Tiny Buddha

Tag: anxiety

  • How Menopause Exposed the Hidden Trauma I Spent Years Ignoring

    How Menopause Exposed the Hidden Trauma I Spent Years Ignoring

    “There is no way to be whole without first embracing our brokenness. Wounds transform us, if we let them.” ~Sue Monk Kidd

    Menopause flagged up everything unresolved, unmet, and unchallenged and asked me to meet it with grace.

    I’m not saying it was an overnight thing—more like a ten-year process of discovery, rollercoaster style. One of those “strap yourself in, no brakes, no seatbelt, possibly no survival” rides.

    If I’m honest, the process is still unfolding, but with less “aaaaggggghhhhh” and more “oh.”

    Having mentally swapped Nemesis Inferno for It’s a Small World, I can now look back with deep compassion for that younger version of me at the start of perimenopause.  She was the one frantically Googling her way through a vortex of symptoms, never quite able to figure out whether it was a brain tumor or an underactive thyroid gland.

    It all started when I was around thirty-five (for context, I’m now forty-nine). I’d just moved to Brighton from Cheshire to do a degree in songwriting at BIMM and threw myself into it with all the gusto of a twenty-four-year-old; after all, I had it…the gusto, that is.

    That first year was wild, to say the least, but then, the ground beneath me started to fracture.

    My mind would go blank on stage. The keyboard started looking like a fuzzy blob of jelly. My heart would pound through the night for no apparent reason. I gained a spare tire around my middle. I’d walk into town and have a panic attack, clutching the wall of a bank while strangers side-eyed me with pity or concern.

    My libido shot through the roof like a horny teenager. The rage was volcanic, and my poor partner couldn’t even breathe next to me without triggering a tirade (I see the dichotomy too).

    It was a maelstrom of symptoms that even Dr. Google couldn’t unpack, and yeah, neither could my actual doctor, but that’s for another time.

    The real unraveling came when I went on tour with a band at age forty-two.

    It was supposed to be fun-fun-fun, except it wasn’t. It was hell-hell-hell. Ten days, and I slept properly for only one of them. I came home wrecked, assuming that once I returned to my bed and the stability of my beloved, I’d be fine.

    But I wasn’t. That’s when insomnia truly began. I’d ‘learned’ how not to sleep, and now my mind was sabotaging me on a loop.

    In desperation, I booked in with a functional medicine practitioner who ran some lab tests. The results were “low everything,” and that was the first time I heard the word perimenopause.

    I didn’t think much of it at the time—standard denial. But the word lodged itself somewhere.

    Around the same time, I was running a speaker event in Brighton and immersing myself in therapeutic modalities as part of my own healing.

    Music, my first (well, actually second) career, had started to feel more frightening than exhilarating. In my search for calm, I stumbled upon a modality called RTT, a kind of deep subconscious reset done under hypnosis, which changed everything for me and launched me into a new career pathway.

    As I continued learning and applying what I was discovering, a huge lightbulb moment landed:

    “Hang on… A lot of the stories I’m hearing from women in midlife involve more than just symptoms; they involve deep, relational wounds.  I wonder if there’s a link between menopause symptom severity and childhood experiences?”

    So, I turned to Google Scholar to see if anyone else had spotted this link, and sure enough, there it was.

    I came across a 2021 study in Maturitas that found women with higher ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences) scores were up to 9.6 times more likely to experience severe menopausal symptoms, even when things like anxiety, depression, and HRT were factored in. That blew my mind.

    Another 2023 study from Emory University showed that perimenopausal women with trauma histories demonstrated significantly higher levels of PTSD and depression than those in other hormonal phases. That explained so much of what I was feeling too. 

    And then I found a 2017 paper in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry showing that women who experienced two or more ACEs were over 2.5 times more likely to have their first major depressive episode during menopause, even if they had no prior history of depression. 

    Finally, a recent 2024 review framed early trauma as a key driver of hormonal sensitivity, especially during life transitions like perimenopause. It helped me see that my struggles weren’t random or my fault; there was something a lot deeper at play.

    But I was still confused. What was the biological mechanism behind all of this?

    Dun dun dah… I found a peer-reviewed paper in Frontiers in Medicine that helped me connect the dots. Take a breath.

    In trauma-exposed women, our GABA receptors become altered. These receptors, which help calm the nervous system, rely on a metabolite of progesterone called allopregnanolone. But trauma can disrupt both our ability to break down progesterone into allopregnanolone and our ability to receive its effects at the cellular level (because the GABA receptors become dysfunctional).

    So basically, that means even if we have enough progesterone, we might not be able to use it properly. The ensuing result is that we become more sensitive to hormonal fluctuations, and we can’t receive the soothing effects we should be getting from progesterone.

    As I began to piece all this together, I was forced to confront something in my own history.

    Because frankly, I thought I had a happy childhood.

    That is, until I came across a concept that stopped me in my tracks. It felt so close to home, I literally clapped the book shut.

    It’s called enmeshment trauma.

    It’s a type of relational trauma that often leads to symptoms of CPTSD (which, just to remind you, tends to flare up during menopause). But the thing is, enmeshment hides in plain sight often under the guise of “closeness.” We prided ourselves on being a close family… too close, in fact.

    I was an only child with nothing to buffer me from the scrutiny of my parents and the emotional load they placed on me. They’d confide in me about each other as if I were their best friend or therapist. I didn’t know it then, but their lack of emotional maturity meant they were leaning on me for unconditional emotional support. I was a good listener and a very tuned-in child.

    I became parentified. Praised and validated for my precociousness, while being robbed of the ability to safely individuate. I was “allowed” to find myself, but the price I paid was emotional withdrawal from my father, equally painful as we’d been so close.

    It was confusing and overwhelming, and I had no one to help me metabolize those feelings. It wired me for hyper-responsibility, anxiety, and guilt. Not exactly the best recipe for a smooth menopause transition, which requires slowness, ease, and softness.

    As a textbook “daddy’s girl,” I unconsciously sought out older men, bosses, teachers, even married guys. Their energy felt familiar. Meanwhile, emotionally available prospects seemed boring, even if they were safer. That attachment chaos added more voltage to the CPTSD pot I had no idea was simmering under the surface of my somewhat narcissistic facade.

    The final ingredient in this complex trauma marinade was a stunted ability to individuate financially. I was still clinging to my parents’ purse strings at age forty-four. The shame, frustration, and despair all came to a head when I dove into the biggest self-sabotaging episode of my life:

    I decided to leave my long-term relationship.

    He was my rock and my stability. But “daddy’s girl” wanted one last encore. And when he refused to take me back, despite my pleading, it was a mess. But, in a twist of grace, my father had taught me grit. How to get out of a hole. And that’s exactly what I did.

    I learned to stand on my own two feet financially. I learned the power of committing to one person and treating them with respect. I learned to set boundaries and become deliciously self-preserving with my energy, because that’s what the menopause transition demanded of me.

    And if it weren’t for those wild hormonal shifts, I’m not sure I’d have learned any of this.

    Through my experience, I’ve come to see that menopause isn’t just a hormonal event. It’s a complete life transition, both inner and outer. A transition deeply influenced by the state of our nervous system and our capacity for resilience and emotional flexibility.

    For those of us with trauma, this resilience and flexibility is often impaired. Hormone therapy can help, yes, but for sensitive systems, it’s only part of the puzzle. And sometimes, it can even make things worse, especially if not dosed correctly.

    As sensitive, trauma-aware women navigating these hormonal shifts, there’s so much we can do to support ourselves outside of the medical model.

    Slowing it all down is one of the most powerful ways we can create space for the ‘busy work’ our bodies are diligently undertaking during this transition. Gentle, nourishing movement. Yoga Nidra. Early nights. Simple, healthy meals. Earthing and grounding in nature. Magnesium baths. Dry body brushing. Castor oil packs. Vaginal steaming. Think: self-care on steroids.

    But perhaps the most radical thing I ever did was to carve out more space in my diary just to S.L.O.W.  D.O.W.N.

    Now, eighteen months post-menopause, I find myself reflecting.

    What did she teach me?

    She flagged up everything unresolved, unmet, and unchallenged.

    She showed me where I was still saying yes to others and no to myself.

    She taught me that I need more space than society finds comfortable.

    She helped me let go of beauty standards and gave me time for rest.

    She absolved me of guilt for not living according to others’ expectations.

    She reframed my symptoms as love letters from my inner child, calling me home to myself.

  • How to Calm Anxiety That’s Rooted in Childhood Wounds

    How to Calm Anxiety That’s Rooted in Childhood Wounds

    “Anxiety is a response to a nervous system that learned early on it had to protect itself.” ~Dr. Hilary Jacobs Hendel

    Anxiety shaped much of my life—how I showed up, how I held myself back, and how I connected with others. For years, I didn’t even know what it was. I just knew the pounding heart, the tight chest, the trembling hands. I knew the shame that followed every “failure,” big or small, and the fear I would never be enough.

    For a long time, I thought I was the problem. But anxiety isn’t a moral failing. It’s a part of me that learned to survive in environments where my emotional needs weren’t met, where fear and shame felt louder than safety.

    Where It Started

    The roots of my anxiety began in childhood.

    I was in first grade when I brought home my school report card and saw that I ranked seventh in my class. At that age, I didn’t know if that was good or bad. I was just excited to tell my dad.

    When he came to pick me up, I smiled and shared the news innocently. Instead of a hug or encouragement, his eyes glared at me. His sharp, aggressive tone cut through me as he shouted, “It’s bad!”

    Looking back, I can see his reaction came from fear—that my performance might limit my future and that shaming me would push me to improve. But as a child, I couldn’t see that. I felt shocked and humiliated. My small body trembled, and my younger brain concluded:

    “I’m only worthy of love if I perform better.”

    The next semester, I ranked third. My dad bragged about it to everyone, and I felt brief relief. But the fear returned quickly:

    “What if I can’t keep this up?”

    That was the beginning of a belief that no matter how much I achieved, I was never “enough.”

    This pattern followed me for decades, surfacing in unexpected places. As an adult, I would freeze with anxiety at gas stations, trembling as I pushed my motorbike forward even when no one was rushing me.

    Eventually, I connected it to another childhood memory: my dad shouting at me to move faster in line at a gas station, his glare and sharp tone burning into me again. When processing this as an adult, I realized he had a good intention—to move things along for the other people waiting. But before I began my healing process, my nervous system was wired to react to the present as if I were reliving the past.

    Even years later, the anxiety lived on in my body, and I didn’t know how to process it.

    The Breaking Point

    I carried this unprocessed anxiety into adulthood. When I was five weeks pregnant, my partner was in a tragic accident that left him in a coma for two weeks before he passed away. Suddenly, I was alone, grieving, and without money to survive.

    I didn’t have the privilege of avoidance anymore. Grief, financial instability, and the responsibility of carrying a child forced me to face emotions I had buried for years.

    This was when I learned the practices that helped me stop spiraling and regain my composure.

    10 Tips That Help Me Prevent and Manage Anxiety

    Important note: These tips are not a substitute for therapy, medication, or professional diagnosis. They are complementary practices to help restore balance and create a sense of safety in the body.

    1. The gratitude shift—turn anxiety into information.

    Instead of berating the intense sensations anxiety brings, I now try meeting it with gratitude. Anxiety is my body’s built-in alarm system.

    When I feel it rising, I say, “Hi, anxiety. I see you doing your job. Thank you for showing up.”

    Then I ask:

    What is this sensation trying to tell me?

    Where is this coming from in my history?

    What action can I take now to feel safer and more supported?

    This small act of acknowledgment makes space to feel more in control and invites curiosity instead of fear.

    2. Slow down and simplify your life.

    Too many distractions can block memories and emotions from surfacing. Simplifying my life gave me mental space for self-awareness.

    I released unnecessary obligations, overpacked schedules, and numbing habits like endless scrolling. When I slowed down, I could finally hear myself and recognize what was driving my anxiety.

    3. Trace the roots through quiet observation (and fasting).

    Closing my eyes and observing the first persistent memories that surface often reveals the root of anxiety.

    When I couldn’t afford therapy, I used intentional fasting to access clarity. (If you decide to give this a try, I recommend consulting with your doctor first. This is my personal spiritual practice, not a universal recommendation.) I started slowly with:

    • A twelve-hour fruit and vegetable fast, then
    • A twelve-hour water fast, then
    • A full-day fast (6 a.m. to 6 p.m.)

    Each time hunger arose, I named my intention out loud through prayer or journaling: “Please show me the root cause of this anxiety and how to release it.”

    Fasting, for me, was a deliberate way to quiet external noise so buried memories and insights could surface.

    4. Catch the first emotion—shock.

    My body often stores layers of pain, and shock is usually the first overwhelming emotion. If I can name it quickly, I can interrupt the spiral.

    For example, when I was feeling overwhelmed as a mother, I’d sometimes snap at my daughter. I’d get frustrated and angry with myself, but after fasting, the memory of my parents snapping at me came up quite vividly.

    Remembering this, I allowed myself to see, acknowledge, experience, and accept how painful and shocking it was for me to be treated that way.

    5. Write in detail what shocked you (and other emotions).

    After naming shock, I write the exact details of what triggered it: the sudden glare, the change in tone, the clenched jaw, the slammed door.

    Then I name the other emotions as honestly as possible: fear, humiliation, sadness, anger, or betrayal—whatever is true in that moment.

    Being radically honest in this process helps me release the experiences that I previously stored as trauma.

    6. Grieve the losses.

    Once I release the shock, I let myself grieve. I cry for the safety, compassion, and respect I needed but didn’t receive.

    Sometimes I use music to amplify the sadness so it can move through me. This isn’t weakness—it’s how the body processes pain instead of storing it.

    7. Name the unmet needs.

    Grief opens the door to understanding my needs.

    “When I was shouted at by my dad after making mistakes, I felt unsafe and ashamed. My need for emotional security was violated.”

    “When I was only praised for achievements, I felt unseen. My need for consistent acceptance was neglected.”

    Naming needs clarifies what’s important so I can ask for it clearly and assertively as an adult. It’s empowering to name the hurt and see how it helps me understand my emotional needs better.

    8. See the context—compassion for your parents’ limitations.

    Fasting and becoming a mother helped me understand the hardship my parents faced. Parenting a neurodivergent child with limited resources, little support, and financial stress is overwhelming.

    This doesn’t excuse the harm, but it helps me hold two truths:

    1. Their actions hurt me.
    2. They were also struggling humans who lacked the tools to parent better.

    This perspective softens resentment and breaks cycles.

    9. Write down the worst-case scenarios.

    While processing the past experiences that have contributed to my anxiety can help decrease anxious feelings in the present, it also helps to challenge how I think about the future.

    When I spiral, my brain floods me with worst-case scenarios. Positive thinking never helped—it only deepened my fear.

    Instead, I confront the fears by writing down every possible worst-case outcome, even the most extreme. I’ve lived through homelessness, earthquakes, and tragic losses. Pretending they couldn’t happen again didn’t work.

    By naming them, I strip them of their power.

    10. Prepare intuitive actions and identify help.

    After writing the worst cases, I ask:

    What is the first intuitive action I can take to prevent or reduce the impact?

    Who is the first person I can contact for help? Who else could I reach out to?

    Writing these down gives me agency. It tells my nervous system, “I’m not helpless. There are things I can do and people I can ask for help.”

    —

    Anxiety is a part of me. Experiencing the spiral because I didn’t know how to name, process, and communicate it sucks.

    I’m still a work in progress when it comes to maintaining composure consistently, but I feel empowered knowing that I’m mastering emotional intelligence—skills I can pass down to my child.

    Healing is not linear, and some steps will feel harder than others. But with consistency, these practices can help you restore a sense of safety, reclaim your agency, and soften the belief that you must always be on high alert.

  • Relief from Relentless Thoughts: Reclaiming My Mind from OCD

    Relief from Relentless Thoughts: Reclaiming My Mind from OCD

    “Don’t believe everything you hear—even in your own mind.” – Daniel G. Amen

    This quote might sound like something you’d read on a coffee mug or an Instagram quote slide. But when your own mind is feeding you a 24/7 stream of terrifying, intrusive thoughts? That little phrase becomes a survival strategy.

    Sure, I have lots of strategies now. But they weren’t born from a gentle spiritual awakening or a peaceful walk in the woods. They were born out of a relentless, knock-down, drag-out fight with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). A fight that started when I was a kid and stole years of my life.

    Let me be blunt: OCD is not quirky or cute. It’s not about liking things tidy or being “a little type A.” It’s a full-body, panic-inducing disorder where your brain screams, “You are in danger!”—even when there’s no actual threat.

    It’s counting in desperate loops. It’s having rituals you don’t understand but can’t stop doing. It’s fear that feels like a gun pointed between your eyes, triggered by nothing more than a thought. I know because I have OCD, or I guess I should say “had” OCD.

    Life with OCD: A War Inside My Head

    From the time I was young, my brain was hijacked by fear. Fears that something terrible would happen. That I’d lose people I loved. That I’d be misunderstood, unworthy, unforgivable. These thoughts didn’t just whisper—they screamed. And my body listened: sweaty palms, racing heart, shallow breath. Over and over, even though nothing was really wrong.

    To cope, I created rituals—compulsions that promised relief but never delivered. I’d roll my neck a certain way, flex my wrists, blink, swallow, count in rapid-fire succession—anything to feel right again. But it never really worked. Four was my magic number for a long time. I could fly through sixty-four sets of four faster than you’d believe. Still, the anxiety roared back every time.

    Want a picture of what this looked like? Here’s one from high school: I’m sitting at the kitchen table. I glance—again—at the round straw basket on the wall. I roll my neck, flex both wrists, blink, swallow. Damn it. Not right. I start the sequence again. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. Again. And again. Four sets of four, done four times. Still not right. I’m drowning in invisible urgency while everyone else is just trying to eat dinner.

    I had objects in every room of the house, each one assigned to a ritual. A cherry wood clock. The edge of a curtain rod. A fluorescent light tile. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t even understand it. And I definitely didn’t enjoy it. OCD stole my time, my energy, and my sanity. If I didn’t do the rituals, I was consumed by dread. If I did them, they were never good enough. It was a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t existence.

    Thoughts That Terrified Me

    The content of my fears changed over time, but the intensity didn’t. Sometimes the dread was vague. Sometimes it was specific and disturbing—violent images, inappropriate sexual thoughts, blasphemous phrases. I obsessed that I’d pick up a knife and hurt someone. That someone I loved would die because I breathed the wrong way.

    I couldn’t write without rewriting. I couldn’t look in a mirror without fearing I’d become vain. I drew invisible lines on the floor to protect people. I had to sit a certain way, speak a certain way, think a certain way. And God help me if a “bad” thought popped into my head mid-ritual—I had to start all over again.

    At one point in college, while stuck in an endless loop of trying to put a piece of paper in a folder “just right,” I ended up stabbing a pencil into my thigh out of sheer mental exhaustion.

    I truly believed I was broken.

    Finding a Name—and a Way Out

    I didn’t even know it was OCD until I stumbled across a book and then saw a video showing other people’s compulsions. It was a holy shit moment. You mean someone else can’t fold a towel just once either?

    Once I had a name for what was happening, I could begin to untangle it. I learned that my brain was sending false messages—and that I didn’t have to obey them. A psychiatrist once explained it with a triangle: Most people’s thoughts bounce between points and move on. Mine got stuck in the triangle and just spun endlessly.

    Knowing that helped. But what really changed everything was discovering mantras.

    How Mantras Helped Me Rewire My Brain

    My mom—who also struggled with OCD—started making up little phrases with me to cut through the noise. The one that changed everything?

    “That’s a brain glitch. I don’t have to pay attention to that.”

    It sounds simple, but that phrase became a mental lifeline. It helped me step back, call out the OCD lie, and redirect my focus. It was a way to challenge the urgency of the thought without getting pulled into the ritual. And it worked—not overnight, but consistently, over time.

    Then I read Brain Lock by Jeffrey Schwartz, which broke down the exact same strategy: identify the thought, reattribute it, and refocus. I realized—I’d already been doing that with my mantras. They were helping me rewire my mind. That realization was empowering. I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was retraining my brain.

    Mantras, OCD, and the Messy Middle of Healing

    Slowly, imperfectly, I stopped fighting my thoughts and started getting curious about them. I began to notice how fear hooked me—and how I didn’t have to take the bait.

    My mantras started piling up on sticky notes everywhere. They were grounding. Sometimes funny. Sometimes serious. Sometimes just sarcastic enough to cut through the noise in my head. But they worked. They reminded me of what was true. They gave me just enough space to respond differently.

    Because here’s the thing: OCD doesn’t run my life anymore. Sure, the tendencies still flare up under stress—but I have tools now. I have perspective. And I have mantras.

    Not the fluffy kind that pretends everything is fine. The gritty, scrappy, fiercely compassionate kind that says:

    • Yes, your brain is being loud right now—and you’re still allowed to rest.
    • Uncertainty is uncomfortable, not dangerous.
    • You are not your brain.
    • You can let go. Even if you have to do it a hundred times.

    If you’re someone who struggles with relentless thoughts—whether it’s OCD, anxiety, or just the everyday noise of being human—I hope this inspires you to craft your own phrases, rooted in your values and the kind of life you want to move toward, or mantras that remind you to ignore that harsh inner critic and the fears that lurk in your mind.

    You’re not alone.

    Your thoughts are not always true.

    And you are allowed to let go of thoughts that do not serve you.

    Even if you have to let go over and over and over again. That’s okay. That’s the work.

    Don’t believe everything you think. But start believing that you can heal.

  • 6 Simple Things I Do When Life Feels Completely Overwhelming

    6 Simple Things I Do When Life Feels Completely Overwhelming

    “You can’t calm the storm, so stop trying. What you can do is calm yourself. The storm will pass.” ~Timber Hawkeye

    Overwhelm doesn’t always knock politely. Sometimes it crashes into my day like an unexpected storm—suddenly I can’t think straight, and everything feels urgent, impossible, and too loud. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m spiraling in my head, convinced I’m falling behind on everything and failing everyone.

    If you’ve ever sat frozen in your car in the grocery store parking lot, staring blankly at a to-do list that now feels like a personal attack, you’re not alone.

    Here are six things I turn to when I feel completely overwhelmed—none of them fix everything, but they all help me find my footing again.

    1. I stop trying to “figure it all out” right now.

    When I’m overwhelmed, my brain turns into a malfunctioning computer with eighty-seven tabs open and nothing loading. I immediately try to solve everything at once, like I can outthink the chaos if I just try hard enough.

    But thinking harder doesn’t fix it. It just fries my system.

    I’ve learned to pause and remind myself: I don’t need to fix my whole life in this exact moment. When I feel myself spiraling into “fix all the things” mode (shoutout to ADHD), I write down whatever I’m trying to remember or control. That way I’m not ignoring it—I’m just parking it somewhere so I can get through the thing I actually need to do right now.

    2. I pick one tiny thing I can do.

    Sometimes I stare at the mountain and forget I can just take one step. My brain immediately goes into “do it all right now or you’re failing” mode. And that’s when I end up doing absolutely nothing except overthinking and hating myself for not being productive.

    So I stop and ask: What’s the next five-minute task I can do without using my last brain cell?

    Not the whole kitchen—just get the dishes out of the sink. Not the whole inbox—just respond to the one email that’s been haunting me for days. One drawer. One phone call. One bill.

    It doesn’t feel glamorous, but it’s how I trick my brain into motion. Because five minutes of action beats two hours of beating myself up for not doing anything. Tiny progress is still progress. And sometimes, it’s the only kind that’s available.

    3. I ground myself in something sensory.

    When anxiety hits, it’s like my brain hijacks my whole body. Suddenly, I’m not just stressed and overwhelmed. No amount of logic works in that moment because my nervous system doesn’t care that everything’s technically fine.

    So instead of trying to think my way out of it (which never works), I shift focus to anything physical. I take a cool shower, drink a cold glass of water, light a candle, or put on my favorite scented lotion. I’ve held ice cubes before just to shock my brain back into my body.

    Sometimes I just sit with my cat and focus on the feel of his fur under my hand, like, “Okay, this is real. This is here. I’m not being chased by a bear.”

    Sensory grounding actually helps. It’s not deep or profound, but it’s basic anxiety relief. And honestly, that’s the vibe I’m going for when I’m spiraling: survive first, analyze later.

    4. I do a ten-minute reset (phone-free).

    I set a timer and do something quiet and simple—no phone, no news, no notifications. Just ten minutes without input. That alone feels like a luxury.

    I sit outside and zone out to whatever the wind is doing. Or I color like a bored kindergartener. Sometimes I wash the dishes really slowly, like I’m doing a meditative art form instead of basic hygiene. And occasionally, I just lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling like I’m rebooting my entire existence.

    It’s not about being productive or using the time well. It’s about giving my brain a break from having to be on all the time. Ten minutes of stillness doesn’t fix everything, but it gives me just enough space to breathe again—and sometimes, that’s all I need to keep going.

    5. I check my self-talk for cruelty.

    Overwhelm brings out the absolute worst inner dialogue. My brain turns into a mean girl with a megaphone. She says things like:

    “Why can’t you handle this?”

    “You’re behind—again.”

    “Everyone else is doing just fine. What’s your excuse?”

    It’s not helpful. It’s just self-bullying, dressed up as motivation.

    When I catch that voice spiraling, I try to pause and respond the way I would if a friend came to me in the same state—exhausted, anxious, and trying their best. I’d never say, “Wow, you’re really bad at life.” I’d say something like:

    You’re not failing. You’re overwhelmed. Let’s figure out what would actually help right now.

    That shift—from shame to support, from blame to curiosity—changes everything. It doesn’t magically make the stress disappear, but it keeps me from mentally kicking myself while I’m already down. And honestly, that’s a win.

    6. I let it be a “low power mode” day.

    Phones go into low power mode when they’re drained—and so do I. And on those days, I stop expecting myself to function like I’m fully charged.

    I do the bare minimum. I eat something simple (whatever takes zero brain power and maybe comes in a wrapper). I wear the comfiest clothes I can find, even if they don’t match and have questionable stains. I don’t force motivation to show up or try to “push through.” I let it be enough that I exist and made it out of bed.

    And I stop treating rest like something I must earn. I don’t need to check off five tasks or prove I’m productive before I’m allowed to take a breath. Sometimes, the most responsible thing I can do is shut everything down and reboot.

    Because being human is hard. Being sensitive, overstimulated, exhausted, or just done is part of it. And it’s okay to have days when I’m not okay. I don’t have to explain or justify it. Low power mode is still functioning—it just means I’m protecting my energy until I have enough to show up fully again.

    Final Thoughts

    Overwhelm doesn’t mean I’m broken. It usually means I’ve been running on empty for too long while trying to hold everything together without enough rest, support, or room to fall apart safely. It’s not weakness. It’s a warning light.

    These six things don’t magically fix the mess. They’re not a makeover or a glow-up. They’re a ladder. A gentle, scrappy, wobbly little ladder I’ve built over time that helps me climb out of the mental spiral one small rung at a time.

    If you’re feeling buried right now—under expectations, emotions, responsibilities, or just life in general—I hope something in this list reminds you:

    You don’t have to do it all. You don’t have to be productive to be worthy. You don’t have to perform your pain or prove how hard things are.

    You just have to come back to yourself. One breath. One step. One tiny act of care at a time.

    You’ve got this. And even if today, this just means brushing your teeth, replying to one text, or microwaving some sad leftovers—that still counts.

    You still count.

  • Lessons from a Former Overthinker: How to Start Really Living

    Lessons from a Former Overthinker: How to Start Really Living

    “Rule your mind, or it will rule you.” ~Buddha

    I used to be trapped in a cycle of overthinking, replaying past mistakes, worrying about the future, and mentally holding onto every thought, just as I physically held onto old clothes, books, and my child’s outgrown toys.

    The fear of letting go—whether of physical items or persistent thoughts—felt overwhelming. But I didn’t realize that this habit of mental hoarding was keeping me stuck in place.

    The Anxiety of Letting Go—My Last Day of School

    One of my earliest experiences with mental hoarding happened on my last day of school in 1996 before my tenth-grade board exams. When my class teacher wished us “All the very best, children, for your board exams,” I suddenly realized—it was my last day in school. This thought had never crossed my mind before, and it hit me hard.

    I’d spent over a decade there—eleven or twelve years—growing up, laughing, learning, crying, sharing tiffins, and living through every moment with my friends. The idea that I would never return to that life left me feeling overwhelmed with anxiety and sadness.

    On that day, when I returned home, I couldn’t eat lunch, nor could I sleep well. I clutched my pillow tightly, as if I could stop time from moving forward. I kept replaying all the moments, all the memories. The playground where I ran and played, the tap I used to drink water from, the desk where I sat every single day, the blackboard where I nervously wrote answers. But what truly gutted me was I would never see some of my friends again.

    Back then, there was no Facebook or Instagram to keep in touch. If you missed a day at school, you had to ask someone in person what happened, what they did over the weekend, and what their summer vacation was like. School was the only way to stay connected. I felt like I was losing a part of myself.

    I missed my evening’s Taekwondo practice. I didn’t even have the energy for dinner. I just went to bed, but my mind was restless, spinning.

    The next morning, I woke up at 3 a.m. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I needed to run. So, I dragged myself to the stadium where I used to train. I ran with all my strength, threw punches and kicks into the air, and let out loud screams with each movement.

    Sweat drenched my body, but I didn’t feel tired. Instead, I felt the tension leaving my body. As I sat on the ground, watching the first rays of the sunrise, I realized that time does not stop for anyone. Every ending is a new beginning.

    This was the first time I truly understood the power of movement and mindfulness in releasing emotional baggage. I had been hoarding memories, but by physically engaging with my emotions—through running, punching, and embracing the new day—I let go of the stiffness in my mind.

    This was my first lesson at the age of fifteen: that sometimes, the hardest goodbyes bring the lightest hearts.

    Unanswered Questions—Learning to Let Go

    In 2002, I faced another instance of mental hoarding, but this time it was about unanswered questions and emotional attachment.

    There was a girl from my school days who had been more than a friend. After school, we lost touch—there were no mobile phones or social media back then. For five to six years, I never considered pursuing anyone else, always wondering what she would think if I did. Her presence lingered in my mind, keeping me from moving forward.

    Finally, in 2002, after seven long years, I went to the school where she was working as a teacher. There was a function happening that day, and amidst the crowd, I gathered the courage to propose to her.

    Tears filled her eyes as if she had been waiting for that moment, but she neither said yes nor no. Instead, she spoke three lines, turned away, and left. I stood there, unable to move, as if my feet were rooted to the ground. It felt like a part of me had been left behind.

    For days, I couldn’t concentrate on my studies. My mind replayed those three lines over and over, searching for answers that weren’t there.

    One day, while battling my thoughts, I was hitting a tennis ball against a wall, lost in frustration. In anger, I hit it too hard, and it rebounded faster than I expected. I jumped high to catch it, but when I landed, I felt a sharp pain—a hairline fracture in my right foot. The doctor put my leg in a cast, and for forty-five days, I was confined to my home.

    During that time, I had no choice but to sit still. With nothing else to do, I turned my focus entirely to studying for my CA-Inter exam. As I immersed myself in my studies, I noticed something—the memories of that day no longer haunted me. Without realizing it, I had stopped searching for answers. I appeared for my exam soon after my cast was removed and passed successfully.

    At the age of twenty-two or twenty-three, I learned a profound lesson: Some questions don’t have answers, and the more we chase them, the more they consume us. The key is to stop searching for meaning in every unanswered moment and move forward.

    The Power of Letting Go

    A turning point came during my corporate nine-to-five job. I felt like a bird in a cage, desperate to fly but held back by uncertainty. I wanted to quit and start my own business, but I spent two years mentally hoarding fears.

    What if I fail? What about my financial responsibilities to my wife and three-year-old son? The constant loop of overthinking paralyzed me. I finally broke free in September 2012, when I quit my job and became a sub-broker in the stock market. Letting go of fear was liberating. I no longer had to be answerable to anyone, and I had the freedom I had always dreamed of.

    This experience taught me that, just like physical clutter, mental clutter keeps us stuck.

    Another powerful realization came to me in 2020 when my son insisted on buying a 55″ smart TV. I had been holding onto my old CRT TV, the very first thing I bought with my income back in January 2006. It wasn’t just an appliance—it was a symbol of my early struggles and achievements.

    I remembered how I had gone to Shimla for work in a friend’s car and excitedly purchased it on the way. Though outdated, it still worked, and I clung to it, not because of its utility, but because of the memories attached to it. Letting go felt like erasing a part of my journey.

    But in November 2020, I finally gave it away to someone in need and welcomed the new TV. It was only then that I realized that unless you make space—whether in your home or your mind—new things, new opportunities, and new ways of thinking cannot enter. This lesson extended beyond possessions; it applied to thoughts, regrets, and self-imposed limitations.

    Regret is a Waste of Time—Lessons from Professional Life

    I started investing and trading in 2009. Back then, I bought stocks that were trading in two figures and sold them after holding them for a few days or months at a 5-10% profit. A decade later, some of those stocks were trading in four figures, and the thought of what I could have gained was painful. The regret of “What if I had held onto them?” haunted me.

    But then, I reflected and realized that every decision I made—both buying and selling—was mine, based on the conditions at the time. Just as some stocks grew tremendously, others that once traded in four figures lost their value completely. I have clients who call me daily, expressing regret about missed opportunities. They saw a stock at a lower level, hesitated to buy, and later saw it jump by 25% or more. The cycle of regret is endless.

    Over time, I have trained myself to stop overthinking past trades. Now, I focus only on my present trades, whether I make a profit or a loss. If an opportunity presents itself today, I act without hesitation instead of dwelling on missed chances.

    This experience taught me an important lesson: If we cannot change our past decisions, there is no use in regretting them. Instead, we should focus on what we can do now.

    The Biggest Lesson—Accepting Life’s Impermanence

    The biggest lesson I learned came from an unexpected place, one that I never imagined would leave such an impact. In the northern part of India, especially in Punjab, where I live, there is a festival called Basant Panchami, celebrated with much joy and enthusiasm. It usually falls in January, and one of the key traditions is flying kites.

    In 2018, the festival was on January 22nd, and the day before, I went to the market with my younger brother to buy kites and strings. We were both passionate about flying kites since childhood, and that day, we were thrilled, full of laughter and excitement. We spent the morning playing music, dancing, and flying kites together, just like we had done for years.

    But what I didn’t know, what I could never have predicted, was that day would be the last time I would experience this with my younger brother. In June 2018, my brother left this world, and that was the moment I fully grasped the weight of what I had lost.

    From that day until the Basant festival in 2025, I kept the nineteen kites we had bought that day, unable to fly them, because they reminded me of him. It felt like if I flew those kites, I’d somehow be letting go of the only piece left of him. Each year, as the spring festival came around, I would hold on to those kites tightly, preserving the memory of the day we spent together.

    But this year, something changed. At the 2025’s Basant festival, I finally let go. I flew those nineteen kites. As they soared in the sky, I realized that we had bought those kites to celebrate, to enjoy life, and my brother would have wanted me to do the same.

    Holding on to them, keeping them safe, was just a way of avoiding the truth: life moves on, and sometimes, the more tightly you hold on to something, the more you lose in the process. It reminded me that, like the sand slipping from your hand when you grip it too tightly, life too must be lived with openness and acceptance.

    That realization hit me hard: life is like a moving train. We are all passengers on that train, and eventually, each passenger leaves when their station arrives, while others continue their journey. Every living thing on this Earth will vanish one day. Holding on to the past, to memories, to the “what ifs,” only weighs us down.

    I had been hoarding my thoughts and emotions for so long, thinking I could preserve them and keep them safe. But this lesson—through the act of finally flying those kites—helped me realize how destructive overthinking can be.

    It was time to stop hoarding my memories and emotions. Life is constantly moving forward, and holding on too tightly to what’s gone only prevents me from enjoying the present.

    I learned that it’s okay to let go, to free myself from overthinking, and to embrace what is happening now. Just like the kites in the sky, my brother’s memory will always be with me, but I have to live my life fully, without fear of letting go.

    The lesson I learned is simple yet profound: stop hoarding your thoughts, free yourself from overthinking, and allow yourself to truly live. Life moves forward, and so must we.

    Final Thoughts

    Freedom from mental clutter is possible. Once I let go of the thoughts that no longer served me, I made space for clarity, courage, and growth. And just like my career shift, I realized the only way to truly move forward is to stop hoarding and start living.

  • How to Escape Cycles of Panic, Overwhelm and Dread

    How to Escape Cycles of Panic, Overwhelm and Dread

    “Neuroscience research shows that the only way we can change the way we feel is by becoming aware of our inner experience and learning to befriend what is going inside ourselves.” ~Bessel A. van der Kolk

    It’s early morning, and I wake with an intense sensation of foreboding. I say wake up, but really, it’s just coming fully into consciousness, as I’ve been semi-conscious all night. Fitfully tossing and turning, a deep anxiety gnawing at my chest.

    My mind has been flipping back and forth—across different subjects, even different times, collecting insurmountable evidence that my life is going terribly, and I’ll always feel like I’m just about hanging on by a thread.

    I drag myself out of bed, exhausted as usual, meeting the day with an intense feeling of disappointment in myself. Why am I always bouncing between anxiety and panic? Why can’t I control myself so that I stop being fed a constant stream of fearful, self-blaming, intrusive thoughts?

    Why can’t these terrible emotions just give me a break once in a while so I could complete some of the things that I’m so anxious about? Why is my life so riddled with overwhelm, and how on earth do I escape this?

    That early morning six years ago was a scenario that had played out on repeat for decades. Different worries plagued me at twenty than at forty. But the texture of my mornings, the texture of my days, was the same. Except that by forty I was more tired—my body exhausted from being in this perpetual state of different flavors of fear. I’d had more than enough. Enough was twenty-five years ago.

    I’d tried lots of different things—did different types of talk therapy, changed my diet, exercised, went on retreats, completed four different types of meditation training, read endless books, removed stressful-feeling friendships, moved several times, left the country… And while so many things gave me some good ideas, took the edge off things for a while, and at times felt really good, I would always return to the same baseline.

    When I missed a meditation, left the retreat, or walked out of the therapy office, I would feel just as alone, just as vulnerable to the forces of the world to take me down into pits of dread and despair. A baseline that was sinking from the weight of so much overwhelm and a life lived in a state of panic.

    I didn’t want to feel like this anymore. This wasn’t a life. This was living in glue and trying to battle my way through my days.

    Over time, I had made my life smaller and smaller so that there were fewer things to be stressed and anxious about. I’d see fewer people who I found difficult. I made my work and home life simpler. But my worries expanded to fit however small I made my life.

    I felt so lost, so alone in my struggles, like I was the only one feeling like this. No one else looked like they would panic if things didn’t go how they needed them to go.

    One day by chance, while researching something online for work, I randomly happened upon a coach and decided to give her a try. Over the next few months of working with her, I noticed a small but significant shift in how I was feeling.

    I felt a lot calmer; I woke up without punishing dread. I started sleeping better and felt less like I needed to carefully manage my life in order to cope.

    I was hooked.

    What had happened?

    My coach explained to me about the survival states of fight, flight, freeze, and fawn—how I’d been bouncing around between freeze and fawn my whole life, and that’s why I felt so terrible.

    Survival is a mode our nervous system goes into when there’s an actual physical threat on the horizon or there’s too much emotional pressure that we don’t know how to deal with.

    Like emotions are flooding us, and our nervous system says, “No! We need to protect against this emotional flood.” So survival mode gets turned on.

    Unfortunately, survival mode doesn’t feel good! It doesn’t help us live in a state where we are thriving, feeling calm, hopeful, productive, and like life is full of possibility.

    Living in survival mode feels awful because it’s a state that we aren’t meant to live in for long stretches of time.

    It’s a state we’re meant to access when there’s an actual threat to our survival, but because of how much emotional pressure so many of us carry, many of us are living there a lot of the time.

    All emotions are natural and valid; we aren’t meant to disconnect from or suppress them. But when we do, emotional pressure builds.

    Emotional pressure can come from an array of sources.

    1. When we had experiences as children that brought up a lot of emotions but were left alone to deal with them, and it was too much for our child selves.

    Experiences like our parents’ divorce, financial struggles, health issues, and alcoholism. Maybe we had an accident or witnessed abuse or experienced bullying or neglect.

    2. Any times when we had natural human emotions like fear, shame, guilt, sadness, and anger but received no emotional support to help us process these emotions as children.

    When we have families that don’t know how to process their own emotions, then they can’t support us in learning how to process ours.

    When we’re left alone to face terror, that terror is never processed, and the memories of it linger in our body, keeping us trapped in cycles of experiencing it without the opportunity for it to release.

    3. Or when our parents and families didn’t allow or tolerate our natural human emotions, like fear, sadness, grief, or anger.

    So we had to suppress our feelings, to numb against them, or release the pressure from them in unhealthy ways. Lashing out at others or engaging in destructive behaviors.

    When we had to be hyper aware of our parents’ emotions more than our own—instead of our parents being aware of our emotions—as is the case with so many people.

    These experiences disconnect us from ourselves, our emotions, and our needs. And when we don’t have the opportunity to process emotions and emotionally activating experiences throughout our lives, the emotional pressure builds over the years until, often late into adulthood, it starts to feel way too much. 

    What I needed—and what so many of us need—was to release the emotional pressure. To allow the emotions that had been building up to slowly and gently release through my body. And to feel safe to do so.

    To show my nervous system how to move out of a state of needing to be in survival mode and into a state of safety.

    To be able to feel emotions like fear, anger, sadness, and grief in a way that felt safe so that I wasn’t being pushed into a survival mode every time fear showed up. Or anger, sadness, or even joy.

    So where do we start if we want to stop living in survival mode?

    Know that it’s not who we are—it’s survival mode. 

    For decades I felt, as many of my clients do when they first come to me—that my reactions of panic and overwhelm, of struggling with dread and resentment, of feeling so often on edge, were somehow something to do with my personality.

    Oh, I am just a panicky person. 

    I am just someone who is very safety conscious and anxious.

    I am just someone who struggles to slow down and not be busy.

    I am a control freak—it’s just who I am.

    None of these things are personality traits. They are merely a reflection of a nervous system that has lived under too much emotional pressure for too long. It has survival mode on speed dial.

    Understanding this can give us some space between us and the reaction or behavior we exhibit in survival mode, which can help us support ourselves more effectively.

    Attune to ourselves and offer compassion.

    When we’ve been encouraged to disconnect from our emotions, or we’ve had too many experiences in our lives that created significant emotional impact that have been dismissed or ignored, one of the first, most powerful steps is to start attuning to our own emotions and needs.

    To know that every emotional reaction and survival response we have has a reason.

    Many situations, people, and experiences created this emotional pressure that we’re still carrying. And if there is emotional pressure and pain still within us, it means there hasn’t been enough emotional healing.

    Period.

    The body does not lie.

    Our emotions do not lie.

    Our feelings of unease, unsafety, and sensitivity do not lie.

    When we judge our reactions and our emotions, it feels like putting a stopper on the jar. It blocks our emotional healing.

    Instead, when we can turn toward ourselves with kindness, understanding, compassion, and curiosity about why we feel how we do, this is an incredibly powerful first step in healing.

    Coming out of long-term survival mode takes time.

    In my experience, there isn’t a quick fix for living through decades of survival in a body that’s been dysregulated by unhealed emotional pain from trauma. Taking a slow, gentle, but consistent approach is what has created the most profound, permanent, and expansive change for me and for my clients.

    The nervous system loves baby steps. And when we think in terms of how long we have lived in this state, taking time to unravel and rewire our reactions over months or years—that’s as long as it took to create these responses, right?

    Our nervous system has been pushing us into a protective state for a long time, so we want to acknowledge this push into survival and be gentle with ourselves as we emerge from it.

    Survival mode is a protective response—it doesn’t feel good, but your nervous system thinks you need to be in this mode because of the emotional pressures from the past.

    So we’re taking the long game here. The nervous system loves slow, gentle change.

    I love what the teacher Deb Dana says, “We want to stretch our nervous system, not stress it.”

    We can start by offering regular cues of safety to our nervous system. 

    We can’t generally talk our way out of survival mode; we need to create the conditions for our nervous system to move out of it.

    What the nervous system needs is to feel safe. That there isn’t an emergency or a threat to our survival on the horizon.

    By regularly doing things that turn on the parasympathetic part of our nervous system, which is the ‘rest and digest’ part, we can start to feel calmer and more grounded. This is the first step in healing. It means that we aren’t always stuck in this urgent state.

    Here are some simple ways we can start sending cues of safety to our nervous system so that we can turn down the dial of survival—that intense stress-overwhelm-hypervigilant state.

    Physiological sigh

    One of the simplest ways we can come out of survival or intense overwhelm is with this breath. Take a short, full inhale through the nose and then an extra inhale on top. And then a long, slow exhale. Often, doing this once or twice is enough, but you can do this for a couple of minutes to get to a deeper state of regulation and relaxation.

    Orienting to safety 

    When we are in survival mode, we get tunnel vision, and our minds loop on one subject. When we notice this tunnel vision or fixations, we can bring a cue of safety to our nervous system by expanding our vision.

    We can start, very slowly, letting our eyes drift around our space, turning our necks and looking above us, below us, and behind us. Take a few minutes to take in all of the space we are in. Going very slowly (slowness is also a cue of safety for the nervous system). Looking out of the window, especially if we can see a horizon line. The nervous system finds the horizon very soothing, and looking toward our exit too.

    This shows our nervous system there are no threats nearby.

    Reconnecting to our body with a body scan

    When we are in survival mode, we disconnect from our bodies. We may not realize this because we feel flooded with challenging, sometimes painful sensations. But when we ask ourselves, “Can I feel my feet? My fingers?” We see that we have disconnected from our body.

    Survival can feel like a very ‘head’ only experience, as we get locked into the terrible/terrifying/looping intrusive thoughts that survival mode creates.

    A simple body scan can help bring us into connection with our body and therefore into a sensation of safety. Gently going through our bodies, noticing each limb or section, wiggling or flexing the area if it feels numb, brings a strong cue of safety to the nervous system so that it can ‘turn off’ from survival mode.

    These simple exercises can be a powerful beginning, creating a gentle shift, one step at a time, toward creating a safe anchor within our body in which to land.

    Validating our emotions 

    This is also an incredibly useful step in this work of healing our survival mode reactions. When we understand that, in fact, all emotions are valid, all emotions are natural, and all emotions are looking to express needs, we can start to change our perceptions of our emotional experiences.

    Of course, we don’t want to throw our emotions at other people—shouting in anger or terrifying our kids because we feel scared. We want to take responsibility for our emotions—always.

    But we need to know that what emotions are yearning for is to be seen, felt, and heard. They want space, and they want to be acknowledged.

    Can we validate our emotions, offering them some compassion and understanding, instead of trying to push them away, suppress them, or argue with them?

    It’s in this brave and courageous act of turning toward and accepting our emotions that we get the chance to allow them enough space to release through our bodies—so we stop keeping them suppressed inside.

    Change—and rewiring our nervous system responses—is always possible.

    What has been the most hopeful and encouraging thing on my journey to release myself from punishing anxiety and persistent survival mode is recognizing that it’s possible for us to reconnect to our natural state of self-healing.

    Our nervous system is built to naturally release stress, overwhelm, and trauma. When we can bring safety to our bodies and start to powerfully attune to ourselves and our emotions, offering ourselves compassion and support, it’s possible to start reconnecting to that natural state. To rewire our patterns of overwhelm—from feeling on edge so often, quick to panic or anxiety to feeling calmer, grounded, and confident in ourselves.

  • How to Reconnect with Your Higher Self for Clarity and Direction

    How to Reconnect with Your Higher Self for Clarity and Direction

    “Listen to the wind, it talks. Listen to the silence, it speaks. Listen to the heart, it knows.” ~Native American Wisdom

    Have you ever felt stuck? Stuck in a business you’ve lost passion for, a job you no longer enjoy, a relationship that no longer fulfills you, or simply stuck in indecision about how to move forward in life?

    That feeling of “stuck-ness” often leads to anxiety, fear, and even shame. I understand these feelings well.

    When the pandemic hit in 2020, my life turned upside down—as it did for many. I was the founder and executive director of a national arts organization, something I had built from the ground up and led for eighteen years.

    Suddenly, overnight, I felt like I could lose it all. My funding partners and sponsors pulled out, I was sinking deeper into my line of credit, and I was responsible for a staff spread across the country.

    The stress was overwhelming. I couldn’t sleep, I became irritable and edgy with my family, snapping at them over the smallest things, and some days it took a tremendous amount of willpower to just get out of bed and face the day. I had never felt so lost, uncertain, or fearful.

    It wasn’t just the fear of losing a business and my paycheck—although that certainly caused a lot of anxiety. The bigger fear was losing my sense of identity. Who was I if I wasn’t the executive director and founder of this organization? Before starting this non-profit, I felt insignificant, like a nobody. I didn’t want to go back to that place. I didn’t want to lose what I had built.

    This fear consumed me, and I asked everyone I knew, “What am I supposed to do?”

    One day, I brought this question to my business coach. She responded with a single question of her own: “What do you typically do when you feel stressed and anxious?”

    “Well, I usually go for a walk in the woods,” I replied.

    “Perfect,” she said. “Here’s what you’re going to do: Every day for the next thirty days, you’re going to go for a walk in the woods and simply look and listen.”

    “What? I can’t do that. I don’t have time for that,” I stammered. In my head, I thought, What kind of business coach tells her clients to go for a walk in the woods? I needed business advice, not nature therapy.

    Somehow, she got a commitment out of me. Every morning at dawn, as this was the only time I felt I could make this daily walk work, I was out the door into the forest behind my house. And every day, I demanded answers from God, the squirrels, and the universe: “What am I supposed to do?”

    Slowly—ever so slowly—something shifted. A sense of calm settled over me. I began to notice the beauty around me: the varying shades of green, the way light filtered through the canopy of leaves, the chorus of birdsong, the creek’s melody as it rushed over rocks, the silky texture of moss-covered bark, the intoxicating scent of spring blossoms—you could almost taste the air.

    And then, I started to feel gratitude. Gratitude for the trees, the air, the stillness. Gratitude for my business coach, who had nudged me toward this practice. This gratitude felt like a swelling of love in my chest for everything that is in this moment.

    And in this calmer state of mind with gratitude in my heart, I asked the question again: “What am I supposed to do?”

    This time, I got an answer.

    “What do you want to do?” a voice bubbled up from within.

    It was my own voice—but like an older, wiser version of me.

    I didn’t miss a beat. “What do you mean, what do I want to do? What am I supposed to do?”

    “No, Anita,” came the steady response. “What do you want to do?”

    “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

    “Yes, you do.”

    That stumped me.

    Later that day, I found myself wandering the spirituality section of a bookstore. A book caught my eye: Conversations with God by Neale Donald Walsch. I picked it up, flipped it open, and one line jumped off the page:

    “Frustration and anxiety come from not listening to the soul.”

    My breath caught. I read the words again, letting them sink in. In that moment, I realized a profound truth—I wasn’t listening to my soul.

    I had been here before. This wasn’t the first time I’d been reminded to slow down, go inward, and reconnect with my inner wisdom. But I had gotten so busy, so caught up in my business, my family, and all my responsibilities, that I had forgotten. Not only did I lose my connection to that part of myself, but in many ways, I had lost sight of who I really was and what I truly wanted.

    For nearly five years now, I’ve devoted myself to the study of remembering—of reconnecting with my higher self, God, Source, the Universe (whatever name feels right to you—they are all the same to me). When we connect with our higher self and consistently listen to our soul voice, three truths are revealed:

    • The truth about who we are.
    • The truth about what we really want.
    • And the truth about why it matters.

    When we stop listening to our inner wisdom, we become drowned out by external noise—the voices of others telling us who we should be, the media convincing us we’re not enough, the fearmongering that keeps us feeling small and powerless.

    But when we reconnect with our higher self:

    • Clarity of purpose and direction emerges.
    • Fear and self-doubt loosen their grip.
    • An inner harmony steadies us, no matter how chaotic the world seems.
    • Our capacity for self-love deepens.

    And with that, we become un-stuck. We step into our greatest potential. We create a life filled with meaning, well-being, and joy.

    How Do We Reconnect with Our Higher Self?

    When I first realized I was asking the wrong question and switched to asking, “What do I want?”, I skipped an essential step—the inner work that allows you to connect with your higher self and find the answers you seek. Eventually, I figured it out. And it’s really quite simple.

    At its core, reconnecting with your higher self is about slowing down and giving yourself the time and space to cultivate that relationship.

    Here are three key steps to help you do that.

    Step away from the busyness of life.

    Block out time each day to unplug from work, responsibilities, and distractions. Make this a daily non-negotiable. My favorite way to unplug is by walking in nature, which has additional health benefits. I recommend at least twenty minutes of mindful walking daily. Mindful walking is a form of meditation, but simply sitting in meditation is also a great option.

    Speak your gratitude.

    Science has shown that practicing gratitude reduces stress, elevates mood, and improves overall well-being. More importantly, it opens the heart—making it easier to hear the whispers of your soul.

    Engage all your senses in the present moment.

    What do you see, hear, smell, feel, and even taste? When you fully engage with your environment using all your senses, you become present. And presence is the gateway to connecting with your higher self.

    Once you’re grounded in the here and now, that’s when you ask yourself one simple question: “What do I want?” Then, listen.

    Listen with your whole body. Pay attention to ideas that surface, images that appear in your mind’s eye, sensations that arise. Don’t judge any of it. Just be open and curious.

    Nothing may come at first. But keep returning to this practice—getting present, going inward, and asking, What do I want? Soon, you’ll hear the whispers of your soul. And if you learn to listen and act on those whispers, you too will get unstuck and be guided to a most remarkable life.

    Are You Ready to Listen to Your Soul?

    I invite you to embark on your own thirty-day nature challenge. Each day, step outside, breathe deeply, and simply observe. Let nature be your guide as you reconnect with your inner wisdom. Notice what shifts within you—how clarity emerges, how gratitude deepens, how your soul whispers its quiet truths.

    Will you take the challenge? Let me know how your journey unfolds—I’d love to hear what insights arise for you.

    PS: In case you’re wondering what happened next—when I finally tuned in and listened to the whispers of my soul, my life radically changed. I realized that what I truly wanted was to close my business, as I had lost my passion for it years ago, but fear had kept me stuck. The whispers of my soul then guided me to let go of most of my possessions and embrace a nomadic lifestyle.

    This decision has led my husband and me on an extraordinary journey, experiencing many incredible corners of the world. Along the way, I recreated myself as a life and leadership coach, guiding others on their journey to their highest selves. As I continue to listen, life unfolds in the most beautiful and unexpected ways.

  • How I Found Emotional Freedom and 3 Unexpected Benefits

    How I Found Emotional Freedom and 3 Unexpected Benefits

    “We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” ~Maya Angelou

    What if the person you’re trying hardest to please is you?

    For years, I wore a mask—a professional, composed, always-on version of myself that I thought everyone expected.

    My need to please and perform was deeply rooted in my earliest experiences. I was born three months premature, and doctors called my survival a miracle. Separated from my mother and placed in an incubator for weeks, I was surrounded by love but deprived of touch and connection.

    Though my parents adored me, this experience created the foundation for a limiting belief that I had to prove myself to earn love. Then, later in life, my drive to be “enough” led me to push aside my own emotions in favor of pleasing others.

    I thought if I could just keep moving fast enough—working harder, being more present, looking more composed—then my feelings would eventually settle. But the truth is, every time I tried to avoid them, my emotions only became louder and more persistent. They didn’t go away—they built up, each layer adding tension, stiffness, and discomfort to my body.

    I could feel it in my chest—the tightness that wouldn’t go away. In my shoulders, which ached with the weight of emotions I refused to acknowledge. My body was telling me something, but I wasn’t listening. I was too busy keeping up the image that I thought the world needed to see. But the more I suppressed my emotions, the more they controlled me, manifesting as stress, anxiety, and physical discomfort.

    It wasn’t until I realized that I didn’t need to keep pushing my feelings away that things started to change. The truth is, trying to outrun my emotions only left me exhausted. What I needed was to face them, feel them, and allow them to pass through me, just as they were meant to.

    The Trap of Emotional Suppression

    I had spent so many years trying to appear strong, convincing myself that my vulnerability would make me weak. That if I showed any emotion other than calm and composure, I would be judged. But in reality, emotional suppression was taking a much bigger toll on me than I ever realized. As I pushed my feelings deeper into my subconscious, they didn’t disappear. They festered.

    One moment that stands out vividly is when a close friend opened up to me about a deeply personal struggle. While I wanted to be fully present for her, her vulnerability stirred unresolved emotions within me, bringing up memories of a similar experience I had yet to process.

    Instead of acknowledging my feelings or sharing my own story, I chose to hide behind a comforting role, offering support while keeping my emotions locked away. Outwardly, I appeared to be a caring friend, but inside, I felt an overwhelming sense of disconnection. My silence created a wall, leaving me isolated and robbing us both of an opportunity for mutual support and a deeper bond.

    Another time, I had a difficult conversation with a colleague at work. Their criticism stung deeply, but instead of acknowledging my hurt feelings or advocating for myself, I smiled and assured them everything was fine.

    I convinced myself that avoiding conflict was the right choice. But the weight of those unexpressed emotions lingered, showing up as tension and resentment long after the conversation had ended. Suppressing my feelings didn’t maintain peace; it only created internal turmoil.

    I began to feel disconnected from myself—my true self. The tension in my body was the physical manifestation of that disconnection. The more I avoided my emotions, the more distant I felt from who I really was. The pressure was building, just like a pot on the stove, and I could feel the inevitable explosion waiting to happen.

    Emotions Are Messengers, Not Enemies

    One of the most powerful lessons I learned during this process was that emotions are not the enemies I had made them out to be. They are not here to destroy me; they are simply messengers.

    When I felt anger, it wasn’t because I was broken. It was my body telling me that something wasn’t right—that my boundaries were being crossed or my needs weren’t being met.

    When I felt sadness, it revealed that I was grieving a loss or change.

    Fear showed up to remind me that I was facing the unknown, urging me to trust myself and embrace uncertainty.

    The key to emotional freedom is recognizing that emotions are not “good” or “bad.” They simply are. They are part of our human experience, each one carrying important information. When we allow ourselves to feel them fully, we stop labeling them as threats or obstacles. We open ourselves to their wisdom and guidance.

    The Power of Feeling Fully

    At first, feeling my emotions fully felt uncomfortable, even painful. I wasn’t used to sitting with the discomfort that came with vulnerability. But I kept showing up for myself, making the decision to stop resisting and to feel deeply, without judgment. Over time, I realized that, just like a storm, emotions have a beginning and an end. When I stopped fighting them, they passed through me much faster than I imagined.

    Allowing yourself to feel means sitting with discomfort for a moment. It’s about embracing your sadness, your joy, your anger, or your fear—without trying to change them. You stop trying to fix your emotions, and you simply let them be.

    This doesn’t mean wallowing in your feelings or letting them consume you. Instead, it’s about giving yourself permission to experience them fully, without the pressure to change or judge them. By embracing your emotions with curiosity and openness, you release their hold over you. And the beauty of this process is that the emotions are temporary—they don’t last forever. But the freedom and peace you gain from letting them flow are lasting.

    Embodying Your Emotions

    As I continued to practice feeling my emotions fully, I discovered that one of the most powerful ways to do so was through embodiment. I started paying attention to how my emotions manifested in my body. Was there a tightness in my chest when I was anxious? A heaviness in my stomach when I was fearful? A rush of warmth in my face when I felt joy?

    By focusing on these physical sensations, I was able to move beyond the mental stories I had been telling myself. I could feel the emotion itself rather than analyzing it or trying to push it away. I learned how to breathe through the discomfort, how to sit with it until it passed. And in doing so, I was able to release trapped emotions and make space for healing.

    It was as if my body knew exactly what to do once I stopped trying to control it. I just had to stop thinking and start feeling.

    Letting Go of Emotional Attachment

    One of the hardest lessons for me was learning that feeling my emotions fully didn’t mean holding onto them. There’s a difference between feeling your feelings and identifying with them. I had spent so much time tying my emotions to my identity—believing that I was my emotions—that I had forgotten that emotions are temporary visitors. They come, and they go.

    When I stopped attaching myself to every emotion, I began to experience greater emotional freedom. I learned to release my grip on the feelings that I had once let define me. Rather than letting them dictate my life, I learned to feel them and let them pass. It was a liberating experience.

    The Benefits of Emotional Freedom

    Once I embraced the practice of feeling my emotions fully, I experienced a profound shift in my life. I wasn’t overwhelmed by anxiety, stress, or fear anymore. Instead, I felt a deep sense of inner peace and understanding. Emotional freedom meant that I could stop being at war with myself and my feelings.

    This shift brought with it several benefits that I didn’t expect:

    • Increased self-awareness: Feeling my emotions helped me reconnect with my true desires, values, and needs. I stopped second-guessing myself and began trusting my intuition more.
    • Improved relationships: When I stopped hiding my feelings, I allowed myself to form more authentic and meaningful connections with others.
    • Increased resilience: The more I practiced feeling my emotions fully, the stronger I became. I realized that emotions are temporary, and I could ride through them without letting them consume me.

    Final Thoughts

    If there’s one thing I wish I had known sooner, it’s that emotions are not something to fear. They are powerful, transformative, and ultimately, the key to emotional freedom. When we allow ourselves to feel our emotions fully—without judgment, without fear—we free ourselves from their control.

    Instead of running from your emotions, I encourage you to face them with courage and compassion. You may find, like I did, that by releasing old patterns of suppression, you open yourself to a life of greater authenticity, connection, and peace.

  • Tai Chi: A Strange and Powerful Dance of Freedom

    Tai Chi: A Strange and Powerful Dance of Freedom

    “The key is to be in a state of permanent connectedness with your inner body—to feel it at all times. This will rapidly deepen and transform your life.” ~Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now

    “Relax your shoulders, keep your head high, stay grounded,” I cue myself as I walk through my morning Tai Chi. It’s still dark, but I know my moves, and my arms and legs move with confidence and ease.

    Most of my life, I was a person with anxiety. I didn’t know I had anxiety, even though it was trying to speak to me as tension in my body, shallow breathing, chaotic thoughts, and extreme emotions. To me, it was just my normal, baseline state of living. Until one day, when anxiety finally got my attention. On that afternoon, I collapsed on the floor with severe lower back pain and had to spend time in bed, unable to move my legs.

    The pain was excruciating and debilitating. The doctor said I had a herniated disc and suggested surgery. Surgery didn’t feel like the right thing to do, so I started researching other options.

    Miraculously, I came across Thomas Hanna’s book Somatics or Reawakening the Mind’s Control of Movement, Flexibility, and Health. In black and white, the book explained the root of my problem. I had chronically contracted muscles in my lower back.

    The book states that when, due to chronic stress, our muscles contract repeatedly over a long period of time, the tension can become so severe that the muscles can’t relax themselves anymore. The tension squeezes and presses the nerves, and we feel pain.

    I began an exercise program described in the book, which helps relax the muscles in the body. The exercises are based on developing somatic awareness. I also continued practicing yoga and deep breathing and finally decided that I needed therapy to address the root of my stress, which was living with emotional abandonment and neglect as a child.

    In therapy, I did family-of-origin work and forgiveness work. I also worked on my confidence and self-esteem by taking on challenging professional tasks, learning public speaking, and traveling the world for my job. Anxiety was still always there, but now I felt it and knew its signals and was able to respond with somatic awareness exercises and deep breathing.

    In 2016, I walked into a Tai Chi class. Not knowing what I was doing and just moving to the cues of the kind instructor, I experienced something amazing. I felt like I walked into myself. The unusual movements connected my body and my brain, and I felt the freedom of movement, which I didn’t remember experiencing before. Right there and then, I knew I would do this strange and powerful dance of freedom forever.

    It takes time to learn Tai Chi forms, and I began learning, little by little, watching Florinda, our instructor, in class like a hawk and practicing the movements I remembered at home. I also asked a few women from my group if they wanted to practice together outside of the class. We danced together the ancient Tai Chi moves under the ancient oaks near Lake Pontchartrain in southern Louisiana.

    Over time, I began feeling freer and more connected to myself and the world, the way I did as a very young child in my early childhood memories. On an average day, I started feeling less anxious.

    Tai Chi originated from Asian traditions of martial arts and is translated from Mandarin Chinese as Supreme Ultimate, Cosmic Mind, or the Universe. It’s over 2000 years old. Tai Chi movement is beautiful and unusual, asymmetric and rhythmic, centered and grounded. Practicing TC, we move left and right, forward and back, sometimes in a circle, rarely standing on both feet, mostly balancing on one foot or the other.

    The best way I can describe TC is that within all that movement, somehow, we are able to relax and move and breathe in sync with the breath and rhythm of Life. Or, perhaps, when we relax, we become one with life, and life holds us, moves us, and rocks us like a baby to the rhythm of her breath.

    Tai Chi is based on the principles of yin and yang, which represent the opposite yet inseparable qualities of life, such as darkness and light, joy and sorrow, material and spiritual. Practicing Tai Chi, we learn that the opposites of life are inherently connected and that we have to try and accept it in its wholeness. We may even relax our resistance to adverse situations in life.

    Tai Chi is a powerful self-care tool, and the phenomenon called Sung, or internal tension release, is at the heart of it. Peter Wayne, in his book The Harvard Medical School Guide to Tai Chi, calls it “rocking the baby.” Because of the gentle, rhythmic, flowing movement and deep breathing, we literally rock our body like a baby, soothing and comforting every system—nervous, muscular, digestive, respiratory, endocrine, etc.

    The internal dialogue turns off, the thoughts slow down, and emotions subside. Suddenly, we are in a calm inner space, relaxed, alert, confident, and true, moving like a “stealthy cat,” as a TC practitioner in one of my groups said.

    Another amazing thing about Tai Chi is that a group of practitioners move together, synchronically. Each person’s movements are uniquely individual, yet invisibly connected. There is a sense of belonging and support, and for the duration of the form, the group becomes interconnected in a calm, shared space, like a cohort of cranes, flying together in a beautiful configuration.

    What about my anxiety? It is still with me often, but now I think of it as a friend who came to remind me to take a break, breathe, do Tai Chi, and relax.

  • How to Ease Anxiety and PTSD: 3 Somatic Exercises to Try

    How to Ease Anxiety and PTSD: 3 Somatic Exercises to Try

    “The body knows how to heal. It just needs the proper conditions.” ~Peter Levine

    After ten major reconstructive hip surgeries and almost six cumulative years in a full body cast, I emerged from childhood into my teenage years. My start in life was quite different from those around me. My body would never be like everyone else’s, and I was living in the aftermath of trauma.

    I not only had a slew of trauma symptoms but was also deeply wrestling with my identity and had massive amounts of shame, depression, and social anxiety. As you can imagine, I had a hard time fitting in and connecting with others. Feeling comfortable in my own skin was something I never knew.

    The discomfort I felt was unbearable, and I knew the only way to feel better in life was to try to figure out how to heal and get to the other side. I held on strongly to the belief that healing was possible, so naturally I started with talk therapy.

    Therapy is great, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t providing the relief I was searching for. I quickly realized that talking about my experiences helped to broaden and balance my perspective on things, but it wasn’t changing how I felt in my day-to-day life. So I went on a journey exploring and studying many forms of healing. I delved into energy healing, breathwork, art therapy, tantra, and Yamuna body rolling and finally found somatic experiencing.

    With much trial and error, I found my way. Some things worked and others didn’t. I learned that there isn’t a ‘one size fits all’ when it comes to healing.

    Anxiety and PTSD symptoms are never fun, and they show up in very specific and different ways for each person. I’ve learned that anxiety is energy that is deeply held in the body, and the way most people try and manage it is to brace their body to try and stop it from happening. This pushes it deeper into the body.

    It’s important to slowly allow this energy to move. To do so, we need to soften the body and open the energy channels.

    I have found these three somatic tools to be quite effective. Maybe they will be for you as well.

    Before starting each exercise, I highly recommend you ask yourself, “On a scale of one to ten, how anxious am I?” Give yourself a number, and then at the end of the exercise see if the number has decreased.

    1. Slowly articulating the joint

    Starting with one foot, slowly move your foot in a circle ten times in one direction. Really focus your mind on the feeling of the ankle joint moving. Then switch directions.

    Do this for the other foot and ankle.

    If you are lying down on your back, you can do this again for the knee as you hold your thigh, slowly moving your lower leg in a circle ten times before switching directions. Then repeat on the other leg.

    If you are standing, you can place your hands on your knees and together slowly move your knees in circles.

    Again, remember to give your mind the job of focusing on the knee joints and feeling them move. This helps give the mind something to do while the body can move the energy that has been trapped inside of it.

    If standing, you will do this again, making hip circles ten times in both directions.

    After this, pause and notice how the lower body feels in comparison to the upper body. It’s crazy the difference you will feel.

    Next, you will do this with your wrists, making circles with your hands. You can do this one at a time or both hands—whatever you prefer.

    Then your elbows.

    And then your shoulders, continuing to do ten circles in one direction and then ten in the other.

    Lastly, you will do head circles in both directions.

    2. Deep breathing with a voo exhale

    A voo exhale? What is that?

    That is exactly what I would be asking.

    Deep breathing is sometimes helpful, and sometimes it isn’t. But if you try making a voo sound for the entirety of the exhale, it can smooth the chest and abdomen, where most of the anxiety is felt.

    So, for this exercise, you will place one hand over your heart and one hand over your belly and take a deep breath. On the exhale you will make a voo sound, all the way to the end of the exhale, similar to saying om in a yoga class. As you do this, think about making the voo sound from your abdomen, not from your throat.

    This is an indigenous practice that actually has scientific effects in calming the vagus nerve and the sympathetic nervous system. It moves people into their parasympathetic nervous system, which is the rest and digest part of your nervous system. Making different sounds has different effects on the nervous system, and for anxiety and PTSD, the voo sound is the most effective.

    Go ahead and try this for five cycles and see how this is for you. It can be really calming.

    3. Visual resourcing

    Resourcing is anything that is calming, supportive, or comforting for a person, and it can be done through many avenues. This includes things like talking to a caring, supportive friend, taking a hot bath, or using a weighted blanket.

    Visual resourcing is focusing on something visually pleasant. For some people this can be a sparkly or shiny object, and for others it can be watching the leaves gently blow in the breeze.

    Note that for some people, if they look off in the distance, it has an even greater calming effect, and that others might prefer looking at objects that are closer to them.

    Go ahead and look around you and find the most pleasant and pleasing thing to look at. Then hold  your gaze here and notice the effects this has for you.

    This somatic tool can easily be combined with the prior tool listed above.

    In Conclusion

    When we experience trauma and are wrestling in the aftermath of symptoms, life can feel daunting. Many people feel very discouraged and overwhelmed with where and how to start healing. But try and find the courage to get to the other side. Healing is possible, and it could be one of the most beautiful and sacred journeys you choose to go down.

    Trauma symptoms always have psychological and physiological components that happen simultaneously. So, if some of the mindfulness practices don’t work, see if you can find some relief and stabilization with somatic body-based tools.

    Wishing you so much love and grace on your journey to recovery.

  • My Life with ADHD and Anxiety: A Surprising Success Story

    My Life with ADHD and Anxiety: A Surprising Success Story

    “Examine the labels you apply to yourself. Every label is a boundary or limit you will not let yourself cross.” ~Wayne Dyer

    Living with both ADHD and anxiety feels like trying to navigate life with your mind constantly racing in a thousand directions at once. It’s frustrating and exhausting, and, at times, it feels like success is out of reach.

    But here’s the truth: success is possible. Even when it feels like your brain is working against you, with the right strategies and support, you can thrive.

    As a nurse practitioner who has lived with undiagnosed ADHD and anxiety for much of my life, I’ve experienced the struggles that come with both. I’ve been labeled lazy, unteachable, and a lost cause.

    But I’ve also learned how to break through those labels and find success on my own terms. It’s not easy, but it’s absolutely achievable.

    The Early Years: ADHD and Anxiety in School

    Growing up, ADHD wasn’t something people talked about. Kids who had trouble focusing were often written off as lazy or troublemakers. I was one of those kids, but I wasn’t the hyperactive type, so my struggles flew under the radar.

    My teachers assumed I wasn’t trying hard enough, but the truth was, I was trying as hard as I could. If a subject didn’t grab my interest, my brain simply couldn’t focus.

    The frustration of not being able to retain information or focus made school incredibly difficult. Teachers labeled me as lazy or unteachable, and those labels stuck. By the time I reached high school, I was so far behind that showing up to class felt pointless.

    My grades were posted for everyone to see, and every time, I was at the bottom of the list. It felt like the world was constantly reminding me that I was a failure.

    As my anxiety grew, I started skipping class regularly. Why show up just to feel like I was being judged? I was already seen as the kid who couldn’t keep up, and every time I walked into a classroom, it felt like a reminder of how far behind I was.

    The anxiety of being judged, combined with my ADHD, made it impossible to succeed in that environment.

    Hitting Rock Bottom

    With no support system in place and a constant sense of failure hanging over me, I turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Drugs and alcohol became my escape from the pressure, anxiety, and feelings of inadequacy.

    The constant emotional beatdown from teachers, peers, and my own inner voice was too much to bear.

    I began to believe that I really was a lost cause. No one seemed to care about my potential, and I certainly didn’t see it myself. Eventually, I was kicked out of my public high school. At the time, it felt like the end of the road for me, but in reality, it was the best thing that could have happened.

    Finding a New Path: The Alternative School

    After being kicked out of public high school, I was sent to an alternative school, a place for the so-called “bad kids.” This school had a reputation for being where the rejects went—those who were expected to drop out, end up in jail, or get pregnant.

    But what I didn’t expect was how this environment would change my life.

    At the alternative school, the teachers didn’t care about my past failures. They didn’t look down on me for my low grades or judge me for being behind. Instead, they saw my potential. They worked with me one-on-one, offering me the chance to catch up and even get ahead. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone believed in me.

    One teacher in particular recognized my talent for writing and encouraged me to join the school newsletter. I started taking on more responsibility and eventually became the editor. For the first time, I started to see myself as capable and smart.

    College and Career: Finding Success Despite ADHD and Anxiety

    After graduating from the alternative high school, I had a newfound sense of confidence. For the first time, I believed that college might be an option for me. I started at a community college and eventually transferred to a university, where I earned a bachelor’s degree in journalism and communication studies.

    However, after working in journalism for a while, I realized that it wasn’t my true passion. I pivoted and went back to school to pursue a career in nursing. Earning my associate’s degree in nursing was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but it was also the most rewarding.

    For seven years, I worked in the emergency department, where the fast-paced environment kept my ADHD in check and the constant reminder of life’s fragility put my anxiety in perspective.

    Managing ADHD and Anxiety in Adulthood

    While I had found success in my career, my ADHD and anxiety didn’t magically disappear. In fact, they became even more noticeable when I transitioned to working as a nurse practitioner.

    The COVID-19 pandemic brought an intense level of pressure, and my anxiety skyrocketed. I found myself overthinking every decision, double- and triple-checking my work, and seeking reassurance from colleagues constantly.

    It became clear that I needed to develop better strategies for managing both my ADHD and anxiety. Through a combination of medication, mindfulness practices, and a strong support system, I’ve been able to keep both in check.

    What Works for Me: Strategies for Managing ADHD and Anxiety

    Over the years, I’ve found that managing ADHD and anxiety requires a holistic approach. Medication has been a helpful tool, but it’s not the only answer. I’ve also incorporated practices like meditation, gratitude, and positivity into my daily routine, all of which help me manage my symptoms.

    Meditation in particular has been a game-changer. It helps me calm my racing thoughts and stay grounded, especially when my anxiety starts to creep in. Practicing gratitude keeps me focused on the positive aspects of my life, which helps counter the negative self-talk that can sometimes accompany both ADHD and anxiety.

    Positivity is another important tool in my toolbox. I’ve learned that staying positive isn’t about pretending everything is perfect—it’s about choosing to focus on what’s going well and using that as motivation to keep pushing forward.

    The Importance of Believing in Yourself

    Looking back, I realize that one of the biggest turning points in my life was learning to believe in myself. For so long, I had internalized the labels that others had placed on me. But once I started to see my own potential and believe that I was capable of success, everything changed.

    ADHD and anxiety don’t define who you are or what you can achieve. Yes, they’re challenges, but they’re also part of what makes you unique.

    With the right tools, strategies, and mindset, you can turn those challenges into strengths.

    Final Thoughts: Success Is Possible—Keep Pushing Forward

    ADHD and anxiety can feel like insurmountable obstacles at times, but they don’t have to hold you back. Success is possible, even if it feels out of reach right now.

    You might feel like a lost cause, but you’re not. You’re capable of so much more than you realize.

    It doesn’t matter where you started or what labels have been placed on you. What matters is that you keep pushing forward, believe in your potential, and surround yourself with people who support and uplift you.

    Whatever struggles you’re facing, they are just part of your story—not the end of it.

    Keep going. Success is well within your reach.

  • How I’ve Found Relief from Panic Attacks

    How I’ve Found Relief from Panic Attacks

    “Don’t assume I’m weak because I have panic attacks. You’ll never know the amount of strength it takes to face the world every day.” ~Unknown

    I was just eighteen when it happened. Sitting in a crowded school assembly, my heart pounded, my chest felt constricted in a vice, and the air seemed to vanish from my lungs. As my surroundings closed in on me, my inner voice muttered, “I think you are dying.”

    That was the day I experienced my first panic attack.

    Terrified, I fled from the hall. “I need to see a doctor now,” I gasped tearfully to the school secretary. “Something is wrong! I can’t breathe properly!”

    The secretary, recognizing what was happening, reassured me that what I was experiencing was a panic attack. Taking my hand in hers, she explained that it would soon pass.

    Her guiding me through a few rounds of slow, deep breathing eased the panic. Drenched in sweat and drained from the experience, I called my mom to fetch me.

    After that first terrifying experience, panic attacks became a regular, unwelcome presence in my life. I lived in constant fear, always on edge, dreading the next one.

    The fear wasn’t just about the physical symptoms; it was also about the overwhelming sense of doom, the fear of collapsing in public, of losing control, or even dying.

    Whenever panic struck, my immediate response was to escape, to flee from wherever I was. I would phone my mom or dad, hoping their voice would anchor me until the terror subsided.

    This pattern cost me countless experiences. Movies, parties, shopping trips—anything that could trigger a panic attack—became something to avoid. My world shrank as the panic attacks took over my life.

    Locked in Panic’s Cycle

    Panic attacks can manifest in various ways. I have experienced them all. Multiple times. Racing heart, shortness of breath, chest pain, dizziness, sweating, tingling in my arms and legs, dizziness, nausea, stomach cramps, sweating or chills, or detachment from reality.

    Even though I knew rationally that these were all panic symptoms, I sometimes found it hard to accept that nothing else was wrong. I know many people share this sentiment.

    In the beginning, panic was a lonely experience for me, as I was ashamed to talk about it to friends. This meant quietly suffering. It was a dark place to be. I ached within and longed for this condition to disappear forever.

    My once colorful world quickly morphed into a choking gray. Thankfully, in time, I chose to share my condition with others.

    In doing so, I created a supportive lifeline. People whose gentle, caring aid helped me to navigate the panic attacks when they felt too overwhelming to manage alone.

    Decoding the Trigger: The Nervous System’s Hidden Role

    I sought the help of a psychologist who helped me to understand the panic attack cycle. I consumed books on panic to understand the condition that had turned my world upside down.

    Panic attacks were foreign words to me when I first experienced them. However, I quickly learned how common they are.

    Through therapy, I realized my panic attacks were not random or a sign of weakness; they were the result of a dysregulated nervous system. Through various life experiences, my body’s natural alarm system—designed to protect me from danger—had gone haywire.

    My nervous system was stuck in a constant state of high alert, responding to threats that didn’t exist. This realization was a turning point in my journey.

    With this new understanding, I began to change how I approached my panic attacks. Instead of fleeing or resisting, I started to face them head-on. I learned to breathe through the discomfort.

    I had always been aware of the delicate interplay between mind and body and realized that my thoughts needed attention. My catastrophic thinking had become my nemesis, flooding my body with increased panic symptoms.

    I worked hard at changing my thoughts, and, over time, the booming negative voice was replaced with a more reassuring, positive one.

    Progress took time. Patience was an important lesson. I learned to be gentle with myself and to celebrate the small victories. When setbacks occurred, I encouraged myself to persevere.

    Panic Tips for Immediate Relief

    Grounding Techniques: I use the “5-4-3-2-1” technique when panic strikes. This entails naming five things I can see, four I can touch, three I can hear, two I can smell, and one I can taste. This is a powerful method, as it helps distract my mind from the panic symptoms.

    Conscious Breathing Rounds: This technique involves breathing in for four counts through my nose, holding for four counts, and then breathing out through my mouth for four counts. I do several rounds of these. The positive effect this has on my nervous system is evident after this exercise.

    Positive affirmations: Memorize a few positive affirmations to repeat to yourself during a panic attack. Affirmations such as “This is just a false alarm” or “I am safe, and these feelings will pass” are very useful. These gentle affirmations invite the nervous system to quieten.

    From Fear to Freedom: A Bold New Journey

    Today, panic attacks no longer rule my life. I’ve learned to manage and understand them. Their occurrence is far less frequent.

    If you suffer from panic attacks, know this: With the right tools and mindset, you can also regain control of your life.

    Find a caring therapist. Allow yourself to be vulnerable. You may temporarily require medication, in which case your therapist will guide you. Most importantly, do the internal work.

    Today, unlike forty years ago, when my struggles first started, panic attacks are widely discussed. And with access to the Internet, information on the topic is merely a click away. I wish I’d had that luxury back then.

    Facebook offers access to many free groups. Join an anxiety support group that resonates with you.

    Connect with your tribe. A shared space of meaningful interaction and empathy offers hope and encouragement.

    What could be more healing than the collective energy of your tribe cheering you on every day?

  • The Power of Finding Hidden Opportunities in Our Problems

    The Power of Finding Hidden Opportunities in Our Problems

    “The solution to every problem is to be found on a level that is slightly, or even greatly, above the conflicting perceptions. As long as you are eye to eye with the difficulty, you will fight the problem rather than resolve it.” ~Glenda Green

    Years ago, my city was in the middle of a heatwave. My home had no air conditioning. It was so hot indoors that I was sticking to my office chair. Even well after 11 p.m. I was still sweating away at the computer.

    Then the office lamp overheated and shut off. Sudden total darkness. Did I get up, take a break, and do something else? Nope.

    Did I relocate to a cooler part of the house? Nope. I wasn’t paying attention.

    Then it got worse.

    Several website pages I had created suddenly vanished into cyberspace. Poof! I was in the middle of a promotion that was directing people to those very sites.

    My frustration level was rising fast—almost to panic levels—which of course, naturally led almost immediately to the next disaster: I locked myself out of the house.

    Now it was serious.

    I had gone into the garage for something and soon discovered that the door back into the house had closed and locked behind me. My hidden spare key was nowhere to be found.

    Fortunately, one of the windows around back was open, so I managed to get into the house by hilariously climbing through the kitchen window like a Cirque du Soleil performance gone wrong. It was just the thing to bring me back to my senses.

    It’s a rare person who, when presented with what looks like a problem, thinks, “Great, how is this amazing? How is this an opportunity?”

    Albert Einstein once said that a problem cannot be solved at the same level of mind that created it. So, it’s helpful to zoom out and look at the issue from a higher and wider perspective. When we do, we can see the hidden opportunities.

    When we take a step back, we often realize those less-than-awesome things were happening for us, not to us.

    During my three-part problem of the heatwave, website crash, and the lockout from my house, there were the obvious lessons of “always know where your spare key is” and “go somewhere else when the office is sweltering.” The bigger opportunity, though, was to be reminded that:

    There is very little in life that is worth panicking over. In fact, little is as bad as our minds would have us believe.

    So what if the web pages vanished? They can be recreated. Big deal if it’s hot in the house and there’s no air conditioning. At least I have a house.

    Someone once said that “life is largely a matter of paying attention.” Had I fully paid attention to the first two events—the rising temperatures and the vanishing web pages—and paused to consider what the message might be, I likely could have avoided the trip through the back window.

    The truth is, opportunities are around us all the time. But we must look for them.

    When I sleep through my alarm, for instance, I end up running late for appointments, and then the whole day feels off. But perhaps arriving late for an appointment is really a gentle nudge from the universe to reassess my expectations of how much I can realistically do in a day. Maybe sleeping through my alarm meant I avoided a car accident that happened during my usual drive time.

    Within every problem is an opportunity, even if it might not seem that way at the time.

    Recently I drove over a nail, only to discover my car needed not one but all four tires replaced. Here was another opportunity to observe my default mode when unfortunate things happen. The natural tendency is to react. “How did this happen?” “What do I do now?” “This is awful. I can’t believe it.”

    For many of us (myself included), our automatic reaction to a setback is fear, worry, and frustration. Although it is important to acknowledge and validate these totally normal feelings and accept that they are there, these automatic reactions do little to find a solution and fix the problem.

    We can train ourselves to meet each perceived problem with the question, “How might this be a good thing?”

    After that initial moment of frustration and sticker shock at the price of the four new tires, I actively searched for the silver lining. Since I was going on a long road trip in a few weeks anyway, it made sense to have the car in top condition now.

    Replacing all four tires also led to discovering a more serious problem with my car—something that would have gone unnoticed had I not driven over that small nail.

    When confronted with what looks like a problem, the mind wants to jump in and run endless doomsday and what-if scenarios. One way to interrupt this tendency is to give your mind a funny name.

    For example, imagine your mind as an annoying neighbor who loves to complain. The next time it starts rattling off how things are terrible, you can tell that mind, “Thanks for sharing, Buzzard.” Seeing your mind as something separate from you allows you to acknowledge its concerns and simultaneously interrupt its negative patterns.

    Another way to release yourself from a downward mental spiral is to grab a slip of paper and write down how that unpleasant event or circumstance might be a good thing.

    Start by sitting quietly and taking some slow, deep breaths to calm your mental Buzzard down. Once you’re in a more neutral, centered place, look for any hidden opportunities. Write down one or two potentially positive things that could come of this.

    Writing them down vs. just thinking about them or typing them on your phone or computer is important, as physically writing something interrupts the conditioning and habits of the mind. Writing them down with your non-dominant hand is even better since it engages the often-underused side of your brain. It’s a great method for receiving creative insights about the perceived problem.

    Our daily activities offer countless opportunities to notice how we react and to practice looking for the hidden opportunities. In fact, a few hours after I started writing this article, my computer suddenly stopped working. It was a chance to practice the very thing I was writing about: awareness and opportunity.

    I noticed how my mind still wanted to frantically imagine a variety of worst-case scenarios if I weren’t able to recover all my files. When I ignored the mind and looked for the opportunity, I decided I was being forced to take a much-needed timeout from my computer. I suddenly had plenty of time to spend on other activities I had been putting aside because the computer work seemed more important and urgent.

    If you have a problem in your life right now, take a step back, grab a piece of paper, and consider it with a wider and brighter lens. Get creative and brainstorm until you find at least two ways that situation might actually be a good thing. Look for the opportunity!

  • How I’m Learning to Live with Anxiety, Not Against It

    How I’m Learning to Live with Anxiety, Not Against It

    “Your anger? It’s telling you where you feel powerless. Your anxiety? It’s telling you that something in your life is off balance. Your fear? It’s telling you what you care about. Your apathy? It’s telling you where you’re overextended and burnt out. Your feelings aren’t random, they are messengers. And if you want to get anywhere, you need to be able to let them speak to you and tell you what you really need.” ~Brianna Wiest

    For half of my life, anxiety has been my constant companion. I went from a confident, fiery, and fearless girl to a woman plagued by self-doubt and paralyzed by fear.

    My struggle with anxiety began in college. A sudden shift in my living situation flipped a switch in my brain, leaving me unrecognizable to myself. I found myself living in a toxic environment with roommates who caused so much chaos that I no longer felt safe in my own home.

    This constant state of unease triggered the anxiety that would follow me for years. Instead of acknowledging it, I tried to outrun it. I looked outward for solutions, turning to the law of attraction and other quick-fix spiritual practices, but they only made me feel worse about myself.

    Chronic stress and anxiety wreaked havoc on my body. I experienced severe digestive pain, tingling in my hands and feet, dizziness, nausea, and a myriad of other symptoms. I sought help from doctors, naturopaths, and specialists, but no one could find anything wrong with me.

    Deep down, I couldn’t accept that anxiety might be the cause. I convinced myself that there had to be something seriously wrong with my health. Because I didn’t acknowledge that anxiety was behind it all, the symptoms only intensified.

    I would go months without symptoms, only to be hit by a new wave of terrifying sensations. The anxiety always returned, stronger than before. It felt like a never-ending cycle.

    Then, COVID-19 hit, a perfect storm for my anxiety. Not only was I navigating a global pandemic with a young child, but we were also in the middle of building a new home—a process delayed by the pandemic. We were moving to a completely different city, living out of boxes in a rental house while waiting for our new home to be completed.

    My anxiety surged as I dealt with virtual school for our six-year-old. And then came the most devastating news: My mother was diagnosed with bladder cancer.

    My parents moved into the rental house with us because their house had flooded. Watching my mom deteriorate from cancer only intensified my anxiety. My mother’s diagnosis wasn’t the only encounter I had with cancer; it started to feel like it was everywhere. The constant presence of illness and death heightened my anxiety, making me hyper-aware of every ache and pain.

    Insomnia became my nightly companion, lasting nearly a year. Some nights, I wouldn’t sleep at all.

    Anxiety about not sleeping became as overwhelming as my general anxiety. As bedtime approached, my chest grew heavy with dread. I cried all night, feeling utterly alone. When the world sleeps and you’re wide awake, the loneliness is crushing. It was just me and my millions of thoughts.

    Desperate to shut off my brain, I turned to a nightly glass of wine. I tried various supplements, but they only wreaked havoc on my body, causing my liver enzymes to rise and bringing a host of other health issues.

    Anxiety didn’t just change me; it affected every part of my life, especially my marriage. My husband, who was always calm and patient, started to become stressed and short-tempered because of my constant worry and fear.

    My anxiety created tension between us, and we were no longer the carefree couple we once were. Our conversations often revolved around my fears, and I could see how much it was weighing on him.

    As a mother, my anxiety took away the joy of being with my son. Instead of enjoying time with him, I found myself snapping at him, my patience worn thin by the constant state of unease I was in.

    I spent every day researching, desperate to find a magic cure. I tried cognitive behavioral therapy, tapping, and affirmations. But nothing worked. Though CBT has helped many, it wasn’t right for me.

    Trying to replace my negative thoughts with positive ones felt like plastering over cracks in a crumbling wall. The positive thoughts didn’t feel genuine; they felt like a temporary mask.

    Then I discovered Jon Kabat-Zinn. His books became my lifeline, introducing me to mindfulness and meditation. Slowly, these practices became a part of my daily life. I learned to befriend my emotions instead of running from them or burying them deep inside.

    I invited my anxiety to tea and listened to her worries. I hugged my fear and told her she’s not weak. I asked my anger what she’s holding onto and allowed her to scream and cry. I wrote letters to each of my emotions, and they wrote back.

    We cried together, and for the first time, my emotions felt seen and heard. I was no longer afraid of them; they became a part of me—a part of what makes me human.

    For the past five years, meditation and mindfulness have been my anchors. No, they haven’t cured my anxiety, but they’ve changed my relationship with it. Anxiety no longer controls my life. Instead of spiraling into panic, I ask myself, “What am I feeling? Where in my body do I feel this emotion?”

    These simple questions ground me, bringing me back to the present moment. By labeling the feeling, I strip away much of its power. I tell myself, “I’m feeling anxious, and that’s okay.” I repeat this until I feel calm.

    Sometimes, I even picture my anxiety as a physical presence—a person who needs love, patience, and understanding. I ask this person, “What do you need at this moment?” More often than not, the answer is simple: love.

    My anxiety, like all emotions, wants to be recognized, to be heard without judgment. Sometimes, it just needs a moment to be, to exist without being pushed away.

    Another tool that has been incredibly helpful for me is the STOP method by Jon Kabat-Zinn. Whenever I feel anxiety creeping in, I pause and STOP: Stop what I’m doing, Take a deep breath, Observe what’s happening inside and around me, and then Proceed with awareness. This simple technique helps break the cycle of anxious thoughts, grounding me in the present moment.

    I believe all our emotions seek acknowledgment and understanding. They want to be recognized without judgment. Sometimes they just need a moment to breathe, to exist in a safe space where they can shift from overwhelming to understood. They want to know you won’t abandon them but rather guide them gently toward clarity.

    Looking back, I realize that anxiety has changed me in ways I never expected. It has made me more empathetic toward others who are struggling with their own battles. I’ve learned that everyone is carrying something heavy, even if they don’t show it on the outside.

    My anxiety has also taught me the importance of self-compassion. I used to be my own harshest critic, but now I’m learning to be kinder to myself, to give myself the grace to be imperfect.

    Even though I’ve learned tools to manage my anxiety, it’s still a part of my life. There are days when the anxiety feels overwhelming, and the old fears creep back in. On those days, I remind myself that healing isn’t a straight line—it’s okay to have setbacks.

    When I feel the familiar wave of anxiety, I turn to the practices that I’ve learned. Mindfulness, the STOP method, and self-compassion. I let myself feel what I’m feeling without judgment, and I focus on small, actionable steps to bring myself back to the present moment.

    What keeps me motivated is knowing that I’ve come this far. Every setback is a chance to practice the tools I’ve learned, and each time I do, I’m reminded of my strength and resilience. My journey with anxiety is ongoing, but with each day, I grow more capable of handling whatever comes my way.

    Your emotions don’t define you—they are a part of you. A sign that you are alive and deeply human. Embracing them, rather than battling them, has brought me peace, and I hope it can do the same for you.

  • How to Ease Pain and Anxiety Through Meditation

    How to Ease Pain and Anxiety Through Meditation

    “If nothing changes, nothing changes. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’re going to keep getting what you’re getting. You want change, make some.” ~Courtney C. Stevens

    If someone looked at my life when I was younger, they would think that I had it all together. I went to college to obtain my bachelor’s in psychology and social work, followed by my master’s in social work. I have always had good friendships and family relationships. I traveled regularly. I was and still am young and living my life. Little would they know that so much was brewing inside…

    The perfect storm of overachieving, perfectionism, stress, and anxiety was brewing until I developed chronic pelvic pain in college.

    As an overachiever, I had all of my homework and essays done a week before they were due because if I waited until the last minute, my anxiety would be higher than it already was. I always wrote more pages for my assignments than I needed to. I studied more than I needed to. I always did the most.

    As a perfectionist, I bawled my eyes out when I got my first 88% in my child development class. I bawled my eyes out when I got a 20 on my ACT, thinking that I wouldn’t even get into college with that score.

    Anxiety. I was a tight ball of anxiety. Always worrying, anxious, and catastrophizing, with whole-body muscle tension, trouble sleeping, and intense restlessness.

    A perfect storm.

    After graduating from my master’s program, I started working in community mental health in order to obtain my 3,000 clinical hours for my clinical social worker license.

    This whole time I was going from doctor to doctor, trying to figure out what was going on with my body. I was looking for every solution under the sun. I finally found one after working at my first job for about a year. I was so burned out, anxious, and in pain that I took a sabbatical and went to California.

    There was a clinic in California that specialized in chronic pelvic pain and anxiety. I thought, “Finally, a place that can help me.”

    This is how my meditation journey started. A journey that I now can say changed my life. I do not know where I would be without this powerful practice.

    Let me paint the picture of what the clinic looked like for you. I was in a room of about eight to ten fellow anxiety and chronic pelvic pain sufferers lying down in what looked like sleeping bags, tucked in like caterpillars in cocoons.

    The psychologist at the clinic started to teach us how to meditate.

    He started doing a guided meditation without a script and told us to focus on the feeling of “sinking” when we exhaled, the “ahhhh” feeling. Can you imagine how hard that would be if your anxiety and pain were off the charts?

    After what felt like thirty seconds of this exercise, my first thought was, “WE ARE DONE, RIGHT??? That’s all for today. Time to go!!” Being someone who was a tight ball of anxiety, with a million thoughts running through my mind, and lying there in excruciating pain, it felt like torture. I thought I was going to explode.

    The worst part was that he kept going. I do not remember how long the meditation lasted. It felt like it lasted for twelve hours when in reality we may have done ten to twenty minutes. Throughout the rest of the clinic, we kept repeating this guided meditation, and it honestly kept feeling awful.

    Through dedication and practice, it took me a year and a half, twice a day every day, to be able to do that guided meditation for forty-five minutes. I can say now that the practice of meditation saved my life and dramatically calmed down my nervous system and anxiety.

    Here are the lessons that I learned throughout my meditation journey.

    1. Start small.

    When you want to start something new or create a new habit, start small. Starting big is overwhelming; starting small feels more manageable.

    When I first started to meditate, I began with a couple of minutes and worked my way up. After a couple of months, I was able to do ten minutes, then fifteen minutes, then twenty minutes, and so on, until I could meditate for forty-five minutes and it felt like only fifteen minutes went by.

    Be compassionate with yourself if it takes a while to be able to master those first couple of minutes. Meditation is difficult when you are first starting out, as is anything you are trying in the beginning. Give yourself the grace to be a beginner, knowing that you are engaging in a powerful practice, and that already is enough.

    After putting in the work for over a year and a half, I felt calmer and more present, more able to notice my thoughts without holding onto them, and better able to sit with the sensations in my body with ease.

    2. Long-lasting consistency is key for any change you want to make in life.

    Trust me, I struggled with consistency for a very long time. I would try out something new for three to four days, and after that time, I would say, “Oh, well, this doesn’t work” and stop doing the thing. I didn’t give the technique time for it to work.

    I realized that was the part of me that was impatient and wanted instant gratification and results. I would always tell clients that I worked with, “Trust me, if I had a magic pill that would take away all of your problems, I would give you one and then myself one. Then I would live on a private island and have my own personal dolphin to play with.” Wouldn’t that be cool if life worked that way?

    This was a cycle for me that lasted a very long time. It takes a little over two months to create a habit. Once I started to see the effects of meditation, I made sure to make it a daily lifestyle habit, something that I do for my physical and mental health.

    3. Change is uncomfortable. Meditation was and still is comfortable.

    Change sucks. Learning something new sucks. I also learned that in that moment, I could do something that was going to be hard and in the end be helpful, or I could stay stuck. I had a choice, and I knew that I could not stay stuck in super high levels of anxiety and chronic pain. I knew something needed to change despite feeling uncomfortable.

    “Life is the difference between what hurts and what hurts more.” ~Nicole Sachs, LCSW.

    Meditation was SO uncomfortable in the beginning. My brain felt like a game of ping pong with so many thoughts and sensations going on in my body. I had a really hard time focusing on the sinking feeling of my body during meditation because I became distracted with anxious thoughts and pain. Over time, it became easier until I was able to just focus on the sinking sensation or my breath. As with anything in life, practice makes progress.

    I do not meditate for forty-five minutes anymore. I use the Calm app and do the daily meditation for ten minutes. There are days that focusing on my breath is still challenging because of anxiety, pain, or the thoughts running through my mind.

    As with life, there are moments where days are harder and easier. What has helped me is to accept whatever is happening in the moment, which also takes practice. I have created compassion for myself when meditation feels harder for me. No judgment. I am human.

    4. You cannot run away from your mind and body.

    What I learned from my meditation practice is that you cannot run away from what is happening inside your mind and body. Your mind and body will keep giving you a thought or sensation until you are fully able to sit with it and accept it in the moment rather than sweeping it under the rug because it feels uncomfortable or scary.

    It is uncomfortable and scary. By running away from it, it’s also reinforcing the pattern and showing your brain and nervous system that the thought or sensation in your body is a threat.

    During my meditation practice, I had to sit with whatever was happening in my body: intense pain, tightness in my chest, queasiness in my stomach, “what if” thoughts in my mind, tightness in areas of my body—you name it. I had to feel all of it.

    At first, I hated it and it was terrible, but then it became easier. I had to learn to accept my body and its protection, because that is what it was doing. That acceptance turned into compassion, which turned into reduced symptoms.

    Your body and brain will keep giving you symptoms until you have processed them, accepted them, and turned off the danger signals.

    As with anything that you do, it will get easier with time and practice!

    I want to add a caveat that if you are having chronic pain, please consult a medical professional to rule out anything structurally happening with your body. I had every test and scan done under the sun, and my body was and still is normal, physically. Also, with anxiety, if you need support, there are many wonderful places to receive it, whether through therapy or online forums.

  • 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.

  • 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 Works—A 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.

  • Beyond the Inner Critic: Choosing a New Reality

    Beyond the Inner Critic: Choosing a New Reality

    “To think new thoughts, you have to break the bones in your head.” ~Jean-Paul Sartre

    Respectfully, Mr. Sartre, I disagree. This is that story, and it’s not for the faint of heart.

    Today Was a Bad Day

    Oh no, not again!

    The walls were closing in on me, and I could see their faces all flustered and red.

    Why are they yelling at me? I mean, are they yelling at me?

    I could feel the tension in the room; I just couldn’t hear anything. Well, actually, yeah, I could.

    I could hear her.

    I could hear Annabelle.

    I knew it was my turn to say something. But what if my voice shook? What if they laughed at me? What if I opened my mouth but the words wouldn’t come?

    Seriously?! You’re quoting Eminem now? What the hell… What’s wrong with you? Say something, anything, goddamn it!

    Meet Annabelle, the charming voice of my inner critic. Unlike my parents, she is always… well, there. Unwelcome, but there.

    I could tell it was happening all over again. And I just froze.

    Why can’t you get anything right? You’re such a mistake. No wonder you don’t have any real friends!

    At this point, my thoughts were beyond saving. Annabelle was leading them. And between us? This twenty-something-year-old just wanted a break!

    You better believe that on the ride home, Annabelle kept drilling my mind over and over, like a relentless woodpecker.

    Congratulations! You are now the laughing stock of your cute little debate club. Lol, don’t even bother showing up next time!

    I hurried to my room and slammed the door shut. Maybe that would drown Annabelle out.

    “Okay, okay, start saying your affirmations quick! Maybe that’ll do the trick,” I said to myself, anxiously pacing back and forth around my desk.

    I am confident. I am strong. My life has meaning…

    But nothing worked. No amount of positive thinking did anything for me. So, I did what anyone in my shoes would do. I gave in to Annabelle and wallowed!

    It’s funny how I can almost see her smug face smiling down on me. Good on her. She got what she wanted—a broken plaything.

    Self-pity, check.

    Self-hate, double-check.

    A crushed spirit with no will to carry on? Checks through the roof.

    I had hit rock bottom again. And my once-vibrant eyes turned cold, staring into the void.

    Before I tell you how I moved past this, let me tell you what really went down with me.

    I Was Visited by a Familiar Friend

    … dear ol’ anxiety!

    I like to think of anxiety as this beast with two heads.

    One head always wants to manage other people’s perceptions of us. It craves their thumbs up or nods of approval because it cannot survive without them.

    The other is always in a place of no trust—no trust in ourselves, others, or the process of life. It believes that nothing has ever worked out for us or ever will.

    Maybe that’s what Annabelle was doing to me that day—jumping to the worst-case scenarios, dramatizing the whole thing in my head.

    That’s anxiety for ya.

    My Door Went Knocking a Second Time

    Of course, it’s not a party without depression.

    Depression is like that uninvited guest with a gloom and doom sign stamped on its forehead.

    When I trapped myself in my room for hours after coming home from the club, I felt horrible.

    There was no light at the end of the tunnel for me. This was it. I couldn’t see the point in anything anymore, and I was convinced that the world would be better off without me.

    That’s what depression does.

    Actually, Louise Hay got it right when she defined depression as “anger you feel you do not have the right to have.”

    It is anger stuffed down in the body somewhere—suppressed anger that seeks an outlet for release.

    That’s why, in the middle of my meltdown, saying affirmations didn’t work for me. It was too soon for that.

    I guess the best way I can describe my two companions to you is this: If depression were a person, it would be someone who waves the white flag—someone who feels defeated and all given up. Anxiety, on the other hand, would be someone who tightly holds on to the flag and refuses to let go.

    Now, if you saw glimpses of yourself in my experience, please know these feelings are very real in the body. Chemically speaking, the body would be in a state of imbalance, running on low levels of the happy hormones like serotonin and dopamine and high levels of the stress chemicals.

    These conditions will give anyone the impression that they won’t survive this storm. But that cannot be any further from the truth.

    So, how did I make it to greener pastures?

    #1: I gave myself permission to feel anger.

    Why am I angry?

    When was the last time I felt robbed of a right? The right to feel, the right to mess up, the right to express, the right to make mistakes?

    Is it possible that I am angry with myself for feeling angry because I learned growing up that it was wrong to feel that way?

    Thinking about these things was enough to get me to scream. It was like every part of my soul begged to reconnect with my throat chakra and get my voice back, or at least some of it.

    Within the first minute or so, I felt my lungs give in. Who knew that screaming into a pillow could be this exhausting?

    But I needed to scream. It felt good. Really, really good.

    #2: I accepted my emotions.

    There was no fuel left in me to go against the grain anymore. I couldn’t keep denying what I was feeling. I had to name it to tame it.

    So I looked in the mirror and unburdened: I feel anxious. And I feel depressed. Okay? There.

    But that’s not all I did.

    I reminded myself that depression and anxiety are my body’s way of letting me know that there is a dis-ease within me.

    Dis-ease means a lack of ease or an absence of harmony. It’s how the body signals to a person that they are far from optimal health. Great!

    With that in mind, I accepted these feelings and thanked my body for communicating them to me.

    Even though our feelings are always valid, our assessment of the situation—the thoughts behind those feelings—may not be.

    This led me to my third strategy.

    #3: I observed my thoughts.

    Like I said before, this wasn’t my first rodeo.

    Thanks to my journal, I went over The List—my list of unshakeable truths I had outlined in times of emergency. And this was definitely an emergency.

    That’s when I stumbled upon a quote from Eckhart Tolle:

    “Observe your thoughts, don’t believe them.”

    Eureka!

    It’s very likely that when someone feels depressed or anxious, they will be bombarded with a sea of negative thoughts that ring true for them. Garbage thoughts, really.

    But should they believe their every thought?

    This is also at the heart of Dr. Joe Dispenza’s work. He advocates that not every thought we think is necessarily true.

    “Most thoughts,” he says, “are just old circuits in your brain that have become hardwired by your repetitive volition.”

    And so, I didn’t fight Annabelle. I didn’t try to reason with the negative thoughts she was feeding my brain.

    I didn’t even justify them or resist them.

    Like passing clouds, I observed them without judgment. And when I felt ready, I saw them fade into the background.

    It’s common knowledge that when we’re calm and relaxed, we make room for magic and healing. It is the quickest and easiest way to build better habits and restructure our minds.

    #4: I chose better thoughts.

    Thoughts are the mental movies we play in our minds. And the mental movie I was running up there was less than ideal.

    Did Annabelle’s useless chatter help me or hurt me? Did her thoughts empower me or keep me small? Did they breathe life into me or slowly lay me on my deathbed?

    If I really wanted to change this circumstance, I had to change the thought patterns that made me perceive it in the first place.

    Instead of saying affirmations that were lifeless to me, I chose phrases that felt good to say aloud—phrases I had little to no resistance to.

    These are some of my favorites!

    • Divine love in me casts out all discord. I am at peace now.
    • I am guided by the divine presence within me. It created me and is restoring me to perfection now.
    • Infinite intelligence reveals the perfect solution to my problem.
    • I breathe deeply and fully. As I take in the breath of life, I am nourished.

    These affirmations remind me that I am always whole, loved, and supported, even in a moment where I might feel embarrassed or inferior.

    This was my rule of thumb: If a thought doesn’t empower you or fill you with love, question it.

    #5: I made a promise to myself to stay consistent with my new story.

    Consistency is the name of the game.

    Once I decided on my new thoughts, I wanted to repeat them daily.

    I didn’t force myself to immediately accept these new thoughts. I knew Annabelle would fight me on them tooth and nail.

    So the effort was gradual and accumulative. Easy does it!

    As always, a relaxed body and a calm mind are much more susceptible to change than a stressful body and mind.

    I promised myself that whenever depression or anxiety crept in, and boy, how they did, especially in the beginning, I would feel them without entertaining the thoughts associated with them.

    Those were the moments when I’d tell myself: I am capable of change. I can learn new ways of thinking. I am teachable. 

    Bit by bit, through consistent repetition, the old, tired thoughts got replaced with new, vibrant ones.

    Final Thoughts

    Notice how I didn’t say “my” anxiety or “my” depression? How I said, “I felt anxious or depressed,” and not “I am anxious or depressed?”

    That’s because you and I are NOT the depression or the anxiety. We are the beings experiencing these conditions.

    So no, Mr. Sartre. You don’t have to break the bones in your head to think new thoughts.

    You just have to move forward with loving awareness. And the rest will fall into place.

  • 4 Ways to Help Someone with Mental Health Challenges

    4 Ways to Help Someone with Mental Health Challenges

    “Just being there for someone can sometimes bring hope when all seems hopeless.” ~Dave G. Llewellyn

    Have you ever found yourself in a situation where someone told you something deeply personal and traumatic and you were stuck on what to say to them, how to act, and how to behave?

    This happens to me regularly, and it’s not that I don’t have feelings or emotions about what’s happened to the person. I feel deeply sorry for them. But I sometimes freeze and don’t know what to say or do.

    When it comes to mental health issues, this can be even harder to broach. And I say that with a severe amount of irony because I have mental health issues myself. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder in 2017.

    Sometimes, when we have experience with things, knowing what to say or do can still be difficult.

    Nevertheless, I want to share a few things I’ve learned from how people have treated me and how I’ve chosen to treat people.

    Hopefully, after reading this, you won’t find yourself acting awkward when someone opens up to you about what they’re going through!

    This generally applies to people you view as friends—people who would open up to you and be willing to share what’s happening inside their heads.

    So, I guess a theme or mantra we can keep in mind would be, “A true friend shows care and concern whenever possible and, in fact, is a brother or sister who is born for times of distress.”

    What does this mean?

    Well, we ourselves can be overwhelmed when a friend is suffering from mental distress. We don’t know what to say. We don’t know what to do. Of course, we feel bad for them. Perhaps we even empathize with them.

    But what’s more important is the fact that we show how much we care by trying to help them cope with what they’re going through.

    How do we do that? My first tip is to listen when they want to talk.

    You don’t have to respond to everything they say, but you should acknowledge what they say to show you’re fully listening. It could be just a gentle “aha” or an eyebrow raise.

    Remember to remain compassionate as well. Don’t jump to conclusions; keep an open mind and avoid judgment.

    When someone opens up to you, maybe they’re doing it for the first time and not thinking about how it sounds. They’ll probably say things that they don’t mean and might later regret. Just be a good friend and listen.

    And if you disagree with something they say, sometimes it’s best to say nothing.

    The next pointer I have for you is that when you decide to speak (when you think it’s necessary to respond), remember to speak in a way that consoles them.

    Bear in mind that your friend, family member, whoever it is, they’re probably anxious, and if they’re dealing with mental health issues, they likely feel some worthlessness as well.

    So, with your kind words, you can reassure them that you care, comfort them, and encourage them, even if you don’t know the ‘right’ things to say.

    Your words might sound a bit muddled, but that doesn’t matter; if your tone reflects warmth and kindness, your friend will pick up on that. They’ll understand that you’re there to care for them and that you’re doing your best.

    Something else to consider is making an offer to help practically.

    Don’t assume you know what your friend needs. Instead, ask how you can help.

    If your friend is struggling to express what they need, you could suggest something practical that you could do for them.

    You could do some chores around the house for them, go food shopping for them, clean up for them, or do something else that you know they need. You could also just offer to walk with them to get them outside, which might lift their spirits.

    Remember that sometimes, it’s not just what you say or how you say it; it’s the things you do that show you care.

    Maybe, like me, you’re not the best with words, but your actions can show that you care about your friend and want to help them.

    The final piece of advice that I have for you is to be patient.

    You might be ready to talk and offer sage and sound advice, but maybe your friend isn’t ready to hear it.

    If that happens, just remind your friend or reassure them that you’ll listen when they are ready to talk, and you don’t need to offer any advice at all if they just want an ear.

    Don’t take it personally if your friend says or does things that upset or hurt you. They might cancel plans with you or become irritable. Remember to be patient and understanding, because this is how you ultimately offer the support they need.

    And if they cancel on you, know that it doesn’t reflect badly on you. It’s a reflection of where they are at the current time.

    So remember: Be quick to listen, speak consolingly, offer practical help, and be patient.

    This winning combination offers the most benefit to you and your friend.

    Well done for wanting to help your friend out; dealing with mental health challenges isn’t easy, but having someone to talk to is so important.

  • The Amazing Healing Power of Talking About Our Anxiety

    The Amazing Healing Power of Talking About Our Anxiety

    “Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything—anger, anxiety, or possessions—we cannot be free.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

    I have dealt with anxiety for as long as I can remember. There are times when I don’t experience it and times when it seems unbearable. It’s sort of like a rollercoaster that just never stops. And I am the first person to admit that anxiety can take over your life if it goes unmanaged.

    The toughest part about anxiety is that it can be hard to pinpoint what is causing it. For me, there isn’t just one common recurring thing that starts it; rather, it stems from an underlying issue or insecurity that I am trying to ignore.

    What I have learned about anxiety over the years is this: The worst thing you can do is ignore it or run away from it. Anxiety is there to teach you a lesson so you can continue to evolve and grow.

    I recently had a rough encounter with anxiety that left me feeling isolated and scared. I had these recurring thoughts that wouldn’t go away. It was also confusing because I hadn’t experienced anxiety at that level for a very long time. I was feeling happy and content with life, and then it came back with a vengeance.

    This time, when my anxiety appeared, I pretty much ignored all my own advice and the years of learning I had accumulated on the subject. All I wanted to do was numb myself with distractions, wishing it would go away on its own.

    I tried to pretend that everything was fine and nothing bothered me. This made the situation so much worse; running from the anxiety caused it to become loud and persistent until I was able to learn from it.

    This recent experience reminded me that the best way to deal with stress is something most people aren’t using.

    Disclaimer: I am not a doctor or a therapist and can’t support my advice with any medical studies. But I am someone who has lived with anxiety all my life and can recognize what helps me move past it and not let it completely derail me.

    When it comes to anxiety, the best and fastest way to find relief is by talking it out. Yes, it really can be that simple.

    In my experience, talking through your anxiety with a trusted friend, partner, or therapist can be instantly therapeutic.

    So why do most people not talk about their anxiety? Let’s look at the main reasons why.

    Judging the anxiety

    Have you ever thought, “My feelings are stupid, and my thoughts sound ridiculous; why are they making me anxious?” Our judgments about anxiety block us from sharing with other people because we’re afraid of what they might think. This, in turn, gives us more anxiety!

    Next time you feel anxiety creep in, remind yourself that you are not weak for having anxious thoughts. Talk them through with a trusted friend, and you will soon be reminded that you are safe, loved, and protected.

    Dismissing the anxiety

    While our judgments can make anxiety worse, dismissing it altogether can be just as detrimental.

    So many people spend their day distracted, going from work straight into numbing with TV and social media, to avoid sitting with their thoughts.

    Dismissing anxiety does not make it go away; it only makes it stronger. When we stuff down emotions, we give them way more energy than we would if we simply talked through them in the moment.

    Also, repressed emotions can lead to physical ailments and block our ability to feel happiness.

    Whenever I feel weighed down, like a dark cloud is over me, I know it’s because I am ignoring a thought or emotion. When I talk it through, it soon takes away all the energy needed to store the anxiety, allowing me to find happy feelings once again.

    Isolating yourself because of anxiety

    Anxiety can make us feel completely alone, as if no one else feels how we feel. But with eight billion people on this planet, there’s no way you have a unique thought. I promise you, if you’re dealing with it, there are thousands of other people going through it too.

    The majority of us are waiting for someone else to be vulnerable first before we feel comfortable sharing. So have the courage to share what you’re going through, and I guarantee you that there is someone who can relate to you, making you feel less alone. Vulnerability is the fastest way to find courage and dismantle what anxiety is trying to keep you stuck with.

    The truth is that anxiety wants your attention, even if it’s just to tell you to take better care of yourself or set some boundaries. Whatever the message is, it’s better to listen and talk it out rather than suppress it.

    Understanding this has been instrumental in helping me release anxiety. Here’s what happened when I talked about my anxiety with someone I trusted:

    My body physically relaxed.

    That chest tightness that grabs ahold of me when anxiety is at its worst instantly went away. It’s like I could feel my body physically melt into the present moment as the anxiety eased. All that stored tension was able to exit my body. After, whenever the anxiety came back, I remembered to focus on my breathing and remind myself that I was safe in that present moment.

    My mind stopped swirling.

    The number one way I know that my anxiety is escalating is when my mind just won’t stop with swirling thoughts. They seem to only get louder and more pronounced the more I try to ignore them. So, when I finally sat down and talked it through, the clouds lifted, and I was able to think more clearly. I took away their power by voicing my fears and worries because I wasn’t holding them in anymore. Which leads me into the greatest perk of calming my anxiety, which is:

    My creativity came back.

    Anxiety causes us to be in constant fight-or-flight mode, where the body only focuses on survival tactics. Even anxiety about a non-life-threatening situation, like an important work meeting, can cause our body to go into survival mode. And when we are in fight- or-flight, our ability to access our creativity will be diminished.

    This happened to me with my writing. I was stalling on writing and tried to work on one article for over two months. Usually when I get inspiration, I can sit down and write an article in a couple of hours. This was a major warning sign that I was not in balance, and I was letting fear take over.

    When I got real with myself and voiced my anxiety, my creativity and this article quickly came to me, and I was able to find my voice once again.

    I know that talking about anxiety can feel scary, especially if you have never done it. So here is a little grounding exercise I like to do before I talk about it or if my anxiety comes back:

    Place your hand on your heart and close your eyes. Take a deep breath in and repeat to yourself, I am safe and loved. I am not my anxiety or my fears; they are not in control of me. I have the power to feel happy and free, and sharing my fears with someone I trust reminds me that I am not alone. I have all the support I need, and I will not let this fear take over.

    Do your soul a favor and release yourself from the constraints of anxiety. This may not be a magic pill or what works for everyone, but I do know this: Talking about your anxiety will give you the relief you are seeking. Anxiety can be debilitating, but you don’t have to suffer. You have all the power to take back control and love your life again.