Tag: best

Everyone’s Doing The Best That They Can

“All I know is that my life is better when I assume that people are doing their best. It keeps me out of judgment and lets me focus on what is, and not what should or could be.” ~Brené Brown

My favorite principle is this simple truth: Everyone is doing the best that they can with the resources they have. Adopting this belief has radically changed my relationship to myself and to others.

This idea has been explored by a constellation of religious, spiritual, and wellness practitioners. As Deepak Chopra said, “People are doing the best that they can from their own level of consciousness.”

At first, it’s a hard concept for us to swallow. In a culture that constantly urges us to do more, to be better, and to excel, “I’m doing the best that I can” sounds like complacency—like an excuse. But what if we took a step back from our culture’s infinite growth paradigm and considered, “What if, right now, there is a limit to what I can achieve? Can I be okay with that?”

I first stumbled across this principle a few weeks after I quit drinking in 2016. It was a challenging time for me. In the absence of alcohol, I watched my anxiety soar.

I stayed away from bars and clubs to avoid temptation, but then felt guilty and “boring” for spending Saturday nights at home. When I met up with friends who’d previously been drinking buddies, our interactions felt stilted. I knew sobriety was the healthiest choice for me, but I couldn’t accept the way it impacted my ability to be social. I felt like I wasn’t trying hard enough.

I spent weeks in a frustrated mind space until I stumbled across that precious idea: “I’m doing the best I can with the resources at my disposal.”

At first, I recoiled. The high achiever in me—the climber, the pusher—scoffed at the suggestion that I was doing my best. “But other people have healthy relationships with alcohol. Other people maintain active, thriving social lives.”

But in that moment, I realized that my negative self-talk was an exercise in futility. It never boosted my inspiration or activated me toward progress. It just sparked a shame spiral that sunk me deeper into inaction and guilt.

So over time, I began to internalize this idea as my own. And as I did, I felt like a blanket of comfort had been draped over me. For the first time in weeks, I could sit back on my couch and watch Vampire Diaries without hating myself. It enabled me to find peace in the present moment and accept—not even accept, but celebrate—that I was doing the absolute best that I could.

I’ve found that this principle has been easiest for me to internalize when I’ve been going through deep stuff.

After a painful breakup last August, it took all of my energy to drag myself from bed in the morning. My intense emotions were riding shotgun, which sometimes meant canceling plans last minute, postponing work calls, or calling a friend to cry it out.

Because I was so obviously using all of my inner resources to get through each day, it was easy for me to accept that I was doing the best that I could. Throughout those months, I gave myself total permission not to do more, not to be “better.” For that very reason, those painful months were also some of the most peaceful months of my life.

Here’s the thing, though: We don’t have to hit rock bottom in order to show ourselves compassion.

We don’t need to be heartbroken, shattered, or at wit’s end. Maybe we’re just having a rough day. Maybe we’re feeling anxious. See, our abilities in any given moment depend entirely on our inner resources, and our inner resources are constantly in a state of flux depending on our emotions (pain, stress, anxiety, fear), our physicality (sickness, ailments, how much sleep we got), our histories (the habits we’ve adopted, the trauma we’ve experienced, the socialization we’ve internalized), and so much more.

When we consider everything that affects our capacity to show up as we’d like to be, we realize how narrow-minded our negative self-talk is. We also begin to understand that everyone comes from a wildly complex, diverse array of experiences, and that comparisons among us are useless.

Consider how this idea can be applied in some more challenging situations:

The Friend Who Is Stuck In A Cycle of Stagnancy

This goes for anyone who complains about a monotonous cycle in their life but can’t seem to break it: the friend who hates their job but doesn’t leave it, or the friend who complains about their partner but won’t end their relationship.

Those of us on the receiving end of our friend’s complaints may get tired of hearing the same story every day. But our advice to “just leave your job” or “just break up” will fall on deaf ears because it’s not that simple. They are doing the best that they can in that moment because their current need for familiarity and security outweighs their desire for exploration.

They are experiencing a tension within their desires, but don’t yet have the ability to act on that tension. The limitations of their emotional (or sometimes, financial) resources make it difficult for them to move on.

By accepting that we’re doing the best we can, we give ourselves the gift of self-acceptance and self-love. Only from this place can positive, sustainable changes to actions or behaviors be made

The Parents Who Hurt Us When We Were Kids

It can be especially challenging to apply this principle to those who have wounded us most deeply. But oftentimes, those are the folks most deserving of our compassion.

Parents have a responsibility to their children, and parents who hurt, neglect, shame, or otherwise harm their children are not doing their job as parents. But sometimes, our parents can’t do their jobs well because they don’t have the resources at their disposal. And even then, they are doing the best that they can.

More than likely, our parents didn’t learn the necessary parenting skills from their own parents. Maybe they never got therapy to heal old wounds or never developed the coping skills necessary to handle intense emotions. This principle can be very challenging, yet very healing, when applied to parents and other family members.

The Binge Eater (Or Other Addict)

This used to be me, and it took me years to accept that even when I was in the thick of my eating disorders, I was doing the best that I could.

From the outside, the solution seems simple: “Put down the cake.” “Don’t have a third serving.” But for folks with addiction issues—food, alcohol, sex, drugs, you name it—the anxiety or emptiness of not engaging with the addiction can be insurmountable.

Resisting the impulse to fill an inner void requires extensive resources, including self-love, self-empowerment, and oftentimes, a web of support from friends and family. Folks in the throes of addiction are caught in a painful cycle of indulgence, shame, and self-judgment, which makes it all the more difficult to develop the emotional resources necessary to resist the tug of the addiction.

But by accepting that they’re doing the best they can, they give themselves the gift of self-acceptance and self-love. Only from this place can we make positive, sustainable changes to our actions or behaviors.

It’s worth noting: Our actions have consequences, and when we harm others, we should be held accountable. But simultaneously, we can acknowledge that we are doing the best that we can, even when we “fall short” in others’ eyes. Forgiving ourselves (and others) is an emotional experience that transcends logic or justice. We can make the conscious choice not to hold ourselves to a constant standard of absolute perfection.

Believing that we are all doing the best that we can opens our hearts to kindness and compassion. It allows us to see one another as humans, flaws and all. Next time you feel frustrated with yourself, stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, you’re doing the best that you can.

Sit down with a piece of paper and divide it in half. On one side, write down the voices of your inner gremlins. What exactly are they saying? Are they calling you lazy, selfish, mean? On the second side, consider what inner and external factors affected your actions or decisions. Consider the emotional, physical, historical, and financial obstacles you face.

As you review your list of obstacles in contrast with your negative self-talk, summon compassion and kindness for your inner self. If she is struggling, you can ease her burden by quieting the self-judgment and replacing those negative messages with an honest truth: That you’re doing the best you can with the resources at your disposal.

August 12, 2018
Why I No Longer Need to Be the Best at Everything I Do

“I am not bound to win, but I am bound to be true. I am not bound to succeed, but I am bound to live up to what light I have. ” ~Abraham Lincoln

As a child, my father always told me, “At everything you do, you have to be number one.” I tried. In some ways, I succeeded. I got high grades. Sometimes, the highest. Sometimes, I got awards.

I became an expert at figuring out other people’s expectations and meeting them. This got me approval, but it never made me happy. I wasn’t passionate about grades, awards, or approval. I didn’t feel butterflies in my stomach while doing math. I didn’t feel shivers down my spine while conjugating French verbs.

I loved to write, sing, dance. I was the girl who made up song lyrics and got them stuck in her head. I was the girl who stayed up after her parents went to bed to dance around, sing into my pillow, and crawl out onto the roof to dream about flying far, far away. I was that girl who couldn’t understand my thoughts until I wrote them down.

Despite my parents’ wishes for me to pursue an academic, intellectual route, I went to theatre school. There, I thought I would explore the deepest crevices of my desires. I was wrong.

I found the fine art education world to be shallow, and I found myself to be the same. My mind fixated on being the best. I never was. Disappointed with myself as much as the program, I dropped out. I slunk back to logic and facts. Skepticism. Analysis. Things I was good at. I got good grades. I got awards.

But being good at something is never a replacement for loving it. I was addicted to academic achievement because it earned me approval. I could never get enough. Again, I got hungry for art.

After I almost led myself into an early grave, I realized how important it was to make time for the things that made me feel alive. Yet on that journey, I’ve found myself constantly in the intermediate pile. Sometimes, beginner. Never, ever the best.

I run all the time, but I’m not fast. I’ve been doing yoga for ten years, but I still can’t do Crow Pose. I’ve been playing acoustic guitar on and off for years, and I still struggle with barre chords. I’ve been singing since I was a kid, and my performances are inconsistent. I’ve been writing since I could hold a pen and doing it for a living since 2012, but most people have never heard of me.

For years, my father’s voice haunted me, telling me to always be number one. I tried to reject his advice, refuse it, write it off as worthless egotism. But still, it gnawed at me.

One voice in my head said I should accept myself just the way I am. Another part couldn’t help but point out all the room for improvement. Along the way, I’ve realized that one voice doesn’t need to defeat the other. They just need to learn to get along.

Accepting my skill level at something is self-loving. Who would doubt that? But assuming that my skills can’t or won’t ever get better is self-sabotage. To work on improving myself is a kind of self-acceptance too. I accept my ability to learn—however slow and awkward that learning process might be.

Some people say that we should always try to be better than who we were yesterday. I can’t agree with that. Some days, I’m less patient, less energetic, and less kind than I was the day before. And that’s okay.

Because, for me, the goal isn’t to be number one compared to others. And it’s not even to be number one compared to past versions of myself. Instead, I’ve learned to do be the best at just one thing: being my own number one fan, supporter, friend, and mentor.

It’s not an easy job. It’s not easy to unconditionally love someone and motivate them to make changes. It’s not easy to hold someone when they’re breaking down one day and push them to do better the next day. It’s a paradox and a balancing act. It’s hard. But it’s incredibly worthwhile.

I spent all those years competing. Trying to be the best. Trying to be perfect. Trying to get recognized, acknowledged, noticed. Trying. Trying. Trying. Never succeeding.

But now I know that the reward for pursuing the passions that light me on fire isn’t the same as the reward for pursuing status, recognition, or achievement. There are no grades, no awards, no medals that can quantify the way my chest bursts open when I sing something real. There are no numbers to measure the lightness I feel in my body when I write words that make me sob and cry and heal. The reward is the experience.

We live in the age of self-esteem. The school system tells young kids: “You can be anything you want to be! You can do it all!” But the message woven into even the most encouraging words is that the measuring stick of success is achievement, recognition, award.

What if all that those kids want to be is happy? Or angry? Or tortured? Or whatever it is that they feel in that moment.

Self-esteem is nothing but a cheap replacement for self-love. I don’t need to esteem myself. I know I’m an awkward, beautiful, human mess. At most of the things I do, I’m somewhere between mediocre and interesting. At some things, I’m between awful and mediocre. But I love that I do them anyway.

I appreciate myself so much for doing the things I love, even though I’m not “number one” at them. I am grateful for how much time, care, and effort I put into trying to be a good friend to myself.

And that’s what I think life is really about: learning about myself. Trying to be a good friend to my reflection. A best friend, even.

So many of us miss out on the chance to experience self-intimacy because we forget what friendship is all about. It’s about secrets, inside jokes, and adventures. It’s about heartbreak, healing, and presence. We don’t love our friends for how skilled, accomplished, or perfect they are. We love them for being real, for walking beside us on the confusing, chaotic road of life.

And that’s what I seek to be for myself: an intimate friend. A fellow voyager. A curious companion. Maybe it doesn’t sound like much. But to me, it’s an accomplishment that I achieve and celebrate every single day.

—

**Editor’s Note: Vironika has generously offered to give away ten digital copies of her new book, The Art of Talking to Yourself (preview available here). A different kind of self-help book. Instead of giving you expert advice and magical solutions, this book will help you discover your own expertise and use it to hear, understand, and change your inner conversation. You can learn more and read reviews on Amazon here.

For a chance to win, leave a comment below. You don’t have to write anything specific. “Count me in” is sufficient! You can enter until midnight PST on Sunday, August 13th.

UPDATE: The winners for this giveaway have been chosen. They are: Aegira, Simona Celarova, Ted Young, Kat Gál, Bernadine, Gregory Dees, Athreyi Raj, Jessica Rodriguez, Gayne Brenneman, and Marty Lesak Sloditski.

Photo by Allef Vinicius

August 6, 2017
Do Your Best and Let the Rest Go

November 27, 2016
Be Gentle with Yourself

March 23, 2016
Freedom Is Knowing We Don’t Need to Be the Best

“Whenever I climb I am followed by a dog called ‘Ego.’” ~Frierich Nietzsche

At a young age, the bar for the rest of my life was set very high. I was a natural at anything I tried to do, and I was lucky enough to have my friends and family support me in just about every venture, so I became incredibly confident in my abilities and hopeful that life would always be easy and painless.

Eventually, I solidified the expectation for myself to always be number one because that is what my identity was based upon.

To give you a couple examples of my pre-adolescent stretch of glory: I was an all star swimmer (better than even the boys on my swim team); no one dared challenge me in verbal warfare due to my incredibly intellectual argumentative skills; I was “popular” for a pre-teen and had close friends; and I was very good at school.

Then I was humbled by reality.

I transferred from my safe 100-student private school to a public school of over 400 students in sixth grade, and my world was literally flipped upside down.

I lost my identity in a sea of kids who went toe to toe with my vivacious personality, and my ego took a big hit.

I was not the best at anything anymore, so who I was and my contribution to the world, in my young mind, was compromised, because those things that I attached my value to as a human being were challenged.

This identity (ego) I refused to let go of ate me up inside, as I internalized it to mean that I was somehow not valuable as a person. My intrinsic value was somehow diminished because I was not the best at everything anymore.

And that is where my mind failed me, because that pattern of thinking is not true. Problems arise when we believe our value comes from our accomplishments and achievements.

The world makes it very hard to avoid attaching our value to our success because success is defined, measured, and standardized in many cultures by what we do, who we do it for, what we have (materialistic things and money), and how far we get.

What I came to realize was that these things can’t even begin to explain the person you are on the inside. What matters is your intention, the worth and depth of your relationships, and your values. These qualities make you who you are.

Let me back up a bit. Before I came to this conclusion, I was hurting badly for a number of years. Not only did my life get considerably harder after entering the sixth grade, but I also stopped asking for help and maintaining the close relationships I had made when I was at my “peak,” because I felt unworthy.

To protect my precious ego, I started blaming and judging everyone to keep them at a distance so they wouldn’t see my self-perceived faults. And that, my friends, is the ugly nature of the ego. Call it competitive, stubborn, or hardheaded—it is an insatiable monster that will eat you up inside if you let it.

I would like to say that I grew up and had an awakening of sorts, but to tell you the truth, I am still very much in the process of accepting and loving the true me. Here are some tips on how I manage the monster that you may want to try:

Identify any beliefs regarding achievement and access that cause you to suffer.

Can you let these go? Why or why not? Oftentimes, we hold on to beliefs for our survival and comfort even when they make us unhappy. We also hold onto beliefs because we are afraid to discover our true selves, which would mean big changes for everything around us.

Ask yourself what you genuinely value in others that has nothing to do with success, appearance, or other “worldly” objects.

Can you see these qualities in yourself? What would it feel like to acknowledge, grow, and love these values/qualities in yourself? Think of qualities in others that make you feel safe, respected, and cared for. Usually the good qualities we see in others are direct reflections of what we do not see in ourselves but possess deep down.

Honestly ask yourself what you need, and seek help.

Oftentimes, people like me try to prove they have it all together but end up overwhelmed because they wind up juggling too many balls, saying, “No, it’s okay, I got it.”

I realized I stopped asking for help because I needed to maintain the illusion (primarily for myself) that I knew everything so I wouldn’t feel incompetent.

Being vulnerable enough to admit you can’t do everything and need help actually brings people closer to you because it opens the door for the most basic of human needs—empathy, validation, and most importantly, the need to feel like you are not alone in your experiences.

Be gentle and patient with yourself. Allow yourself some room for error and be humble enough to seek other perspectives to issues that arise. It can be extremely freeing to learn that you do not, in fact, have all the answers.

It is a process to let go of the unrelenting demands created by past experiences and accomplishments. Life has a funny way of showing what you need to relinquish in order to be at peace and congruent with your inner values.

Be aware of what causes you to suffer on a regular basis and try to make a habit of acknowledging your core inner qualities that give your life meaning and value. When you start living in congruence with the values and truths you discover inside yourself, everything else naturally falls into place.

“Perhaps middle-age is, or should be, a period of shedding shells; the shell of ambition, the shell of material accumulations and possessions, the shell of the ego.” ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Happy woman image via Shutterstock

February 17, 2016
Holiday Love Challenge #20: Give Someone the Benefit of the Doubt

Want more ideas to strengthen your relationships? Get Tiny Buddha’s 365 Tiny Love Challenges.

December 20, 2015
Holiday Love Challenge #14: See Everyone as a Child

Want more ideas to strengthen your relationships? Get Tiny Buddha’s 365 Tiny Love Challenges.

December 14, 2015
The Power of Starting Small and Not Needing to Be the Best

“Better to do something imperfectly than to do nothing flawlessly.” ~Robert H Schuller

I have tried for so long to build a meditation habit. Seriously, it’s been one of my biggest goals for more than a decade.

And I’ve tried really hard. I’ve read books, I’ve taken classes, I’ve made accountability charts, I’ve set SMART goals; I’ve done it all.

Sometimes, I’ll fall into a good rhythm, and I might make it onto my mat three or four days in a row. Then sometimes, three whole months will go by without me managing to do it at all.

So what gives? Why can’t I make it happen? What am I doing wrong, after ten years of trying?

I decided to dig deeper into what was happening inside my poor little monkey mind that might be hindering my progress.

It took me by surprise when I realized that no matter what my practice has actually looked like over the years, whether I’d been totally diligent or utterly neglectful, there had been one constant the entire time: I’ve always felt like I needed to be the best at meditation.

Yep, that’s the phrase that actually popped into my mind, word for word, when I tried to unpack what was going on: the best at meditation.

I know what you’re thinking: What does that even mean? How can you be “the best” at something like meditation?

And let me tell you, I know how dumb it sounds. Meditation, by its very nature, is about not having attachment to such things as results or outcomes. I mean, it’s about being in the moment, not about getting an A+ rating or a bunch of gold-stars.

And yet I felt like I needed to be awesome at it. To be better than others. To bypass beginner status and immediately step into the category of “expert.”

I kept getting this image in my head: me, perched perfectly still in lotus position, the dawn sunshine on my face, wind blowing gently in my beautifully beachy hair, my outfit crisp and white, and my face a perfect vision of peace and tranquility.

(Never mind that I am not a morning person, that the lotus position gives me pins and needles, that my hair is more bushy than beachy, and that I don’t even own any crisp white clothes.)

When I dug deeper, I realized there was a follow-on thought from my attachment to this vision and my need for achievement: If I couldn’t be awesome at meditation, if I couldn’t achieve perfection… there was no point.

That was my unconscious thought pattern.

Which was why I always aimed for ridiculously long sessions; if I didn’t have a full thirty minutes to devote to it, what was the point?

It was why I was so disappointed if my mind wandered; if I didn’t give an A+ performance, what was the point?

It is why I’d feel like a failure if I didn’t do it first thing in the morning (even though my late-night work sessions made that completely impractical); if I hadn’t done a dawn session, what was the point?

And it was why I would get so down on myself if I missed a single day; if I couldn’t keep a perfect score card, what on earth was the point?

All in all, it’s no wonder I haven’t been able to make this habit stick. At every step of the journey, I’ve been psyching myself out of making any progress by expecting supreme, utter perfection.

In the past, this type of thinking has reared its head in other areas of my life too: if I can’t go to the gym for at least a full hour, there’s no point, right?

If I can’t eat 100% healthy for the rest of the week, I may as well write the next few days off, yeah?

And if I can’t fit in a long, uninterrupted stretch of writing time, there’s no point pulling out my notebook at all, amiright?!

Thankfully, over the years I’ve become aware of these perfectionist tendencies, and have developed a few mental strategies and ninja tricks to overcome them. (Don’t have time for a full gym session? Do half an hour of power yoga in the lounge room instead. Revolutionary, huh?)

But it’s taken me oh-so-long to realize that I was also doing it in my meditation practice; that I was letting my pursuit of perfection hold me back from inner peace.

Now that I know, I’m trying to let go of all expectations on myself when it comes to gettin’ my Zen on. In fact, my meditation sessions these days have been pared right back to the simplest, most achievable, most non-perfect thing I could think of.

Want to know what that looks like? (Prepare yourself for the profoundness!)

Two minutes of meditation, every one or two days.

That’s it.

And, if I haven’t managed to pull it off during the day, I do it in the shower at night, just before I go to bed (yep, standing there, suds and all, with not a lotus position in sight).

It’s minimal, it’s manageable, and it’s achievable. It’s also effective for quieting my monkey mind and giving me the tiny pockets of peace and stillness I crave so much.

I’m now on my fourth week of this new approach, and I’m happy to report that by releasing my expectations of perfection. In fact, by embracing the fact that I am going to mess up, and by giving myself some wiggle room and a short-cut to get around it, I’ve actually been more mindful in the past month than I’ve been for a really long time.

And I’ve definitely ended up with more time spent on the mat through these little baby steps than when I was aiming for giant, dramatic leaps.

It’s been an eye-opening lesson, and one that I’m very grateful for.

So now I want to ask you, dear one, are you letting perfection hold you back from achieving something you really want?

Could you cut yourself a break and aim for “okay” instead of “awesome”? It might sound counterintuitive in our culture of comparison and perfection, but the results might just take you by surprise.

Start now image via Shutterstock

February 19, 2015
Why Accepting That You’re Not the Best Is the Key to Getting Better

“In fear, we expect; with love, we accept.” ~Kenny Werner

It’s easy to let our ego and fear get in the way of our own success. I’m not talking about the aspects of ego that create a desire to “win” over others, which plague some more than others; I’m talking about the more inherent aspects of our inward facing ego that plague us all.

When I was in high school I played a lot of piano. For Christmas one year, my dad (a professional musician) gave me a book called Effortless Mastery.

It was a book that, among other things, taught one how to practice. The author spoke about the importance of learning how to practice in order to improve one’s skill. Sounds like common sense, right? Well, sort of.

You see, most people don’t really like to practice much of anything.

When I was a kid I learned a few really impressive songs on piano. My favorite was “Swanee River” in a boogie-woogie style. I practiced it and practiced it until my fingers could dance around like little people on the keys.

Once I had learned that song, I played it over and over and over again. I used to tell myself I was “practicing,” but really I just enjoyed sounding good, so I would play it repeatedly, never really improving. I had been playing piano for over ten years, but I had never really learned to practice.

Practicing is intentionally sounding bad in order to get better, and what I was doing was performing for myself. Quite a bit of life can be spent performing for oneself, which can act as a real barrier to knowledge, the kind of knowledge that requires vulnerability to acquire.

If all you ever do is perform, then you’re not really learning and growing. If you’re afraid of practicing because you might sound bad or fail, then you will never really master anything.

If you’re not willing to accept being anything but the best, then you will never gain knowledge and develop the skills that come from learning from others who are better than you.

I’ve spent over ten years thinking about that book and reflecting on it in different ways, and I’ve finally learned how to put my thirst for knowledge ahead of fears.

My interests and hobbies have come a long way from when I was a kid. Back then, I took up anything and everything that I was good at. It’s not to say that I didn’t genuinely love the activities I was doing, because I really did, but I wanted to do things that offered me the opportunity to be the best.

My first foray into the realm of activities that I wasn’t naturally gifted in was triathlon. After high school I took up the sport. I had been running all my life. While swimming came very naturally to me, cycling did not.

I began to sort of thrive in the zone of discomfort that I lived in throughout my years cycling. I would ride with people who were so much better than me and they would push me harder and harder every week.

I remember at one point, I had a game going with my cycling buddies where when we reached a hill, they would keep cycling to the top and then back down again, repeating this until I reached the top.

I began to grow a little less uncomfortable knowing that I wasn’t the best at this sport. So much so that I was able to laugh at myself as one by one competitors would pass me on the bike leg of the race, after I had come out on top in the swim.

If you were to look at my life today, you would find a person who participates in a range of activities (in my personal life, my career, and academically), from ones where I excel to those at which I am less than mediocre.

My husband has helped me along on this journey, because he doesn’t have a competitive bone in his body, so I’ve learned to derive enjoyment from things other than winning and to be less afraid of losing.

I’ve taken up things like crafting. I love it and I’m really quite terrible at it. I mean, I can do simple projects, but give me a glue gun and materials and watch out, because I’m bound to mess something up.

I really love rock climbing. I’m middle of the road (and that might be a stretch) within the group of people I climb with. And I recently finished a research project for a degree I was working on and I took up interpretive research, a paradigm that I was completely lost in.

I have learned to take absolute pride in not being the best. As much as I love being a mentor, I’ve discovered that I really love being a student too! I love the vulnerability that is present and how real it feels when I openly acknowledge my weaknesses and areas for improvement.

I’m perfectly okay knowing that I’m not the best, and I’m even more okay knowing that in certain activities, I never will be.

In activities where performing counts (like my career), I’ve learned that it’s okay (even desirable) to make mistakes.

I declare freely when there’s something that I don’t know. Ask me at an interview what my greatest weakness or area for improvement is, and you won’t get a cliché answer that I’m too attached to my work—you’ll get the real deal.

In this territory of discomfort, failure, and ‘sounding bad,’ I have found what it really means to have a willingness to learn.

I accept what I don’t know and learn what I can. I practice many things every day (from communication in my relationships to skills in my career), and as a result, I learn and grow every day.

Here’s how you too can overcome your fears, embrace failure, and learn every day:

1. Try something new that interests you but doesn’t come naturally to you.

I think most people have at least one activity that they might like to try but don’t out of fear of being bad at it.

Maybe it’s singing, maybe it’s drawing, maybe it’s public speaking. Pick an activity that you’re not good at and try it out for a while. Embrace the discomfort and insecurity that you’ll experience being less than the best, and have fun with it!

2. Ask more questions.

When you ask questions, you display vulnerability; you’re acknowledging that there is something that you don’t know that others do.

Asking questions doesn’t always come easily for people who derive their confidence from a sense of success. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, and ask lots of them. People appreciate sincere questions and the opportunity to teach.

3. Lift others up.

Take some time to tell those around you how great they are, and celebrate in their successes.

Have a friend that you run with who runs faster? Tell them. Have a coworker who has organizational skills that you could learn from? Tell them. Have a significant other who communicates better than you do? Tell them.

Communication is the gateway to learning. When you tell someone about a skill or trait of theirs that you appreciate and could learn from, it empowers them and gives them the confidence to own that skill/trait. The more they own it, the more you can learn from them.

4. Don’t beat yourself up.

When you’re used to being good at everything you do, it’s going to feel very awkward to be less than the best. Don’t allow negative self-talk.

I often catch myself jokingly saying, “I just suck at this” during my weekly rock climbing sessions, but all that’s doing is re-focusing on a win/lose attitude. Instead, speak kindly to yourself, and focus on how much your improving and what you can do rather than what you can’t.

5. Think about the fun you’re having.

Reflect on things that you do in your life and why you enjoy them. Acknowledge the aspects of your life where you derive pleasure out of perfectionism and those where you derive pleasure from other sources.

Those other sources will be the key to finding more enjoyment out of new experiences and activities that don’t involve your ego.

6. Be enthusiastic about failure.

Don’t just accept failure as part of life; welcome it in with open arms! Sometimes the only way to learn is through complete and utter failure. It’s what you do with the failure that counts.

Next time you’re working on something in your life (maybe a work project, maybe a relationship), acknowledge when what you’re doing goes belly up and think objectively about what went wrong. Don’t look at failure as an extension of you; see it as the only journey that leads to true success.

As the great Winston Churchill once said, “Success is the ability to jump from one failure to the next with enthusiasm.”

Medal image via Shutterstock

January 20, 2015
Why Being Real Matters More Than Being the Best

“We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.” ~May Sarton

Have you ever compared yourself to others on social media?

You’re not alone if you have. It’s human nature to compare, compete, and seek value in the opinions of others. To aspire to the heights others seem to have attained.

But how real are those people we compare ourselves to really being? The ones who seem to have it all together? Perfect family, ideal job, loving relationship?

I would venture to guess they’re not being very real at all.

It’s true they may have a great partner, a great job, and well-behaved kids—some of the time. But like everyone else, they fall, they fight, and they make mistakes. They just don’t talk about it on Facebook.

That’s where online relationships let us down; they fail to tell the whole story.

I’m as guilty as the next person. I post pictures of my kids baking cakes, running along the beach, and acing the soccer game on a Sunday. But I neglect to mention how much I yelled at them for their attitude or constant fighting.

I talk about date night with my husband but don’t mention how we argued all the way home.

And I post pictures of inspirational life quotes, such as, “Only a life lived for others is a life worthwhile” (Einstein) as though I’m living them every day.

Because I, like everyone else, want to show the best side of myself. I have an inherent need to be liked and to belong. It’s human nature.

But what if being liked and belonging is more about being authentic than being the best or getting ahead? What if in sharing who we really are, we are more able to find the connection we crave?

A few years ago I attended a weekend retreat and workshop for personal development along with about thirty others. Not knowing anyone, I was nervous.

We met for the introductory session in a large room and had to mingle for about twenty minutes or so before the facilitators arrived.

What I experienced in that time was eye-opening to me. I watched as eyes darted around the room, each person looking for someone like themselves to identify with, be it through age, appearance, personality type (introverts, extroverts), or physical attraction.

In this vulnerable state, where each of us was seeking to find favor with the other, we all were quick to disguise our true selves and to judge everyone in the room on appearances and first words.

And for the first day of that workshop judgment remained, until the facilitators were able to break down our walls and encourage us to see the value in being who we really were—in talking honestly and not trying to be better than the next person.

To do so required being vulnerable. But once one person began to speak honestly about their fears and their struggles, it gave the next person permission to do the same. This continued until we all let down our guards and spoke honestly about our struggles and fears.

The result was incredible. The connections I made that weekend were real, honest, and close.

Once I saw my fellow participants for who they really were, all judgment fell away and I felt nothing but genuine love for them. Because when we see one another in our true light, it doesn’t make us weak; it makes us the same. We see how we are all human and in this thing called life together.

It’s not being the best or getting ahead that meets our true desires; it’s being real and doing life together.

What if we were to share our truth on social media? To talk about a bad day instead of always trying to be great?

And what if instead of saying “I’m fine” to the next friend who asks, “How are you doing?” we could instead respond with “I’ve had a hard time lately”?

Sometimes that leap of faith in the response is the first step toward living an authentic life and being true to ourselves. Because being anything less than who we really are just isn’t worth it.

Friends image via Shutterstock

January 4, 2015
How To Be The Best Version Of You A Lot More Often
“In chaos, there is fertility.” ~Anaïs Nin

Are you a calm creature in your yoga class, then you get home and yell at your kids?

Do you ever read a really inspirational book or blog and think, “Yes! That makes total sense, and I’m going to start doing that!” Then life gets busy and it never quite happens?

Do you ever feel like you’re two different people living in the same body? Saying one thing, doing another?

Me too.

For the past fifteen years I’ve been a self-development junkie.

I’ve read tons of books and I’ve attended courses and loads of amazing workshops. These covered everything from parenting to time management, relationships to getting organized, healthy eating to setting up a business, plus anything to do with spirituality and personal growth.

All of these have inspired me with an array of fantastic ideas—but often they remained just ideas, floating around in my head without any action plan behind them.

On the mat at my local yoga center I was the calm, peaceful, positive soul I craved to be. Yet, when I got home and re-entered my chaotic reality, it felt like just a temporary illusion.

I was straight back to my grumpy, irritable, impatient “other self.”

What was wrong with me? How could I be so Jekyll and Hyde?

How could I more consistently be the “me” I loved being around?

I was writing in my journal one day when I began to list the qualities I show when I’m being my best version of me.
- Kind
- Lighthearted
- Playful
- Calm
- Relaxed
- Positive
- Present
I knew what brought out the best in me—yoga, inspiring workshops, running in nature, laughing with friends, dancing my socks off, getting stuck in an amazing book.

Then I listed what the poor version of me looks like.
- Irritable
- Impatient
- Snappy
- Short-fused
- Negative
- Mind spinning in overdrive!
I asked myself, “What brings out the poor version of me?”
- Feeling overwhelmed, with a lot on my plate
- Too much on my mind, trying to figure things out in my head
- Rushed, running late
- Tired
- Not enough “me” time
And it occurred to me that, since I know what brings out the worst in me, why not look at each of these things and find ways to make them happen less often?

I realized that I needed to get a handle on the day-to-day “running the show” stuff.

To tackle overwhelm and having too much on my plate, I began to take a deep look at my time management. I learned how to say “no,” to delegate, and to structure my days better.

I began to prepare for success by meal planning, laying clothes out for myself and the kids the night before, and always thinking one step ahead about what I’d need to take with me before going out the door, so I could feel calm and confident that I wasn’t forgetting anything.

I began to feel less rushed. I was on time.

Then I got back into a regular journal writing habit. I also had weekly scheduled brain-dumps to get things out of my head and onto paper so I could figure things. I crafted step-by-step action plans to get organized and on top of everything that needed doing.

Instead of spending my evenings slumped in front of the TV or scrolling mindlessly on my phone, I started having regular candlelit baths and getting into bed earlier, curled up with a good book.

It was the “me” time I always craved but never thought I had space in my day for. And I was consistent with it. I was finally implementing a lot of the great things I’d read about (hurrah!), and I felt the best version of me coming out more often.

Once I got on top of the logistics, I felt less stressed and overwhelmed. It was easier to be more mindful and present. I began a daily practice of checking in with myself, asking, “How am I feeling?” listening to the answers and using them to guide me.

After a lifetime of telling myself “I’m not a morning person,” I began to wake fifteen minutes before the children and used this quiet time to write in a gratitude journal or meditate using an app on my phone.

It’s helped me stop being so cranky at breakfast and send my kids off to school peacefully, and with love.

It took recognizing what brings out the worst in me to turn things around. It didn’t happen overnight, but by taking baby steps in the right direction I got there.

Now I’m able to be my best version of me in my everyday life—not just on the yoga mat.

If you want to be your best version of you more often, write your answers to the following questions:

I feel like my best version of me when…

How I feel about myself when I’m the best version of me…

It’s easier to be my best version of me when…

I’m a poor version of me when…

What can I learn from these insights? What new habits can I create to make it easier to be my best version of me?

Inspired actions I will take this week:

1.

2.

3.

Share in the comments below: What brings out your best and worst you? What can you do to bring out your best self more often?

Happy woman image via Shutterstock
December 22, 2014
Don’t Try to Become the Best, Be Your Best Right Now

“Do the best you can, from where you are, with what you have, now.” ~African-American proverb

When I first started on my spiritual path, I desperately wanted to live in a more connected and satisfying way. I had a secret longing to know who I truly was and to finally reach my creative potential—not only as a writer, but also as a person. My intention was to express mastery through spirituality.

At the time, this made perfect sense. Spirituality, for me, was connecting to the creative part of myself—that invisible, powerful place where anything is possible.

A place where dreams are forged and destinies are realized. A place of poetic genius and inspiration. A place where masters live and breathe.

But back then, I didn’t understand that when we embark on this journey, we tend to use what we know—which is almost always ego-based. And the ego can’t get us to where we need to go.

This is because ego has way too much baggage. It weighs us down with things like fear, doubt, self-criticism, and anger. And yet, so many of us try the ego-based route first, as I did.

I egotistically believed that mastery was about pounding on my craft, practicing it with unrelenting determination and will. I made it more about me. It became an intellectual exercise.

I thought it was something that could be forced, conquered even. My motivation was all about achieving the goal—period!

It didn’t take me long to encounter the inevitable setbacks, shortcomings, and failures that come with this kind of thinking. And when I failed to express the master inside of me, I was extremely hard on myself.

The whole thing made me feel inadequate. The more I tried to force the master out, the less I felt like one. To make matters worse, all my teachers were still going on about “expressing mastery” and how easy it was.

It was about then that I stepped back and took a hard look at what mastery really meant to me—to my aspirations and to my life. I realized that this ego-based perspective had been creating limiting beliefs and habits that kept me stuck.

I feared my uncertain future and began to doubt my abilities. I allowed regret for past mistakes to overwhelm me and to crush my sense of self-worth. I even envied others for the rapid strides they seemed to be enjoying.

This ego-driven, high-octane way wasn’t the answer, at least, not for me.

So I decided to look at mastery in a different way—a healthier way.

Granted, I’m still not always successful, but I believe I have a better approach to it nowadays.

I’ve come to believe that mastery shouldn’t be about “being the best” or “knowing everything” or “flawlessness”—quite the opposite, in fact. Mastery is about the process of becoming, not the act of having become.

When mastery becomes ego-driven (as it did for me), we set ourselves up for failure. No only because the ego weighs us down, but because it always tries to win.

But, when your purpose is to live your best life, there is no winning or losing. No goal, no endgame.

There is only you being your best—at that moment, whatever that means to you.

This was immensely liberating. Imagine living your life from where you happen to be right now. To never again beat yourself up for not attaining some imagined goal suggested by somebody else.

I now understand that my spiritual development can’t be measured by my achievements, or lack thereof. The only yardstick is my own level of awareness and how I feel.

My new spiritual perspective and outlook on mastery has transformed me. It means that I can better appreciate who and what I am right now—which is a beautiful, ongoing process of discovery and growth.

Paradoxically, the less I measure, the more I end up growing, as a person and as a writer.

My goals have become more internalized, less tangible. They are also smaller, but no less important. They are about staying mindful and aware, without applying any judgments or criticisms to what is happening.

In this way, I’ve stopped trying to express mastery. Instead I work towards being a master of who I am in this instant—knowing that I am, right now, a perfect expression of me.

If you are feeling blocked or stuck, consider the possibility that your ego and your desire to master your life could be the very thing that is preventing you from getting to where you wish to be.

Instead of trying to force your dreams with an iron will and steadfast determination, try a gentler touch. Stay fully present and aware. Simply give this moment your very best.

Don’t worry about what you think you should be doing and where you should be going. Just be in the process of being you—right here, right now.

And ironically, by not seeking mastery, mastery will find you.

Reaching man image via Shutterstock

October 13, 2014
Doing Your Best Without the Stress of Perfectionism

“Better to do something imperfectly than to do nothing flawlessly.” ~Robert H. Schuller

Have you ever been stopped in your tracks by perfectionism? Would you rather not do something if you can’t be sure it will be perfect? Although this kind of thinking doesn’t make much sense, I understand it, because I’ve been there.

I’d like to share with you some insights that helped me overcome my own deeply ingrained perfectionism and the unhappiness and stagnation it caused me.

Avoiding perfectionism doesn’t mean avoiding quality work and high achievement.

I am someone who loves making sure that even the smallest details of my work are right, and that the work I deliver lives up to my highest standards.

I used to think that the opposite of perfectionism was doing sloppy work, so I tried that for a while, but it really didn’t sit well with me. I don’t know about you, but I like to do something well and make it good quality work, and doing something less than that makes me feel bad.

If giving your best is what you do naturally, then doing something only half as well as you could just to avoid the trap of perfectionism isn’t going to help you. Trying this has always made me feel stressed because I was going against my nature and because I didn’t like the work I produced. So what to do?

Who defines your “perfect”?

I think perfectionism is really fear of being judged by others. It’s actually likely that others will judge us for what we do and say, but in most cases, we can get over it because it’s not so bad—or because we have to.

However, a perfectionist never looks to compassionate and wise people and imagines how they might judge them! For example, when I am writing a new blog post, I never think of what my grandmother or the Dalai Lama would say about it. (It would probably be something like, “It’s wonderful that you express yourself creatively and try to help others at the same time!”)

Instead, the people I have in mind are the cynical journalists whose articles I read (which is really my own fault) and the mean and angry people who post anonymous insults in online newspaper forums. I’m pretty sure they would actually hate what I have to say, but why do I pick them as my internal jury?

This internal process is what I call destructive perfectionism, because it’s a way in which we beat ourselves up and possibly feel so stifled that we never even start our work, or never dare show it to anyone.

Constructive perfectionism is the fuel you need to move forward.

Destructive perfectionism stops you in your tracks. Constructive perfectionism allows you to start and do your best—even if a year from now you find it amateurish. That’s how great things get done; you have to start somewhere and work your way up.

I started getting into strength training, movement art, and gymnastics over a year ago because I wanted to move as capably, strongly, and gracefully as the movement teachers I admire. I soon found that achieving this in a short time frame was highly unrealistic, meaning: For a long time I looked and felt more like an elephant doing gymnastics than an actual movement artist.

But the vision of what is possible kept me going, and now I am a far better and stronger mover than when I started, even though I am miles away from what I want to achieve. If I had given up after one attempt because it wasn’t perfect, I’d still be a couch potato!

In my journey away from perfectionism, I also stopped beating myself up and driving myself so far that I came by several injuries, and started enjoying the movement and the small progress I made every day.

Maybe I will never reach the kind of athletic ability and grace that I long for, but I am enjoying the process so much and doing my health a big favor. So I hope you take this to heart and start enjoying yourself by doing what you love and giving it your best.

Life is too short to miss out on the pleasure of doing something well just because others might judge you or you might not get it right. As they say: Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.

Photo by Helga Weber

July 30, 2014