Tiny Buddha

Tag: codependence

  • 3 Reasons Why It’s Hard to Set Boundaries and What to Do About It

    3 Reasons Why It’s Hard to Set Boundaries and What to Do About It

    “Care what other people think, and you will forever be their prisoner.” ~Lao Tzu

    I love this quote because it is such truth. But I also recognize the difficulty and the uncomfortable feelings that arise when working toward living this quote.

    There’s a reason why it feels so hard to set healthy boundaries, and that is what this article is going to show you.

    Discovery #1: Understanding our hard wiring

    Our minds were not created to care about healthy boundaries. Say what? Let me explain.

    From the beginning of time, we humans were hard wired for connection. We are not solitary creatures; we are similar to herd animals. Back in the caveman days, we needed a hive or a pack because we were more powerful when we were together. If we didn’t lean on our tribe, we were eaten by a saber tooth tiger.

    We were built to care about others, to rely on others, to let others watch out for our safety and for us to watch out for them too. Staying in our herd, our hive, our pack, our tribe is how we stayed safe. And it worked!

    Our tribe was important to us back then for our survival. If your pack wasn’t happy with you, you were outta there. Your tribe is what kept you alive, and so the human brain learned, “Oh, we must keep people happy with us and then we get to live.”

    If you struggle with people-pleasing, I hope you will understand that we come by our people-pleasing instincts naturally. They are quite literally part of our survival set up. It is part of being human. It is perfectly normal to have the urge to people-please.

    Wanting to serve and please others is a perfectly good and often wonderful thing. The problem with people-pleasing in today’s world is when we don’t have good boundaries to go with it.

    Our brain today says, “Let’s do whatever keeps the tribe happy. Let’s do whatever we need to, to be part of the gang.” Most of the time that looks like acquiescing, going along to get along, and doing whatever we can to “not upset the apple cart.”

    As children we gain information from all types of sources around us—our traumas, personality, health status, our race, ethnicity, gender, family of origin, our class, economic status, and more! Each one of these alone comes with a handbag of rules that instruct us how to behave, act, what to think and what to say in order to please our tribe. Our poor mind has to put all of these pieces together somehow in a way that makes sense and keeps us alive.

    Discovery #2: The Rulebook

    In essence, our sweet mind creates a sort of rule book in terms of what will keep us safe. We start to notice from the time we are small that if our people are not happy with us, we do not feel safe. We start to notice this in our bodies, our feelings, the look on someone’s face, the tone, what is not being said, the iciness of the room.

    When we are children, we are 100% dependent on our caregivers. They are quite literally everything to us. Remember the tribe, the pack, the hive that I talked about earlier? Well, to our little toddler minds, they are our first tribe.

    It is our caregivers’ job to mirror to us who we are in the world. And hopefully with healthy caregivers, we are shown that we are loved, cherished, worthy, important. This is what creates our self-esteem. This is what relays the message to us that we matter.

    This gets written into the rule book or the rolodex file of our little child brain.

    However, many folks did not grow up this way. Those of us who may have grown up with caregivers who were harsh, unloving, absent, unpredictable, neglectful, and even abusive, their little, sweet mind recorded a whole different set of rules into the rulebook of life.

    It may sound something like I am not loveable, I don’t matter, I’m a nuisance, I am a bother, I should never take up space. It might sound like I’m loved as long as I’m good, or performing, or agreeable.

    (Please note, much of the time our parents did the best they could with the skills and tools that they had in their awareness. However, to our innocent, little, childlike selves, it simply wasn’t the message that we needed. The message was misconstrued, and we wound up feeling as though we somehow did not matter).

    Often this gets passed down generation after generation.

    So now are you starting to understand that the mind’s idea of boundaries is to do whatever it needs to do to keep you alive?

    Perhaps when you were little, if you were constantly told to be quiet, that you were too loud, too much, or to simply go away, then the mind created a belief that came into agreement with this. A rule was filed away that it was better to not disrespect your elders and continue to be loud or to take up space.

    The problem is that of course this is nonsense (you were just being a sweet and normal child), but you never questioned the rule. You questioned Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. Yet, you never stopped or questioned your rules or beliefs about yourself. You wrote those things in the rule book as absolute truth.

    Your mind doesn’t care that you are older now and that the situation is different now. To the mind, a rule is a rule. And remember what happened to humans who questioned the rules in the past? They didn’t survive!

    Let me tell you a little bit about my own rulebook…

    Several years ago, I was deeply terrified of what other people thought of me. Growing up in a small town, it was written in my rulebook that all eyes were on you. Boundaries were one of my biggest struggles because it meant breaking free of the people-pleasing pattern in order to speak my truth.

    Having struggled with codependent patterns and low self-esteem, I didn’t even know what my truth was, what my needs and values were, or what mattered to me.

    What I did know was that I needed people to like me, to not talk ill of me and to think of me in a certain way—nice, kind, giving, good.

    I couldn’t excuse myself from a phone conversation.

    I couldn’t end playdates at the time I needed to even if my kids were throwing a full-blown temper tantrum.

    I couldn’t remove myself from a conversation that made me uncomfortable because of the topic.

    I laughed at jokes that, deep down, I found offensive.

    I agreed with others’ opinions because I either didn’t know my opinion or if I did, I didn’t feel confident sharing it.

    I talked incessantly because silence felt unbearable.

    I couldn’t even be on time, because I was rushing from one activity to the next, just trying to show face and that I was doing my part to be the nice girl and make everyone around me feel good.

    Speaking my truth was so uncomfortable that many years ago I actually had a seven-hour coffee date.  I didn’t want a seven-hour coffee date. The idea was come over for a couple hours, chit chat a bit, and move on with our day.

    However, this woman arrived promptly right after the kiddos left on the school bus in the morning and was still there when they got home on said school bus at 3:30pm.

    I can recall the massive headache I felt because I wanted so badly to ask her leave and tell her I had things to do, but I couldn’t.

    I remember that I never invited her back again, even though she was a great gal in many ways. I was clueless in how to handle these situations, so my answer was to cut the relationship off and move forward by avoiding her.

    At the time I was a young mom with a husband who worked long hours, and I often felt lonely. I wanted so badly to connect with other women and be a part of a community, and I thought the way to connection was through self-abandoning any of my needs so that I could focus on appeasing what other people in my life needed.

    This was all written in my rulebook. All of this worrying about what others thought and not wanting to upset anyone caused me severe stress, anxiety, and overwhelm.

    I was trying to function on fried adrenals and walking on eggshells. I was unhappy, and it showed up in my relationship with my partner, my kids, and mostly, the relationship I had with myself. But there was something always driving me to keep pleasing, keep appeasing, and that leads me to our next discovery.

    Discovery #3: But why do I always feel so guilty?

    Why do we feel so darn guilty when we try to set a boundary? Well, anytime we step outside the rulebook, the mind pushes a great big, huge alarm bell.

    Remember, our mind thinks that this is a rule created for our safety. I share this because hopefully you can start to relax and realize that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. The mind simply is perceiving danger.

    From there we may experience bodily reactions—our palms get sweaty, we have a million butterflies in our stomach, our temperature rises, our throat constricts.

    Our brain’s one and only job is to keep us alive, so it often uses guilt to get us to acquiesce and once again, go along to get along.

    How many times have you been invited to a baby shower or a barbecue on a Saturday and absolutely dreaded it? You’ve worked fifty hours this week, you coached soccer two nights, ran the carpool this week, and are utterly exhausted. You know you need a day to get caught up, sleep in, and take a little time to yourself. But there it is—guilt lurking around the corner, “What will Aunt Betty think if you don’t show your face at Cousin Amy’s shower?”

    That guilt pushes on you, making you feel as if you are doing something wrong. So, what do you do? You RSVP that you will gladly be there. Oh, and you will also make and bring the punch.

    Pretty effective strategy to get you to follow the rules, right?

    This is why boundaries feel so challenging. Because they are not part of our original hardwiring.

    So where do we start if we want to set healthy boundaries?

    1. Understand that boundaries are first and foremost an internal job.

    Yes, we create parameters and limits with institutions and people. But ultimately, before we can ever do that, we have to start on the inside.

    When we aren’t taught how to properly do the internal work, our boundaries come off as rigid walls and we are left isolated and lonely. I have been that person because I didn’t understand what boundaries were, how to set them, and I certainly wasn’t going to entertain any sort of an uncomfortable conversation that looked like any type of repair or reconciliation work. I was left alone and miserable.

    Boundary work starts by addressing our own issues. And as the inner work is done and healing occurs, it organically flows into changed outer behaviors, habits, and choices. We can be empowered to have loving and compassionate conversations that build bridges of connection rather than walls of isolation.

    2. You have to realize that boundaries are in fact healthy.

    If you don’t believe this then it will be hard to lean into them. Make the agreement right now, or work toward believing, that setting boundaries is healthy for you to do.

    3. You have to know your needs.

    Do you know your needs? Have you ever thought about them? Many people don’t, so if you haven’t, know that it’s not uncommon.

    Start by thinking of what a “good” parent would do for their child. What needs do they help their child remember to meet? I.E., even if the child does not want to go to bed, they help them to calm down and go to sleep. Start by making a list of the needs a good parent will help a child to meet.

    When you’re done with that list, circle the needs that you are not meeting for yourself (or inconsistently meeting).

    For each circled need, respond to the following questions:

    • How do I respond to this need?
    • What gets in the way of responsiveness or consistency?
    • How do I respond to other people when they have this need?
    • How would my life improve if I responded to this need?

    For each need, create an intention that you will honor by setting boundaries if necessary. Focus on one intention a week to get a need met more fully and consistently. I know you want to do more, but remember, your mind will fight you because it wants you simply to stay safe and alive. It will douse you with that guilt working you toward acquiescing and shape shifting, so let’s just focus on nailing one for now. Keeping it simple is key!

    Write out your intentions weekly by finishing the sentence stem:

    My intentions are:

    If you’re working to build up the strength to bring more integrity to your relationships and set healthy boundaries, please understand that you don’t have to go it alone. Be consistent and trust that your hard work in your boundary journey will pay off.

  • How I Stopped Worrying All the Time and Started Feeling Good About Life

    How I Stopped Worrying All the Time and Started Feeling Good About Life

    “We don’t see things as they are. We see things as we are.” ~Anais Nin

    When I was young, I used to stare out into the big, blue sky and ask, “Is this really the right place?” “Did they drop me off on the wrong planet?” I wondered.

    It felt like I didn’t fit in or belong. Things seemed so much easier for others. They moved forward with ease even when something was painful, while I felt an arrow pierce my heart every time a loved one was in pain, or a difficult situation arose.

    When I looked around, I saw so much suffering. Being incredibly sensitive, I did more than watch, I jumped right in the suffering. At the time, I judged myself vehemently for being emotional. I didn’t know that about 20% of the population is highly sensitive and that it’s a trait filled with gifts as well as deep feelings.

    Quietly observing my surroundings, I watched with teary eyes as my family struggled. I felt with deep-rooted sensitivity when my mom felt afraid. I watched the news and thought, “Look at all the horrible things happening out there.” Everything I saw and felt reflected back to me what I decided was true as a child: the world isn’t a safe or good place.

    It was during these early years that I developed a habit of worrying about my loved ones and the world. For me, life was a tornado of worst-case scenarios, and the what-ifs consumed me.

    I didn’t realize at the time that thinking was my way out of feeling my feelings. The pain felt so earth-shattering that I never let it touch me. Instead, I tried to control situations with my thoughts. I didn’t wait and see how things would unfold; I began making negative conclusions so that I could feel safe. If I already knew it was bad, I wouldn’t be shocked when horrible things happened.

    I took on the role of helper to save others. They were in so much pain. I believed that if they weren’t suffering, I wouldn’t suffer and could finally live. I believed I was more powerful because I could hold their pain, connect to it, and help them.

    Since I was in a constant state of overwhelm, my nervous system was on overdrive to protect me from all the thoughts and perceptions I’d adopted about life. Years later, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Disease and saw firsthand the way years of stressing, living in my head, and avoiding my emotions impacted my health.

    A turning point came for me when I realized that all this suffering was my own doing. After receiving painful news about a family member, I had a breakthrough. My reaction to the news was filled with so much pain and fear that I sensed it wasn’t about the circumstances at all.

    It was about me. I had created a life that revolved around fixing others. Needing to help them so that I could feel safe. Believing that the pain I felt was because of them, their hardships, and this dark world we live in.

    The truth was, I was in a lot of pain that had nothing to do with them. I put on my super woman cape with the hope of saving others because it was easier than focusing on myself.

    At the time, I had no idea who I was or what I wanted. I’d been hiding behind the mask of “perfect helper” so I didn’t have to acknowledge that I was struggling with my identity and purpose and commit to the work of discovering and embracing my true self.

    With this sudden awareness, I realized there must be a different way of looking at life. I let my guard down enough to feel, and the emotion erupted through me like a volcano.

    I looked a little deeper and saw that beneath the murky, dark water of my emotions there was a golden door, and the only way into that door was swimming through the water. I used the deep-rooted love I felt for everyone around me and sent it inwards, to the one that needed it most, myself.

    I did this by hiring my first life coach. It was the first time I’d ever invested in myself for the sole purpose of loving and caring for myself. It wasn’t to change the way I looked, to earn more money, to gain a relationship; it was for my heart and soul. To speak up, to be heard, to receive love, and to shine a light on the tangled web I held inside of me.

    I knew that life could be filled with laughter, joy, and confidence if I started focusing more on my own issues and needs than everyone else’s. I was ready to take the weight of the world off my shoulders. I began imagining my life as exciting, filled with adventures, romance, and most of all peace of mind!

    When I turned on the light inside, I discovered I had a deep-rooted belief that my life was in my hands, I held the reins, and I knew wholeheartedly that anything I wanted was possible.

    I recognized that my worries and fears were within me too, and that meant I had the power to shift them.

    That golden door began to feel closer each day as I empowered myself with love and awareness, swam through the waters of pain, and challenged two limiting beliefs—that I needed approval from others to be safe and needed to appear perfect and strong to be worthy.

    I learned that my body was constantly on guard trying to protect me from my worries. Our bodies can’t tell the difference between actual danger and perceived danger. Since I was constantly thinking negative and fearful thoughts, my nervous system perceived danger and was ramped up in case I needed to fight. As I practiced breathwork, yoga, and physical exercise, my nervous system calmed and neutralized.

    Instead of fighting to give up my addictions to worry and anxiety, I began to add in self-love, compassion, and acceptance. I sat with my feelings and invited them to tea. It was scary and shaky but with time and support, I trusted that my life experiences were happening for me and not to me.

    There would always be unknowns in life. Rather than fear or control them, I began to embrace them and accept that whatever was happening was for the highest good. In fact, all the difficulties I encountered became the catalyst for reconnecting with my true self. Rather than see life as good or bad, I removed the label and saw it as all as part of one whole experience.

    The trust and love weren’t hard to find, they were within me. Just as everything is within you right now. The difference was my focus and perspective—instead of leaning on fear and worry and trying to fix and change the world, I began to slow down and let go of the illusion of control.

    Putting myself first and seeing myself meant looking at the broken pieces along with the whole and saying I love it all! I accept it all! I trust it all!

    When I think about life now and the planet my soul dropped onto, I am in awe and wonder of the beauty and magic I see all around me. It is in my daughter’s bright eyes, the warm hug of friend, the sound of the waves crashing on the beach. I now can see what was hidden from me when I was in constant fear.

    The boundless love I have given myself has created a sense of safety that enables me to experience life with far less fear and worry.

    I know that no matter what happens in life, I have my own back. I am listening to my needs and honoring what is present by loving myself through the difficulties that may arise instead of judging or hiding from myself.

    The first step to any great change is awareness. When you meet your awareness with loving arms, magic can happen.

    If you too feel overwhelmed by all the pain around you and think you need to control it to be safe, shift your focus back to yourself. Trust that both the dark and light serve a purpose—for all of us—so you don’t need to save or fix anyone else. You just need to take care of yourself, honor your own needs, and trust that no matter what happens, with the strength of your own self-love, you can handle it.

  • How to Overcome Ultra-Independence and Receive Love and Support

    How to Overcome Ultra-Independence and Receive Love and Support

    “Ultra independence is a coping mechanism we develop when we’ve learned it’s not safe to trust love or when we are terrified to lose ourselves in another. We aren’t meant to go it alone. We are wounded in relationship and we heal in relationship.” ~Rising Woman

    Do you feel like you have to do everything on your own?

    Is it difficult for you to ask for and receive help in fear of being let down?

    Have you ever heard the expression “Ultra-independence may be a trauma response”?

    If this is you, I get it; that was me too.

    Please know there isn’t anything wrong with you. I lived most of my life this way. This way of being was a survival strategy that kept me safe, but it was also very lonely. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, and it wore me out physically because I thought I had to do everything myself.

    We often become ultra-independent because we don’t trust others and/or we may not feel worthy of being loved and supported. Or, we may believe that by denying support from others and doing things ourselves we’ll gain love and acceptance, because we’re not being a burden.

    Maintaining connections and receiving support from others are basic human needs. If we’re saying we don’t need anybody, that’s often coming from a part of ourselves that wants to protect us from hurt, abuse, criticism, disappointment, or rejection.

    If we even consider the possibility of wanting, needing, and/or receiving support from other people, something in us may say, “No way, it’s not safe,” so we keep these thoughts at bay.

    We may think that if we ask for anything then we’re weak or being too needy, and that’s codependency. But we’re not meant to do everything on our own; there is such a thing as healthy codependency.

    Ultra-independence may also be an extreme unspoken boundary, so, what may be important is to learn how to set healthy boundaries so we can feel safe in situations where we thought we’d lose ourselves.

    Sometimes we feel the need to be ultra-independent because we don’t feel safe being vulnerable and letting people in, because if we do, they may see our flaws and insecurities, or they may trigger our unresolved traumas and wounds.

    We may be carrying deep shame, and we don’t want to feel it or have others see it, so we stay away from connecting with and receiving support from other human beings.

    One of the hardest things to fathom is that, although we’ve been hurt in relationships, in supportive relationships we can experience healing and a sense of safety. 

    That didn’t make sense to me, because in my relationships I often experienced criticism, hurt, rejection, and being screamed at for having natural human feelings and needs.

    A part of me wanted support and connections, but another part of me was afraid, because as a child it made my father angry when I asked  for anything. It was hard living in a world where I felt all alone, believing I had to do everything on my own while watching everyone else receive support and connect with their family and friends.

    For me, being ultra-independent eventually led to denying and suppressing my needs and feelings because it got too overwhelming to try to do everything on my own, especially at such a young age.

    At age fifteen I became anorexic, and I struggled with depression, anxiety, and self-harm for over twenty-three years.

    In the midst of that, at age twenty, I let my guard down and got a boyfriend, who I thought loved me because he bought me anything I wanted, but there were strings attached. If I didn’t do what he wanted he would take back the gifts. He became obsessed with me, waited outside of my house when I wouldn’t talk to him, and would draw me in again with gifts and words of seduction.

    This left me confused. “Do I only receive support and things when I’m a slave to somebody?” I wondered. After I finally broke up with him, I made a vow to myself that I would never receive anything from anyone again. 

    I got the opportunity to heal that vow later in my life when I went to Palm Springs with a friend. We were playing the slot machines and he put in $20. I told him “It’s your money if we win.” We won $200 on the first spin, and he told me, “Cash out, you won.”

    When I cashed out, I chased him around the casino, trying to put the money in his pocket. I didn’t want to receive from him because I thought, “Then I owe him, and he owns me.”

    Thankfully, he’s someone I can share anything with, and we talked about it. He told me he knew my struggle, that he didn’t want anything in return, and that it makes him happy to give to his friends and family. This experience helped me see things differently.

    My healing journey really began at age forty when I started learning how to reconnect with myself, my needs, and my feelings and started healing the trauma I was carrying. I also learned how to ask for support, which wasn’t easy at the beginning; some people got mad at me, and some people were happy to fulfill my requests and needs.

    Instead of blaming and shaming myself for believing I had to do everything on my own, I made peace with the part of me that felt it didn’t need anybody. By listening to its fears I started understanding why it thought I needed protecting.

    It revealed to me the pain it felt of being rejected, hurt, and screamed at for having human feelings and needs, and that it didn’t want to experience that pain again.

    As I listened to this part of myself with compassion, I acknowledged and validated the fear and pain it experienced, thanked it for doing what it was doing, and let it know it was now loved and safe.

    I asked it what it really wanted, and it said, “I want to have true connections. I want to feel safe with and receive support from others, but I’m afraid.”

    This younger part of me was stuck in perspective from my childhood wounding and the experience with the guy I was dating. By giving this part of me a chance to speak and tell me its intentions, I was able to help it/me have a new understanding and feel loved and safe.

    I also began to have a more realistic view of who is and who isn’t safe, instead of seeing no one as safe based on outdated neuro programming stemming from my past traumas, hurts, and pains.

    Being ultra-independent did help me heal from all those years of struggling with anorexia, depression, and anxiety. Even after twenty-three years of going in and out of hospitals and treatment centers and doing traditional therapy and nothing working, I finally took my healing into my own hands, and yes, I did most of it on my own.

    However, even doing it on my own, I found it was also helpful to be in a loving and supportive environment with people who didn’t try to fix, control, or save me.

    We’re not meant to be or do life alone, but being alone can be comforting if we fear being hurt by others. 

    This doesn’t mean we should force ourselves to ask for and receive support from others, especially if we’re afraid; it means we need to create a loving and caring relationship with ourselves and understand where the need to be ultra-independent is coming from as a first step toward letting people in.

    A great question to ask yourself is “Why is it not okay for me to receive support?” Be with that part of you, allow it to show you what it believes, and take time to listen with compassion. Then ask it what it really wants and needs.

    Receiving support isn’t about being totally dependent on others, that’s just a setup for frustration and disappointment; it’s also important to learn how to be independent and meet our needs. This isn’t either/or, it’s both.

    Learning how to connect with our feelings and needs and how to communicate them and make requests is also important.

    For instance, if you’re going through a challenge and you would like support from someone, you can say, “I’m having a hard time right now, and I would really like someone who I can talk to, someone who will just listen without trying to change me or my situation. Is that something you would be willing to do?”

    If this feels impossible for you, it might help to repeat some affirmations related to letting people in and receiving support. If some of these don’t resonate yet, instead of using “I am” start with “I like the idea of…”

    I am worthy of being supported and loved.

    I am worthy of having heartfelt connections.

    It’s safe for me to have this experience.

    I am worthy of being seen, heard, and accepted,

    I am worthy of being loved and cared for by myself and others.

    I am worthy of shining authentically,

    I am worthy of receiving help and support.

    There isn’t anything you need to earn or prove. You are worthy because you are beautiful and amazing you.

    —

    If you’re shutting people out because of your past traumas, as I once did, know that you don’t need to do everything on your own just because you were hurt in the past. Some people may let you down, but there are plenty of good people out there who want to love and support you—you just have to let them in.

  • Ending My Toxic Relationship with My Mother Was an Act of Self-Love

    Ending My Toxic Relationship with My Mother Was an Act of Self-Love

    “It’s okay to let go of those who couldn’t love you. Those who didn’t know how to. Those who failed to even try. It’s okay to outgrow them, because that means you filled the empty space in you with self-love instead. You’re outgrowing them because you’re growing into you. And that’s more than okay, that’s something to celebrate.” ~Angelica Moone

    I was taught to love my family and to just accept the love they give. With the passage of time and the dawning of maturity, I began to doubt this kind of unquestioning love. The chronic emotional and mental stress of the relationship with my mother came into a new light after the birth of my youngest daughter.

    I could no longer avoid and just accept a toxic relationship that was void of emotion and affection. I began to look at the dysfunctional familial relationship with her through the eyes of a new parent and started to see things differently.

    I started asking myself questions like “Would I ever purposely treat my child with such indifference and disregard them so callously?” So many more questions I asked myself were met with “no.” So, why would I just accept this behavior? Why was I allowing this constant stress to take up so much energy in my life?

    I can look back and see now that I was holding out hope for a grand gesture while craving to receive maternal feelings of love and security.  My inner child was holding out for love from the person that gave birth to her, but the adult in me sees that the love I was truly needing was love for myself. 

    The walls to unquestioning family loyalty came tumbling down around me about five years ago. My husband and I had been living in the Bay Area and felt strongly that it would be nice to raise a family near family. So, before the birth of our youngest, we decided after fifteen years of living in California to move across the country to Connecticut.

    During our plans to move, I held on to the delusion that if I lived closer, my mother would want to be part of our lives. She even called me while packing up our last few moving boxes to tell me how thrilled she was that we were moving back and that she could not wait to visit us all the time. She never came to visit; I had built up the illusion that she wanted to be part of our lives.

    The coup de grace was when she called me out of the blue on her drive up from Florida, where she vacations in the winter, tell me she was planning on stopping for a quick visit on her way home to Massachusetts. Giving me a time frame as to when she would be arriving.

    As the week passed, she did not call or visit. However, I did receive an out of the blue message three months later to say hi, which never acknowledged the previous plan to visit.

    It was after this final act of indifference that I made the decision, I could no longer allow the hurt and manipulation to continue. What was I teaching my children about boundaries if I was not creating healthy boundaries?

    My therapist once asked me “Would you go shopping at a clothing store for groceries”? When I answered, no, it dawned on me that I wouldn’t, so why was I expecting something different from my mother?

    I once read that people can change, but toxic people rarely do. Toxic individuals, according to this adage, seldom change. Because if someone isn’t accepting responsibility for their acts and lacks self-awareness, how can you expect them to alter their ways? The change I was waiting for was not her to change but my willingness to change.

    At first, I questioned my decision to end this relationship. Was it cruel of me to not allow my children to know their grandmother? However, at the same time the realization came that she was not really a part of our lives.

    Unraveling this toxic tie has been an act of self-love. For myself, for my inner child who is still healing, and for my children, so they can witness their mother loving herself enough to quit letting someone else harm her.

    Since this decision, I have had family try and talk to me about my decision. Telling me stories of how their friends severed their relationship with a family member and regretted it after their passing. When that time happens, I will grieve, I will grieve for what never was.

    Instead of clinging to this toxic relationship, I am teaching my children so much more by ending the cycle of neglect and creating healthy boundaries. I am showing my children how to love themselves.

  • Scared of Losing People You Love? How to Work through the Fear

    Scared of Losing People You Love? How to Work through the Fear

    “People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges.” ~Joseph F. Newton

    “Oh my God, Mom…” she said with a verbal eye roll.

    “What?” I responded, sure that I had said too much or overshared like I normally do.

    I can’t recall what my daughter and I were discussing openly about while standing in line at the grocery store checkout, but I do remember the girl ringing us up laughing and saying we sounded just like her and her mom.

    I paused, unsure what that meant.

    “Is this what a healthy mother/daughter relationship sounds like?” I questioned to myself. It was a completely foreign concept to me.

    I wanted to create a strong bond with my daughter, but my own relationship with my mother was dysfunctional and boundary-less when I was a child, leading me to overthink everything when it came to creating a relationship with my daughter.

    My mother had significant mental health challenges, which eventually led to her death by suicide.

    I had no idea what healthy felt like.

    Insecurity plagued me when it came to connecting with my daughter. Was I giving her too much or not giving her enough? Did she trust me? Did she feel comforted by me? Was I too lenient? Was I too distant?

    It was hard to tell when the voices of doubt chimed in.

    I’ve watched other moms with their daughters since I was a young girl. I wasn’t exactly sure what normal was, but I knew it was not telling their daughters how depressed they were or talking through their marital issues. I knew it was not asking their daughters for advice and relying on them to feel good enough to get out of bed by midday.

    I knew my relationship with my mom was different, but it was the only one I had. My normal was gripping codependency and making sure she was okay so she would be there the next day.

    I didn’t want that relationship with my daughter. I wanted her to feel whole and complete and deeply loved without having to take care of another human being to feel it.

    My journey into motherhood was far from easy. With few role models and almost no experience with children, I felt like I had nothing to go on besides instinct alone. And my instincts were part of my problem. I couldn’t always hear them.

    When a child grows up in a volatile environment during their early development, they learn to distrust connection. When what feels comforting and loving one minute can turn to betrayal and rejection in the next, trust in others does not come easily.

    A human’s natural inclination is to want connection, but inconsistency or harm against a person creates a fear in that same connection. When this happens during early development, the child learns to fear what it also deeply desires—which develops into an adult who is quietly terrified to experience and trust reciprocal love.

    The only way I knew how to create that healthy connection was to look deeply into myself and be aware of my patterns and how I was passing them on. And so I observed—a lot.

    I observed other families and the way mothers spoke to their daughters. I observed the way the daughters responded to their moms. I watched what drew my daughter in, and I watched what pushed her away.

    I learned to listen without speaking (which is absolute torture when codependency feels like home), and I learned to ask more questions instead of giving unsolicited advice. I’m still learning, and most likely will be for the long haul since old habits die hard.

    But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just learning how to respond to normal discomfort when someone I love was uncomfortable. It was learning to respond to normal discomfort when I was uncomfortable. It was learning to not shut down and begin to emotionally detach when insecurity started to get loud.

    Raising my children is one of the biggest challenges I’ve had to navigate with these embedded fears. To give birth to a part of you and know your job is to let this soul grow into themselves while they slowly leave you a little more each day. Pulling them close to me to feel safe and loved and teaching them to leave all at the same time. It’s like one long continual dance of love and grief.

    My daughter started college this year and I knew it was going to be tough when she moved on campus, but I had no idea the depth of the grief I would feel. It’s not logical. And the logical part of me likes reason and boxes to put my feelings in. I cognitively knew it was temporary, but my body did not know. It stores memories of every loss and every time I’ve felt left behind, and it was eager to remind me.

    “Life will never be the same again. It’s over.”

    And that is true. But until those old pangs of grief retell their stories without being dismissed and reprimanded for being dramatic or “too much,” I could not see that the new life may even be better than the one before.

    When I let myself experience the sad and angry feelings without reacting to them, they moved through me faster and I could see what I needed to stay connected.

    I requested we have small doses of consistent communication during the beginning stages of her being gone so I could show my fears they were unwarranted. We sent pictures on snapchat most days, and it was just enough to feel connected without being intrusive. It worked for us and comforted my childhood-driven fear until it passed.

    The first time she came home was over a month after she left. Our oversized puppy expressed it best with his big cries and leaping happiness to be with her again. We missed her and our little family felt the absence of her presence in a big way.

    The joy of her energy filling our house was immense. To be in my space again and under my care felt like she never left. She was in and out and visiting friends and doing her thing, but her presence was the reassurance I needed.

    It felt like the scared toddler in me re-experienced object permanence. Proof that it’s safe to trust that if love walks out the door, it also returns. Maybe not in the same shape or the same way, but it comes back when it’s ready… and maybe it never truly left to begin with.

    My little-girl heart, still quietly afraid of loss, was healing.

    Fears of re-experiencing old pains and heartache are the norm in the human experience, and the more we understand our fears, the more we can work with them to keep our connections strong and secure. It also helps us to not pass them on to our children, our partners, our friends and family.

    Our job is not to silence our pain or our fears. Our job is to invite them to the table, let them speak, let them breathe, and let them share their story to completion. Their interrupted cycle is what keeps them around longer as they impatiently wait to be noticed.

    When a fear shows itself through strong surges of emotion (sadness, anger, loneliness, etc.), ask it for more information like you would someone else.

    You can do this verbally out loud or write it out. Ask, tell me more about that pain or fear. What does it feel like? Where do you feel it in your body? Does it hurt or feel restricting? Have you experienced this feeling before?

    Then ask when was the last time you recall feeling this way. What was happening? Who did it involve? What were you scared of? What was the outcome? What might you be doing right now to avoid that same pain? Is it working?

    As you start to uncover the sensations and emotions, ask, what would you tell someone else who was experiencing this same pain? What would you tell a child?

    And my favorite question, what is the most loving and compassionate thing you can do for yourself right now?

    Questions like these give us the opportunity to feel our feelings without transferring them on to someone else and give them a voice they might not normally have. Our inherent need to be seen and heard is met, and we are not ignoring what is asking to be felt.

    The more we let ourselves feel, the more we can hear the voice underneath the feelings once they pass. The quiet intuitive voice who always knows how to nurture us, heal our wounds, and instructs us how to have the courage and ability to have loving relationships with those we care about.

    It’s normal to have fear in our connections. It’s part of our experience as humans and often how we learn about ourselves most. But to let those fears dictate the way we connect keeps us from connecting in the ways we truly crave. True intimacy requires vulnerability and a trust that starts within ourselves. The more we are willing to listen to the fears that drive us, the more we are open to the love that feeds us.

    What are you really scared of? Let your fears be heard, but let your heart lead the way.

  • How to Trust Yourself After the Trauma of Being Dismissed and Invalidated

    How to Trust Yourself After the Trauma of Being Dismissed and Invalidated

    “Have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.” ~Steve Jobs

    I was a sensitive child growing up, and I felt everything deeply. Unfortunately, my childhood home was dominated by chronic tension, fear, and anger—not an ideal environment for anyone, let alone a perceptive and empathic child.

    My father was rather authoritative and controlling, and he disciplined us harshly. I was raised to obey without questioning and punished for mistakes or not falling in line.

    Love was only assumed but never shared, and so I grew up feeling alone, unsupported, and like I was never enough. Craving my parents’ love and attention, I became the good girl, the overachiever, the people pleaser, the caretaker—the chameleon who knew how to morph herself to fit the environment in order to feel accepted. Over the years, I lost a sense of who I was, never really feeling like I belonged.

    Instead, I felt like I had no voice. My feelings were chronically dismissed or invalidated—there was no room for what I wanted, felt, or needed.

    I grew up thinking others knew what was good for me better than I did myself. I grew up seeking their approval, attention, and affection. I grew up disconnected from my own feelings and instead hyper-attuned to what others needed from me. Disconnected from my emotions and judgments, I second-guessed myself, never quite trusting my instincts about what was healthy and what was not.

    Loyal to a fault, I tolerated toxic relationships, unable to leave people who gave me just enough attention to keep me around but not enough for me to feel fulfilled. I ended up chasing people who were unavailable, invalidating, and unsupportive; love entangled with pain was all I knew.

    I became a caretaker who forgot she has needs too. I compromised my values, kept giving chances to people who’d take me for granted, eventually erecting walls to protect myself from the world that just didn’t get me, didn’t value me—a world that didn’t care.

    Isolated, lost, and depressed, I finally realized that the hurt inside me was hurting the people I love the most—my own children. I didn’t want to pass my trauma and my parents’ trauma down to the next generation, so I made a promise to myself to heal as best I could.

    This was the first step on my journey back to myself. It took me years, but I eventually came home.

    Trauma Leaves an Imprint on the Body, Mind, Heart, and Soul

    Adverse experiences in childhood leave a mark on a developing brain, personality, and a sense of self, especially if we did not receive adequate support and nurturing through the crisis. Worse yet if the trauma was chronic.

    The reality is that trauma during childhood affects us to the core and rattles our sense of self. Not receiving the love, care, support and validation we need at our most vulnerable time leaves us feeling less than, undeserving, abandoned, and broken.

    We often grow up internalizing fear, anger, guilt, shame, helplessness and a feeling of being unsafe in the world. Overwhelmed, we push the pain away and put on masks in order to survive. This isolates us and disconnects us from ourselves and the world around us, keeping us small, scared, and unfulfilled.

    Growing up in an unstable or abusive home means we often become hypersensitive to stress, emotionally reactive, and unable to assert ourselves or go after what we want in life. We’re ridden with self-doubt, anxiety, and chronic overwhelm.

    We lose our sense of agency and safety. We stop trusting our own judgment and trusting in the flow of life.

    We become overly controlling, perfecting, pleasing, and performing. Desperately trying to mask our shame and the feeling like we don’t belong, we become a warped version of ourselves, stuck in a cycle of fight-and-flight, push and pull, constantly negotiating between states of avoiding and reacting.

    This affects us on physical, mental, emotional, and energetic levels. We get cut off from our intuition, our authenticity, and our higher self. We lose sight of who we are and what makes us happy.

    Childhood Trauma Destroys Trust

    When those who are supposed to love and protect us harm or neglect us instead, trust is broken. When our caregivers don’t reflect our worth back to us, we never learn to internalize it. We grow up believing that we don’t deserve love, care, and attention.

    If our feelings and emotions are not validated growing up, we begin to believe that they are invalid, that we shouldn’t feel them, that they are wrong. We begin to doubt ourselves and how we feel. Our sense of trust in our own experience is shaken.

    Instead of listening to our inner voice, we let the outside world dictate how to live, feel, and behave. We lose a sense of who we are, what we want, and how we feel. This disconnect from our innermost self means that we end up living a life that isn’t really ours—it’s perhaps a successful life by modern standards, but not an authentic and fulfilling life.

    This was my experience—until I learned to tune into my intuition.

    Your Intuition is Your Superpower

    Our intuition is the bridge connecting our body, mind, and soul. This is not the loud voice of our ego, but the quiet yet steady one underneath our judgments, assumptions, and interpretations.

    Just as our body communicates through our senses, our spirit speaks to us through insights, hunches, dreams, and gut feelings—our intuition. Listening to that inner wisdom and allowing it to guide us toward what is best for us in the moment—and then following that intuitive knowing—opens the doorways for higher knowledge to enter our consciousness.

    Aligning with the higher self this way doesn’t remove challenges and difficulties from our lives, but it fortifies our strength and courage and helps us find a path toward fulfillment.

    Rebuilding Self-Trust

    Trust is the foundation of any relationship, and that includes the one we have with ourselves. Without being able to trust ourselves, we’re unable to make decisions, we lack confidence, and we feel like we have no control over our own lives. Instead, we are plagued with confusion, fear, and self-doubt.

    Fortunately, self-trust can be nurtured and strengthened. Here’s what helped me learn to trust my emotions, intuition, and judgment after the trauma of being dismissed and invalidated as a kid.

    Spend time alone and reconnect with yourself.

    Carve out some time in the day to just be and enjoy yourself—without any distractions. This may mean sitting in silence in your garden, meditating, or just listening to nature. Maybe you best connect with yourself on long walks. Or maybe you best hear yourself by writing your thoughts out—journaling about what matters to you, the lessons you learned from the past, or dreams you have for the future.

    Whatever you choose, daily alone time will help you reset and renew, reconnect with who you are, and realign you with your true nature. The goal is to silence your mind and create space so that insight can come into your awareness.

    Practice mindfulness.

    Slow down and check in with yourself throughout the day. Sense into your body. How does it feel right now? What sensations are you noticing? What emotions are coming up? What wants to be heard? Fully tune into your inner experience in the moment. Consciously observe what is happening internally and take in any messages that you are receiving.

    For example, you may find that you need to put up a boundary with a friend or a loved one. Perhaps you need to say no to an expectation in order to protect your mental health. Maybe you need to speak your truth or let something go if it no longer serves you. Follow these internal cues—they are your guides to what you want and don’t want in your life.

    By tuning in and listening to your inner voice, you stay true to yourself. Instead of reacting habitually out of fear—saying yes out of a sense of obligation, staying quiet in order to keep the peace, or choosing others over yourself—you learn to respond from your inner wisdom and become more aligned with your wants and needs. You learn to have your own back.

    Process stuck energies.

    Take the time to feel any pain and trauma you’re still holding onto instead of repressing your feelings and distracting yourself with work, mindless scrolling, or substances. Gently and lovingly, acknowledge what happened and allow the hurt to come up, whether through physical sensations, feelings, or thoughts.

    Sit with the discomfort watching it ebb and flow through your body. Observe it, embrace it, and surround it with kindness. Extend compassion to yourself for going through that experience alone. Give yourself the love and nurturing you needed but never received. Finally, consciously release it as if it’s just a cloud in the sky passing through, imagining feeling lighter and lighter.

    Allowing the stuck energies to move through your physical body dissolves their power so that you’re no longer controlled by your past conditioning, painful experiences, and knee-jerk reactions. The trick is learning to surrender and allow the process to complete, one breath at a time.

    The more painful the experience, the more time it takes to heal it. Be patient with yourself. You may have to sit with your pain again and again, but each time you will get closer to releasing its grip and finding peace.

    Put yourself first.

    This isn’t selfish—it’s taking ownership. And it’s empowering. Nurture your body, mind, and heart, prioritizing your own needs before you give to anyone else.

    Create boundaries to protect your energy. Love yourself enough to keep commitments to yourself, your healing journey, and your growth—by showing up to do the work no matter how hard it gets.

    Have your own back and stand up for yourself. Encourage yourself through hard times and celebrate your successes. Practice kindness, not perfection. Become your best friend and your loudest supporter. Be authentically you!

    When I started putting myself first, my whole energy shifted. Instead of looking to others for validation and approval, I reached within. Instead of waiting for them to fulfill me, I started giving myself the love, care, and attention I craved. By focusing on meeting my own needs first, I was able to give to others from a place of love instead of obligation.

    I used to feel anxious, burnt out, resentful, and taken for granted. Now I was showing others how I wanted to be treated.

    By prioritizing myself, I was sending a message that my needs are just as important, and I deserve love and care too. The more I showed up for myself, the more I trusted that I was worth showing up for. As I drew boundaries, released the need to hold onto toxic or one-sided relationships, and started building the life I wanted to have, I found inner peace. I found my worth. I came home to myself.

    —

    Reclaiming your sense of self and the ability to trust your feelings and intuition is not only paramount to healing but also creating a fulfilling life.

    By reconnecting with myself, practicing mindfulness, processing stuck energies, and putting myself first, I’ve learned to access and trust my intuition about what I need and what’s best for me. I reclaimed my worth and rebuilt a strong sense of self. As a result, I no longer attract or accept toxic relationships or situations. I trust that I deserve better—and I know you do too.

  • Toxic Help: 3 Signs Your Support Is Doing More Harm Than Good

    Toxic Help: 3 Signs Your Support Is Doing More Harm Than Good

    “There is no exercise better for the heart than reaching down and lifting people up.” ~John Holmes

    As someone who people often come to seeking help or advice, I recently encountered a new situation for me: one in which I chose to stop helping someone and walk away entirely because I determined it wasn’t good—for the other person or myself.

    It felt like the wrong thing to do, but once I had some distance, I knew I had made the right decision. Throughout the helping, I soldiered on and helped and helped and helped until it no longer felt good, and sometime after that I determined it was no longer help at all—it was enablement.

    My good friend—let’s call him Jack—has had a series of extremely toxic relationships. Infidelity, dramatic and very public confrontations, drug abuse, police involvement…. Jack has always played the role of victim in these cases, and in the three relationships I saw him in during the time of our friendship, he was cheated on, dumped, thrown out of the house, and physically abused. He can’t seem to help himself in this regard.

    Last year, he entered a relationship that was problematic before it even began. The very first official date with Henry, the guy who later became his partner, Henry stormed out of a dinner with a group of people, got extremely intoxicated, and got into a fist fight (with a legally blind person no less) and thrown out of another establishment later. This was all on the first date mind you!

    In a sense, this was very lucky. When someone shows you their worst selves, that is often after years together, a shared home, or maybe even a marriage. At that point, it’s usually emotionally and perhaps even logistically very difficult to walk away. On date #1, not so much!

    And yet, Jack persisted.

    Over the course of the next few weeks, Henry, who was already living paycheck to paycheck, was fired from his new job (for which he relocated internationally) for having a shouting match with the boss, and had a dramatic fight with his older sister, who was his only acquaintance in this new country and perhaps his only source of financial support.

    It also became clear the guy was an alcoholic and drug addict. Without a job or the help of his sister, who do you think he immediately turned to for money? Yup, Jack.

    Before too long, Henry’s temper tantrums were directed at Jack’s friends, including myself. The first day I met him, Henry screamed and yelled at me over dinner. In short order, the temper tantrums were turned on Jack, and soon the words became closed fists. He beat up Jack a few times—once leaving Jack with a pair of black eyes—and yet, it was Henry who dumped Jack. Jack kept coming back for more!

    This all unfolded over the course of about six months. During this time, Jack frequently sought my advice. Whenever we talked, I of course let him know how unacceptable Henry’s behavior was, but also tried to get Jack to accept the deeper reality of the situation—that no one who was okay with themselves would tolerate this type of behavior from someone else and that Jack needed to really work on himself.

    As the situation became more threatening and then violent, I counseled Jack in no uncertain terms that it was time to get the hell out of there. Had I been aware shortly after the physically violent episodes (Jack only told me weeks after the fact), I very likely would have become directly involved and called the police.

    After each of these conversations, Jack’s mood brightened from despondent to anywhere from determined to energized. He was going to take action. He was going to see a therapist. He was going to stop giving Henry money and leave him. He was going to make sure not to speak with him alone. And each time… nothing. Same story each time. Each time I saw Jack, Henry was there, often belligerent, and always intoxicated with something.

    However, as incomprehensible as Jack’s behavior and decision-making seemed, it’s not uncommon for victims of abuse, who often suffer from past traumas and therefore have underlying emotional and psychological issues that require professional attention. In fact, it has a name: trauma bonding. I was aware of that, so beyond trying to help protect Jack’s physical safety, I was patient in nudging him toward seeing someone.

    What finally did it for me—the last straw—was after the second or third incident of physical abuse. Jack’s friends, some of whom I knew, were very happy to gossip and complain about the situation behind Jack’s back, especially insofar as it affected their social plans. However, they didn’t intervene or offer him help in any way that I could see.

    Likewise, Jack lived at home with his parents and siblings. Even after coming home black and blue and bleeding, they took no action and never discussed the situation.

    A week later, there were social media postings of Jack and Henry back together again, all smiles. The friends who knew of the abuse? They awarded those posts with smiley faces, hearts, and thumbs up.

    At that point, I realized that I just couldn’t fight this battle alone. It’s difficult enough to try and help someone who is not able to help themselves and indeed seems intent on hurting themselves, but when such a person’s self-destructive behavior is supported and enabled by a whole community of people surrounding them? That is an impossible situation, so I took myself out of it and broke contact. I was out of the country at the time, so it was easier to do this at that point.

    I thought about why I did this. It wasn’t because Jack was so intent on his self-destructive behavior—that just made it difficult, and it’s hardly a unique circumstance. It wasn’t because it was unpleasant—helping someone who really needs it often isn’t pleasant or glamorous, however good it might feel after the fact. And it also wasn’t that I felt in danger from Henry—he was a classic bully, beating up on people weaker than he was, but I didn’t have to see him.

    No, this was something else entirely. This was “toxic help,” and I thought about it and figured out three ways to identify it as such. With these conditions, it’s difficult for me to imagine any help actually being helpful, in which case it’s better for you and indeed everyone else if you extricate yourself.

    3 Ways to Identify Toxic Help

    1. You check yourself and don’t like what you find.

    Whenever you help someone, you should always check yourself first to ensure that this help is coming from a good place, from the standpoint of both your mind and emotions.

    The ego often plays a critical role in instances of toxic help. If you delve deep, you may find that you are actually pushing some agenda or subconscious ulterior motive on the other person.

    For example, you may be helping in part because you are re-enacting some past trauma or mistake you made and trying to fix your past self. Or, you may be trying to impress the person or make yourself feel superior. There are a lot of ways your ego could be manipulating the situation.

    In my case, I didn’t find any evidence of a subconscious ulterior motive. However, what I did find was that I had developed a lot of negative emotions around the whole situation.

    I was frustrated with Jack for making the same error over and over and over again. I was angry with Jack for constantly disregarding my advice—my advice… and that is where my ego started showing through.

    I was furious with his friends and family for allowing and even encouraging the situation to continue and tired of seemingly being the lone voice of care, concern, and sanity. If I was at a more evolved state, that negativity would not have arisen, so that’s probably something I should work on myself. But that was the best I could do at that time.

    Help can never come from a place of anger, any more than it can frustration, resentment, or greed. Negative emotions are part of life, but acting on them pollutes the world with that negativity. I realized that my efforts to “help” were becoming increasingly hostile in nature, and at that point nothing I would do was likely to be successful, because it was no longer coming from a place of love.

    Moreover, negativity transfers, as life is not compartmentalized. My anger, frustration, and other negative emotions were surely spilling over into other facets of my life—my work, friendships, and causal interactions. At that point, even if I was still in a position to help Jack, I’m not sure if it would have been a net positive for the world if, while doing that, I was not honoring the other people and responsibilities in my life.

    2. Your help is causing the other person to stagnate.

    Jack, as I mentioned, normally seemed to brighten a bit after each of our little talks. He would come away feeling more determined, agreeing with my analysis, and sure he was going to do something about it. Walking away from each of those interactions, his back seemed a little straighter and his head held higher. And yet, nothing changed in the situation.

    However, that’s normal with intractable problems and deep-seated behavioral patterns—they’re difficult to change! I realized that my help was not merely failing to have a positive impact, it was making things worse.

    It became clear that each time Jack spoke to me, he mentally tagged that as “doing something.” He felt better that he’d talked through the issues, apparently made some decisions, and probably because he got a lot off his chest—all healthy things. Yet, in his mind, that represented action and progress. When he spoke to me after the fact about what concrete decisions and steps he’d taken, he would offer up our last talk as an example.

    In this way, our talks became like a drug—a little pick-me-up that provided a brief high but did nothing to actually move Jack forward.

    Our talks were counter-productive in this way because they made him feel better, when in fact it is discomfort that typically spurs people to take difficult action. Our talks made him feel more comfortable, when what he needed was to feel less comfortable with the situation. The result was that Jack was avoiding taking the positive steps he needed, such as seeking professional help.

    3. You start role playing “savior” and “person in distress.”

    Any truly close relationship with someone must be authentic. It doesn’t involve role-playing or people doing what they’re “supposed to do” just because it’s something they’re “supposed to do.” It is an exchange, a give-and-take, an open dialogue, and a two-way street.

    Surely, in a long-term relationship, there will inevitably be periods in which one party is the needy one and the other is the helper. Yet, when those roles calcify into giver and taker, and every interaction is one of helping and being helped, that’s no longer a friendship—it’s a co-dependence.

    In my case, Jack had become stagnant. He was not moving forward. If ever he was looking for just some social interaction or “chill time,” he would call Henry or one of his other friends, and this often involved substance abuse. My role just became the helper and advisor, and in truth, our “sessions” had just morphed into pick-me-ups for Jack, so it was no longer even helpful for him.

    So, our relationship became boxed in this way with no clear way forward. Jack got fulfilment of his complex and unhealthy emotional needs from Henry, he got his social needs fulfilled by his enabling friends, and he got his help from me. We all had our parts to play, and indeed the other parties in his life encouraged this system to continue by enabling his behavior.

    The only way I saw to break the mold was for me to change the dynamic, and so I did.

    Not surprisingly, after Henry left the picture, Jack stopped calling for help. He didn’t notice that I wasn’t at his birthday party because I was out of the country, but then again, he didn’t even know that I was out of the country. He hadn’t needed help for a few weeks, so the calls stopped. as my role was temporarily written out of the script… until his next toxic relationship, when he’ll need to find a new helper.

    None of this was easy for me, and it didn’t feel good or natural. I am not one to turn my back on anyone in need, especially not a friend. But I learned and came to accept that I can’t do everything and should not take responsibility to fix what is beyond my ability.

    I really wish the best for Jack, and it would be nice to one day re-establish a relationship, but I needed to create distance in order to restore my own well-being, break the co-dependence that had developed, and banish the helper/person in distress roles that had hardened. In this way, I could be my best self, which ultimately is what’s most helpful to the world.

  • What No One Tells You About Setting Boundaries: The Good, Bad, and Ugly

    What No One Tells You About Setting Boundaries: The Good, Bad, and Ugly

    “Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” ~Rumi

    Three years back was the first time I dared to set a boundary and be assertive in a friendship, and guess what? She blocked me on her phone, and we stopped being friends.

    It came as a rude shock because I was quite invested in the friendship. Not only did we have good times together, but I had helped her search for and find a job and even babysat her kid for a long while free of charge. I felt betrayed and hurt. It made me feel like I was the one in the wrong, the bad person, and like I had no right to say what felt right to me.

    I admit that I was early in my journey of being assertive and learning how to set boundaries, so my skill set wasn’t the best. But despite the mayhem and chaos it caused, it was a good thing for me.

    We were similar in many ways, and I knew she was a lovely person. Still, I didn’t particularly appreciate that she always wanted to be in charge, acted as though she knew it all, only wanted her way, and behaved as though she had the world’s worst problems.

    I empathized with her because she shared her struggles with me. But I didn’t share mine back partly because I wasn’t comfortable and partly because I felt there was no place for me; it was only about her. So, one day, when I’d had enough, I exploded and said what I had to say, rudely, and that ended the relationship.

    Three years later, when the dust settled, we started talking. We are cordial, civilized, and respectful now. We share laughs and anecdotes, but it’ll never be the same because we’ve both changed, and our relationship has changed as well.

    After taking this journey, I’ve concluded that being assertive and setting boundaries is not as easy as it sounds. But it’s the only way to regain your sense of self, sanity, and self-love.

    What are the Benefits of Maintaining Boundaries?

    Boundaries are limits between us and other people that enable us to honor our feelings, wants, and needs and take good care of ourselves. We need to set boundaries because:

    • Boundaries offer protection against people who habitually do things that leave us feeling uncomfortable.
    • Correcting troublesome behavior and letting other people know what’s acceptable or not, where we stand, and what we are willing to tolerate drastically improves our sense of self.
    • Setting boundaries helps us trust ourselves and, in turn, trust others.
    • It helps us treat ourselves and others as equal with respect and dignity.
    • It teaches us what’s essential for us and gives us the courage to stand up for it.
    • It builds our confidence as we work on our assertiveness muscle.
    • Boundary-setting is generous to others because it allows them to grow and take responsibility for themselves, their actions, and their issues.

    So, if boundary-setting is such a good thing, what’s the problem?

    The problem is that it’s hard, especially for people who are not used to setting boundaries. It can make you question yourself and your intentions and turn your world topsy-turvy.

    Why Is Boundary-Setting So Difficult?

    Most people with weak boundaries:

    • Are not aware of their needs, and this takes lots of time and practice.
    • Are afraid to stand up for themselves.
    • Don’t believe that they deserve to have their boundaries recognized and honored.
    • Are afraid that people will think they are selfish.
    • Think it is wrong to think about themselves because of various cultural or religious influences.
    • Believe that what they want is unreasonable.

    How Do You Start Setting Boundaries?

    1. Take inventory.

    Have you ever been in a situation where you felt like you were being taken advantage of, taken for granted, or treated disrespectfully? When you feel any of these things, you need to ask yourself:

    • What are you feeling? Is it anger, hurt, betrayal?
    • What brought about those feelings? What did the other person do? Did they disregard your feelings or act dismissive? Did they cross a line you’d rather no one cross?
    • How did you react to the situation? Did you ignore it, make an excuse for them, or get angry and resentful but fake a smile?
    • Why did you tolerate this behavior and respond this way? What were you afraid of?

    So, the first step is being conscious of what happened and what you’re feeling.

    This is essential because it helps you become aware of your needs, wants, and limits; notice when someone is neglecting or violating them; and reflect on how you usually respond—and why.

    2. Be honest and courageous.

    The second step is being honest about what you would like to do in the situation and reflecting so you can find the fairest and healthiest way to respond.

    Then comes the hardest part: finding the courage to act even if it may displease, anger, or irritate the other person.

    Everything inside you might scream that this is a mistake. You may feel scared, anxious, and even unsafe speaking up. But remember that ignoring the issue is not a solution because you will just end up feeling resentful if you continually avoid saying what you really want to say.

     What No One Tells You About Setting Boundaries

    1. You may feel guilty.

    Somewhere down the line, you may have learned that your needs, feelings, and wants are less important than others’. When you start making changes, it may feel like you are embarking on a journey of selfishness and betraying the very core of your being.

    2. You will likely make mistakes.

    You are learning a new skill, and mistakes are bound to happen. You may overreact to minor issues or fail to communicate your feelings and needs accurately or clearly. There’s no right or wrong here, only a learning curve. You can always change your decision or apologize later if you realize that your decision wasn’t the best.

    3. It sometimes feels like you are at war with yourself.

    To some extent, that’s what this is. A war with what you once believed to be true but isn’t anymore, a war against your default responses.

    4.  It is not easy.

    It will sometimes mean wrong turns, slip-ups, and lost relationships. But if you’re honest with yourself, you may realize that those relationships were already dead to begin with; you were trying to nurture doomed relationships because you were afraid to let them go.

    5. It makes you confront demons you didn’t know you had.

    Your insecurity, your feelings of low self-worth, your fear of being rejected or alone—all this and more bubbles to the surface when you get honest about why you’ve struggled with boundary-setting and start pushing past your blocks.

    6. It takes all you have, tears you up, and breaks you down.

    But when it’s all done and over, you build strength, wisdom, and trust in yourself. You learn to give your feelings more credence, knowing they’re an internal signal that something is off and you need to investigate them further so you can decide what’s really best for you.

    So yes, boundaries can be life-changing, but the emotional upheaval that often accompanies them isn’t for the fainthearted. Changing yourself, getting out of your comfort zone, and doing what is right for you can trigger your reptilian brain, which craves safety, making you feel like you are doing something wrong. Arnold Bennett rightly says that all change, even for the better, is accompanied by discomfort.

    Deepak Chopra said that “All great changes are preceded by chaos.” I believe the benefits of maintaining boundaries make the chaos worth it.

  • How I Stopped Putting Everyone Else’s Needs Above My Own

    How I Stopped Putting Everyone Else’s Needs Above My Own

    “Never feel sorry for choosing yourself.” ~Unknown

    I was eleven years old, possibly twelve, the day I first discovered my mother’s betrayal. I assume she didn’t hear me when I walked in the door after school. The distant voices in the finished basement room of our home drew me in. My mother’s voice was soft as she spoke to her friend. What was she hiding that she didn’t want me to hear?

    I leaned in a little bit closer to the opening of the stairs… She was talking about a man she’d met. Her voice changed when she spoke of him. The tone of dreamy wonder when you discover something that makes your heart race. She talked about the way they touched and how she felt being with him.

    I felt my body go weak. I could not tell if it was sorrow or rage. All I knew was, she had lied to me.

    Several months prior, my parents had announced their divorce. My mother told me the decision was my father’s choice. She told me he was the one breaking up our family. She told me she wanted nothing more than to stay with us and be together.

    And now I heard her revealing that was not true. She wanted to leave. She was not choosing me. She was choosing him.

    Since I was nine months old, my mother had been in and out of doctor’s offices, hospitals, psychiatrist’s and therapist’s offices trying to find the cure of her mental and emotional instability.

    When I was a young child, she began to share her frustrations and sorrows with me. I became her support and the keeper of her pain. She had nicknamed me her “little psychiatrist.” It was my job to help her. I had to. I needed her stable so I could survive.

    I don’t remember when or if she told us that she was seeing someone. I just remember she was gone a lot after that day. She spent her time with her new boyfriend out of the house. As the parentified child who she had inadvertently made her caretaker, it felt like she was betraying me. She left me for him.

    I was no longer the chosen one—he was.

    I hated him for it. When my mother moved in with him, I refused to meet him. I didn’t want to get to know or like this man she left me for.

    I saw them one day in the parking lot outside of a shopping plaza. I watched them walking together and hid behind a large concrete pillar so they wouldn’t see me. The friend I was with asked if I wanted to say hello. I scowled at the thought. I despised him.

    Within the same year, his own compromised mental health spiraled, and they broke up. He moved out of their apartment. I didn’t know why or what happened. I only knew my mother was sad. Shortly after their breakup, he took his own life. From what we heard, he had done so in a disturbingly torturous way. It was clear his self-loathing and pain was deep.

    My mother was devastated. She mourned the loss of her love and the traumatic way he exited. She stopped taking her medication, and her own mental health began to spiral. My father received a phone call that her car had been abandoned several states away. I’m unsure what she was doing there, but she had some issues and took a taxi back home.

    He later received a call stating that my mother had been arrested for playing her music too loud in her apartment. Perhaps to drown out the voices in her head. She was later taken to the hospital without her consent and was admitted due to her mental instability.

    After several days of attempting to rebalance her brain chemistry with medication, my mother began to sound grounded again. The family decided she would move in with her parents a few states away from us and live with them until she was stable again.

    A few days after Christmas she called me to tell me how sad she was. She grieved her dead boyfriend. I was short with her. I was still angry for her betrayal. I didn’t want to continue being used as her therapist. The imbalance in our relationship was significant, and my resentment was huge.

    I loved her, but I could not fall back into the role of being her support without any support back. It was life-sucking. And I didn’t care that he was dead. She chose him over me. I was fine with him being gone.

    I don’t recall feeling any guilt when I got off the phone that day. I felt good that I had chosen myself and put a boundary in place to not get sucked into her sorrow. I was fourteen years old, less than a week shy of fifteen. I just wanted to be a kid.

    The next day, my mother chose to make more decisions for me and for herself. These were more final. She told her parents she was taking a nap and intentionally overdosed on the medication meant to save her. She died quietly to relieve herself from her pain and left me forever.

    That choice—my own and hers—would change the course of my life.

    The day my mother freed herself from this world was the same day I learned to become imprisoned in mine. I was imprinted with a fear that would dictate my life. I became quietly terrified of hurting other people. I feared their discomfort and feeling it was my fault. From that day forward I would live with the silent fear of choosing myself.

    My rational mind told me it was not my fault. I did not open the bottle. I did not force her to swallow the pills. I did not end her life. But I also did not save it.

    I learned that day that creating a boundary to preserve myself not only was unsafe, it was dangerous. When I chose me, people not only could or would abandon me, they could die.

    Of course, I never saw this in my teenage mind. Nor did I see it in my twenties, thirties or the beginning of my forties. I only saw my big, loving heart give myself away over and over again at the cost of myself.

    I felt my body tighten up when I feared someone would be mad at me. I heard myself use words to make things okay in situations that were not okay. I said yes far too many times when my heart screamed no. All because I was afraid to choose myself.

    The pattern and fear only strengthened with time. I learned to squirm my way out of hurting others and discovered passive-aggressive and deceptive approaches to get my needs met. My body shook in situations where conflict seemed imminent, and I learned to avoid that too.

    What I didn’t see was that this avoidance had a high price. I was living a life where I was scared to be myself.

    On the outside I played the part. The woman who had it all together. Vocal, passionate, confident, and ambitious. But on the inside, I held in more secrets than I knew what to do with. I wasn’t living as me. My fear of being judged and rejected or not having my needs met was silently ruling my life.

    So many have developed this fear over time. Starting with our own insecurities of not feeling good enough and then having multiple experiences that solidified this belief. The experiences and memories differ, but the feelings accompanying them are very much the same.

    The fear of choosing ourselves, our desires, our truths, all deeply hidden under the masks of “I’m fine. It’s fine.” When in reality, we learn to give way more than we receive and wonder why we live unsatisfied, resentful, and with chronic disappointment. Nothing ever feels enough, and if it does, it’s short-lived.

    The memories and feelings become imprints in our bodies and in our minds that convince us we can’t trust ourselves. That we can’t trust others. That we must stay in control in order to keep us safe. We learn to manipulate situations and people to save ourselves from the opinions and judgments outside of us. We learn to protect ourselves by giving in, in order to not feel the pain of being left out.

    We shelter ourselves with lies that we are indifferent or it’s not a big deal in order to shield ourselves from the truth that we want more. We crave more, but we are too scared to ask for it. The repercussions feel too risky. The fear of loneliness too great.

    In the end, our fear of choosing ourselves even convinces us we can live with less. That we are meant to live with less, and we need to be grateful for whatever that is.

    Do we? Why?

    What if we learned to own our fear? What if we accepted that we were scared, and it was reasonable? What would happen if we acknowledged to our partners, families, friends, and even strangers that we, too, were scared of not being good enough? Of being discarded, rejected, and left behind.

    What would it be like if we shared our stories and exposed our insecurities to free them instead of locking them up to be hidden in the dark shadows of ourselves?

    I’m so curious.

    Where in your past can you see that choosing yourself left a mark? What silenced you, shamed you, discouraged you from choosing your needs over another’s? When were you rejected for not doing what someone else wanted you to do? And how has that fear dictated your life?

    Choosing ourselves starts with awareness. Looking at the ways you keep quiet out of fear or don’t make choices that include your needs. Seeing where this fear shows up in your life gives you the opportunity to change it. The more you see it, the more you can make another choice.

    Start with looking at the areas of life where you hold on to the most resentment and anger. Who or what situations frustrate you? Anger often indicates where imbalances lie or when a boundary has been crossed. It shows us where we feel powerless.

    Make a list of the situations that annoy you and then ask yourself, what’s in your control and what’s not? What can you directly address or ask for help with?

    Note the ways you may be manipulating others to get your needs met in those situations and how that feels. Note also what you may be avoiding and why.

    How would it feel to be more direct and assertive? What feelings or fears come up for you?

    Then start with one small thing you could do differently. Include who you could ask for help with this step, if anyone.

    As for me, I have found myself in situations where I lied or remained silent to avoid being judged, in an attempt to manipulate how others see me. I have felt my body cringe with sadness and shame each time. It doesn’t matter how big or small the lie, it assaults my body the same.

    I have learned that speaking my truth, no matter how seemingly small or insignificant, saves my body from feeling abused by the secrets it must keep. Choosing me is choosing self-honesty; identifying what is true for me and what is not based on the way my body responds. I am not in control of others’ judgments of me, but I am in control of the way I continue to set myself up to judge myself.

    I have also found myself agreeing to do things I didn’t want to do in order to win the approval of others, then becoming resentful toward them because I refused to speak up for myself.

    Choosing me in these scenarios is honoring the fact that I will still be scared to ask for what I need, as my fears are real and valid, but asking anyway, even when the stakes feel high. It’s scary to feel that someone may abandon us if we choose ourselves, but it’s scarier to lose ourselves to earn a love built on a brittle foundation of fear.

    l cannot control the past where I have left myself behind, but I can control today, the way I forgive myself for falling victim to my human fear, and the way I choose to love myself moving forward. When I choose me, I have more love to give to others. Today I can take a small step toward change.

    Taking these small steps and building on them will help us to show ourselves that we can make progress in bite size amounts and prove to ourselves we are going to be okay. The small bites are digestible and give us proof that we can do it. This helps us build our ability to do more over time, while also decreasing our fear.

    If we look at our past, we will see the majority of our big fears do not come to fruition, and if they did, we survived them and gained knowledge or strength in the process.

    It’s not the action holding us back, but the memory of the discomfort we still live with. The more we move through these fears, the more that discomfort will decrease, and the more we will trust that we will be okay no matter what.

  • I Was Addicted to Helping People – Here’s Why It Made Me Miserable

    I Was Addicted to Helping People – Here’s Why It Made Me Miserable

    “As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.” ~Maya Angelou

    Growing up in Africa, I was told that the virtue and worth of a woman lies in her ability to take care of everyone around her; that a woman was considered good or worthy when everyone around her was happy and pleased with her. I took this advice to heart, especially since I watched my mother meet this standard to a T. Putting everyone else, including strangers, above herself.

    Most of the Things We Learn as Kids Shape Us

    As a kid, I was taught how to cook, clean, and care for others. As a teenager, I got a lot of practice caring for my younger siblings; at first, it was great, being a caregiver, being the one who everyone went to when they needed something. I loved being needed, and I relished in the label I was given as dependable.

    Family, friends, and even strangers knew that I was the go-to girl for whatever they wanted. If I couldn’t help them with whatever they needed, I would find someone who could. I was determined to never leave anyone high and dry. I loved being needed, and if anyone needed me, I believed that I was their last resort.

    The Joy of Giving

    You see, one thing about giving is that it feels good… until it doesn’t. The moment you get to a place where giving doesn’t feel good anymore, it means that you need to turn the giving around and start giving to yourself. But how does someone who is addicted to being needed realize this?

    When helping people started feeling more exhausting than exhilarating, my first instinct was to give more because I believed that the more I gave to others, the more I would receive from them. But that was not the case. The more I gave, the less I received, and this prompted me to label most of my friends as bad friends because I wasn’t getting as much as I was giving to them.

    When I became isolated from cutting friends off because they were “bad” to me, I realized the problem wasn’t that I was not getting as much as I was giving; the problem was that I was giving to everyone but myself. I had put myself in the back burner and abandoned myself. How can I abandon myself and not expect others to abandon me?

    The Guilt That Comes with Giving to Yourself

    Realizing my deep-seated issues was easy, but addressing them was a whole other thing. Because I was conditioned to believe that my worth was in pleasing others, I always said yes to everyone who needed my help; saying no was extremely difficult.

    This was because I was suppressed by intense guilt and ended up caving in to finding help for the person at my own expense. Everything changed for me when a former classmate said to me out of the blue: “You are nobody’s last resort.”

    You are nobody’s last resort, no matter how bad it is. If you cannot help someone with their problem, another person will. And more importantly, it’s not your responsibility to ensure they get the help they need—it’s theirs.

    This was a turning point in my life because now I knew that telling someone no because I needed the time to invest in my own needs did not mean that they were never going to get help.

    The guilt was still there, but little by little, I persevered in choosing myself over and over again. I started with little things, like saying no to helping a friend walk their dog to stay at home, to take a long bath and read a book (I enjoy reading). And over time I was able to get better at saying no to larger requests that would have been draining and would have negatively impacted my mental health.

    Give to Yourself and You Won’t Expect Too Much From Others

    Slowly but surely, I learned that my worth is determined by me and me alone—by how much love and care I direct toward myself. Guilt still visits me sometimes, but it is not as intense as it used to be.

    I know now it is better to feel guilty for taking care of yourself than to expect others to anticipate your needs and take care of you. News flash: if you don’t take care of yourself from the inside out, no one will.

    Don’t get me wrong, I still take care of my loved ones and help others as well as I can, but I now do it from a complete place, a place of wholeness, knowing that I will be fine whether they invest in me or not.

    I don’t expect much from people, and I don’t get disappointed much because I have learned to prioritize myself. Frankly speaking, I have noticed that the people around me enjoy me more now that I am not a self-righteous person who resents her giving and selflessness.

    “I give and give and give, and what do I get? Nothing.” If you have heard yourself say or think these words, then you are expecting people to make you happy just because you are bending over backwards to make them happy. If you keep bending backwards to make others happy, one day you will break your back. A broken back is very painful to bear, take note.

    Life’s a Journey, Not a Race

    This is not an overnight process; it will take time and patience. I have learned that part of taking care of myself is being nice to myself, whether I’m making progress or not. I’m done talking down to myself. Everything I wouldn’t do or say to another person, I’ve vowed never to do or say to myself.

    There is no glory in stomping all over yourself to please the world, there is no glory in self-deprecation and self-hate. It is not humble to call yourself terrible names or to live in suffering because you don’t want to hurt some else’s feeling or because you want to be called a nice/polite person.

    Our feelings and needs matter as much as anyone else’s, but we can only honor them if we recognize this and prioritize them.

  • The 6 Personalities of People-Pleasing and How I Overcame Them

    The 6 Personalities of People-Pleasing and How I Overcame Them

    “The truth is, you’re never going to be able to please everybody, so stop trying. Remember, the sun is going to continue shining even if some people get annoyed by its light shining in their eyes. You have full permission to shine on.” ~Unknown

    I used to be a rebel. I was the girl at the party who would waltz into a room and have everyone in awe, their attention and curiosity caught by my presence. I felt it, they felt it, it was magnetic. I loved it—I had become the girl I wanted to be.

    That was until one night at a party, while I was making a batch of popcorn in the kitchen, someone came up to me and asked, “Why do you need to prove yourself all the time?”

    This question caught me so off guard. I was instantly confused. I was staring into space trying to figure out how I was proving myself all the time. So, I asked exactly how I was doing this.

    It turned out that when someone shared a story about themselves, I would share one of my own, and it came across as bigger and better. This person went on to tell me, “Actually, no one likes it, and it’s totally not necessary to win over your friends.”

    Holy moly. My blood started pumping faster through my veins, my face was burning up, my gut was wrenching at the thought of these people who I called friends not liking me. I thought I had finally found my community of like-minded souls.

    In this exact moment, I made the biggest decision of my life.

    It was time to squash down who I was, again. You see, I was in my mid-twenties, and I finally felt free from my childhood patterns. I was confident. I had friends. I could finally be me—who I was without the filter.

    They needed a toned-down version of me.

    So, I began to hide.

    I would sit in the corner or behind someone else. I wouldn’t share stories of my life adventures. I stopped dressing to impress. I apologized for silly things, and I watched every move I made around these people. It was exhausting, but the fear of them not liking me was crippling.

    Over the years I perfected these new behaviors of how to not be “too much” for the people around me. I went from being a wild, carefree soul to someone who was filled with anxiety in every social scenario.

    These new patterns overflowed into my work, family, relationships, and friendships. I became oversensitive, reactive, and uncomfortable to be around.

    After a decade of self-punishment, I was on a call with someone who I was working with, and they called me out for apologizing for not getting something right, even though it was the first time I had tried what they were teaching.

    Then the words that flew out of my mouth were: I did it again.

    Seriously, here I was, thinking I had it all figured out. I had adapted my behaviors, beliefs, patterns, and values to get through life, all in order to please other people. This was the slap on the face that I needed.

    So, I went on a deep soul journey that involved journaling daily. I took a real good look at myself and what I had created in my life. I began evaluating friendships, my work, the people in my day-to-day life, my family, and my environment.

    I had created a reality where I was no longer happy.

    My life revolved around everyone else’s needs, and I placed them before my own. I had become so aware of people’s energy, reactions, body language, and tone that I felt like I was suffocating.

    And for what?

    To not have friends, to not have people like me, to sacrifice my life for others.

    From that moment forward, I chose me.

    In order to do that, I needed to recognize how I’d formerly denied myself and my feelings so I could become aware of when I was tempted to fall into old patterns.

    Let me share with you the six personality types I lived through for a decade, how they play out in our daily lives, and how I overcame them.

    The Six People-Pleasing Personality Types

    The Approval Seeker

    When I was living in approval-seeking mode, my actions were geared toward praise. I would do anything to be the best employee in my jobs, from working overtime to taking on extra responsibility. I would play by the rules when it came to my family. I would make an effort to be noticed by my friends, all while chasing that sense of belonging.

    Praise was the fuel that kept me going. It reinforced the things I was doing right.

    The remedy to being an approval seeker is self trust, owning my values and my beliefs instead of looking for external validation. I simply started by questioning my motives in my actions.

    If I suspected I was doing something solely or primarily to receive approval, I asked myself, “Would I make this choice if I were being true and fair to myself?”

    The Busy Bee

    As a busy mumma of two, wife, business owner, sister, daughter, and friend, there was a time when I thought I had to keep it all together for everyone around me. I was the person who organized all the parties, Christmas dinners, birthday celebrations, family get-togethers, kids’ school activities, groceries, holidays, and anything else you can think of.

    The people around me saw me as dependable and organized, and they knew that I would do any task to help out. Of course without any fuss because I was being of service to the ones I loved.

    After I spotted a yoga class I really wanted to attend and realized I needed to make time in my schedule, I started to review my weekly routine. I realized I didn’t have to be everything for everyone at all times, which was hard to accept since “acts of service” is one of my love languages. But I knew being less busy was an act of kindness and love for myself.

    The Conflict Avoider

    When people raise their voice or assert their authority to me, I tend to crumble. It looks like I am still standing there, but in my mind, I’m in the fetal position on the floor.

    Speaking up for what I believe in is sometimes easy when I am fueled by passion for topics I love, but there are a few people in my life who turn me back into the conflict avoider in a second.

    In tense situations with these people, I often observe what is about to play out and create an exit strategy. I ask myself, “What do I need to do? Who do I need to be? What do I need to say to get me out of here?”

    When I recognize I’m doing this, I now take a few breaths to ground myself before leaning into the discomfort I’m feeling. I consider how I can stay true to my values and respond in a way that opens the space for discussion.

    The Self-Sacrificer

    This is the most common form of people-pleasing because it’s driven by love. It happens with our nearest and dearest.

    I once had a boyfriend who was into punk music, and slowly, over time, while dating him, I turned into a punk chic. I listened to his music, I wore all black, I tore up my clothes, and I went from blonde to black hair. I would have done anything for his love.

    Self-sacrificing is when we put others’ needs ahead of our own, fitting in with their agendas and adapting to them, yet in this process we lose small pieces of ourselves.

    It’s a personal crime when this happens because it takes years to rediscover all the things we once loved.

    Experimenting is the cure to finding that feeling of pure happiness we once held. I took belly dancing and various yoga classes, went for walks in different places, and challenged myself to try new and old things to see if they lit me up. I also reminded myself that I don’t need to sacrifice my interests and needs for anyone else because, if they truly love me, they’ll want me to honor those things.

    The Apologizer

    Sorry! Oops, sorry. Oh yes, I would apologize for everything from accidentally bumping into someone at the grocery store to taking a long time getting drinks at a bar.

    I eventually realized I apologized all the time because I believed I was at fault in each situation—not just super observant and sensitive to other people, as I’d formerly believed. I blamed myself for all kinds of things, from meeting my needs to taking up space.

    One day I decided to walk the busy city streets with my head held high, no more side-stepping to get out of other people’s way or apologizing for almost bumping into them. I bit my tongue and simply reminded myself that it is okay to have my own agenda, I am not to blame for things that are out of my control, and I have a voice.

    The Sensitive Soul

    Often, I would guard myself against the world, even though I wanted to trust it, because I had a hard time creating emotional boundaries. The word “should” always hung over my head—I should always be available, I should be able to listen whenever someone needs me. But this took a huge toll.

    Everyone would come to me to share their story, offload their junk, and then move on, leaving me with a negative energy load. I would push down my feelings and pretend everything was okay. Also, I felt like I couldn’t share my story with others because they were in a bad mood, feeling sad, or the timing wasn’t right. I was a doormat.

    I needed to address my conditioning in order to stop taking on other people’s problems. Why did my feelings come second to others’? Why were their stories more important than mine? I discovered that I had been putting others on a pedestal and that I needed to dig deep into the “shoulds” and start tackling them one at a time until I was able to speak up and set limits.

    —

    I started people-pleasing because someone told me I was always trying to prove myself, but ironically, that’s what people-pleasing is—trying to prove you’re a good person by doing all the right things so no one will be upset or disappointed. Ultimately, though, we end up disappointing ourselves.

    Since I’ve started challenging these personalities, I’ve slowly offset my need to please. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m now a lot closer to the person I used to be—someone who likes who she is and has nothing to prove to anyone.

    Do any of these personalities sound familiar to you? And how are you going to tackle it?