Tiny Buddha

Tag: Appreciation

  • Living a Meaningful Life: What Will Your Loved Ones Find When You Die?

    Living a Meaningful Life: What Will Your Loved Ones Find When You Die?

    “At the end of life, at the end of YOUR life, what essence emerges? What have you filled the world with? In remembering you, what words will others choose?” ~Amy Rosenthal

    Most people believe sorting through a loved one’s belongings after death provides closure. For me, it provided an existential crisis.

    After glancing at the angry sky in my father’s driveway for what seemed like hours, I mustered up the courage to crack open the door to the kitchen. The eerie silence stopped me in my tracks. Wasn’t he cooking up a storm in this cluttered kitchen just a few days ago?

    I started with the mounds of clothes and cuddled them gently before pitching them. The sweet aroma of his fiery cologne still lingered. The air smelled just like him.

    My father’s belongings served as physical reminders of how he spent his time on Earth. Some of my favorites included:

    A weathered yellow newspaper clipping of his parents. Cherished family photos, with him grinning ear to ear. A collection of homemade cookbooks. Framed quotes such as Mi casa es su casa. A prestigious Pottery Barn leather chair, distressed by puppy claw marks. Nostalgic t-shirts from the early 90’s.

    Chipped and heavily-used Williams-Sonoma platters. An entertainment center that mimicked a NASA operation center, with 70’s CDs left in the queue. Invitations to neighborhood block parties. An embroidered apron which read “World’s Best Grill Master” paired with still fresh barbeque sauce stains.

    Homemade recipe cards with quirky quotes like “It’s good because it’s cooked on wood.” An entire closet of camping gear. Leftover birthday celebration goodies. Glazed pottery from local North Carolinian artists. Entertaining sports memorabilia on full display. And a tender card from me:

    Dear Dad,

    You’re the best dad ever! I hope you have a birthday filled with tasty BBQ, blaring seventies music, and a pepperoncini pepper to start the day off right. Thank you for being there for me. You are my hero. I can’t wait to celebrate with you this weekend!

    My father collected items that brought him joy, and, clearly shared them with others.

    While you may not know him, or think you have anything to do with him, you do.

    You will be him one day. We will all be him one day. At some point, someone will rummage through our drawers. Scary, isn’t it?

    Weeks later after organizing his possessions, I returned to my lavish apartment with cloudy judgment. As soon as I arrived, I dropped my luggage near the door and waltzed into my closet. The items that once made me proud, made me nauseous. If someone rummaged through my keepsakes, they would find:

    A closet full of color-coordinated designer brand clothes. Scratched CDs listing my favorite nineties bands. An entire drawer filled with vibrant, unused makeup. A high-end collection of David Yurman rings, necklaces, and bracelets. Wrinkled Nordstrom receipts. An assortment of gently used designer handbags. And, pictures of fair-weather friends scattered throughout.

    Do you know what they all had in common? Me.

    ME! ME! ME!

    Comparing my life to my father’s led to a life-changing decision. Should I continue to splurge on meaningless items or start completely over?

    After a moment of contemplation, my life mirrored a blank slate. Products related to “keeping up with the Jones’s” were no longer my jam. Instead, my money was reserved for incredible moments that produced long-term joy and warm memories.

    My new spending habits derived from the following financial values:

    • Seek experiences that make me feel alive.
    • Purchase life-changing products.
    • Invest in creative hobbies that I’m proud of.
    • Provide others with joyous moments.
    • Initiate celebratory activities.
    • Make financial decisions out of love.

    With a little trial and error, I traded in frivolous shoulder bags for top-rated camping gear. Saturday shopping days transformed into baking Sundays. And most importantly, I went from feeling not enough to experiencing fulfillment.

    Twelve years later, I’m happy to share that I continue to evaluate my purchases using a “Will this make a good memory?” lens. In retrospect, mending my financial habits was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

    Why? I’m no longer impressed by status. I prefer art, learning, and the outdoors over any invitation to shopping. In return, my life is filled with purpose, meaning, and long-term satisfaction.

    What I know for sure is that most commodities on their own overpromise and underdeliver, unless we intentionally create an evocative memory with them. Materialistic purchases provide us with fleeting moments of happiness. On the contrary, curating beautiful moments with others delivers long-term joy.

    While you won’t find many luxurious products in my house now, you will find:

    A four-person picnic backpack for sunny days at a park. Bird feeders galore. A fine assortment of tea to share with others. Homemade bath bombs for birthdays. Color-coordinated self-improvement books. Aromatic sea salt exfoliants that replicate a spa experience. Cheery holiday decorations.

    An assortment of various vision boards and bucket lists. Seasonal candles galore. A bathroom drawer filled with citrus soaps, shampoo, and lotions for overnight guests. A collection of homemade scrapbooks featuring beloveds.

    An emerald green trekking hiking backpack for outdoorsy adventures. Crinkled Aquarium tickets. Handwritten family cookbooks. Seeds for a blooming garden. Hygge and cozy themed library nooks. A bright blue hybrid bike, for nomadic quests. A closet full of board games. And my most prized possession of all, a sentimental card from my darling father, John:

    Happy Graduation, Britti!

    I am proud of who you are and proud to be your dad. I like how you hold your head high. You are becoming a beautiful young woman and fun to be around. You have taught me things. You are so important to me. I treasure our time together and will always be here for you! It’s not always easy, but, you have a lot of love around you. I hope that life keeps blessing you. Keep spreading your wings and following your dreams!

    Love, Dad

    The real question is, when someone organizes your belongings, what will they find?

  • 5 Questions I Ask Myself Nightly Since My Father’s Sudden Death

    5 Questions I Ask Myself Nightly Since My Father’s Sudden Death

    “Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let life be like music. And death a note unsaid.” ~Langston Hughes

    Nine years ago, I was sitting mindlessly in my office cubicle in Omaha, Nebraska, when the receptionist called to inform me that my dad was in the lobby.

    I walked out to greet him: He was happy, smiling, and donning one of his favorite double-breasted suits. He was there because he needed my signature on some tax preparation forms before he handed them over to his accountant. My dad always took care of things like that.

    It was a Friday in February, late morning. We briefly discussed getting lunch but ultimately decided not to in the interest of time. We would see each other over the weekend, anyway. After all, we were planning a trip.

    A week prior, my dad told me he wanted to take me to Vegas for my thirtieth birthday. I’d never been to Vegas. There were things to discuss, hotel rooms to book, concert tickets to buy.

    I signed the tax forms, thanked my dad, and walked back to my cubicle. I don’t remember anything else about this day. It was, in fact, just like any other day. It was ordinary. Humdrum, you might say.

    But the next day…

    The next day is forever seared into the pathways of my hippocampus, every detail a tattoo on my mind’s eye.

    Because the next day…

    That’s the day my dad died.

    I remember the morning phone call I got from my sister.

    9:38 a.m.

    I remember running to my car, half a block up Howard Street, and then another block down 12th. I remember the whipping wind and the stinging cold. I remember the saplings lining the streets of downtown, their branches brittle and bare, scratching the ether like an old lady’s fingers.

    I remember the seventeen-minute drive to the hospital.

    I remember the hospital, the stairs, the front desk, the waiting room, the faces, the hugs, the tears, the complete and utter shock.

    I remember that my mom wasn’t there.

    Three times we called. Where is she? Why isn’t she answering? Who’s going to tell her?

    It seems like our lives are defined by days, even moments, like these—the most joyous or the most unbearably tragic.

    I miss my dad.

    I miss his ridiculously big heart, which we were told was the thing that killed him.

    I miss the lingering scent of his cologne, a sort of woodsy, leathery blend that comes in a classic green bottle. I miss his laugh, which could range from a barely discernible chuckle to a jolly, high-pitched guffaw. I miss seeing him in my clothes—the shirts and shoes and jeans that I wanted to throw away because they were clearly going out of style.

    I miss the things I never thought I’d miss, the quirks and ticks and peccadillos that drove me crazy—like the way he’d crunch his ice cubes or noisily suck on a piece of hard candy in an otherwise quiet movie theater.

    I wonder if I chose to write this today instead of tomorrow because writing it tomorrow could prove too difficult. Or if I chose to write this after nine years instead of ten years because ten years is one of those nice, round numbers we use for milestone birthdays and anniversaries and other such occasions we’re supposed to celebrate. Or maybe because ten years is a whole decade and a whole goddamn decade without my dad just seems too strange to fathom.

    When I think of the last time I spoke with my dad, I can’t help but also think of that Benjamin Franklin quote—the one about how nothing is certain except death and taxes.

    But only one of those things comes with any sort of predictability.

    Studies have shown that our brains are wired to prevent us from thinking about our own mortality. Our brains shield us from the existential thought of death and view it as something that happens to others but not ourselves.

    So, most of us, perhaps because of our biological wiring, rarely even think about the unfortunate truth that we’re going to die, and we have no idea how or when.

    On the other hand, some of our greatest ancient philosophers actually practiced reflecting on the impermanence of life—otherwise known as Memento Mori, which literally translates to Remember you must die.

    “You could leave life right now,” wrote Marcus Aurelius in his Meditations. “Let that determine what you do and say and think.”

    Personally, I don’t think about my own demise a whole hell of a lot.

    But there’s a reason I decided to pack up my things and move to a new city six years ago.

    There’s a reason I decided to make a career pivot five years ago.

    There’s a reason I decided to quit my day job at almost forty years old and start working for myself two years ago.

    Because nine years ago, death did a number on me. I had one of those unbearably tragic days that seems to define our lives.

    And now, before I go to bed each night, I ask myself:

    Was I a decent person today?

    Did I challenge myself today?

    Did I have any fun today?

    What am I grateful for today?

    If I were on my deathbed, would I have regrets?

    Asking myself these things helps me live a more fulfilling life—the kind of life that I want to live. And I’m proud of what I’m doing here, right now. I think—at least I hope—my dad would be too.

    I still haven’t been to Vegas, though.

  • The Enduring Pain of Losing Someone You Love to Suicide

    The Enduring Pain of Losing Someone You Love to Suicide

    “The reality is that you will grieve forever.” ~Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler

    March is always hard for me. Has been since March 21, 2017. That’s the day my eldest son, then twenty-seven, found his father hanging in our basement. I apologize for being so brutal.  But it was.

    What no one tells you about grief, what catches you by surprise, is the fact that you can be five years out and still, when March comes around, you can find yourself in a fetal position on the ceramic floor of your kitchen—howling like a wounded dog because a memory slashed unbidden across your brain and cut you so deep that your legs couldn’t hold your heavy, heavy weight. And you wonder—no, you know—that this will go on for the rest. Of. Your. Life.

    How to describe what it’s like when your heart breaks… It’s something I’ve been trying to do for five years. Not out loud anymore because others tire of it. More so, I try to describe it to myself. Hoping that by describing it I can move forward, categorize it, and store it; put it away, out of sight, out of mind.

    Sure, I’ll go on. Most of us do. Muscle memory accounts for 90% of how you go on, trust me. In those first days I would say the percentage is even higher. Sleep, get up, make food, eat, feed the dog, put clothes in washer, clean the dirty dishes, put out the garbage, sleep, get up, make food…

    Suicide loss, I’ve found, is unlike any other loss. Oh, this is not a contest of feelings. No, every loss of a loved one is felt deeply, profoundly. No contest. Suicide loss, however, results in countless unending ripples of devastation for the survivors every single day of the rest of their lives.

    I think of my sons. Always. The oldest is forever altered. His father was his best friend. Their relationship had just achieved that rewarding maturity of mutual respect. They enjoyed each other’s company. The youngest, twenty-three, was still working out childhood resentments, but I could see the potential for closeness. He was spared seeing his father’s lifeless body.

    We all now live with the special baggage of suicide survivors: guilt (why weren’t we there? I could have prevented it.), shame, anger (how could he?!), rage, trauma, fear (will my sons, will my mother, will my brother…), regret and deep sorrow for yesterday, today, and what will never be. Every anniversary, every milestone, every holiday, every celebration will rip the Band-Aid off again and again.

    Sometimes, the full impact of a loss takes time. For me, the first year was a “roller-coaster of emotions”—a common, but completely accurate phrase.

    To the outside world, I was pretty darn normal: keeping house, inviting people over, laughing, going about my business. Few, if any, noticed the cracks: gradual isolation, bathing only twice a week, forgetting things more than usual, horrible financial decisions, sudden breakdowns, crying in the grocery store, in traffic, in the shower, on the phone, in the middle of a conversation. Five years out and many of those symptoms remain.

    By year two the full weight of not just the loss, but the way of the loss, the reasons for the loss, the eternity of the loss hit me—a full body slam of something too heavy to survive. Or so it seemed.

    I found a therapist. She let me talk and weep. I was prescribed antidepressants. Nothing helped. I moved through days, functioned at a primal level showing the outside world only the version of myself that made them comfortable.

    No one, I don’t care how well-meaning they are, can understand this loss other than another suicide survivor. It’s true. Just as the surviving parents of a lost child know a uniquely singular, searing pain, so, too, does the suicide survivor.

    It’s important to seek out those who understand our pain. I recommend it. And grief counselors. And therapists who are especially trained in PTSD. Seek them out.

    I found a group of suicide survivors that met monthly. Hearing about their losses, especially the loss of sons and daughters, allowed me to appreciate the importance of finding a community of people who understand. In the hollowness of these survivors’ eyes, however, even as we embraced, I could see the singularity of their respective journeys. We may share, but we are alone in our pain.

    Memories do sustain me, as others so helpfully say. Sunny days at the beach are calming (unless the crashing waves remind me of past vacations with my husband and sons years ago).  Drinks and drugs provide a temporary escape (when I can resist the deadly seduction of blissful nothingness). The company of others can keep my mind from the endless cycles of black thoughts. Music can be helpful. Or dangerous.

    “Stay active! Meet new people! Get out and do something! Time to move on! Get over it!” I can hear the words of concerned family and friends.

    People mostly mean well. Time will pass. Things happen. Kids grow. Other cherished loved ones will die. I have come to understand that death is relentless, and that I must bear other cruel deaths as well as this one. 

    My sons are my reasons for living. Period. In my most desperate times the thought of their pain has been the only thing between me and oblivion. I will never do that to them. And they, in turn, know that either one of their deaths would mean my end. I have no doubt that I could not survive that. I need for them to be okay.

    I will, as they say, put one foot in front of the other every single day, if not for myself, for my sons. Even though they are grown. Even though they have their own lives of which I am but an infinitesimally small part. I have to stay alive because they have already suffered enough.  Suicide survivors understand that.

    And so, I hate March. I begin to dread it in January. By February I am coming up with excuses to stay home. And, on any given night in March, I am balled-up on the ceramic tile of my kitchen floor howling like the wounded animal that I am. But I get up the next day and I try again.

  • How I Stopped Feeling Sorry for Myself and Shifted from Victim to Survivor

    How I Stopped Feeling Sorry for Myself and Shifted from Victim to Survivor

    “When we deny our stories, they define us. When we own our stories, we get to write a brave new ending.” ~Brené Brown

    There was a time when I felt really sorry for myself. I had good reason to be. My life had been grim. There had been so much tragedy in my life from a young age. I had lost all my grandparents young, lived in a home with alcoholism and domestic abuse, and to top it all off, my dad killed himself.

    I could write you a long list of how life did me wrong. I threw myself a pity party daily in my thirties, with a load of food and wine. The story I was telling myself was that all this bad stuff had happened and I was unlucky in life and love. I told myself my life was doomed.

    I believed if there was a God, he must have hated me because everybody around me had a perfect-looking life compared to me.

    I felt like I was the only person who felt like this and couldn’t see any goodness in my life. I kept telling myself I was destined to be lonely and unfulfilled in my work life because I was just not good enough.

    I took care of others in my family to give myself purpose, but inside I loathed it. It made me bitter and resentful. I didn’t do these things because I wanted to. I did them because I felt like I had to.

    I thought this was who I was meant to be—the side act in everyone else’s story.

    My peers were moving on with their lives, getting married, having babies, and buying houses. I was stuck in my pity party, in the sadness of the past, unable to move on. I felt like I did as a child—powerless, out of control of my life, and sad.

    For as long as I could remember I felt anxiety and sadness. I would distract myself from these uncomfortable feelings with other people, TV, busyness, food, and later in life, alcohol.

    I was a victim in childhood and then I continued to live as a victim into my thirties, blaming everyone else and God for my poor start in life. I blamed myself as well. If only I was enough, then my life would better.

    There came a time when I couldn’t carry on the way I had been and had to take responsibility for my own life. My own story. It was time to get out of my own way. I was hitting rock bottom, and the time had come to either fight for my own happiness or follow the road my dad had taken.

    My life felt pointless, but I finally listened to a voice within me that told me there was a way forward and got out of my own way.

    This was the start of my spiritual and healing journey.

    It all started with a simple internet search on how to feel better—mind, body, and soul.

    Amongst the tips I found was the suggestion to practice daily gratitude. I started by writing down everything I had in that moment.

    For a long time, I focused on all I didn’t have rather than what I did. But I had so much—great friendships, travel, love, a well-paid job, a nice home, and so much more. I ignored all the good stuff and it robbed me of what I did have. The present moment. But now my eyes were opening to all the light in my life.

    I began to see and appreciate sunsets and sunrises. I looked for the good everywhere. Even in the darkness. I was searching for the light in every day. The more I looked the more I found.

    I practiced gratitude when I found new information and practices. Podcasts, books, teachers, healers, therapy, and so much more. The more I said thank you, the more good things I found.

    The story I was telling myself was changing.

    Then I added meditation and mindfulness to my daily routine and began hearing my intuition more.

    Before all I could hear was my fear, but this inner whisper was getting louder. Ideas would pop into my head like “I just don’t love myself,” and then I would see a quote from Louise Hay that resonated on social media. One led me to her book You Can Heal Your Life. I implemented the strategies in her book and then more tiny steps occurred to me in the quiet.

    I said thank you every single time. I felt more supported by myself and the universe and less like a victim in my story.

    The better I felt on the inside, the more opportunities I noticed.  I saw a job I liked advertised and rather than letting fear stop me, I listened to my intuition, which guided me “to just try.”

    In the past I would have ignored it and thought “I wish.” This time I just went for it. Just like that I left a toxic work environment for a job more aligned with my values, offering more money.

    I attracted better relationships and in time found love. After searching for more ways to feel good on the inside and change the way I saw my life and my world, I incorporated daily affirmations and walks in nature.

    My reality kept changing as I changed within.  

    Have you ever noticed how your body feels when you say, “My life is crap”? Your body contracts and you can almost feel the fear rising. But when you tell yourself, “There’s a lot of good in my life,” your body almost expands, and you can breathe.

    Our words have a profound impact on us. Changing that narrative we tell ourselves changes everything.

    The new information that I discovered through my personal quest helped me to understand my past. I found people like Gabor Maté who explained concepts such as intergenerational trauma and addiction. This information helped me change the story I told myself around my childhood. It helped me understand my trauma.

    I remember knowing from my intuition that my relationship with my dad needed my attention. Then I saw an advertisement for a new book, Father Therapy, by Doreen Virtue, which led me to inner child work. This helped me heal my younger self.

    As I continued my quest to heal and feel better, I found new healing modalities like breathwork, EFT (emotional freedom tapping technique), and eye movement techniques.

    I said thank you again and again and again.

    All those years I spent as a victim to my story kept me stuck and unable to move forward. But now I was ready to change and expressing gratitude for the process. More was always finding its way to me. I now had so many tools that I never knew existed in the depths of my pity party.

    It was not easy. I cried. Fear took over some days and I couldn’t access my intuition. But I would just start my quest again the next day, journaling to connect with myself and see what had happened the day before. What my feelings were and what I needed.

    I showed myself love and compassion for my bad days and celebrated the good ones. No longer was I a victim of childhood abuse but a powerful survivor.

    Yes, bad things happened to me. But they are not who I am; they are just part of my story. That story is what led me here, to this place where I’m now writing to you. I hope to inspire you and show you that it is possible to change your story, whatever it is; that there is so much guidance and support available to you when you are ready to find it. You really will see it everywhere when you start paying attention.

    You too will see you also have an inner voice guiding you and access to everything you need to heal. When you start recognizing all the tools available to you, you’ll feel less alone and supported on your journey.

    I no longer feel bitter about my experiences in my childhood, but proud. They made me who I am and have allowed me to help many others on their journey to heal from their past.

    I have found forgiveness, love, and compassion for the people that hurt me, like my dad, which helps me feel happier. I didn’t have to forgive him. He did awful things, but I understand now they came from his trauma. This has given me great inner peace.

    It takes courage and time to transform on the inside and become a trauma cycle breaker in your family. This means that your children will have a different experience. How amazing is that? What a great gift to give them.

    The information, tips, guidance, and light are waiting for you to discover them. You just need to take the first step and decide to become the hero of your story and find your own heart’s happiness.

  • How I’m Coping with Grief by Finding Meaning in My Father’s Death

    How I’m Coping with Grief by Finding Meaning in My Father’s Death

    “Life has to end, love doesn’t.” ~Mitch Albom

    Before we dive into the dark subject of death, let me assure you, this is a happy read. It is not about how losing a loved one is a blessing but how it can be a catalyst to you unlocking big lessons in your life.

    Or maybe it is—you decide.

    To me, this is just about a perspective, a coping mechanism, and a process that I am personally employing to get over the loss of a loved one.

    My dad and I were best buds till I became a teenager. Then my hormones and “cool life” became a barrier between our relationship. I became busy and distant, and so did he. It continued until recently.

    My dad’s health went downhill fast in a couple of months.

    I could see him waning away, losing himself, losing this incessant war against so many diseases all alone. We (my family and friends) were there for him, trying to support him with whatever means possible.

    But maybe it was his time

    The last time I saw my father he was in a hospital bed, plugged into different machines, unable to breathe, very weak. It felt like I was in a movie—one of the ones with tragic endings. And the ending was indeed tragic.

    I clearly remember every single detail of the day my dad passed away. I remember how he looked, what the doctor said, who was around me, how my family was, and how fast it all happened.

    It shattered me. Losing a parent is something you can never prepare yourself for, ever.

    I was broken. I had people around holding me together, but I could only feel either of the two feelings: anger or sadness.

    Where did he go? How fragile are we humans? Did he want to say something to me that day? Was he in pain? Was there something I could have done for him? Why is death so bizarre? Why do people we love die and leave this huge vacuum in our lives?

    It’s been four months since he passed away. And now, I think I see why.

    I have come to the realization—due to the support of my therapist, my family, my partner, and my friends—that death is meaningless until you give it a meaning.

    Let me explain that.

    Usually, after experiencing the loss of a loved one, we go through a phase of grief. How we deal with death and experience grief is a very personal and subjective experience.

    I cannot outline tips for all; maybe your therapist or a mental health professional can guide you better on this.

    But, in my experience, grieving and dealing with death come with a bag full of opportunities. I don’t mean to give death a happy twist. To set the record straight, I believe death sucks.

    Losing a loved one feels like losing a part of yourself. It is a difficult, painful, deeply shaking experience that no one can prepare you for.

    However, in my experience, grieving is a process with many paths. A few common paths are:

    • I experienced losing a loved one, so I will now respect life even more.
    • I experienced losing a loved one, and it was awful, everything is awful, and I wish I was dead too.
    • I experienced losing a loved one, and I don’t know how to feel about this yet.

    I was on the third path.

    I constantly felt the need to be sad, to grieve, to lie in bed and cry all day

    But interestingly, there were also days when I felt that I needed to forget what had happened, live my life, and enjoy it as much as I could, because #YOLO (You Only Live Once).

    I felt the pressure to behave and act a certain way. Now that my dad was no more, I needed to act serious, mature, responsible. Now that my dad was no more, I needed to stop focusing on going out, partying, and taking trips with friends and instead save money, settle down, and take better care of my family’s health.

    I did not know how I was supposed to feel or to grieve.

    Then one night, the realization hit me. (Of course, all deep realizations happen during nighttime, you know it.)

    Maybe death is meaningless until I provide it a meaning—a meaning that serves me to cope, to grow, and to let go.

    After reading several books, sharing this with loved ones, talking to my therapist, and journaling about this realization for several days, I realized another significant thing.

    The process of finding meaning in death is like any other endeavor—you try several things until one works out.

    So, I laid out all possible meanings that seemed logically or emotionally sound to me.

    And here came the third great realization: Our loved ones want nothing but the best for us. Honoring yourself, investing in yourself, making yourself a better version of yourself is the best way to honor your lost loved ones.

    No matter how complicated our relationships with them were, people who genuinely loved and cared about us would want us to love and take care of ourselves.

    My dad cannot say it to prove me right on this, but I am pretty sure all he wanted was to see his family happy. See me working on myself, getting better at taking care of myself, and growing into a better human being.

    So, after this perspective shift, things became simpler.

    Now, death is no longer meaningless to me.

    My dad’s death brought me the golden realization that it’s time to upgrade myself, make myself better, and maybe implement some of his best values into my value system.

    I have reflected upon this for weeks. I have started working on this too.

    On a micro level, I am aware and conscious of how sucky death is. I saw it pretty close, but I now grasp the value of life. I am grateful for this newfound respect for life, however cliched that might sound. And on a macro level, I also know that even my death can also serve a purpose to someone’s life; it could help them ponder, reflect, and probably set things right for themselves.

    The moral of the story is that death is dark and sad but can also be beautiful. It is just a matter of perspective.

    It can be the storm that rocks your boat and makes you drown, but it can also be the light that guides you back to your purpose.

    This last section is for people who are grieving right now. I am aware that I cannot fathom what you are going through; losing a loved one is personal and subjective. But I wish to help you out in whatever little capacity I can.

    Here’s a quick list of things that are helping me. If you do decide to give these things a try, please share your experience in the comments.

    Write everything down—your memories, your frustrations, your feelings.

    Every time you think of that person, pull that thought out of your mind and put it onto the paper, even if it is just in one line. When faced with a loss, we often shut down and avoid our feelings instead of acknowledging how the trauma of losing a loved one is affecting us. Putting your feelings onto paper will help you work through them so you’re better prepared to handle the next set of challenges life has in store for you.

    Seek professional help in whatever form you can.

    Why? Because a professional is much better equipped than your friends and family. You can see a therapist and reach out to your friends for help too.

    Do what you feel more than you feel what you do.

    There will be times when you feel like doing something unexpected and fun, but once you start doing it, you will feel guilt, shame, and self-judgment. Doing what you feel like doing and not overthinking about how you are feeling while doing it allows you to let go. Read this again to understand it better.

    Keep track to remain patient.

    Grieving and getting over a loved one’s death requires a long process for many of us. It can get frustrating to constantly and consciously work on it. But if you can maintain a log of your progress— your tiny steps like making an effort to socialize, sitting with your feelings, or writing about your thoughts and sharing this with someone you trust—this can keep you aware, grounded, and patient for the long ride.

    Lastly, live your life.

    Circling back to the original theme, your loved ones just want you to be happy. So do things that make you happy. This could be as simple as getting an ice cream from the same place you used to visit together and reminiscing on the good times. Or as radical as getting your ducks in a row, showing up for that job interview, taking care of your body, joining the gym, and working on your mental health as well.

    At the end of the day (or life), we are all going to be floating in a pool of our memories, so make memories and enjoy life.

    And try finding the meaning of death. Ensure that meaning makes you rise one step above and closer to the person your loved ones imagined you to be. #YOLO

  • 4 Simple, Heart-Opening Exercises to Fill You with Joy, Love, and Light

    4 Simple, Heart-Opening Exercises to Fill You with Joy, Love, and Light

    “Why are you so enchanted by this world, when a mine of gold lies within you?” ~Rumi

    Happiness, love, and joy—we spend our lives in search of them. We often look to external things to fulfill our desire to experience them. A relationship, a trip abroad, a career, or maybe that shiny new car. We can spend our lives chasing these desires and believing that once we check everything off our list of life accomplishments, we will experience them all.

    But what if I shared with you that all of this—happiness, love, and joy—exists in you right now? That you are the source, not the external items. What if I told you that living in a perpetual state of love and joy is your natural state of being?

    Would you think I’m full of BS? That I’m living in a hippie Never-Never Land?

    Please let me share with you a few simple exercises that showed me my true self.

    Exercise #1: The Love Wave

    Close your eyes and take a minute to connect in your heart with a person in your life that could use a little love. Feel yourself smiling into their eyes and embracing them in a giant, warm hug.

    Allow the love to flow. Sit in this love. Let it grow in strength and surround you both. Then send it out into the world, creating a wave of love. Know that you can come back to this place of flowing love at any time.

    Try this now and then read on.

    Hopefully, you just had a wonderful experience of love. Now I have a question for you. Where did the love originate from? The person you were thinking of, or you?

    It was from you. The person you pictured just helped you unlock the love. You are love. You can actually imagine many different things to unlock it. Try a smiling baby, or playtime with a pet, or a concept such as world peace. These things are just the keys that unlock the true love that is in your heart.

    You can access this love any time you want. You are just tapping into your true being. It is who you are.

    I like to start my day off with this exercise. I tend to do it in the peacefulness of the morning light, right after my morning meditation. Just open your front door or a window and feel the fresh air on your face, then close your eyes and start. It is a beautiful way to begin the day.

    Exercise #2: The Gift of Giving

    One day I was browsing in a bookstore when an old man approached me. He had snow white hair and was wearing a threadbare, beige sweater. He handed me a chocolate rose and said, “Have a beautiful day,” I was taken aback. Who was this man? Was he trying to poison me? Was he hitting on me? I reluctantly took the chocolate rose and said, “Thank you.”

    The clerk noticed my discomfort and told me that the man buys a dozen chocolate roses every day and hands them out to random strangers. I suddenly felt special.

    This incident happened many years ago. Even though my initial reaction was one of unease, I remember this man with fondness. When he finally passed away the entire town mourned. There was a glowing write up in the local newspaper about him. He had brightened the days of countless residents with his gift of a chocolate rose.

    I invite you to pick a day this week and give everyone you meet that day a gift. It doesn’t have to be a physical gift, though it can be. It could also be a compliment, your undivided attention, or a heartfelt smile.

    Don’t expect anything in return. Remember my reaction to the old man? You might not always be met with gratitude. Just practice the act of giving.

    At the end of the day, notice how you feel. You spent the day leaving heart prints everywhere you went. Did this bring you joy? Is the joy within you or did you take it from the people you met?

    Exercise #3: The Vulcan Mind Meld

    We all have goals and expectations. They are important. But what happens when we can’t fulfill them? If we don’t get that promotion or find our perfect mate? We can become disheartened and depressed. How do we prevent this?

    Close your eyes and imagine yourself ten years from now. Give your future self that thing you believe will bring you happiness. Maybe it’s kids, money, power, or something else entirely. Notice how you feel. You might feel confident and secure. Or perhaps loved and important. Whatever you feel, allow it to expand and grow. Sit in it. Enjoy it.

    Then, while keeping your attention on the way you feel, bring back the image of yourself today. Think about what you already have that fulfills you.

    Maybe you don’t have kids, but you have amazing friends. Maybe you wanted a better income, but you can afford things you enjoy already. Look for the abundance within you now. Keep going until your “present self” feels the same as your “future self.”

    It’s almost like a mind meld—make those two beings one. Again, sit in the wonderfulness of it all. When you are ready, open your eyes.

    Try this out before reading further.

    Do you feel happy?

    When we live our lives from a place of lack we experience suffering and discontentment. We are always searching for the external thing that will make us happy. Rather than focusing on the things you don’t have, try living from a place of fullness. You already have an abundance of things to enjoy and appreciate—you just have to change your perspective.

    All that security, love, confidence, happiness, and joy you saw in the vision of your “future self” is accessible right now. Everything you experienced is within you today. Recognizing the abundance or fullness of your life is the key to happiness. If you experience that abundance, not meeting a goal or expectation becomes a minor bump on the road.

    I refer to the belief that we need external things to be happy as “the big lie.” Because when we finally finish off our checklist of life’s “wants,” we often experience “the great disappointment.” The list doesn’t bring us the happiness we thought it would. It’s not the source. We are.

    This frequently happens when people become suddenly wealthy. They think that they will be happier. They are surprised when they aren’t. In fact, having a lot of money comes with its own set of problems.

    Exercise #4: A Gratitude Nap

    This exercise imprints you with the beauty of your life as it is now.

    Lie down and get comfortable. Use as many pillows and blankets as you like.

    Set a timer for three minutes.

    For those three minutes, state out loud things you are grateful for. It’s a bit difficult at first. Please know every item does not have to be deep. Be grateful for the couch you’re lying on, the length of your hair, sand on the beach. Anything goes.

    After the three minutes, set an intention to be open to whatever is there for you to receive. Surrender as much as you can.

    Rest for ten minutes. Notice at the end of the “nap” how you feel. I’m willing to bet you feel a lot lighter after basking in the glow of all your life’s goodness.

    —

    We spend so much of our time dealing with the pressures of life that we forget to do the things that unlock our love and joy. Our true nature gets covered by layers of life experiences and traumas.

    There is an Ayurvedic concept that you can shine with so much light that the darkness has no place to take hold. That light is within you now. It is your true state of being. It just needs to be set free.

    Tips to help access the joy, love, and light of your true being:

    1. Start your day with the love wave exercise.
    2. Make it a priority to do one thing each day that unlocks your joy.
    3. Live life from a place of fullness and abundance rather than from a place of lack.
    4. Practice gratitude.

    I would like to thank all of my teachers who have shared these beautiful exercises with me. Please feel free to share them too.

    Namaste.

  • The Two Sides of Gratitude: When It Helps Us and When It Hurts Us

    The Two Sides of Gratitude: When It Helps Us and When It Hurts Us

    “When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. When life is bitter, say thank you and grow.” ~Shauna Niequist

    Imagine if you had a tool that, with no effort or change on your part, could cast a glow around you, exposing hidden gems within your everyday life.

    You do! It’s called gratitude.

    It has the power to light your way through tough times. And it can multiply the good. Of the many tools I use daily, I love gratitude the most. It is so simple to implement and immediately effective. It’s a powerful way to change the world—through seeing, not doing.

    I’ve invested a lot of thought, time, and deliberate action into creating the life I want. But building a life is one thing; relishing it is another.

    Having gratitude allows me to squeeze every last bit of joy from what already exists around me and within me, creating more with no extra effort. Few things in life are simple, practical, and magical.

    Without gratitude, our tendency is to focus on what’s missing. Life is what we choose to see. Without gratitude, we might waste a lifetime searching instead of enjoying.

    Using this practice keeps me out of dark places. There are days when I find myself in an emotional fog for reasons I cannot explain. I used to dwell in those moments, or days, weighted down and powerless. Though I wanted to feel like myself again, I would retreat within rather than allow myself to engage with the world and resurface.

    Gratitude has forever changed that. I possess a knowing (stemming from a consistent gratitude practice) that gifts are all around me, and I use them like a ladder to climb out of my hole. Gratitude shows me I always have choice.

    I choose to want to feel better and then I ask for what I need—a hug, time, inspiration—and then I allow myself to move on. Spending so much time in awe and appreciation for life allows me to see beyond my temporary state. I no longer confuse my present state with my true state of being—joyful, grateful.

    Gratitude doesn’t eliminate all the icky feelings and thoughts, but it absolutely makes me more resilient. It is my springboard. Not only am I aware of my shifting mood, but I actually take the action I need to take in order to come back to my true self.

    Gratitude and I go way back. As a first generation South Asian, it was instilled in me to always see the blessings around me. My family worked hard to give me a leg-up in life: a life with love, education, and opportunity.

    Gratitude also complements my positive nature. But it took me years to realize gratitude also appealed to my younger self because I was a pleaser, a peacemaker, a don’t-rock-the-boater. It turns out gratitude was also a great tool to keep me small. I used it as a ceiling.

    As my dream job turned into a nightmare, I confused fear for gratitude. I could not bring myself to seek a solution because it felt ungrateful. I was so thankful for the opportunity that I endured a hostile work relationship with a superior that belittled and disrespected me. I am not a complainer, I told myself. This is the price I pay for my dream, I thought.

    Gratitude allowed me to settle for less.

    I have avoided conflict by exercising gratitude. In difficult situations, it gave me an out. Have you ever said or thought the following?

    “It could be worse.”

    “At least they didn’t …”

    “I’m so grateful for this job/partner/friend. Who am I to complain?”

    In all of these scenarios, I wasn’t wrong to see the upside. Things absolutely could’ve been worse. But they also could have been opportunities to practice enforcing boundaries, to see my own self-worth, and to imagine new possibilities.

    I wasn’t able to see it then, but it’s clear now. Gratefulness is a powerful tool, but it should never be a way of accepting less than we deserve. It should amplify us, not diminish us. It should be our springboard.

    Gratitude is a way for each of us to find joy, not a way to make excuses for others.

    Yes, I have a loving family, but that’s no excuse to allow or accept disrespectful behavior. Yes, I work for an amazing company, but no, I don’t have to accept a toxic work environment. Yes, I love my partner, but I am worthy of a healthy relationship and love.

    It can be so easy to slip into limiting beliefs, tricking ourselves into thinking we are grateful when we are actually unhappy. Many of us have more than we need and are aware of how many are in need in our communities, near and far. But we serve no one by making ourselves small.

    How do you know when gratitude is limiting or a springboard? Know this: More is never made from less. Putting yourself below someone won’t create lasting joy, love, peace, or happiness.

    Practicing true gratitude requires understanding that we are equals. No one is better. If you hold yourself to the same (not higher or lower) standards as someone else, then gratitude will be your springboard.

    Gratitude is also a way to find what you’re looking for within your current life. It often requires little to no change. When we’re unhappy or unfulfilled we often think we need to get rid of things, maybe start from scratch somehow.

    But the truth is, what we’re looking for is often already in our lives. We must simply possess (or practice) the ability to see it.

    Gratitude also slows things down for me which, in this day and age, is precious. Being able to identify the gifts I have means knowing what’s important to me and taking the time to cherish them. It’s the ability to find my why—why I work hard, why I sacrifice and give of myself… why I am here.

    That’s a lot to gain from one simple act of seeing. How grateful I am to gain so much from a simple practice.

  • One Question I Ask Myself Monthly Since Coming to Terms with Death

    One Question I Ask Myself Monthly Since Coming to Terms with Death

    “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside of us while we live.” ~Norman Cousins

    On September 23, 2015, Loukas Angelo was walking to his after-school strength and conditioning class just a few hundred yards from Archbishop Mitty High School.

    He was approaching the outdoor basketball courts when he ran out into the street and was struck by a car traveling around thirty miles per hour. The impact sent Loukas flying down the street, and he was immediately transported to the closest hospital where he remained in critical condition.

    I remember sitting on the couch later that afternoon when my phone started blowing up. Feeling curious, I shoved aside my history homework and decided to see what was going on.

    Multiple people had sent some variation of the same text, “Yo. This is so sad. Did you hear about what happened with Loukas…?”

    Confused and a little bit scared, I turned to Twitter and started looking through my feed. I was absolutely floored by the tweets that were being sent out by my friends and our high school’s Twitter page.

    Similar to tragedies like the Boston Marathon, or 9/11, it was one of those moments in life where you’re always going to remember exactly where you were when you found out the news.

    It was almost inconceivable to think about the fact that I had walked across the same exact crosswalk where Loukas was hit just fifteen minutes prior.

    All throughout the night, support poured in from social media sites. The hashtag #PrayForLoukas was trending #1 on Twitter in my local area for several hours. I’m not a particularly religious person, but for the first time in years I said a prayer for Loukas before going to bed.

    The next day at school was one of the most eerie, heart-breaking days of my life. I arrived at Archbishop Mitty High school that day to a campus that was completely silent. Although there were plenty of people walking through the campus, no one said a word to each other

    As I walked toward my homeroom class, I remember seeing one kid carrying a ridiculously oversized backpack. It looked like he was at the airport preparing to leave for a month, and I let out a slight chuckle imagining what it was like to carry that thing around all day.

    However, my smile was wiped off my face completely when I stepped through the door of the classroom.

    Every one of my classmates was sitting there emotionless. Stone-faced. Not saying a word to each other. I sat down and did the same, as we were all preparing for an assembly in the gymnasium that was set to take place in about fifteen minutes.

    The 1400 students funneled into the gymnasium and took their seats. You could hear a pin drop.

    Our principal got up and gave a very powerful speech, which concluded with him leading the entire school in a prayer for Loukas. After a few others got up and spoke, the assembly concluded with a one-minute-long moment of silence.

    The day after the assembly, the news broke that Loukas had passed away after being in critical condition for around forty-eight hours.

    On September 25, 2015, Loukas Angelo lost his life at the age of fourteen years old

    Coming To Terms with Your Mortality

    As we go about our day-to-day lives, we are inundated with thousands of thoughts, most of them the same thoughts that ran through our head the day before.

    But very few of these thoughts, if any, are about our own mortality.

    It’s a little scary to think about the fact that you and everyone you know will perish from this world.

    No one knows when, but one day you will draw your last breath on this earth. Some people have the luxury of preparing for it, while others like Loukas have no idea that it’s coming.

    But at some point, death comes for each and every one of us.

    We all know this deep down, but it seems like so many of us live like we have unlimited time on this earth.

    We put off spending time with family even though they can be taken from us at any given moment.

    We refuse opportunities to get out of our comfort zone even though we have no idea how many of those opportunities we’re going to be given.

    In other words, most of us go through life without coming to grips with our own mortality.

    When Loukas passed, I obviously felt sorrow for his friends and family, who have to carry that burden around for the rest of their life.

    But mainly, I thought about Loukas.

    Given the nature of his death, he didn’t have any time to reflect back on his life. And given how young he was, if he did have that opportunity there wouldn’t be much to think about compared to someone on their deathbed at seventy or eighty years old.

    Yet, I couldn’t help but imagine what he would be thinking about in his final moments had he been given that opportunity. What regrets would he have? What moments would he replay in his head over and over again?

    Eventually, I started asking myself those same questions. It was a pretty cruel exercise that I was putting myself through, but it felt like a way to extract some meaning out of a terrible tragedy.

    As I imagined what it would be like to contemplate my existence at the end of my life, I didn’t feel happiness or satisfaction. I felt regret and shame.

    One common theme that permeated my consciousness was fear. I was only seventeen at the time, but I realized that essentially all of the regrets I’d have on my deathbed were a direct result of being afraid.

    Fear of rejection. Fear of failure. Fear of judgement.

    It was a brutal wake-up call. For the majority of my life, I had missed out on opportunities and experiences due to fear.

    I was here alive and breathing, but I wasn’t truly living. Merely existing, acting as if the end was never coming.

    How to Let Fear & Death Guide Your Actions

    I’m twenty-two now, and since then my approach to life has been simple.

    Twelve times per year, I do a monthly check-in with myself and ask myself one simple question:

    At this very moment, what am I avoiding in life because I’m afraid?

    The answers to this question inform me of exactly what changes that I should be making in my day-to-day life.

    Most people run from fear, but my suggestion is to lean into it. It’s actually an incredibly accurate predictor of the changes that you should be prioritizing in your life.

    It’s different for everyone.

    Some of you may be afraid of changing careers and pursuing something that you love because of the uncertainty that comes with changing professions.

    Some of you may be afraid of improving your social skills because that involves battling with the fear of rejection.

    Some of you may be afraid of moving to a different city because you’ll have to leave friends and family that you care about.

    If you have the courage to actually ask and answer the question, your fears will tell you exactly where your focus should be. It’s almost as if they’re calling out to you, saying:

    “Don’t forget about me. If you don’t take action, I’m going to torture your thoughts when you get to the end of your life.”

    Facing your fears is hard. Staying somewhere you don’t belong is even harder. But nothing compares to the pain of getting to the end of your life and knowing that you let fear stop you from doing the things you truly wanted to do.

    Just like Jim Rohn said, “We all must suffer one of two pains. The pain of discipline or the pain of regret. The difference is that discipline weighs ounces while regret weighs tons.”

    So I highly encourage you to ask yourself the question above each month and write down whatever comes to mind.

    Pick one of the things that you write down and make it the biggest priority in your life. You can’t fix everything about your life at once, as focusing on everything is the same thing as focusing on nothing.

    But once you’ve narrowed your focus, you can start taking small steps every day to overcome that fear.

    If you’re afraid of social interactions and have been for years, start saying hello to people as they walk by each day.

    If you’re afraid of starting a workout routine, start by walking for two minutes each day.

    These initial bursts of momentum that don’t seem like they make any difference are ultimately the foundation upon which your biggest changes take place.

    Do the things that you think you cannot do. Let the pain of not facing your fears override the pain of letting them fester for years and decades.

    Your future self will smile down at you.

    #LiveLikeLoukas

  • Appreciating Them Just the Way They Are

    Appreciating Them Just the Way They Are

  • Life is Fragile: Love Like Today Could Be Your Last

    Life is Fragile: Love Like Today Could Be Your Last

    “I would argue that nothing gives life more purpose than the realization that every moment of consciousness is a precious and fragile gift.” ~Steven Pinker

    He was splayed out in the middle of the road. The paramedics had yet to arrive. That was the scene on our way to meet some friends.

    Over dinner, they relayed the tragic story of their neighbor’s twenty-something son who was killed recently in a motorcycle accident.

    Two others lost their lives in an instant on a nearby suburban road.

    An acquaintance told me about the fatal hiking accident of a young man who was making his mark on the world and left it with so much more to give.

    My friend’s father is fighting for his life against COVID.

    All of this in the past week.

    I know what you are thinking. This is SOOOO depressing. I know. But it’s life. Life is fragile. It can end in an instant. I know from experience.

    My parents were taking care of our young children while my husband and I were on a company-sponsored trip on the other side of the Atlantic. We were so excited to catch an earlier flight for the last leg of our return so we could surprise our kids as they got off the school bus. 

    As we pulled up, our home was eerily quiet. No one was home. We entered and found a note on the counter saying, “Bridget we are sorry for your loss. There is food in the fridge.” 

    Panic ensued as we made frantic phone calls that went unanswered. What in the hell happened? Where are our kids!? Finally, the phone rang. “Bridget, Dad died.” 

    If you are like me you probably don‘t spend time thinking about your mortality. It’s uncomfortable. Yet, it’s one thing that is certain in this life. That, along with our choice of how we show up and navigate each day.

    As I reflect on the years since my dad died, I think of all the missed milestones that have marked my children’s lives, both big and small. From the fun, everyday moments to the can’t miss celebrations. This year in particular is bittersweet. It marks the high school graduation and college start of my youngest; another important milestone that we will celebrate without him, and it makes me sad.

    But he’s been with us all along the way in spirit. Sometimes I hear his voice. Sometimes I sense him around my house. I can still feel his warm hugs. And see the twinkle in his eye when he really saw me for me. 

    We continue to tell the stories. To remember who he was as a dad and a grandpa. We share his goofy idiosyncrasies, like his love for peanut butter, lettuce, and mayonnaise sandwiches. I know. But he loved it!

    It’s the little things that we remember about people. How they make us feel. Whether they are friends, family, or strangers. 

    Recently, before a class I taught, a student bolted in the door and stormed past me. No check-in. No hello. She kept going when I asked her to stop. She eventually made her way back to me and all was good. Yet, I could feel the frenetic energy oozing from her.

    I’ve been her. Many times. And I don’t want to be like that. I consciously choose to live with no regrets. To acknowledge the people I encounter with care and kindness. To be aware of the energy I am putting out there.

    I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. I hurt others. But I continue to try to do my best to be intentional and thoughtful in my interactions and make amends when I falter.

    When our mind is wrapped up in work, bills, responsibilities, to-do lists, kids, grandkids, and more, it’s easy to go through the motions of life. Sometimes the days become routine, and one rolls into another. We’ve got things to do and little time to get it all done.

    It can be challenging to quiet the chatter in our head, to look at the person in front of us, and to speak, listen, and interact with them like they matter. Often with strangers, and even more so, with our loved ones.

    They are the ones we take for granted. They understand our moods. They know our shortcomings. They forgive us time and time again. But is that what we want?

    If you died today, what do you want those closest to you to know? Do they know how you feel about them? How much they mean to you? Do they understand how important they are to you?

    Tell them. Leave nothing unsaid. You never know if today is your last.

  • How I Stopped Dismissing Praise and Started Believing Compliments

    How I Stopped Dismissing Praise and Started Believing Compliments

    “I’ve met people who are embattled and dismissive, but when you get to know them, you find that they’re vulnerable—that hauteur or standoffishness is because they’re pedaling furiously underneath.” ~Matthew Macfadyen

    It was impossible to miss the dismissive hand gesture and distasteful look on her face in response to my comment.

    “You ooze empathy,” I had said in all sincerity to my therapist.

    “And what’s it like if I blow off or disregard that compliment?” she countered. Then, as usual, she waited.

    “Ah, it feels terrible,” I sputtered as the lights of insight began to flicker. I was acutely aware of an unpleasant feeling spreading throughout my chest and stomach. I sensed I had just deeply hurt someone’s feelings.

    That experience hung in the air for several moments, providing plenty of time to push the boundaries of awareness.

    Was I really so unaware and quick to disregard compliments? Was that the terrible feeling others experienced when I didn’t acknowledge or subconsciously snubbed what they offered in the way of a compliment or kind word? Was that what it felt like to be on the receiving end of dismissiveness?

    Leaving that session, I began the usual reflection of mulling over all that had transpired and the feedback I’d received. Growing up with minimal encouragement, I was beginning to see it was taking an enormous amount of time for me to recognize that compliments from others were genuine. I tended to be skeptical and often did not actually hear them.

    I hadn’t realized compliments could be accepted at face value and didn’t always come laden with hidden agendas and ulterior motives. I hadn’t thought that compliments were given as a result of merely wanting to offer appreciation. Something great was noticed—something great was acknowledged. Period.

    So where did such a suspicious nature come from?

    As a kid, I didn’t readily trust the motive behind a well-spoken piece of praise, as it often was a double-edged sword for me. I’d receive a compliment from my mom, but it quickly turned into a way for her to talk about how wonderful she was and how the great parts of her trumped mine by leaps and bounds.

    I recall an experience when I was feeling great about interacting with student leaders. I started to share my feeling of pride with my mom and got out a few sentences before she interrupted.  The topic changed to the ways she worked with her students and influenced them. The message I had internalized: sharing doesn’t mean you will receive validation or compliments for what you share.

    After excelling academically, my dad dismissed my master’s degree as “Mickey Mouse garbage.” He rarely acknowledged positive experiences with more than a, “Hmmmmm” or “Oh.” The message I had internalized: sharing doesn’t mean there’s and understanding or appreciation for what you share.

    Without a lot of experiences that offered encouragement, acceptance, or recognition, I lacked a backdrop on which to deal with compliments. My strengths and talents were unacknowledged, and I hadn’t learn to appreciate them. I tended to mistrust sincerity and downplayed positive input.

    With the assistance of an attuned therapist, I started on a journey of learning to trust what was offered to me rather than dismissing it. With a delicate offering of insight, I was able to repair my automatic deflect button and understand others were genuinely recognizing and affirming my strengths when they offered compliments.

    Here are several ways that helped me repair dismissiveness after I became much more aware of my tendency to deflect positivity.

    1. Pay attention to the positive.

    I started to observe anything good around me, challenging myself to see and focus on what was positive instead of indulging our natural negativity bias (the tendency to focus more on the negative, even when the good outweighs the bad).

    I looked for examples of encouraging feedback and genuine compliments that came my way or that were given to others. I kept a gratitude journal, reminding myself of what I appreciated each day. I was training and rewiring my brain to truly see and focus on positivity.

    2. Recognize when my old conditioning is resurfacing and how this may affect someone offering a compliment.

    I consciously challenged myself to believe other people had only good intentions instead of projecting feelings from my childhood experiences with my parents. I challenged any inner suspicious dialogue that came along. And I remembered how good it would make others feel if I allowed myself to feel good when they praised me instead of dismissing what they’d said.

    3. Receive and acknowledge compliments.

    I practiced listening more carefully when I received compliments and risked absorbing and feeling delighted by them, allowing warmth, pride, and happiness to settle internally. I watched for them and I became less inclined to snub what I heard.  I practiced offering an appreciative and gracious “Thank you” instead of allowing my mind to doubt, dispute, deflect, or dismiss the positive feedback.

    A wonderful by-product of working against dismissiveness is that I am more naturally positive and appreciative of others. I spontaneously offer more heartfelt and earnest appreciation, thanks, and compliments to others. I actively look for ways to do that in my everyday interactions and work to express empathy.

    Just recently, having watched a mom interact positively with her young boys in the local park, I risked offering a compliment. “Excuse me. I just wanted to let you know I noticed how wonderfully you interacted with your sons and how happy they seem.”

    The woman was delighted to receive the feedback said how pleasant it was that someone noticed. She then turned to her boys and shared with them what had happened. All four of us felt encouraged!

    I am grateful that I am now much more able to hear, believe, and absorb positive feedback. I make a deliberate effort to relish positivity, and I feel a lot more appreciative of myself and life as a result.

  • The Signs of a Strong Friendship (and an Unhealthy One)

    The Signs of a Strong Friendship (and an Unhealthy One)

    “Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.” ~Oprah Winfrey

    “How on earth am I supposed to survive? I have no friends whatsoever!”

    These were the thoughts that ran through my mind then when I first set foot in London five years ago. I felt raw and vulnerable in the beautiful new city that I had to make my new home, alone, with my two kids, while my husband was overseas. I wondered how I was supposed to do it all.

    Well, I had J, a friend I’d met on my honeymoon in Bali, but we had only kept in touch occasionally, so I didn’t expect much from her. I couldn’t really call her my friend, maybe a pleasant acquaintance, but surprisingly she turned out to be my much-needed rock-solid support system and guardian angel.

    Every Saturday after work, she came over to my place, and we hung out. Sometimes we would walk to the park. Other times she would encourage me to drive (something I resisted). She visited my daughter when she fell and was in a cast and made my four-year-old daughter’s birthday memorable. She even helped me put up my garden table and chair. To say that I was grateful for her kindness would be an understatement.

    I was grateful—one, because the help and friendship she offered was unexpected. Secondly, because she did it with a great and open heart. And lastly, because she accepted me for who I was and what I could offer at that point.

    For the first time in my life, I was a ‘receiver’ in a friendship. Until then, I was always the giver.

    But with J, things were different. Her generosity touched me so much, so I thanked her often and told her how much I truly appreciated the trouble she took. But she always shrugged it off. One day as I was thanking her for the millionth time, she said, “Lana, the friendship goes both ways. I too appreciate hanging out with you and your little kids. They add a lot of joy to my life also!”

    She then proceeded to tell me that she lost two of her friends to cancer in the last few years, and the sudden losses left her feeling devastated. She said spending time with us helped her through that. I was shocked to hear it but was also pleased to know that my kids and I could fill that void for her in our imperfect selves.

    Her honesty and generosity taught me some essential lessons on friendship and helped me differentiate between a healthy and unhealthy one. So, let’s unpack them.

    The Tell-Tale Signs of Healthy Friendship

    1. There is an equal amount of give and take in the relationship. Both people’s needs are considered essential, and the friendship doesn’t feel lopsided.

    2. You’re both honest and transparent with each other. When J honestly opened up to me, it cemented our friendship because it made me feel equally important. Till then, I thought I was the vulnerable person in need of her, and I was surprised to know that she needed me as well.

    3. You’re both kind and compassionate, and you completely accept each other. Whenever J arrived, she was always considerate of how overwhelmed I was. She was happy to have an overwhelmed, scared, and disoriented friend and accepted me for who I was.

    4. Good friends don’t try to control, dictate, or tell you how to live your life. Though I was new to many things, she didn’t try to control me. She offered suggestions and sometimes pushed me out of my comfort zone but never crossed any boundaries. She gave me the space I needed.

    5. Good friends are generous—with their time, resources, or whatever they have to give. J was generous with her time and company and took me to various places. I was happy to have another adult with me as I visited new locations with my girls.

    6. Good friends appreciate each other and don’t try to take advantage of each other’s vulnerabilities.

    7. Good friends don’t try to manipulate the other for personal gain. They may help each other, but they don’t use each other. They spend time together because they care for each other and enjoy each other’s company, not because they want something from each other.

    Whenever there is an equal amount of give-and-take in a relationship, honesty, respect, and empathy for one another, you can be sure it is a keeper.

    Through J, I learned that friendship is a two-way street. Before that, I had no standards and welcomed anyone and everyone in my life as friends. Even the ones who walked all over me and took advantage. J upped the bar for me.

    So, what are the signs of an unhealthy friendship?

    1. It feels one-sided. The other person dominates the friendship and prioritizes their needs and wants over yours.

    2. They’re insensitive to your needs—they don’t consider them essential, or they trivialize them as unnecessary, either by joking or making your needs sound insignificant.

    3. They subtly undermine you, implying that you aren’t good enough, can’t do what you want to do, or shouldn’t bother pursuing your wants, needs, and interests.

    4. They see you as a means to an end, meaning you are useful for some specific purpose. Maybe you can help them move forward with their career, or you’re a bridge to connecting with someone else.

    5. They do not respect you—they ignore your boundaries, talk to you in a condescending tone, and/or treat you like you’re not a priority.

    6. They don’t respect or appreciate your time or effort.

    7. They’re demanding and think everything rotates around them.

    8. They have numerous issues that they can never sort out on their own. They never ask about you; you’re only there to listen to their problems and service their needs.

    9. They’re always competing with you, and everything is a game where they want to be the winner.

    10. They don’t want to know about you—your past, your feelings, or your interests.

    11. They repeatedly bail on you unexpectedly, as if they don’t value your time together.

    Walter Winchell says that “A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.” Here’s hoping you find that real friend who understands you, lifts you, and brings out the best in you!

  • When People We Love Die: How to Honor Their Legacies and Lessons

    When People We Love Die: How to Honor Their Legacies and Lessons

    “The song is ended, but the melody lingers on.” ~Irving Berlin

    I never went for any of my grandparent’s funerals as a young child, and honestly, I was secretly glad that I didn’t. I was too young to comprehend what death felt like, and I don’t think I had the strength in me to do so. So, when I heard about their deaths, I told myself stories that they had gone on an extended vacation and were having loads of fun, and hence we couldn’t see them.

    This story played in my mind all through the years, and that’s what kept me moving on. But deep inside, I knew I had an intense fear of death and couldn’t stare at it in its face.

    But recently I had to face it when I went to a funeral for a colleague who was like a mentor to me. His sudden and untimely death was like a punch to the gut.

    After his funeral, we went into lockdown, and it felt like the whole world had gone into mourning. It felt as though his death made life come to a standstill. That’s the kind of impression DM had on me. My head went reeling into a state of shock, and I couldn’t tell quite what had just happened and why.

    You see, DM was a magnanimous personality. He was full of life, compassionate, caring, planned, organized, and all of sixty.

    He was radiating with good health, till one fateful day in September he suddenly suffered a stroke. But he fought like a tiger and was soon on the mend. I could picture him coming back to work at least at some level shortly. The stroke took him by surprise as well, for he was quite health conscious and very mindful of his eating habits, etc.

    I always thought I would see DM enjoying retired life, spending it golfing, running charity events, enjoying a good karaoke, singing, entertaining, and spending time with the people he loved. Amidst all his fun, I thought he would still be part of the business as a wise sage. But my dreams were shattered when in January, he suffered some further complications.

    I didn’t think much of it, because had fought like a tiger before and I was sure he would do it again. But it seemed that fate had other plans and took him from us on the 11th of March.

    I could not quite comprehend how or why that happened. It was death rearing its ugly head once again. This time no story could tell me otherwise. I saw no escape because DM and I worked together, and I would miss his presence at work. No amount of storytelling could keep me from facing the truth. He had died, and there was nothing that I could do about it. I had to face this truth.

    I couldn’t bear the thought of being back in the office. The idea repulsed me. I was not sure I would be able to cope. But I had to because we were going into lockdown, and I had to wrap up to start working from home. Every time I went to the office I could still feel his presence there. My stomach would churn.

    I found it challenging to come to terms with his death. How would I get over it?

    I had met DM at a time in my life when I was feeling my lowest. My husband was abroad then, and my kids were small.

    I remember the interview. It was a mortgage admin job, and I was overqualified for it. But the work timings and the flexibility that the position offered fit into my grand scheme of things. And the fact that it is was in mortgages, something that I have been doing for many years pulled me toward the job.  At the interview, something told me that it was going to the best decision of my life.

    We worked together for two years, and during that time, I realized that we were similar in many ways.  DM was quiet, private, friendly, and concerned. Probably because our birthdays were just a day apart, we understood each other even without talking.

    A year later, when he and my husband decided to partner together, I was quite happy because DM was not only trustworthy, but he was also a veteran in his field, was honest and had a brilliant reputation.

    When he passed away, I grieved silently. I kept listening to the song “Memories” by Maroon 5, and something about the lyrics made feel that the singer had written the song for him.

    As I got dragged back into the mundane life I, realized that there were two things that I couldn’t come to terms with about DM’s passing.

    The first was, that to me, DM represented values like honesty, courage, resilience, hard work, kindness, compassion. I always thought that those values were timeless, immortal, and invincible. But with DM’s death, I felt those values got cremated with him. I grieved for those values because I too hold on them very dearly.

    The second reason I grieved was because I felt that life didn’t allow him to sit back relax and have fun, not have a care in the world, and spend time doing the things he loved.

    But as I pondered and reflected more on what it meant, I realized in his passing, in many ways, he handed those values to me as a legacy to carry forward so that I can use it in my life.

    I realized that his death also taught me not to wait for retirement or the future to live my life doing the things I love and want to do. Life is way too precarious, short, and precious for that. We will never know when our time will come, so we must use our time on earth well doing the things we love.

    With that, I realized the person we love or respect never leaves us. They always remain with us in spirit, through memories, in the legacies, lessons, and values they leave behind, just like DM did for me.

    What legacy has your loved one left for you? They must have indeed left something behind. They leave it so that you can carry forward the excellent work they started. It takes time, patience, and courage to see that, and it might be hard when you’re deeply enmeshed in grief. Feel everything you need to feel first, then ask yourself:

    What was important to them? What values did they uphold? What did you admire about how they lived, and how can you embody this in your own life? What can you learn from their choices—the ones they made and the ones they didn’t?

    Jamie Anderson wrote that grief is just love with nowhere to go. So when you’re ready, put all that love into honoring the message they’d want to leave behind.

    As I reflect on what my grandparents would have wanted to leave me, I realize it was to live my best life possible. I am ready to carry their torch ahead! What about you?

  • 40 Reasons You’re Amazing and Worth Appreciating

    40 Reasons You’re Amazing and Worth Appreciating

    I’m willing to bet that most of us spend far more time focusing on what we aren’t than appreciating who we are. We home in everything we think we lack and then feel bad about ourselves, when there’s actually a lot to celebrate if we take the time recognize it.

    It’s partly a byproduct of our time: We’re constantly inundated with pics and stories narrating everyone else’s lives, when really, they’re just highlight reels. They’re the filtered, photoshopped version of lives as messy and imperfect as ours.

    And regardless of where they pose, what they wear, or what they’re doing there, all those people, they’re just like you and me. They’re sometimes confident, sometimes insecure, and they often need to be reminded that they’re worth loving, and doing better than they think.

    So, if, like me, you’re a perfectionist, or you’re just hard on yourself sometimes, sit back, relax, and consider all these reasons you’re amazing and worth appreciating.

    Your Strength

    1. You’ve survived every challenge life has thrown at you, and there have been a lot.

    2. You’ve done your best in every situation, based on where you were at that time in your life, where you’ve come from, and the resources at your disposal.

    3. You’ve acknowledged and worked on weaknesses—maybe not always, and maybe not without some resistance. But you’ve made progress countless times when it would have been easier to stay stuck where you were.

    4. You’ve risen back up after failure and rejection. You could have given up when you were laid off, or passed up for the job, or told “It’s not you, it’s me…,” but you licked your wounds, got through it, and put yourself back out there instead.

    5. You’ve forgiven, the ultimate test of one’s strength. You may not be ready to forgive everyone who’s hurt you, but you have done it before, even though it was hard.

    6. You’ve apologized. It’s not always easy to admit mistakes, but you’ve done it. You’ve owned your part, acknowledged pain caused, and vowed to do better going forward.

    7. You’ve tried things outside your comfort zone, whether that means taking a new job overseas or saying hello when you would have preferred to stare at your feet.

    8. You’ve faced a fear at some point. It may have seemed small to you, but any time you do something that scares you, it’s huge!

    9. You’ve adapted to change, often without having chosen it, and have grown through the experience.

    10. You’ve solved problems that could have crippled you and have helped other people with their problems while grappling with your own.

    Your Kindness

    11. You have good intentions. You might think you sometimes do the wrong things, but your heart’s generally in the right place.

    12. You’ve made someone feel appreciated, and maybe many someones, by acknowledging their efforts and thanking them for what they’ve done.

    13. You’ve made someone’s day, probably without even realizing it, by listening, understanding, or simply being thoughtful and kind.

    14. You make people laugh—maybe even at your laugh, because you cackle or snort or sound like Beavis. (Too young for the reference? Google it!)

    15. You look out for the people you love. When you say you care, you mean it, and you back it up with actions.

    16. You smile at people. It might seem insignificant, but your smile has likely been someone’s lighthouse on a dark, scary day.

    17. You remember the important things—or at least some of them. That “Happy birthday” card or call or text? It was a simple acknowledgement that helped someone feel valued and loved.

    18. You ask people how they’re doing. You might not always get an honest response, but you’re willing to receive it.

    19. You treat people how you’d like to be treated more often than not. Sometimes you slip up—you’re only human, after all! But you do your best to be a decent human being who treats other people with respect.

    20. You’ve given second chances when you knew someone really needed it.

    Your You-ness

    21. You have many positive qualities, whether you realize it or not. Maybe you’re adventurous or brave or creative or dependable—or all of the above. You could probably go through the whole alphabet and list twenty-six amazing qualities for each letter that you possess. (Or at least twenty-five—X is tough!)

    22. You’re passionate about something, whether it’s your work, a hobby, a dream for the future, or your family, and that passion is both admirable and contagious.

    23. You have unique quirks that make you interesting, endearing, and fun to be around. Maybe you have a passion for Steampunk, or you talk to your plants, or you collect something weird, like umbrella sleeves.

    24. You have eclectic taste and have likely introduced other people to many things they’ve come to enjoy—bands, movies, books, restaurants, the list goes on and on.

    25. You’re beautifully messy, like all human beings, and your emotions give you empathy, depth, and many other gifts you may not even recognize.

    26. You’re creative in your own way—everyone is! Maybe you bake or write or make cool things out of wine corks or scrabble pieces or rocks.

    27. You have your own kind of smarts—book smarts, street smarts, emotional intelligence, maybe even all three.

    28. You have a voice that has soothed someone, even if it sounds like Sofia Vergara’s, simply because it’s yours.

    29. You are physically a work of art. Seriously. Our culture has long promoted a one-size-fits-all definition of beauty (though, thankfully, that seems to be changing), but there’s beauty to be found in every unique combination of body and facial features. Big noses, asymmetrical eyes, crooked smiles—every last of one of them, beautiful!

    30. You are mentally fascinating. Just think of all the outlandish, complex, crazy thoughts that go through your mind each day.

    Your Journey

    31. You’ve amassed a vast assortment of experiences that have given you insight and a unique perspective. No one else sees the world exactly like you!

    32. You’ve healed and grown through all your ups and downs, becoming stronger and wiser every day.

    33. You’ve done some interesting things in your time. If our lives really do flash before our eyes before we die, yours definitely won’t be boring!

    34. You’ve learned what matters to you throughout the years, and you’ve tried your best to honor those things.

    35. You’ve started over when it was hard, whether it was a new direction, a new job, a new location, or a new relationship.

    36. You’ve found and/or created opportunities for yourself, and possibly in fields that aren’t easy to break into.

    37. You’ve adulted: you’ve fed yourself, done laundry, cleaned your house, paid your bills, and done countless other responsible things—often when you would have preferred to lie under a blanket fort eating cereal from an oversized bowl.

    38. You’ve built a treasure chest of amazing memories through the years, and you recognize them for the gold they are.

    39. You’re the co-star in many other people’s favorite memories.

    40. You’ve made it to where you are right now. And here you are, strong, kind, uniquely you, and worth celebrating.

    —

    So there you have it, all the reasons you are absolutely amazing, every last one of you. Have anything to add to the list?

  • Why I Appreciate Simple Things in Life After The Coronavirus

    Why I Appreciate Simple Things in Life After The Coronavirus

    “It’s not a bad idea to occasionally spend a little time thinking about things you take for granted. Plain everyday things.” ~Evan Davis

    Let me go back in time. Not too long, but only six months ago when the virus outbreak hadn’t occurred yet. I was cursing the traffic, complaining the beer in a bar was not chilled enough, and hating that the supermarket next to my house did not have my favorite deodorant.

    Soon after, due to the global pandemic, my country was under lockdown like many others. When I was indoors, I realized how beautiful and blessed I was to have the life which I otherwise assumed was regular and usual. Little did I know that I was taking things for granted and complaining about the most trivial problems.

    When I look back now, I notice many special areas of life whose importance I failed to understand earlier.

    1. Freedom

    I had the choice to go wherever I wished and do whatever I wanted. As long as I did not do anything illegal or break any rules, of course.

    I had the freedom to live life like I wanted to. No holds barred, and no questions asked. It was my life and my choice.

    Yet, if I had to drive too far, I would whine about the miles I had to cover. During the lockdown, I needed a valid reason to travel that distance and face cops who most certainly wouldn’t allow me to get there.

    Staying indoors has taught me that losing control of the fundamental aspects of your life makes you uncomfortable. These are the things we consider usual and expected. We only realize the value of them when they vanish.

    2. Comfort

    Life and technology have evolved by leaps and bounds over the years. In fact, life today is drastically different from what it was a decade ago. Back then, you needed to carry a digital camera for photos, self-driving cars hadn’t hit the road yet, and group messages were not even a thing.

    Now, we enjoy so many benefits from the comfort of our couch. You can order food, get your car washed, or send a package to your friend without stepping outside your front door. When the delivery executive arrived ten minutes late, I would mentally curse the company for making me wait.

    During the lockdown, I would wait a whole day for the same service. The comfort of technology and the services various businesses provide are priceless.

    3. Variety

    I had a hard time picking vegetables. I would roll my eyes saying, “Someone needs to produce new vegetables. I can’t eat the same all the time.” That was despite having a large variety in the supermarket. I wanted something fresh and new.

    The same applied for the cereals I bought, the restaurants I dined at, or the shopping mall I visited. I had enough of the cereals that seemed to taste the same. I was fed up with the restaurants in the vicinity of my house. I wanted other shopping options than the usual mall next door.

    I would travel an extra distance to add variety in my life. During the lockdown, I did not even have the privilege of relishing the usual options.

    The more variety we have, the more we crave. Desire is like a treadmill running on infinite electricity. It never comes to an end.

    4. The fun outside

    No matter which city you live in, you have umpteen opportunities to have fun and relax. I had the option to watch any movie I like, go bowling no matter how bad I was at it, or enjoy the adrenaline of a kart race.

    Even though I had very many ways to have fun, I compared my city with others. I complained, “Damn, my city has no options to enjoy nature. I have to go miles away for a trek.”

    When I was locked in and resorting to board games, I realize how fun-filled my city actually is.

    5. The human interaction

    When I went out with a large group, it would take a toll on me. Being an introvert, I preferred only a certain level of interaction. Beyond that, I would choose to be by myself than socialize. The smiles seemed artificial, and the handshakes appeared unnecessary.

    Today, when I come across a passerby, the smile lies hidden behind the mask, and a handshake is out of the question. Earlier, we called the people around us a “crowd,” today we call our situation “isolation.”

    The memes on the internet, which say that introverts feel no difference locked indoors, aren’t true. Both introverts or extroverts need at least some form of interaction to feel connected with the rest of the world.

    6. The power of teams

    Before, whenever we had to solve a problem at work, we would gather in a room and exchange ideas. Many complex issues found a solution because human beings can improve on each other’s thoughts to reach the desired outcome.

    Today, facilitating such a conversation is a nightmare. Video conferencing tools provide a viable workaround for one on one discussions and team meetings where everyone shares updates. But they cannot replace a bunch of smart people sitting in a real room discussing ideas at tandem.

    Moreover, teams who see each other every day, gel along better. The physical presence creates a bond beyond just work relationships. It is the strength of such bonds that facilitates organizations to achieve massive goals.

    I realize the power of teams, even more today when they cannot operate like they used to.

    7. The giant web of economy

    The economy is like a huge castle constructed of many individual Lego blocks. When you take one out, you feel no difference. Take another out, still not too big of a pinch. Take a few more out, and the entire structure collapses into mayhem.

    Different parts of the economy are interdependent, even if they do not seem apparent. Shutting down public transport left many people unemployed and unable to earn their daily wages. A lack of transportation implied goods couldn’t flow freely. As a result, we did not have all the supplies in your supermarket.

    Every contributor to the economy helps it remain steady. When everything runs well, you don’t notice their contribution. When a few portions break, you understand their role in keeping the whole structure stable together.

    The Lessons I Learned from the Lockdown

    The past weeks of the lockdown have taught me some invaluable lessons I will remember for the rest of my life.

    1. Enjoy the present.

    I have targeted gigantic goals for a long time. As a result, my eyes are always on the future, and each day is a grind to get there.

    But the world around you is full of things to relish, cherish, and enjoy in the present. I am not saying you must stop chasing your goals and enjoy today alone. I will continue pursuing goals like before, and so should you. But while you are on this journey, don’t forget to pause and experience the happiness around you.

    Don’t lose the sense of the present by solely focusing on the future.

    2. You feel the pain only when something is missing.

    Some of the things of your day to day life seem normal and expected. For example:

    • You expect to find all you need in a supermarket
    • You expect the pizza to arrive within thirty minutes
    • You expect the mechanic to show up and fix your broken vehicle

    Over time, such expectations make you lose the value of little things in life. Don’t take such things for granted. You never know why and how they can be snatched away from you. You only feel the pain when you lose the privilege altogether.

    3. Your emotions are defined by what you choose to see.

    No matter who you are, what you do, and which part of the world you belong to, you always see what you want to see. If you want a reason to complain, you will find a ton of things around you that aren’t right. If you seek happiness, you will notice many parts of your life that are a reason to rejoice.

    Everyone shows a common reaction when things go well. Someone gives a toast, people clink their glasses, and everyone dances to the music.

    But you cannot always control the world around you to work in your favor. The market can collapse, a natural calamity can occur, or a virus outbreak can happen.

    What you can control is how you respond to such calamities to stay strong. Your reaction to such mishaps is what defines you.

    The global pandemic due to the coronavirus made my life harder. But, on the positive side, it has made me stronger.

    “When we meet real tragedy in life, we can react in two ways—either by losing hope and falling into self-destructive habits or by using the challenge to find our inner strength. Thanks to the teachings of Buddha, I have been able to take this second way.” ~Dalai Lama

  • How to Appreciate Your Body (During COVID-19 and Always)

    How to Appreciate Your Body (During COVID-19 and Always)

    EDITOR’S NOTE: You can find a number of helpful coronavirus resources and all related Tiny Buddha articles here.

    “Imagine if we obsessed about the things we loved about ourselves.” ~Unknown

    I used to have a plaque with this quote prominently displayed in my waiting room. Sadly, it’s somehow gotten misplaced over the years.

    What I remember most about the plaque was how it engaged, or disengaged, the people who noticed it. Did they mention the quote when they came into my office? Pointedly ignore it? Let me know that self-love is what they want for themselves? Or express skepticism that they would never get to that point in their relationships with their bodies (if they even had such a relationship)?

    It was the latter group, primarily made up of women in their forties and fifties that I most loved to challenge.

    “What’s your relationship with your body like?” or “When did you stop focusing on what you liked about your body,” I’d ask.

    The answers I heard were often things like “My body changed after my pregnancy,” or “I hate seeing pictures of myself with wrinkles.”

    As a woman who has surpassed the half century mark myself, I completely related—things aren’t quite the same as in my twenties.

    Of course, focusing on the perfect body spans gender. Many men I know joke about or bemoan their “man boobs,” and people who identify as non-binary sometimes hate gendered body parts, like hips or breasts.

    The world I know most intimately is my own, that of a mid-life woman. TV, magazines, and diet talk constantly remind me of the young, smooth, skinny ideal.

    You would think that with a worldwide pandemic happening, these pressures would disappear. Well, they haven’t. Who’s seen the Facebook meme entitled “When You Meet Your Friends After Quarantine,” which shows toddler girls baring their admittedly adorable bellies which they bonk together? My takeaway: bellies may be cute on toddlers, but not on me.

    Or what about the one that shows a much larger Little Debbie of snack cake fame now depicted as Big Deborah? The message: chubby cheeks and extra pounds are not attractive. Watch out. And then there’s talk of the dreaded quarantine fifteen and how to avoid it.

    The message that I should hate my body is alive and well.

    So how do I begin to combat these messages? The quote at the beginning reminds me to shift to my thinking to the positive. I’m working on it. I’ve started to ask myself hard questions. What’s positive about my body? What am I grateful for?

    While I’ve found it helpful to think about these things, a gratitude journaling and practices have spurred the most movement toward the positive. The positive present, that is, rather than the losses of the past (like that flat teenage stomach) or the anxiety of the future “quarantine fifteen.”

    Cultivating A Body Gratitude Practice

    I offer my body gratitude in many ways. Journaling is one. Gratitude journals can be simple, such as a bulleted list of how I am grateful to my body (e.g., for health, mobility, endurance).

    I can also answer questions more overarching questions like “How has my body been a friend through the years?”

    As I ask these questions, I tune in to the sensations in my body. How do I feel in my body when I offer this gratitude? It’s often a lightness in my chest or a fullness in my heart.

    It can be a challenge to keep a body gratitude journal, so I’d like to offer some examples.

    I am grateful to my body for having the endurance to take a walk each day. 

    I am grateful to my body for persevering through a difficult pregnancy. Yes, it’s not the perfect body, but it’s given me the gift of a talented, unique daughter.

    I also love to choose a daily card from Louis Hay’s “Healthy Body Deck.” It’s shifts my perspective when I read these gratitude affirmations and thank parts of my body I never considered.

    For instance, one card says “I love my feet. I walk upon this planet safe and secure, always moving forward toward my good.” I never thought of all the things my feet do for me.

    Some of the cards are funny, such as thanking my spleen for its role, but they help me to connect and laugh.

    I also try to notice opportunities for gratitude throughout my day. During a recent grocery trip I was talking to a cashier, who described her fears about COVID-19. Her teenage son had struggled with some past health issues and she was concerned about him becoming sick. It reminded me to thank my body for having a great immune system that keeps my fear levels low, and it provided the basis for my nightly journal entry.

    Finally, body gratitude practices can involve ritual. This is a work in progress for me, but I offer it to others as an alternative. Love baths? Fill a tub with warm water and bubbles, light some candles, and play some music. Take the time for a soak, letting your body have permission to relax and recharge and thanking yourself for getting through another day of keeping yourself and your family safe.

    You—and your body—are doing a wonderful job getting through this crisis. Appreciating yourself can help you stay healthy and enable you to use this time for growth and self-connection.

  • Being Told You’re Appreciated

    Being Told You’re Appreciated

  • How to Reap the Benefits of Post-Traumatic Growth

    How to Reap the Benefits of Post-Traumatic Growth

    “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.” ~Hemingway

    We all know of post-traumatic stress (PTS) but how many of us know of post-traumatic growth (PTG), a very hopeful and attainable way of life beyond the loss, adversity, and trauma we’ve experienced? It’s a term that was coined in the 1990s and is becoming more popular now as positive psychology and the specific area of resiliency-building have gained momentum in our society.

    What is post-traumatic growth? It’s positive change and growth that comes about as a result of an adversity or loss. It is channeling our pain into something positive.

    It’s more than simply returning to the life we had before the negative event; it involves psychological shifts and changes in ourselves, our beliefs and attitudes, our actions, the meaning and purpose in our lives, our relationships, to an even greater level of functioning.

    This is not to say we don’t suffer and feel tremendous pain. In fact, we first need to allow ourselves to go through the painful and awful feelings that we’d prefer to squelch down. It’s similar to the grieving process where we have to go through it to come through it.

    It is only later on, as the intensity of our negative feelings lessens and softens, that some small bits of sunlight begin to push through the looming clouds and we begin, very slowly, to move forward and integrate the challenge into our lives. We rebuild a new normal.

    Without having a formal concept or name to put to it years ago, I went through my version of post-traumatic growth as an outcome of my daughter, Nava’s miracle: her survival and complete recovery from a near-fatal medical crisis.

    She was on a respirator in a drug-induced coma for four months and then in a rehab hospital for nine months, relearning and eventually, miraculously, regaining every motor and body function.

    Upon her return home from a year-long hospitalization and rehabilitation, I went back to work and resumed my life back home (as I had been living up at the rehab). Needless to say, I was thrilled to have witnessed this miracle—her survival and recovery—and I, as her mother, felt I had been given a second lease on life as well.

    As time went on, however, I felt uncomfortable inside—empty, bored, and filled with angst, feeling like this just wasn’t enough. And then I’d feel guilty over feeling this way; after all, I had our miracle, what more could I possibly want???

    Going back to life as before felt so small to me. I had just witnessed life at its most fragile, sitting by her bedside listening to every beep and bleep of machines that breathed for Nava and kept her alive, with tubes coming out of every opening in her body, on a bed that rotated in all directions.

    One minute she had been eating a blueberry muffin waiting for a procedure and the next she was on a ventilator fighting for her life. If this didn’t make me realize how our lives hang by the thinnest of threads, then nothing would. And I began to feel my inner stirrings and angst more and more. This was slowly becoming clear to me:

    I had just witnessed something miraculous. I had to do something to honor it. As people do things to honor a life that doesn’t survive, I felt a burning need to do something to honor the awesomeness of a life that did, against all odds. 

    It was clearly not enough to just resume, to pick up the pieces where I had left off. That would be like whitewashing away this most traumatic year in my life, not giving the miracle of life the respect and glory it warranted. Not to mention the miraculous complete recovery as she slowly began breathing and eating on her own after more than half a year with tubes and then a tracheostomy.

    And so began the struggle of what to do. I also felt a strong sense of urgency to do and not waste time on this earth where we’re given an unknown and unpredictable amount of time.

    In hindsight this was my angst to grow and push through. It was all percolating inside, and my frustration then became what to do…

    I attempted many different things that I deemed meaningful: from clowning with Patch Adams to foster-raising a puppy for the disabled, to writing a book (which didn’t go anywhere at that point) and other smaller endeavors. I was in search of something big, though, the way some people start organizations and foundations out of their tragedy. But that didn’t happen.

    But what did happen beyond these random experiences of adventurous do-gooding, as I see so clearly now, is that it was all happening on the inside. So, while I was in frantic and frustrated search for that external something, I was living {and continue to do so} more richly engaged than ever. 

    As I stated above, a sense of urgency to doing what I set my mind to now, rather than putting it off, became my M.O.  When I saw a class in the city I was interested in, instead of waiting until the summer when I was off from my school job, I schlepped into the city once-a-week for the class during the school year. A friend of mine would say, “Whatever you say to Harriet, she’ll run with it, so be careful!”

    Now in all fairness I was always a doer and proactive. But this part of me took on a whole new level as I became much more intentional. My interests in various things soared, and I began to feel like there’s just so much out there to learn and do; the world became my oyster.

    Everything I was exploring had meaning to me, and what didn’t, I eventually threw by the wayside.

    After a few more years at my school job, I left, deciding to do what I truly wanted to do in my professional life: work with people going through grief and loss (in all areas) in a clinical setting—my practice—and support them on their journey in coping and eventual growth.

    As someone who was always interested and in awe of people who lived on well despite their hardships,  I developed and curated my own project of finding and interviewing people to learn and put out there for others to see, the qualities and coping tools that led them to grow and thrive beyond their challenges. This eventually became my book.

    And so post-traumatic growth was firing inside me. How can it work for you?

    Drs. Tedeschi and Calhoun, of the University of North Carolina, who coined this term of PTG have identified five main areas where we can experience post-traumatic growth as an outcome of our adversities:

    Relating to Others

    Increased closeness to others, increased compassion and empathy to those going through difficulties, greater authenticity, and connection.

    Connect with people on a deeper and more real level. Recognize where and with whom you feel more understood, connected, and supported. How are you responding to others in pain? Do you feel more sensitive to those suffering? Has your helping hand been extending more to those in need? Have your relationships taken on greater meaning in your life? Are you making more time for them?

    Appreciation of Life

    Awareness and gratitude for what we have, focus on beauty and goodness, living with more presence and intention; the absence of taking things for granted.

    Begin to take pleasure in the ordinary things of life, for it’s the everyday beauty and pleasures that call, nourish, and fill us.

    What are you noticing now that you rarely noticed before? What are you slowing down to really see? Are you being more mindful and reveling in the now? Awe is a positive emotion that fills us with wonder and boosts our well-being.

    What beauty calls out to you? Is it the mountains that give us a perspective of smallness and humility in their grandness; or the expansiveness of the star-filled sky; or the ocean with its ups and downs of the waves in their calmness and subsequent crashing; or the rise and set of the sun that we can always count on for appearing and then disappearing?

    New Possibilities

    Re-evaluating what’s important and what truly matters/priorities; stepping outside one’s comfort zone and taking risks; openness to new ways of living, to new experience,s and learning/taking on new endeavors.

    Take stock of your life and think about your top values and priorities. What now seems unimportant since your tragedy, trauma, or crisis?

    After processing your grief and emotional pain, what new opportunities are you interested in exploring? How are you looking to expand yourself?  What have you realized means more than anything? How can you better honor those things in your personal and/or professional life? How can you spend your time and energy in ways that reflect your values and what truly matters to you?

    Personal Strength

    Greater confidence and self-esteem, recognizing and appreciating one’s abilities and competence, self-pride, greater resilience, and coping abilities.

    Reflect upon your strengths and allow yourself to feel good that you got through your difficulty in ways you thought you never could.

    How did you cope with pain and hardship in healthy ways? What strengths did you use to help get you through the trauma/adversity? Recognizing those strengths, how can you continue to bring them forth in ways to enrich your life? There’s a very interesting free survey you can take here, that lists and puts your character strengths in order. What are your top five; how do they coincide with the way you see yourself?

    Spiritual Change

    Transcendence to things beyond ourselves, renewed purpose and meaning, questioning and searching as we reconfigure our newly designed tapestry. 

    Consider the existential questions of life on a more personal level. Instead of “what’s the meaning of life,” ask yourself, “What’s my purpose and meaning here, and how do I re-create that for myself? How do I connect to my meaning on a day-to-day basis?”

    How are you redefining success and living well? How do you want to spend your days on earth? What mark/impact do you want to leave/have? How has your perspective broadened beyond yourself? Are you more connected to a purpose?

    —

    Once the bad circumstance(s) happen, growth can occur in the aftermath as we seek to create good, find new ways of living that can be enriching and meaningful, and develop and grow in any of the above areas.

    Creating new goals and finding positive ways to adjust to a new reality is the hope and potential for post-traumatic growth.

    Knowing this possibility for change and growth exists and that we’re not doomed to live out the misery of our challenges and losses can give us something to strive for. To some it comes more naturally, to others it’s something to work toward. Either way it points to a better way to live through and beyond our inevitable life challenges.

  • Why I Now Complain Less and Appreciate More

    Why I Now Complain Less and Appreciate More

     “It is not happy people who are thankful. It is thankful people who are happy.” ~Unknown

    I used to be a complainer, a fault-finder, a grumbler. I would grumble a hundred times a day about mundane issues, be it the weather, the traffic, or my husband.

    I complained when my husband didn’t help me around the house, and grumbled when he helped. It took me some time to realize that it was not him or his lack of housekeeping skills that made me unhappy. I was unhappy because I was turning into an ungrateful person.

    I have some fond and not so fond memories of my childhood. When I was a kid, my parents force-fed me green vegetables and limited my television and playtime. They wanted me to study and do my homework, and made me go to sleep every night at 8:30 PM. But all I wanted was freedom, freedom from homework and freedom to do whatever I wanted.

    I was nine years old when I first expressed my ingratitude to my parents. One day, after school, instead of boarding the school bus that would take me home I boarded the one that took me to my friend’s house. I thought this would be the end to the horrible veggies and boring homework. But things didn’t go as planned.

    My friend’s father got in touch with my dad, who drove down to take me back home. As I nervously watched my dad step out of the car I noticed worry etched on his face. He gently put his protective hands around my shoulders and said, “Come, let’s go home.” We drove home in silence, and gradually guilt found its way into my heart.

    When we approached home, I peered through the windows of the car and spotted a tired, lean figure standing by the gate of the house, my mom. I got down from the car and tentatively took one step toward her. Gazing into her moist eyes I gingerly called out, “Mummy.”

    She took me in her arms and hugged me tightly, while crying into my school shirt. As my tiny hands held her I realized my mistake.

    Today, when I look back to that incident, I realize now that as a child I took for granted all that my parents did for me.

    In a world where girls are denied education, at times buried alive, where orphanages are filled with children abandoned by their parents, here were my parents who catered to all my needs and prepared me for the future. In this unfair world, I was blessed with parents who gave me a fair chance at life, to grow and to prosper.

    My parents indeed planted the first seeds of gratitude when I was still a kid. But it wasn’t until I attained motherhood that I truly understood the importance of showing gratitude.

    Like every first-time mother, I went through anxious moments looking after and raising my baby. With my hyperactive daughter, things just seemed like a never-ending battle, with crayon painted walls, carrot juice stains on the carpet, moisturizers and lipsticks tested on every piece of furniture, and toys scattered around.

    I longed for peace, I longed for rest, and I longed for a clean house. I complained and cribbed about how being a mother was the toughest job in the world.

    Until one day, I visited a friend whose six-month-old son was admitted in the hospital, as he was diagnosed with Muscle Dystrophy, a genetic disorder that affects all the muscles including the muscles of the heart.

    That tiny baby lay on a bed motionless, strapped to a heart monitor. It was heartbreaking to watch the grieving mother coax and beg her frail baby to wake up, to cry, to whine, to do something, anything, while he did nothing. He just lay there, motionless.

    As I stood there, watching helplessly, an image of my little devil—my daughter—scribbling on the walls flashed through my mind.

    What had I been complaining about? An active child, a healthy child? Isn’t this what I had prayed for when expecting her? Surely, there would be plenty of women out there in this world who would give anything for my sleepless nights and messy house.

    From that day on, whenever my daughter was unable to go to sleep even at two in the morning, I didn’t complain. In fact, as I held her and kissed her forehead, I was thankful knowing I have such a wonderful gift.

    It’s human nature to forget our blessings and concentrate on our problems, but when we complain, our mind plunges into negativity, and like a domino effect everyone around us gets impacted by it.

    Panasonic founder Konosuke Matsushita would often finalize a candidate selection by asking his famous concluding question. “Do you think you have been lucky in your life?”

    The purpose of this question, according to him, was to comprehend if the candidate was thankful for the people who helped him in his life. He believed that this attitude of gratitude in employees leads to a happy work environment, which in turn boosts company productivity.

    Most of us tend to connect happiness to major events, like a promotion or winning the lottery. But these events don’t happen often. Gratitude is what makes our life richer, more beautiful, and a lot happier as we start to enjoy the little things in life.

    We often take people in our life for granted, or get caught up in complaining and grumbling. It’s true, my husband can be lazy sometimes, my parents keep nagging me, my teenage daughters never listen to me, and I have some crazy friends, but you know what? My life is incomplete without all of them.

    Life is a celebration. When we love everything we have, we have everything we need. So, let us make this journey of life worthwhile and take that huge leap from grumbling to gratitude.

  • 50 People Share What They’re Grateful to Do Every Day

    50 People Share What They’re Grateful to Do Every Day

    At night, when you think about how you spent your day, how often do you focus on all the things you had to do?

    I worked. I ran errands. I went to the gym. I made dinner.

    And when you tell someone about this kind of day, how often do you do it with a less-than-enthused tone?

    I suspect this is the norm for many of us, at least during the workweek.

    Commitments, to work and family, can engulf our lives and seem like chores, not choices and chances.

    I distinctly remember one day, years ago, when my day felt particularly packed, stopping to remind myself that I had chosen the schedule I was keeping.

    I had chosen to get up early to write, to accept the job that supported me, to go to yoga in the evening, and to do laundry and other household tasks after that.

    And I was fortunate to have had these choices to make.

    These weren’t all things I had to do; these were things I got to do.

    I got to devote time to my passion in the hours before my paid work, creating possibilities for my future.

    I got to work a job that provided both pay and benefits, enabling me to take care of my needs, even if it wasn’t my dream career.

    I got to stretch my healthy body and create mental stillness.

    And I got to live in a comfortable apartment, filled with furniture and clothes I got to buy with money I got to earn.

    And in between all these things I had consented to do were lots of other beautiful little things I got to do.

    I got to wake up to sunlight coming through my window. I got to walk by interesting people, trees, and buildings on my way to work. I got to eat delicious food from various restaurants at lunch. And I got to use my hands when typing on my computer—hands I could have been born without, or could have lost to some type of injury or tragedy, but hadn’t.

    I get to do a lot of things worth appreciating every day. We all do.

    We all get to do things that challenge us, fulfill us, excite us, and energize us. We get to live, love, laugh, and explore in far too many ways too count.

    Since I’ve long been inspired by this idea of focusing on what we get to do, I decided to include this as one of the prompts in my newly released gratitude journal.

    I shared this prompt on Facebook this past Sunday to see how other people would respond. Over 1,500 people chimed in, creating a monumental list of blessings, many of which we all share but could easily take for granted.

    Since I was inspired and touched by the list, I decided to share a selection of those responses here.

    I Appreciate That Every Day I Get To…

    Health

    1. Shelley White: Breathe. I received donor lungs nine years ago after my own lungs failed. I have Cystic Fibrosis. Just being able to wake every day knowing I can spend another day with my family is what makes me grateful to be alive. I appreciate life.

    2. Kristi VanTassel McHugh: Wake up. I had open-heart surgery nearly two years ago, to replace a faulty aortic valve and repair an aortic aneurysm. When I was first diagnosed, I was told, “If it’s not fixed soon (the aneurysm) it will burst and you will die.” That was two days before Christmas, and I waited just over six months for my surgery. I am thankful to still be here, every day.

    3. GusandMaggie Nosce: Be alive. I was born a congenital heart patient (blue baby) and was advised I would need a heart transplant by the time I was four years old. By the grace of God, I have never needed one, even though the open-heart surgery I received when I was days old is no longer in practice and is no longer advised to perform.

    4.Manal Khatib: I appreciate that I can walk after a serious car accident eight months ago. Every day I had to relearn how to walk. This journey has made me appreciate my body and treat it with kindness.

    5. Laina Amarantinis: Walk and stand. After three spine surgeries I am finally able to walk and stand more and more as the healing progresses. I am very thankful.

    6. Mary Beth Hudson: Spend time with my family. I beat my battle with cancer; others in my family were not so lucky.

    7. Linda Otto: Move my body. I can walk, run, lift, bend, etc., all with ease. This is not possible for many people. It can be taken away in an instant or gradually as we age. Your health, eyesight, hearing are never appreciated enough.

    Friends and Family

     8. Anna Hunt: Spend time with my daughter. Soon she will be off to college and I won’t have her close. Hearing her laughter, knowing she’s in the next room, fills my heart with warmth. I appreciate that every day I get to see her.

    9. Amy Albinger: Be with my family. Be with my parents, my husband, my sister, and niece. They are the reason I live today. They are my reason to get through each struggle. They are my definition of love.

    10. Riddhi Solanki: I appreciate that I get calls from my parents and friends, as my current job isn’t in my hometown. They call me and talk to me so I don’t feel more alone.

    11. Niquita LeValdo: I wake up to my child. He was born with a heart condition and needed surgery at two months old. The thought that he may not have been alive today gives me a new perspective and helps me appreciate every moment. Love your children, praise them, cherish them.

    12. Lillivette Colón:‪ Keep my baby in my tummy one more day. Every day is victory.

    ‪13. Tezra Blake:‪ I appreciate every day I get to see and hear both my sons growing into awesome men, and that they aren’t ashamed to say I love you mom and check on me and ask how I am doing. Despite their age they still want my opinion on things.

    ‪14. Laurel Hausafus:‪ Have the memories of my sweetheart and husband in Heaven .

    15. Cheryle Midgett: Spend another day with my ninety-four-year-old mom.

    16. Anika Bruce:‪ Every day I get to hug my family. I love hugs, they’re life changing.

    17. Nicole Werner-Sayre:‪ Stay at home to raise the tiny little human I created and help her grow up into a person I’ll be proud to add to the world.

    18. Laurie Clemons: Give a hug and say I love you. We all need to hear it more.

    19. Dawn Creason: I get to read and cuddle with the most precious little girl that I never thought I would have. I get to hear her giggle and I get to play with her.

    20. Fiona James: Wake up happy and healthy with my wonderful family. Too many people don’t have that luxury.

    Needs and Comforts

    21. Elizabeth Sherriff: Have a roof over my head, fresh water, food, and a family around me.

    22. Kathy Kellermann: Have a warm shower and a bed to climb into (especially in the middle of winter).

    ‪23. Jessica Grandelli‪: Eat food that nourishes and sustains my life. It is a privilege to live in a place with bountiful food.

    24. Jacinta Harrington: Enjoy a cup of coffee while reading the newspaper.

    25. Caroline Driver: Eat whatever I want and drink water straight out of the tap.

    26. Marsha Frakes Waggoner: Walk outdoors in the grass with my dog and see trees.

    27. Heather Demick: Drink in the world through my eyes.

    28. Yvonne Hernandez: Have a place I call home.

    29. Alice Louise Pocock: Listen with my ears, see with my eyes, and love with all my heart.

    ‪30. Xuandai Hoang‪: Sit in front of my candle and relax.

    31. Enchari Rivadeneira: Dishes. It means I have food, a kitchen, a family to share with, and I did it. I made through another day, whatever happened. It’s a beautiful thing, dishes.

    32. Chloe Cunningham Sarno: Finish all the housework all in the same day. Ah, clean house!!

    33. Tammy Pillsbury: Lay my head down knowing I have a roof over my head, food to eat, a job that rewards me, a husband that loves me, friends and family whom I love, nature outside my door.

    34. Michael Bell: Read. There is no aspect of life that I have derived more benefit and pleasure from, and I couldn’t imagine my life without it.

    35. Danielle Yingling-Lowrey: Be with my babies, take care of my flowers, cook, drink coffee, be a friend, be a neighbor, be mama, be a daughter, be a wife, drive my car, take care of my house, giggle, laugh, read, smile at others…. so many things!

    36. Nicola Wood: Wake up and just be me and appreciate how blessed I truly am!

    37. Steve Kenney: Not feel the pain of starving, the pain of extreme thirst. Having a roof over my head, and AC. Having a few people who really care about me for me, not what I can do or give them. Not suffering from bad health. That’s it. Everything else is inconsequential.

    Possibilities

    38. Gena Pegg: I appreciate that every day I get another chance to do the right thing.

    39. Bani San: I appreciate that every day I get to wake up in freedom and pursue whatever life I dream of.

    40. Jayne Duncan Stites: I appreciate that every day I get to begin again anew!

    41. Jim Zei: Have another opportunity to make things right—whatever right is.

    42.Lechenda Crichton: Have one more chance to be better than I was yesterday.

    43. Sherelle Myers: Use my body and working limbs for whatever I choose!

    44. Angela Charlwood-Derbyshire:‪ Practice making better choices.

    45. Linda May Knowles: To learn from the mistakes I made the day before.

    46. Wizz Tomo: I appreciate that every day I get to learn new things.

    47. Ashley Glenn: To be alive and experience whatever the new day presents.

    48. Amy Brock: Breathe and do normal activities of daily living. There was a time that I couldn’t do such a great job of either.

    ‪49. Herb Daum‪: I appreciate that every day I get to make the world a kinder place.

    50. Melissa Milligan: Be here. Not everyone made it through the night. Be grateful you’re still here.

    I appreciate that every day I get to…

    How would you finish this sentence?

    *This post was originally published in 2017. I decided to republish it again today for those who missed it because it’s fitting for the season!