shedd

    Growing up in the Midwest in a traditional family steeped in Catholic values, safety was paramount. We adhered to conventional roles: father, mother, brother, and sister, with me as the baby sister.

    My parents were loving, but my mom parented through a lens of fear, constantly worrying about potential dangers. This fierce protection was a testament to her love, yet it ingrained in me the belief that taking the safe route was the only way to navigate life.

    One day, when I didn’t get off the bus because I went to a track meet after school, I was met with a sobbing woman when I got home an hour late. Now, as a mother, I can fully understand this. It was long before cell phones, but she taught me early on that safety was my priority, and I never wanted her to be scared for me again.

    In the Midwest, the traditional path is clear: go to school, come home, play outside with friends, graduate from high school, stay close for college, meet a partner, get married, and have kids. This is the safe plan. The thought of deviating from this path—being thirty, unmarried, or childless—was paralyzing.

    What if I didn’t follow the script? What if I dared to be brave and bold and leave the familiar zip code? What if I yearned for non-traditional roles and longed to explore the world? Who could I have become if I had let my heart lead instead of my fears?

    Safety is a universal desire. We plan for financial security, choose safe neighborhoods, and follow predictable paths. As a coach, I see this pattern repeatedly. Clients stay in marriages longer than they should out of fear of the unknown. They stick with toxic friends or jobs, fearing how their lives might change if they let go.

    This fear surfaces when people want to leave their industry or start their own business, worrying they are too old or lack the skills to succeed independently. Consequently, they live quiet, safe lives, confined by a small glass box that keeps them stuck.

    What if we were taught and supported early on to stretch beyond our comfort zones? To make brave decisions? To put ourselves out there, even at the risk of failing? We could maintain the safety net of “you’re always welcome at home, and home is safe” while also encouraging bold steps—go play, go away to school, travel the world. I often wonder who I would be if I had learned this lesson earlier.

    I followed the traditional plan to a T. I did what was expected and what was safe. I attended a nearby college, graduated, got a job, met a man, got married, and had two children—a boy and a girl. I thrived in business, got promoted, bought a house, and built another. I followed the rules and fit right in. I made friends and, by all accounts, was successful, checking all the boxes.

    But I was in an unhappy marriage, and things on the inside did not reflect the outside. Divorce wasn’t part of the plan. There wasn’t a checkbox for it, so I stayed. It wasn’t until my husband said, “You won’t divorce me, hotshot,” that I decided to let go of the checkbox and let myself take the reins of my life.

    I vividly remember sitting there with a racing heart, feeling like it would beat out of my chest. Did he call me “hotshot?” about our lives?

    The thing is, he was trying to call my bluff. I told him I was unhappy that the years of pain had finally caught up with us, but he knew, or at least he thought, that I would never leave. Because I followed the rules, he felt that we could continue the same abusive path that we had been on for a decade because I would not veer from the good girl path.

    This time, I boldly made the change. I called the lawyer and started the process of filing for divorce. This started my seven-year journey of trying to come back to who I am at my core. What do I want in my life, and am I living for my heart or out of fear?

    Only when I allowed myself to step outside the lines did I truly start living. I feared what others would think, but how could I continue living based on others’ expectations and not on what I wanted for myself? I took the brave step to file for divorce.

    This fear of judgment resurfaced when I wanted to leave my high-income corporate sales job to start my own business.

    I had just started with a company a few months earlier, went through training, and knew this wasn’t going to be a long-term fit. I hated corporate culture and the made-up rules that went along with it. We were governed by rules created out of fear. I knew I wasn’t going to survive in this role. But quitting after I just started was scary, and I agonized over what others would think.

    I knew I wanted to do something so much more, with deeper meaning, with the possibility of helping others. But this, again, was not something that was on the checklist. Start a business? Become a coach? What the heck is a coach anyway? Will people make fun of me behind my back? That thought made me want to play small.

    I explored every possible way to succeed without sharing my plans with those who knew me. Again, there wasn’t a checkbox for this. But I did it anyway.

    Looking back, I realize that staying small in my life has hurt me. I got married before I was ready, remained in a marriage longer than I should have, and worked corporate jobs with chauvinistic men who I wouldn’t say I liked because that is what I was supposed to do.

    My house was pretty, my Facebook pictures looked happy, and my salary grew. By all external accounts, I was a success. But these come at their own costs. Playing safe has confined me, limited my potential, and stifled my dreams.

    I have learned that safety, while comforting, can be dangerous. It can keep us from truly living, experiencing the fullness of life, and discovering who we are meant to be.

    So, I urge you to leap. Be brave. Step out of your comfort zone. Embrace the unknown.

    We are all given one chance here on this earth, and we spend it playing safe. What a shame not to allow your beautiful visions to become a reality. Safety may protect us, but it can also hold us back.

    Let go of the fear and let your heart lead the way. You might stumble, you might fall, but you will also soar. And in the end, you will find that the dangers of safety are far greater than the risks of living boldly.

  • The Importance of Setting Strong, Healthy Boundaries

    The Importance of Setting Strong, Healthy Boundaries

    “If you love yourself, it doesn’t matter if other people don’t like you because you don’t need their approval to feel good about yourself.” ~Lori Deschene

    I spent my whole life trying to please other people. I would put myself through stress and discomfort to fit in with what they wanted or needed. I would rarely feel confident enough to communicate what I wanted because when I did, I would be met with frustration or anger, and I’d often come away feeling stupid.

    When I was growing up, I would feel my emotions very strongly, so a lot of the time I would receive comments like “you’re too emotional” or “just relax.” I now realize that people made these types of comments to make me feel like I was wrong for feeling sad, stressed, or uncomfortable when others weren’t respecting my boundaries.

    At the time, I didn’t understand this happened because I wasn’t enforcing my own boundaries strongly enough, because all I wanted to do was please others. So when I felt strong emotions, I would just assume I was wrong for feeling them.

    This eventually led to me losing most of my confidence and keeping myself “small.” I felt I wasn’t deserving of being seen or heard. I had learned that by trying to communicate my boundaries, I would frustrate other people and be made to feel I was being unreasonable.

    If I wanted certain people in my life, I had to adapt to what would make them happy. Of course, this would just result in me becoming more and more unhappy, leading to unhealthy relationships anyway.

    It wasn’t until I had my son that I realized how unnecessary it was to not enforce my own boundaries. Even for a while after he was born, I would bend over backwards to fit in with others, even if it meant messing up my son’s schedule. I became stressed, unhappy, and anxious a lot of the time.

    I realized one day how this was becoming too much for me because I made a decision to stay home with my son for the day (which, at the time, I felt very selfish for doing!), and it felt so incredibly peaceful.

    Before this, I would often think my son wasn’t a happy baby, but quickly understood it was because I wasn’t putting our needs first and was instead always racing around and going out of my way to meet other people’s needs.

    As soon as I started saying “no” to things I didn’t really want to do or didn’t feel I had time for and began communicating what situations would suit me and my son, we were both so much happier and more relaxed!

    However, since doing this, my relationships with several people have changed. I’m no longer as close with certain friends, and I’ve had to deal with hurt responses from family members. The guilt I’ve felt was almost too much to bear at times. But I am no longer willing to cause myself sadness and stress just to make others happy.

    The result? Some of my previously close relationships are no longer as close, and that has been tough to digest. You start prioritizing yourself more and spend less time accommodating others, and they eventually stop speaking to you… ouch!

    However, other relationships have become stronger, happier, and healthier! I’ve even made several new close friends. I also want to mention one previously close relationship because I now spend less time with this person, but I feel our relationship is much stronger. I’ve learned I need to protect my own energy when around them, as they have quite a negative view on life at times.

    Since it was someone close to me, I didn’t want to lose them. So I had to find a way to adapt the relationship to suit my boundaries.

    I don’t think all boundaries need to be communicated, especially if the person is likely to be offended or not understand. Instead, I was able to keep things positive by changing the dynamic. So I would arrange coffee meets with this person occasionally and subtly shift from going over to their house regularly, as this would result in more time and energy being taken from me.

    One thing I noticed that made me realize I wasn’t setting healthy boundaries was that I felt anxious about going into social situations and family events—even events in my honor. One year, someone else decided what we would be doing for MY birthday, and I didn’t have the confidence to speak up to explain I didn’t want to do what they had chosen.

    I also felt upset if I tried to communicate my preferences, but someone got frustrated or implied that I was being unreasonable. I would often question if certain people even liked me and would exhaust myself trying to make them happy so they would accept me.

    Setting boundaries can be really difficult for some of us, but it doesn’t mean we can’t do it. It can also be scary because it can mean not having such a close relationship with certain people, or maybe even losing them completely.

    But the question we need to ask ourselves is this: If relationships change or we lose people in the process of creating strong boundaries, were they even meant for us? Our happiness is just as important as the next person’s. As long as we aren’t acting in a way to hurt others, our boundaries are valid and acceptable. It isn’t up to us to make other people happy. We are all responsible for our own happiness. We can both create it and change it.

  • What Migraines Have Taught Me About Being Vulnerable

    What Migraines Have Taught Me About Being Vulnerable

    “Vulnerability is the core, the heart, the center, of meaningful human experiences.” ~Brené Brown, Daring Greatly

    Migraines. I’ve had them since I was five years old. Sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re really bad. But I have them.

    When I was five, I had electrodes placed on my skull to do an EEG. I didn’t understand the name, so I called it a “sleepy EG” since they put me to sleep to do it.

    Back then, I didn’t realize how chronic pain could interfere with my daily life. I just knew that I was getting my sleepy EG.

    It was also during my childhood that my personality started to form, as it does with everyone. I was a shy and introverted child, and I quickly learned the societal ropes of not expressing your struggles. I learned to say, “I’m fine,” when someone asked how I was, even if I really wasn’t.

    I saw vulnerability as something to be avoided. However, as I got older and my migraines got more intense, my worlds of chronic pain and vulnerability ultimately converged.

    As many with chronic pain would tell you about living with their conditions, my life has become a delicate dance between preventing/treating my migraines and enjoying my life. But the migraines’ frequency and severity have not made it easy.

    When I was six, I got a migraine the morning of my dance recital. It was a Disney-themed recital, and I was supposed to wear a Minnie Mouse costume. I developed a throbbing pain in my head that debilitated me for a couple of hours.

    The recital was in the evening, and I didn’t know if I would be able to go on to perform that night. I got incredibly anxious that I wouldn’t be able to perform that night while wearing my Minnie Mouse costume. I feared I would let my whole dance class down.

    After lying down in the dark for a couple of hours, the migraine dissipated, and I was able to perform. But it was then that I became acquainted with the anxiety around my migraines and letting others down. It was both out of this anxiety and a fear of showing my feelings that I didn’t let anyone at my dance studio know that this was a struggle for me.

    In my early twenties, I got a migraine that stands out as a turning point in my migraine and, frankly, my life journey. It was the Minnie Mouse costume scenario on a much larger, more disastrous scale.

    I was doing a year-long internship at a theater company. It was a prestigious and selective internship, and I’d moved across the country for it.

    I was qualified, but I was stressed about being new to the professional world, and stress is a trigger for my migraines. I was working at plenty of events that went late at night, and I hadn’t mastered adjusting my sleep schedule around those.

    The combination of lack of sleep and stress was not good, and I got sick a lot with colds, the flu, and, of course, migraines.

    During this internship, the theater company held a fancy gala at the Ritz-Carlton. I was working the event, running around setting up and checking donors in. I’d been in charge of another event the night before, and I was feeling exhausted and depleted.

    About two hours before the gala, I saw the dreaded spots of light that usually fill my vision and precede a migraine. But I was working, an early-career professional, and I felt I couldn’t really do or say anything about it.

    The event started, and guests poured in. The migraine set in, but I plastered on my event smile, the one that makes my cheeks hurt when I’ve been doing it for hours. Things were going okay, until I got nauseous and felt like I was going to be sick.

    I tried to make my way to the bathroom, but it was all the way across the event hall. There were also a bunch of people in the room that I had to push past.

    Suddenly, I couldn’t control the urge to vomit anymore. Right there, in the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton, crammed in between a bunch of fancy partygoers, I vomited.

    It got all over my dress and on the floor. I’ve been told it hit other people, although I wasn’t conscious of that at the time.

    What happened next was a blur of events that included me going into the bathroom to vomit more, crying in a hotel room, and my coworkers and boss coming to check in on me. I felt humiliated.

    After years of avoiding vulnerability, this experience forced me to be vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. I couldn’t control the physical vomit that came out of my mouth in the middle of the gala, and I was too depleted to hide my embarrassment and sadness over the event for the rest of that day.

    We’re taught not to show such vulnerability to others, especially not coworkers. But it had happened. After that event, how could I go back to work the following week and face everyone?

    I returned to work the following Monday, and it was in facing the situation that I learned even more about vulnerability. I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but what I learned would affect how I approach situations and relationships in my life moving forward.

    Since everyone at work had either seen my embarrassing moment or heard about it, one of the few options I had was to simply be honest about the experience.

    It actually felt kind of refreshing to be open about my migraines and my embarrassment over them. I feel like we all spend so much time trying to convince everyone else that we’re fine when we’re not. It was a relief to be open and honest with others about real life.

    Here are some examples of vulnerable things I said to coworkers about my migraine experience.

    “I was really scared. I felt like my migraine would never go away.”

    “When I was nauseous, I tried to go to the bathroom, but it was all the way across the hall. I felt so helpless.”

    “I didn’t want to let everyone down by admitting I had a migraine.”

    Being vulnerable enabled me to connect with my coworkers, and we were able to relate to one another about the very human experiences of embarrassment, pain, helplessness, and anxiety. A couple of coworkers shared stories about migraines or other embarrassing situations in their lives.

    Yes, these were my coworkers, and I saw them that way. But I suddenly also felt as if I could see them as simply human.

    Vulnerability isn’t for every situation. Sometimes it isn’t safe or appropriate. Nowadays, I don’t talk to my coworkers about every life situation, and I only mention migraines if they somehow come up in conversation.

    But this experience with chronic pain gave me a little taste of what opening up to others would feel like and the good that it could do. It encouraged me to be open about migraines and other struggles in my life with family and friends. Some of the best, most fulfilling relationships of my life have come from being vulnerable with others.

    Life is just plain unpredictable. You can plan and prepare all you want, but sometimes things happen. And when they do, being vulnerable can help you glean something positive from unfortunate situations and form strong relationships.

    Although I’ve learned from my migraines, I want to be clear that I’d still rather not have them. They have caused me to have a lot of pain and limitations. I don’t agree with the phrase “everything happens for a reason” for every situation in life.

    But the reality is that I do have migraines, so I might as well look for the silver lining and take what I can from it.

    And it is true that I never would have learned so much about vulnerability if I hadn’t vomited from a migraine at the Ritz-Carlton.

  • Healing from Chronic Fatigue: The Amazing Impact of Self-Compassion

    Healing from Chronic Fatigue: The Amazing Impact of Self-Compassion

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

    In my mid-thirties, my active and adventuresome life as a broadcast journalist collapsed. It began with a trauma, followed by flu-like symptoms that stuck around for thirteen years. Almost overnight, I lost the pep to walk around the block, much less file reports for the evening news.

    A battery of doctors diagnosed me with chronic fatigue syndrome (ME/CFS), among other diagnoses. They said I’d have to live this way since there was no reliable cure. I became one of the medical mysteries I used to cover.

    Needless to say, I was terrified and grief-stricken. To add insult to illness, I beat myself up for ‘failing’ to get well. I should be able to master my new vocation of healing, reasoned my Type A personality.

    I used every ounce of energy I had to research my own health story. Intravenous vitamins, antiviral medications, sage-burning healers—I tried them all. I eliminated the foods I enjoyed and washed my elimination diet down with mounds of herbs.

    Sadly, I was also feeding myself bitter pills: self-pressure and self-criticism. I felt ashamed that I couldn’t make my body well, save a career I loved, or actualize the family I dearly wanted.

    There were enormous reasons for grief. But I didn’t have the support in and around me to feel this maelstrom of emotions. My mind swooped in to distract me.

    I blamed myself mercilessly, even though my symptoms started after I was sexually assaulted by a man who walked away free. There’s something unhealthy about a society that rarely punishes rape, even though an American is sexually assaulted every sixty-eight seconds, according to the Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network.

    We also know that people who experienced adverse childhood experiences have higher rates of chronic illness as adults. There’s mounting evidence that adult stressors and trauma can also topple our health. This is what happened to me, although it took years to make this connection.

    No matter whether we’ve experienced big ‘T’ trauma, little ‘t’ trauma, or the unavoidable insults of being human, we need self-compassion. This quality was once illusive to me. But after years of illness, I started softening.

    It was too painful to endure the pressure of trying to be a perfect patient. The hard-driving approach I adopted in my journalism career didn’t work when I could barely cook a meal.

    Exasperated by the medical maze, my yoga mat and meditation cushion became my medicine. I’d stretch like a cat in my backyard patch of grass. Trees, birds, and poetry became my companions.

    Eckhart Tolle’s voice was a melody to my nervous system. I steeped myself in his words each day. Instead of lamenting all the things I couldn’t do, I began to actually enjoy the imperfect present moment.

    You could say I accidentally fell into self-compassion. It’s not that I gave up on healing, but I began treating myself kindly for my very real suffering. I resonated with Naomi Shihab Nye’s poem Kindness, in which she writes:

    “Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore.”

    I awakened with sorrow and spent many insomniac nights mired in it. Much as I wish joy had become my teacher, suffering got the job.

    Soon, I started noticing kindness in and around me. My parents would drop by for a movie. We’d curl up on the couch, ditch my anti-candida diet with a bowl of popcorn, and sink into the relief of other people’s stories.

    Meanwhile, my state disability ended, and I was petrified about how I’d support myself as a single woman without a job. One day, a flier came in the mail saying, “Kindness is like a boomerang that comes back to you. We’re dedicated to financially supporting members of the media in a life crisis.”

    That was me! I’d never heard of this non-profit and don’t know how I got on their mailing list. I applied, got financial aid, and managed to save my house from the clutches of foreclosure!

    In the face of crisis, life’s generosities abounded. A friend listened to my heartbreak. My mom brought homemade chicken soup. One yoga teacher came by with superfood treats.

    Since I paused my pursuit of a cure, I decided to use my spoon-sized energy for an online writing class. Here, I found a community of kindred spirits. A fellow writer told me she recovered from chronic fatigue syndrome through a type of mind-body healing.

    This approach was brought forward by John Sarno, Howard Schubiner, and other physicians who realized the role of unresolved emotions in perpetuating chronic symptoms. Miraculously, her story gave me a sudden boost of energy and catapulted my recovery!

    I stepped into a new paradigm and realized I could overcome my seemingly endless flu-like symptoms. Rather than attacking viruses, I learned to soothe my brain and nervous system.

    No wonder I was hypervigilant. I’d first experienced a massive trauma, then suffered the stress of living with chronic symptoms I felt powerless to overcome. I’d subsequently lost my ability to support myself financially and function in the world during the prime of my life.

    My dear father also passed away during these years, as did three other close family members. My brain was on overload and became stuck in a hypervigilant state—exacerbated by fears that I was ill for life.

    In a training I took a year later, Dr. Schubiner described fibromyalgia as PTSD for the body. I finally felt seen and understood. This was the polar opposite of how I felt with most of the fifty practitioners I saw over my CFS saga.

    While allopathic medicine is miraculous in fighting infections and saving lives, it often neglects the role of emotional stress and trauma on our physical health. Physician and author Gabor Maté writes, “All of the diagnoses that you deal with—depression, anxiety, ADHD, bipolar illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, even psychosis, are significantly rooted in trauma. They are manifestations of trauma.”

    I needed to explore my storehouse of trauma, which I did through meditation, writing, and somatic therapy. I also shifted my beliefs about my condition and moved slowly back into activities. It took months of dedicated practice to retrain my brain so that I could safely inch out of my bubble.

    I brought mindfulness to personality traits like people-pleasing, pressure, and perfectionism since they can fuel chronic symptoms. I once heard a physician named John Stracks say, “When I think of why people develop pain, self-criticism is at the top of the list.”

    I wanted tools to soften my harsh inner dialogue, so I dove into Kristin Neff’s work. The research psychologist says self-compassion fills us with good-feeling hormones like oxytocin, while self-criticism fuels stress hormones like cortisol. This alone causes a cascade of physical symptoms.

    When our subconscious brain senses danger—even if it’s an internal, psychological one such as “There’s something wrong with me”—it activates our nervous system. In flight or fight, we might feel anxious or aggressive. In freeze, we can feel immobile or dead.

    Neff describes three elements of self-compassion: mindfulness, common humanity, and self-kindness. Here’s the gist of each one as I understand them.

    Mindfulness: We acknowledge and witness our physical or emotional pain as a felt experience in our body. We might say something like, “It’s hard to feel so sad and exhausted.”

    Humanity: We remember that suffering is part of being human. Although our circumstances are unique, we’re not alone in this universal experience.

    Self-Kindness: We treat ourselves as we would with a dear friend, offering ourselves the supportive words we yearn to hear. When we’re struggling, we ask with sincerity: What do I need right now?

    With self-compassion as my companion, I started speaking to myself tenderly. An indescribable relief would wash over me. Instead of feeling abandoned by life, I felt seen and witnessed by the only one who knew what I needed: myself.

    This dovetails beautifully with mind-body healing. A big part of my recovery was tracking sensations in my body with open curiosity. Fatigue felt heavy. Pain was burny. Brain fog felt spacey.

    To the extent I could, I stopped fighting or fleeing from my feelings and started holding them with curiosity. Often, restlessness and rumination reared up. When I stuck with it, sometimes my system settled and my symptoms shifted into emotions.

    Other times, my body spoke to me. Please don’t push so hard. Don’t say yes when you mean no. Tell me I’m okay just how I am. I need to do something fun.

    As I tended to my hurts in this new way, the physical symptoms began subsiding. This took patience and persistence. Many months later, I was back in the land of the living. Not only that, I was experiencing life in a more authentic and embodied way than I had before the CFS.

    This isn’t woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. Neuroscience shows that our brain creates pain, fatigue, anxiety, and other stress-related symptoms. It does so based on a perception of danger, whether that’s a wayward car, an angry spouse, or harsh inner dialogue.

    “Certain behaviors can bring us to a state of high alert without our even realizing it,” writes Alan Gordon in The Way Out. “There are three habits I see again and again in my patients that trigger fear and aggravate neuroplastic pain: worrying, putting pressure on yourself, and self-criticism.”

    When our nervous system shifts into a threat state, it communicates through symptoms. Sensations from dizziness to dullness are encouraging rest and inactivity. With ongoing stress, our brain can become sensitized, firing memos to our body in rapid succession.

    Kristin Neff’s research on self-compassion corroborates this. “Pain is often caused by tension and resistance, so when we soften a little bit as opposed to a harsh reactive stance, it tends to reduce the amount of pain we physically experience,” Neff says in The Healthy.

    Recently, I felt tension flare when speaking with a curt customer service agent who couldn’t help with a large payment I was supposed to receive. It was, apparently, stuck in limbo. My stress level rose, and I felt a knot in my throat—surely full of all the things I wanted to say to her!

    After two hours, my money was still missing in action. My frustration soared as I’d frittered away precious time I’d set aside to write my blog, conveniently on self-compassion. (The irony is not lost on this writer.)

    Instead of trying to fix it further or rush back to work, as I would have done before, I acknowledged that I was angry and scared. I reiterated how impossible the modern age is sometimes. And I said to the trembling part of me, “I am sorry you’re dealing with this stress. What do you want and need right now?”

    It turns out that I needed to growl (literally!). I needed to walk (briskly). And I needed to practice somatic meditation. I did all three and felt a wave of calm energy. The oxytocin potion, perhaps?

    I was ready to return to work with vigor and fresh material for my blog, conveniently enough. That jives with studies showing that self-compassionate people are less anxious and depressed than self-critical people.

    If self-compassion feels like a foreign concept to you, you’re simply a modern Homo sapien. For a long while, it was like a distant planet to me. With intention, we can cast our gaze towards self-kindness and move steadily into its orbit.

    The next time you feel hurt, scared, or symptomatic, you might pause and ask yourself: How am I feeling right now? What words or deeds would feel supportive to me? You may be surprised by what you find in the medicine chest of your very own heart.

  • How I Changed My Life by Becoming a Thought Snob

    How I Changed My Life by Becoming a Thought Snob

    “Loving people live in a loving world. Hostile people live in a hostile world. Same world. ~Wayne Dyer

    Driving home from another visit to the pediatrician, Mother reiterated how puny I was: “You’re just like Mommy. She was so frail. You get sick easily.” I’d say I was five years old when I wholeheartedly accepted this hogwash as fact. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you I stayed sick for three decades because I truly believed I was prone to illness.

    I come from a long line of women who never got what they wanted. They settled, conformed, and were submissive to their male spouses. I recall when I was probably eight and witnessed a heated knock-down drag-out between my parents.

    Those fights used to scare me, and I always ended up resenting my father because my mother was no match for him physically or intellectually. As she cleaned up the black mascara that had bled underneath her eyes, she told me something that ended up shaping my relationships with men.

    “Paula, if you care about a man, he’ll treat you like dirt beneath his feet.”

    And just like that, my perspective of men and where I stood with them was ill-fated. My teenage and adult relationships with men mirrored that belief that I accepted as fact when I was still getting bad perms. The bad perms were evidential proof that my brain wasn’t fully developed, so I was far too young to accept any beliefs as facts.

    Let’s flash forward a few years to when my father decided he was too much of a man for one woman. I was eighteen when my parents divorced. Two new women entered and filled our shoes one week after Mother and I left the brick-and-mortar institution we had called home.

    My father had taken on a girlfriend who had a daughter. The daughter set up shop in my bedroom and quickly adapted to answering to my nickname, “Little One.” I felt like I had been replaced because I had been. Very brutally and in true narcissistic form.

    At eighteen, I wasn’t equipped with the emotional intelligence of Mother Teresa, so I blamed myself for not being lovable, a subconscious belief that controlled my behaviors for the next twelve to thirteen years.

    During that time, I went from a size six to sixteen, bought property in Hell on Earth, and dated a drug-addicted criminal with multiple personalities, a mentally ill redneck who self-medicated, and a sex-addicted politician who had five out of the nine defining narcissistic traits. Believing I was unlovable created a string of unlovable experiences.

    At thirty, I realized I had experienced more heartache than love, and I was sick of living a life that wasn’t worth living.

    A couple of years prior, I was introduced to Dr. Wayne Dyer and was evaluating why my life looked the way it did. One day, I heard Dr. Dyer say something that changed the trajectory of my life: “Loving people live in a loving world. Hostile people live in a hostile world. Same world.”

    Holy shit. That’s when I put two and two together and realized I had been a victim of a downbringing, but that didn’t mean I had to stay a victim. Downbringing is a word I created to describe a socialization that taught me how to live in havoc instead of happiness.

    You might be wondering, “Well, Paula, what defines a downbringing versus an upbringing?”

    A downbringing happens when a young person accepts the subjective opinions (aka lies) of the people who influence them most without questioning or awareness of what is actually true (aka objective). In turn, the subjective beliefs creep into their subconscious minds and control their behaviors before they even realize what has happened. After many years, their mind is like a landfill because they have allowed any thought to live there rent-free.

    Using myself to demonstrate what a downbringing does to the mind, here is an overview of my belief systems during the first three decades of my life:

    • Women getting abused by men was normal.
    • Backstabbing friends and family members was normal.
    • Anyone who looked different than me was of lesser importance.
    • People are born lucky or unlucky, and no one has control over that.
    • I was more susceptible to sickness than others, and there wasn’t anything I could do about that.
    • Drinking excessive amounts of alcohol was normal.
    • There was one way to make money, so I had to take any job I could find, whether I liked it or not.
    • Women aren’t capable of making as much money as men.
    • Everyone was better than me.
    • It was wrong to want more. Wanting more meant I was a stuck-up snob.
    • Jealousy is a healthy response to anyone who looks better or has more.
    • Anger is totally acceptable in any situation when someone presents opposing beliefs.
    • The amount of money someone has makes them superior, and they earn the right to control people who have fewer material assets.

    I can keep going, but I think this list is the perfect Polaroid. Notice that what I stated about wanting more meant I was a stuck-up snob. There was something that was said to me repeatedly when I was still getting bad perms and on up until I was in my thirties.

    Whenever I mentioned wanting a better life, I was told I was getting above my raising. If I mentioned admiring someone who was wealthy, highly educated, or beautiful, I was quickly shot down with that statement, usually with a belly laugh from the person who said it.

    Have you ever been around someone who always found a way to humiliate the living daylights out of you? I have. I was raised by a man who used humiliation as a disciplinary tool, and he loved to pull that tool out of his pocket and use it strategically, especially when he had an audience.

    For many years, I stopped vocalizing my big dreams out of fear that he would embarrass me with a cruel, disempowering lie (aka subjective opinion), but one day, I responded differently to his humiliation tactics. This was a few years into my personal growth evolution, and I had figured out the key to living the best life possible. I wasn’t quite there yet, but I had figured it out and was heading toward a better life at the speed of an Amtrak train.

    He was intimidated by that because he could no longer intimidate me. On this day, he told me I was getting above my raising, and I loudly said, “God, I hope so.” His eyes got as big as two cannonballs, and at that moment, I transitioned from a thought slob to a thought snob.

    As I write this article, I am forty-seven. I have spent the last twenty years living the opposite of how I was taught to live. And guess what?

    I’m not frail at all. As a matter of fact, not only am I in optimal health, but I am also asymptomatic from a rare bladder condition called interstitial cystitis that is supposedly incurable. There’s more.

    My husband is the kindest, most supportive person I’ve ever known. I walked away from an employer who wanted to own my soul for a couple of bucks and thrived in my female-owned business. As it turns out, the people I was jealous of ended up being my greatest teachers because it was those people that I admired.

    If I continued behaving like a thought slob, accepting everyone’s opinions as absolute truths, something irreversible would have happened. This inner knowing caused me to pivot from my long, fruitful career in fundraising to helping people overcome a downbringing. While I worked to figure out this career change, I reflected on my past, and the core memories that surfaced made me realize two things.

    1. Young Paula’s mindset was rooted in self-loathing, and that blocked the better life I wanted.

    2. My self-loathing was the outcome of accepting the subjective opinions of others as facts.

    “Whoa,” I thought. “How simple yet so complex.”

    When I analyzed every aspect of my past existence, one word came to mind: slob. Physically speaking, I didn’t look like the stereotypical definition of a slob because I was very well put together and had excellent personal hygiene; however, I had neglected my brain hygiene for almost thirty years. It was corroded with filthy thoughts that nearly destroyed my life.

    “So, if I used to be a slob, what am I now?” As I thought through that, I came to the conclusion that what I had always wanted was better, but instead, I chose self-loathing because of how I viewed the world and my role in it. My newfound awareness led to the creation of two acronyms:

    • SLOB – Self-Loathing Overrides Better
    • SNOB – See New Objective Beliefs

    BAM! There it was—the perfect way to describe my transformation—from Thought Slob to Thought Snob. I had officially gotten above my raising.

    Awareness is the foundation of all change. When I started behaving with mindful awareness, I was able to interrupt thoughts that would turn into some crazy, scary story.

    Here is an example of how I used my Thought Snob method to reprogram my subconscious mind and train my brain to migrate away from negativity bias and toward thoughts and feelings that lifted me up instead of bringing me down.

    Before I met my husband, I had been alone for quite some time, healing from the tormented relationships I had tolerated and endured. During that time, I thought about what I had been taught as a child. Caring about a man is equated to being treated poorly.

    My awakening came from asking one question: Is this true? Always? Do all men treat women badly? Are all women punished for loving a man? The answer to all of these questions was a hard “NO!”

    I am telling you the moment I started viewing my life objectively (aka, looking at the facts), everything changed. I moved out of the hostile world I had always lived in into a loving world and sold that property I bought in Hell on Earth. I became so snobby with what I allowed my five senses to take in that I let go of 90% of the people, places, and things that had once helped create my identity.

    Bye, Felicia.

    Start here if your life isn’t how you want it to be. Examine your beliefs about the most important things to you. For demonstrative purposes only, let’s use money. If you’re broke and you desire wealth, what are your beliefs about money?

    Let’s say you discovered that you don’t believe you are capable of obtaining wealth because you were taught to believe that money was hard to come by. As you self-reflect, you find yourself feeling resentment toward wealthy people because you grew up in a household where people badmouthed the wealthy.

    Now, use SNOB and answer those questions objectively. For example, was it hard to come by when you received money for your birthday? No, it was easy.

    Are all wealthy people bad? No, they aren’t. The truth is, there are some wonderful wealthy people, and resentment comes from wanting what they have.

    Building self-awareness leads to asking self-reflection questions, and the answers that come reveal the culprit. The culprit is the lies you accepted as truths before your brain was fully developed. Those lies have controlled your behaviors, but here’s the good news.

    You’re an infinite choice-maker. At any moment, you can choose peace or hostility. That’s a fact.

    Here’s what I want you to do: Start practicing mindful awareness. Examine your whole life through an objective lens. When you see new objective beliefs, your self-loathing will no longer override better.

    Examine your life without judgment. You know where your beliefs came from. Show yourself tremendous compassion and move forward mindfully with a desire to change.

  • The Breakthrough That Helped Me Stop Comparing Myself to Others

    The Breakthrough That Helped Me Stop Comparing Myself to Others

    “Comparison is the thief of joy.” ~Theodore Roosevelt

    In March 2020, the UK went into its first Covid lockdown, and the country was swept with anxiety and sadness. When would we see our loved ones again? Would our health be okay? Was my job safe? And more pressingly, how the heck was I expected to teach my kids?

    Along with everyone else, I first received the news with a sense of impending doom and tried to make the best of a bizarre situation. “Normal life” consisted of stressful home schooling, online working, mask wearing, and (in the UK at least) stockpiling toilet paper!

    We were forced to slow down and retreat because nobody was allowed to socialize or engage in any activity outside of work or home. This was hard at first, but then, after a few weeks, something strange happened. I realized I’d never felt happier.

    You see, before lockdown, I might have appeared happy on the outside, but inside, I was an insecure mess. My mind was full of all the things I thought I “should” be doing: planning more exciting weekend plans, engaging in better hobbies, and making a bigger group of friends. Unless I was at the latest summer festival or spending my Wednesday evenings doing yin yoga, I didn’t feel good enough.

    After a busy day at work, scrolling through Facebook just gave me another list of things to do. An empty schedule felt like failure, and everyone else’s lives looked so much more exciting.

    So I lived for the future, constantly in planning mode and looking over my shoulder for approval. The pressure to keep up and always be doing something was exhausting. It caused rows with my husband (who couldn’t care less what everyone else was up to!), made me ignore my own needs, and reinforced low self-worth.

    If I wasn’t thinking about plans, then I was thinking about people. I compared myself to (what I assumed were) other people’s busy social lives and felt obliged to organize group nights out or always have people over for dinner. Even when I wasn’t seeing friends, I was always preoccupied with them. Were they a good friend? Was I? Why hadn’t they replied to that text? Do they even like me?

    Just below the surface of all the “planning” and “people” chatter that filled my brain was the ever-present noise of self-criticism.

    If you’re not making the most of life every minute, you’re failing.

    If you don’t have the perfect gang of besties like everyone else, then there’s something wrong with you.

    Your life is boring compared to everyone else’s.

    Nobody finds you interesting.

    Do more!!

    What made it all worse was assuming I was the only one with this nagging need to keep striving and do more just to feel good enough.

    I now know that, not only am I not the only one, but this type of thinking is natural.

    When I trained as a compassion-focused therapist, I learned all about how social comparison is wired into our brains. This is because having the biggest tribe and highest status gave us protection in Stone Age times.

    What gives us a sense of status these days? How big our social media following is, how many likes we get, and how amazing our social feed looks! We can’t help sharing if we’ve done something exciting because that inner caveman is driving us to compete.

    The problem is that when we don’t feel like we’re keeping up, our brain will turn on our inner critic because it thinks it’s helping (thanks brain!). It also has a negative bias, which makes us focus on the ways that everyone else seems to be doing better than us. And the false images we see on social media don’t help!

    Although this tendency is natural and we cannot help it, we are living in an age of unprecedented information about what everyone else is doing, and it’s putting our innate comparison nature into overdrive! This puts a strain on us all.

    For me, this started to change when the country closed down. Since everyone’s social calendar was empty, I no longer had anything to compare myself to. Since there were no longer any events or classes, there was nothing I felt like I “should” be doing.

    I spent my evenings and weekends doing what was in front of me because there was no other option. I’d take a local walk, relax in the garden, watch TV, and make it an early night.

    Surprisingly, rather than feeling unhappy and bored, like my critic told me I would, I felt relaxed, deeply content, and at peace. No more feeling like I was missing out; no internal should-ing; no self-criticism for being “boring.” The world had gone quiet, and so had my mind.

    I also realized how small my social circle needed to be. I know that many people felt crushingly alone and understandably missed those vital connections, but for me, it wasn’t an issue. I had my husband and kids, and, for the most part, that’s all I needed.

    Seeing very few people felt incredibly liberating, and it occurred to me that my desire to have a large social circle came from a need for validation. I liked my own company and was an introvert. Who knew?

    As life started to open up again, I was determined to hold on to this deep sense of contentment, and I didn’t want the world to have to stop again for me to keep it.

    Here are five useful steps I practice regularly that have helped me do that.

    1. Practice mindful self-compassion.

    As a newly trained therapist and committed mindfulness practitioner, I’ve found that mindful self-compassion is a powerful tool that helps keep comparison and criticism at bay. It’s becoming a widely used method taught by psychologists and spiritual leaders to improve mental well-being and self-acceptance.

    So, when I find myself being self-critical and comparing myself to others, I pause and bring a curious attention to my thoughts so that they are less consuming. Something simple like “I am noticing I am having self-critical thoughts” can be enough to recognize it’s just a thought, not a fact.

    Next, I tune into how I am feeling in my body so that I can label my emotions and allow any discomfort to be there. There might be a tightness in my chest from turning down an invitation or a heaviness in my stomach from feeling not good enough.

    Then, rather than judge how I feel, I remind myself that I cannot help it and that everyone feels like this from time to time. This step is so powerful because it releases the self-judgment cycle that makes us feel worse and opens up space for compassion.

    Finally, I ask myself what I need to hear, what would be helpful in this moment, or what I would say to a friend. Inevitably, I am able to tap into a deeper wisdom to remind myself that I am good enough already, that my needs are important, or that we have no idea what other people’s lives are really like.

    2. Give myself permission to be boring.

    We can be perfectly happy with our relatively chill weekend or evening, but as soon as we scroll through social media and see what other people are up to, we think there’s something wrong with us, and we experience FOMO.

    If you’re an active type and love staying busy, then great. But for me, the constant need to be doing something came from social pressure, and quiet evenings in front of the TV were what I craved the most after a busy day at work.

    Giving myself permission to be ‘boring’ honors who I am and helps me tune into my needs, which helps me know and like myself more. If the self-critical thoughts creep in, it’s a perfect time to practice self-compassion, and I remind myself that nobody is paying attention anyway.

    3. Keep my circle small.

     Many friendships changed for everyone during Covid because we were forced to focus on who mattered. I felt grateful that Covid made me realize that a large social circle was not actually making me happier, and social comparison had been a big driver for that.

    Not everyone has or needs a big gang, like my self-critic had told me. So, instead of going back out there and rekindling all my friendships, I made a point of keeping my circle small. I now focus on one to two close friendships and am able to be friendly with others without feeling like I have to be best friends with everyone!

    4. Embrace my inner introvert.

    It can be easy to think that introverts are quiet, bookish types, and if you met me, you would know that I do not fit that description at all. “Life and soul,” “chatterbox,” and “super-confident” are words that might more accurately describe me. But, as an empath, I have limited social reserves to be around people constantly, and I don’t need to either.

    I am perfectly happy in my own company and need lots of time to recharge in between socializing. Such tendencies do not suit a lifestyle with a busy social calendar and wide friendship circle. Acknowledging and accepting my introversion has allowed me to tune into what I need rather than thinking I need to be like everyone else.

    5. Work on my self-worth.

    Although we are all prone to social comparison, we are much more likely to do it if we lack self-worth. This is because our default “not good enough” belief makes us automatically assume other people are better than us, so to feel good enough, we try to keep up and secure imaginary approval.

    But it’s a slippery pole we can never get to the top of because it’s coming from a faulty belief that won’t go away just because we have external conditions. We therefore need to accept that we are already okay as we are, focus on what is important to us, and leave other people to their own lives.

    For me, using self-compassion and self-worth meditations, acting as if I was already good enough, and offering myself positive self-worth validations really helped.

    Learning to let go of destructive social comparisons and having the courage to be myself has been life changing, and I haven’t looked back since. There was so much about the pandemic that was negative, but I am grateful for the changes it helped me make.

  • Shadow Parts: How to Recognize and Release Them

    Shadow Parts: How to Recognize and Release Them

    “When we are aware of our weaknesses or negative tendencies, we open the opportunity to work on them.” ~Allan Looks

    Last year, I took my then-six-year-old son to a kite festival. He was ecstatic about flying his kites, and we spent a lot of time doing just that!

    At one point, his kite string got tangled with another lady’s kite string. Both kites crashed to the ground, and the lady and I started working to untangle the strings.

    In his excitement, my little one repeatedly asked if we were done yet and if he could fly his kite again. I reassured him, saying I understood his excitement and that his kite would be ready soon.

    However, the lady, visibly annoyed, gave him judgmental looks and eventually told him he was being impatient and needed to stop asking.

    Calmly, I explained to her that he was just excited to fly his kite and reminded her that he was only six years old.

    This incident made me observe her shadow of impatience. She was essentially impatiently telling a young, excited child to be patient without recognizing her own impatience. This is what we call a shadow.

    Recognizing our own shadows can be challenging because they are hidden within us, much like how a computer operates with its set of programs without being aware of them. Our shadows are ingrained from early childhood, making it difficult for us to see them clearly.

    Here are some common examples of shadows I’ve witnessed in clients, family, friends, and even myself:

    • A parent yelling at their child to stop yelling.
    • A parent (or anyone) being impatient with their child’s impatience.
    • Someone badmouthing another person while complaining about that person’s meanness, not realizing that badmouthing is unkind.
    • Someone desiring more benevolence from others but gossiping behind their backs.
    • I often feel unsure if someone wants me in their life or business, but the truth is, I am the one who is indecisive.

    Shadows make us judgmental and inhibit our capacity for love, compassion, joy, presence, and understanding. They limit our experience of life. This is why I believe shadow work is crucial for living a joyful and connected life.

    So, how can we shine a light on and release our own shadows? Here are a few steps:

    1. Bring Awareness: Notice your triggers—when you feel frustrated, impatient, annoyed, or judgmental towards someone else.

    2. Acknowledge the Emotion: Allow yourself to feel the emotion fully, without judgment or resistance.

    3, Be Curious: Curiosity transcends judgment. Ask yourself: What is it about this person that makes me feel this way?

    4. Identify the Shadow: Recognize that the part of yourself you have denied or repressed is being projected onto others. Ask yourself why you are judging them.

    5. Observe Honestly: Be radically honest and observe this shadow part of you. Acknowledge it by saying, “I see you.”

    6. Understand the Cause: Ask yourself why this shadow is showing up. Often, a younger, wounded part of yourself needs healing and love.

    7. Nurture the Wounded Part: Identify who you are protecting—perhaps a little girl who was scolded or punished. Hold this part of yourself with love, acceptance, and compassion.

    8. Heal with Love: Send love, patience, and kindness to this part of yourself. Give her what she needed at the time.

    9. Apply this Love Now: Extend this love to your current self and observe how it changes your feelings toward the situation or person.

    10. Practice Regularly: Repeat these steps until it becomes easier. As you nurture these parts of yourself, they will trust you more, and you will feel more grounded and loving.

    By shining a light on our shadows, we can transform judgment into understanding and impatience into patience, and ultimately live a more joyful and connected life.