Tiny Buddha

Tag: compassionate

  • How Embracing Your Sensitivity Can Benefit Your Relationship

    How Embracing Your Sensitivity Can Benefit Your Relationship

    “Today I want you to think about all that you are instead of all that you are not.” ~Unknown

    If you are a sensitive person like me, you may think being sensitive is problematic. Especially when it comes to love and relationships.

    Maybe you’ve been called “too sensitive” by your partner or a parent. Maybe you feel overly emotional or have strong reactions to things or take things personally that don’t bother your partner, or you are easily irritated or get cranky all too often, or you feel the urge to be alone a lot more than you think you should in a healthy relationship.

    If so, you may believe you really are too sensitive.

    Now, sensitivity can cause problems in our relationships when we’re operating unconsciously and feel at its mercy. That tends to bring out the harder aspects of sensitivity.

    I know this all too well. Not knowing I was a highly sensitive person and not understanding how to work with my sensitivity was the biggest reason my first marriage ended in divorce.

    And even before that, for most of my life, I thought something was wrong with me because of what I now recognize is my genetic trait of high sensitivity.

    I hear the same from so many sensitive women I speak with.

    But I’d like to flip that perception on its head. Because high sensitivity is often misunderstood and totally undervalued. Particularly when it comes to marriage and intimate relationships.

    Think about it: What do most women want more of in their relationship?

    They want their partner to be more attentive to them. To have more understanding of what’s going on for them. To be more responsive to their words and gestures. To be more tender with them. To be more conscious of them.

    I always wanted my first husband to be deeper with me. More caring and empathetic. More in touch with himself and his feelings…

    If you, too, would like more of any of the above in your relationship, then what you want is more sensitivity. All those things are what “sensitive” means.

    Sensitive is defined as: attuned to, aware of subtleties, caring, sympathetic, empathetic, compassionate, understanding, perceptive, conscious of, responsive to, alive to…

    Sensitivity is, in fact, exactly what we need more of in our relationships, not less. It’s an asset in love. 

    And if you are also a sensitive person, you were built to embody it. To bring all of those juicy delights to your relationship.

    If you were born an HSP, it’s a cause for celebration. We are made for love.

    Once we’ve done our own work to develop the best aspects and manage the challenging parts of the trait, we gain access to what we need to have the depth, connection, understanding, love, and passion we want most with our partner.

    In other words, we develop into the best possible role model for being in a loving relationship—one non-sensitive people should aspire toward.

    Of course, there are unhealthy ways our trait can be expressed. Ways that do lead to more hurt and struggle than harmony and love in relationships. These more “negative” aspects (like “touchiness”) are really only expressed when we have not learned how to consciously work with our sensitivity.

    Once we do, the “negative” aspects fall away, leaving us with all the good parts that are most needed for the healing and thriving of relationships—and even the healing of our world!

    Many things keep us playing out the negative aspects, but I’ve found that the biggest thing is believing old, outdated (and frankly wrong) judgments about sensitivity being a bad thing. Because it leads us to being self-critical and feeling bad about who we are.

    When we berate and look down on ourselves for our sensitivity, we feel ashamed, we close off, and we become more negative.

    If we are at war with ourselves like this, we can’t open up our hearts to others or life. We are likely to feel like others are at war with us, so we take things personally and feel gripped by negativity and inner turmoil. We can’t come from sensitivity toward ourselves or toward others because we’re too bogged down.

    I know this because I judged myself for my sensitivity plenty in the past, and it only forced me into a hole, hiding my light under self-judgment and anger at myself. That anger poked out left and right and spilled over onto my husband, hurting our marriage and leaving us miserable with each other.

    After our divorce, I learned about HSPs and that I was one. What an aha moment! I stopped trying to squash my sensitive nature as I learned to accept and even love it. I felt safe to honor it, and much happier and more relaxed in my skin (finally!).

    Then, the best parts of my sensitivity were able to shine through naturally. And I was able to powerfully guide my second marriage into one that is now, by my definition, amazing.

    How to Tap into the Healing Power of Your Sensitivity in Your Relationship

    I bet many things you’ve been self-critical about are actually aspects of your sensitivity! That was the case for me. So consider and answer this question:

    How might the things you’ve judged about your sensitivity be the things most needed to take your relationship to the depth and health you long for?

    Take time to recognize the brilliance of your sensitivity, the healing it can bring to your world. You are naturally wise, so go to your own mind and heart to come up with your answers.

    Here are some hints from my experience and ponderings to get you going:

    Could your emotionality be the antidote to the numbness and disconnection that are so often the kiss of death in an intimate relationship?

    Could your capacity to feel big feelings be the deepest, most sustainable source of love in your partnership, carrying your partner in its tide?

    Could the moments when you are flooded with overwhelming feelings in your relationship be an internal request to pause so you can process deeply—and reap the wise insights that arise from that pause that will take your love and understanding of each other to the next deep level?

    Could your natural tendency to see the little things in yourself and others as flaws or problems help you diagnose the areas that need to be healed or developed in your partner—and inside yourself—so you can thrive together as a couple? Could it be the call to become the most conscious, empowered, loving version of yourself, able to navigate both the joys and challenges of love with grace?

    Could that same tendency to be bothered by little things and get easily irritated because of your subtle attunement to detail also be the very thing that helps you really know and be deeply attuned to your partner, and help him feel really known and loved?

    (My sensitivity helps me know my husband’s inner world without a word from him and allows me to understand what he’s going through. He’s told me many times some version of these words: I feel so supported, seen, and loved for who I am. I feel you really get me. I’m in awe of how in tune we can feel.” Hearing that feels like music to MY ears.)

    Could your people-pleasing tendencies and over-concern about making sure your partner and others in your life aren’t upset be the compassion and conscientiousness we need to survive and thrive as a species? The very thing that inspires others to look out for each other with fierce care and kindness—once you’ve learned to bestow the same grace on yourself?

    Could your need for quiet and space alone to decompress be just the example other humans need in order to put an end to this toxic, fast-paced culture that robs us of actually enjoying life—and is even robbing the planet of life itself? Could it be just the thing our society needs to learn to slow down and de-stress so each of us can access the love, insight, and creative problem-solving we need to thrive in our partnerships and on this planet for generations more?

    When I recognized the asset my sensitivity is, I was able to climb out of the hole of self-rejection and shame and change how I showed up in my relationship.

    I could suddenly pay deeper attention to my partner, offer a little support here, a little insight there, say just the right thing at just the right time because I’m so sensitively aware, come up with creative solutions to navigate those inevitable sticky moments couples have, let my big wide heart out, and be all those things that I want my partner to be for me: loving, reassuring, aware, understanding, and respectful.

    I started living out the kind of love I’d only dreamed of before. And it caught on. My husband has learned to be way more empathetic with me, more caring, and more attuned to me. Way more… sensitive.

    We can pass on our gift of sensitivity to our partners by modeling it, by leading the way.

    Do you see how your sensitivity is an underutilized healing resource in your love life? The highly responsive superpower of sensitivity that you embody enables you to lead your relationship in a much healthier and more loving direction if you honor it.

    It should be a goal to not only feel great about your sensitivity but also to become more sensitive. In a healthy way.

    The lack of tenderness, the instinct to shut down and disconnect, the lack of empathy and compassion and understanding that is so destructive in our marriages and in our world—it can end here with you. Now. Your sensitivity is the remedy!

    We sensitives are the particular variation of human needed to sway our relationships into healing, if only we give ourselves the sensitivity, care, tenderness, and encouragement we need by believing in ourselves instead of berating ourselves.

    We are the ones to lead ourselves and others back to our hearts, back to compassion, care, and being in tune with others. Back to sensitivity.

    Start by telling yourself the truth:

    You are different from the “norm.” But different in just the way that’s most needed for love to thrive in your home and community.

    If you really believed that, would you finally start appreciating the qualities that make you, you? Would you do all it took to cultivate them instead of squashing them? I would. I am. Let’s do so together.

  • How to Set Difficult Boundaries in a Compassionate Way

    How to Set Difficult Boundaries in a Compassionate Way

    “We can say what we need to say. We can gently, but assertively, speak our mind. We do not need to be judgmental, tactless, blaming, or cruel when we speak our thoughts.” ~Melody Beattie

    When I first learned about the concept of boundaries, I imagined how freeing it would feel to finally be able to say an empowered “no” at every turn. I imagined myself turning down drinks from leering strangers at bars, denying eager clipboard-carriers’ requests for money, and rejecting requests to do more than my fair share of work projects.

    “‘No’ is a complete sentence” would be my anthem.

    Eventually, though, I began to understand that boundaries are more complicated than simply saying no to strangers. Sometimes setting boundaries meant having awkward, painful conversations with loved ones about dynamics in our relationship that no longer served me.

    For example: I needed to ask a friend to leave more space for me in our conversations. I needed to ask a family member to please stop complaining to me about another family member. And I needed to have a talk with my partner about my dissatisfaction with the division of emotional labor in our relationship.

    And the thought of having these conversations filled me with discomfort.

    Intellectually, I knew that I had every right to set healthy boundaries with my loved ones. Emotionally, though, the thought of actually having these conversations elicited anxiety—and a great deal more of fear than I originally imagined.

    Within the past decade, conversations about boundary-setting have taken center stage in mental health discourse. Being able to set boundaries around our time, space, and bodies is a critical skill for maintaining mental health, recovering from addiction, and building healthy relationships with others. But boundary-setting can also prompt very real, very intense discomfort for both the boundary-setter and boundary receiver.

    As I contemplated my discomfort, I wondered: How can I set boundaries authentically when I’m afraid of hurting someone I care about? How can I simultaneously set boundaries while letting the recipient know that I really, truly care about their feelings? 

    These questions inspired me to consider an approach to boundary-setting that made these difficult conversations a little less… difficult.

    —

    In my experience, most boundaries can be divided into two distinct categories: Shield boundaries and sandbox boundaries.

    Sometimes boundaries are like shields: moments of verbal self-defense that protect us from others’ unwanted behavior. Shield boundaries ward off unwanted physical touch, defend against others’ anger or cruelty, or protect our time, belongings, and material goods.

    Shield boundaries might take the form of “Don’t touch me like that,” or “I’m sorry, but you can’t borrow $20,” or “I can’t volunteer at the phone bank next week.” Generally, they’re simple, short, and clear-cut—variations on saying “no.”

    Some boundaries feel less like self-defense and more like letting go: detaching from old patterns, feelings, and relationships that no longer serve us.

    Imagine a sandbox that is filled with various things belonging to various people. You reach down and pick up only the items that belong to you. You avoid picking up your mother’s guilt, your partner’s debt, your boss’s anxiety, and your friend’s insecurity. They are not yours to carry.

    Having healthy sandbox boundaries means that you only carry your “stuff” out of the sandbox—nobody else’s. They distinguish your emotions and responsibilities from others’ emotions and responsibilities.

    Of the two, sandbox boundaries are especially challenging for recovering people-pleasers because we are accustomed to carrying everyone’s stuff out of the sandbox—not just our own. Historically, we’ve assumed responsibility for others’ happiness, health, finances, relationships, addictions, and so on. (By the same token, many of us have probably under-assumed responsibility for our own health, happiness, and beyond.)

    When we set sandbox boundaries and break these patterns of over-giving, we literally rewrite the status quo. We let go of the roles we’ve played in our relationships for years or even decades. We may have become so accustomed to acting like others’ caretakers, fixers, or de facto therapists that letting go of these roles can bring a great deal of fear.

    We may wonder, “Will he still love me if I’m no longer willing to caretake?” or “Will she think I’m selfish if I ask for more attention?” We might think, “What will she like about me when I’m not fixing her problems?” or “What if they don’t care what I have to say?”

    In order to set boundaries that allow our relationships to continue in new and healthy ways, we need to face these fears head-on. In fact, these fears can be gateways to authentic and meaningful boundary-setting. Here’s how:

    Radically Transparent Boundary-Setting

    Radically transparent boundary-setting gives you permission to honor your feelings in the moment, fear and all, and invites the boundary-recipient in instead of pushing them away.

    You don’t have to pretend to be cold, stoic, or flawlessly confident in order to set a successful boundary. In fact, by acknowledging that boundary-setting is unfamiliar or even scary, you can create a vulnerable container that invites the boundary-receiver in for a meaningful, compassionate conversation.

    Radically transparent boundary-setting includes three key ingredients:

    1. Acknowledge your fear or discomfort around setting the boundary
    2. Express the “why” behind the boundary
    3. Set a clear, direct boundary

    Imagine, for example, that you have a dear friend who regularly consults you to process her family drama. You’re beginning to feel frustrated that your conversations revolve entirely around her, and you realize you’re no longer willing to assume the role of her therapist. In this case, you might use the Radical Transparency approach like this:

    Example 1: “It’s hard for me to say this, but I want to be honest with you: I feel upset that so many of our conversations revolve around your family trouble because it makes me feel less like a friend and more like a therapist. Can we practice making our conversations closer to 50/50?”

    Example 2: “I know that in the past I’ve offered advice and support around your family issues, but I’m trying to take better care of myself now, so I can’t continue to be the person you come to with your family trouble. I need our friendship to be more balanced.”

    Example 3: “I’m afraid of hurting you, but the health of our friendship is important to me, so I want you to know that I can’t continue to be the only person you come to with your family trouble. Our friendship has begun to feel imbalanced, and it’s important for me to have friendships in which I feel seen and valued.”

    Example 4: “I’m nervous to say this, but I’m making an effort to communicate more authentically with those close to me, so I need to tell you that I’m feeling sad about how imbalanced our conversations have been. I feel like you don’t make an effort to ask me about my life. Can we discuss how to fix this?”

    Radical transparency has two key benefits.

    First, by naming your fear or discomfort around setting the boundary, you acknowledge that you’re initiating a difficult conversation that can elicit mixed feelings⁠—for both of you. This also helps the recipient understand that you’ve taken into account the impact this boundary could have on their feelings.

    Second, by expressing the “why” behind your boundary, you remind the recipient that your boundary isn’t an attempt to control their behavior, but rather an attempt to protect yourself, be it your body, integrity, mental health, time, resources, or material goods. You might also emphasize your desire for honesty, authenticity, or openness in the relationship, each of which conveys a genuine intention to keep your relationship healthy.

    Radically transparent boundary-setting gives me permission to be fully authentic while helping my loved ones feel considered.

    Of course, this approach isn’t appropriate for all scenarios. I use this method to set difficult boundaries with close friends, family, and partners⁠—individuals with whom I generally feel safe, have a certain degree of emotional intimacy, and have a vested interest in continuing our relationship. (I don’t use this approach when I’m setting boundaries with casual acquaintances, with folks who make me feel emotionally unsafe, or when I’m enforcing a previously established boundary that the recipient has ignored.)

    Ultimately, we can’t control how others respond to our boundaries. Even if we state them with the utmost compassion, the recipient may still feel hurt, insulted, or confused—and that’s okay. If we avoid these critical conversations, we create conditions in which resentment, anger, and frustration seethe and boil over, unaddressed⁠—which is almost always more devastating to the relationship than the boundary conversation would have been.

    It is not only our right, but our responsibility to set healthy boundaries in our relationships with loved ones. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it’s scary. It’s our responsibility to communicate our needs and limitations in our relationships because, if we don’t, we leave others with the burden of mind-reading our needs⁠—a burden no person should have to bear.

    Like marriage and family therapist Vienna Pharaon writes: “You cannot stay quiet and expect people to show up the way you need them to. Your words are the gateway to your needs getting met.”

  • Why Walking Away Is Sometimes the Most Compassionate Choice

    Why Walking Away Is Sometimes the Most Compassionate Choice

    “Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals.” ~Pema Chodron

    In May 2012, I was appointed guardian and conservator of my father, and my brother was appointed co-guardian. Our father was declared mentally incompetent by the county court.

    My father was, and is, an alcoholic. When I was growing up, he was an abusive alcoholic. He gave out wounds like gifts. He used words to cut us open, and then he threatened us with salt.

    I lived in hypervigilance, and I learned that being alone, quiet, and invisible was the safest state of being. I was like a bottle—filled up with the wounds my father gave me as his bottles emptied.  

    And then I spilled.

    In therapy, I learned how to heal. I learned how to give myself gifts that were actually gifts, how to love, how to grow, and how to move on.

    Then, my father deteriorated. He was over sixty-five, and had been an alcoholic most of his life. He threatened to kill me, my brother, and my boyfriend.

    He was having flashbacks from Vietnam. He was being abused by strangers who gave him alcohol and drugs and took his money.

    He was hospitalized several times. He threatened to shoot himself. He started answering his door with a loaded gun. He left half-eaten roast beef sandwiches on my brother’s doorstep.

    We exhausted our avenues before petitioning the court to declare him incompetent. Deciding to petition to become the legal guardian of a man who mistreated me, in order to protect him, was the hardest decision I’ve ever made.

    I was trying to practice compassion, to treat him the opposite of how he treated me. I felt sorry for him.

    He was an unhappy man, and instead of going to therapy or AA or changing, he drank. He threw his unhappiness at others. He built walls and imprisoned himself behind them. And he lost everything, even his mind.

    It was hard not to feel sorry for a man who lost so much. In order to save what was left of his life, I went to court with my brother. Out of compassion. And out of hope that maybe something was left, and he could find, if not happiness, then peace.

    If I could do this, I thought, if I could protect him and guard him from harm, then I am showing compassion.

    I was wrong.

    When we were in court, my aunt, my father’s sister, publicly denounced me and used my childhood abuse against me to prove that I was mentally unstable and unfit to care for my father. She lied about my relationship with my father, about my intentions to provide care, and about my student debt.

    A woman who I had not seen in almost ten years, and who was never a close member of my family, proceeded to tell the court about child abuse that she never bothered to stop, in order to claim that I was irreparably damaged from it.

    It was my nightmare made real.

    I spent the next two years struggling to wake up. My father, whose brain was atrophied from drinking, became abusive again.

    As he recovered rudimentary levels of functioning, he also lost his ability to “save face,” and in addition to abusing my brother and myself, he abused the staff at his nursing home and his fellow retirees.

    He was threatened with expulsion on more than one occasion. Under the constant stress and constant abuse, I withered. I tried to stick with it, even though I felt my patience, my calm, my self-confidence, and my happiness eroding.

    I wanted to try to help my father because he was my father. Because it was sad. Because he was sad. Because he was an addict. Because he made such terrible choices. Because I was trying to show compassion. But I had stopped showing compassion to myself.

    When my mother was hospitalized with a brain aneurysm three weeks after having surgery for pancreatic cancer, I was petrified. I spent a month with her in the ICU while she was mostly unconscious, and at some point during that month, I began to realize that I couldn’t take care of everyone.

    I watched her monitor beep and squiggle, and there was nothing that anyone, not me, not the nurses, not the neurosurgeons, could do but wait until they could operate.

    As each day gathered together, I collected them into a gradual epiphany: I couldn’t take care of everyone. I most certainly couldn’t take care of anyone if I wasn’t already taking care of myself. And taking care of myself meant giving myself compassion.

    When I volunteered to become my father’s guardian and conservator, I wanted to prove that I was healed enough to offer him compassion. I had wanted to stop being a person who was wounded, and who received help, and instead become a person who was healed and helping others.

    But these two roles are not distinct. And sometimes they can be filled by the same person. It is possible to be both wounded and healing and healer and giver and receiver, all at the same time.

    Compassion to the detriment of oneself is not compassionate. Compassion needs to begin with yourself. Compassion doesn’t prove anything, or judge anyone, or lift anyone.

    Compassion is loving-kindness, a recognition that we are all the same, that we are beings trying to be, however we are. And that includes yourself.

    I decided to be compassionate to myself, and I quit being my father’s guardian and conservator. My brother quit as well. My father now has a professional guardian tending to his needs, providing for his well-being, and handling his assets. And now I can tend to my own needs, and well-being, and assets.

    Sometimes, despite our best intentions, our compassion toward others falls flat. In an unhealthy relationship, we may need to walk away and extend our kindheartedness, our helping, and most importantly, our compassion, to ourselves.

  • Dealing with Difficult People: 5 Effective, Compassionate Practices

    Dealing with Difficult People: 5 Effective, Compassionate Practices

    “Whatever you fight, you strengthen, and what you resist, persists.” ~Eckhart Tolle

    It’s morning; you’re in a great mood. You’re relaxed and have plenty of time to practice your morning routine. After a delicious breakfast, you head out to start your day. Then it happens: You encounter a difficult person, and your calm turns to calamity.

    We all have encounters with people who prefer to stay miserable, making everything difficult. They exist, and perhaps there was a time in your past when you once where one of those negative people. Perhaps you still can be at times.

    As a former miserable person, I know it was my inability to handle my mental and emotional states that kept me oozing all over others. I felt so disconnected from life, living obsessively in my mind, that I truly felt helpless.

    Most often that helplessness manifested into continuous critiquing, judging, anger, and sometimes even pure rage. I was unwilling to take full responsibility for my relationship to life. I wanted peace, joy, and harmony, but I was unwilling to do the necessary work to experience them.

    Difficult people are demanding. They demand something from the external world in hopes of filling the disconnection and restlessness they feel within. Whether they are demanding our attention, a certain action or reaction, or a particular outcome, the root of their behavior is a demand for something other than what is.

    Difficult people haven’t yet learned to take responsibility for their whole selves—mind, body, and spirit. Feeling disconnected and restless gives rise to their need to argue, judge, critique, and tweak everyone around them.

    Their inability to handle themselves adds fuel to the fire, which perpetuates their harshness.

    Underneath their personality is a feeling of being separate and a desperate plea for help.

    We can’t change another and we can’t make someone want to change. The only way we can help is by being true to our self, finding our power within, and being an example of wholeness.

    Here are a few practices I’ve found useful, loving, and extremely effective.

    1. Be still and ground yourself.

    Naturally, when we are confronted with a rude, irritable, or irate person, we tend to avoid them. We think that if we avoid them they will go away, or at least we hope they will. The truth is that, although this may happen, it is much more likely that they won’t until we learn an alternate way of dealing with them.

    Negative energy has a force and it can knock us on our butt, usually in the form of us engaging in toxic behavior. If we are not grounded, we may find ourselves arguing, judging, or stomping out of the room.

    Making sure we are firmly planted in our body enables us to look the person in the eye and be completely present. It gives us the opportunity to remain calm and pause rather than engage in behavior we may later regret.

    2. Look them directly in the eyes.

    Darkness, negativity, can’t stand light, so it can’t remain in the light. Looking someone directly in his or her eyes dispels darkness. Your light pierces through the superficial persona to their being.

    When I practice this tool one of two things always happens:

    • The person walks away or stops talking.
    • The conversation takes a more positive direction.

    We all want to be seen, from the cashier at Target to our spouse. Taking the time to look at someone offers them the greatest gift we have to offer: connection.

    Try it as an experiment and see what happens.

    3. Listen to understand.

    I find that whenever a difficult person confronts me, I automatically tense up and mentally consider my defense. When I am calm and open-minded, I know that I never have to defend myself, ever.

    The most effective way to diffuse a difficult person is to truly listen to what they are trying to say, which means keeping my mouth closed and hearing them all the way through.

    Whether or not I agree with them is irrelevant, and I certainly don’t need to let them know what I think. I can listen and get back to them if necessary such as with a spouse, co-worker or friend.

    I find the following responses to be most effective:

    “Let me get back to you on that.”

    “You could be right.”

    When a person is being difficult, it is because they are responding to their perceived reality rather than what is going on in the moment. Often times their frustration has very little to do with us.

    I find when someone’s reaction seems over the top for the situation that repeating the same response diffuses the situation.

    4. Learn when to be silent.

    Some people are extremely closed-minded and impossible to talk to, but we need to speak to them. When I find myself in a situation with someone who just can’t hear me in the moment, I don’t force the issue. Trying to get my point across to someone that can’t hear me only escalates the situation. Sometimes the clearest form of communication is silence.

    At a later time I can revisit the conversation with the person and communicate what needs to be said. Regardless of the person’s response, I can share my feelings and thoughts and let go of the outcome. Focusing on them responding a certain way only results in two difficult people unable to accept what is.

    5. Be honest with yourself.

    If we are repeatedly in a situation with someone who is abusive verbally, physically, and/or emotionally, we must stop trying to change him or her. If we find we are practicing a spiritual way of life and someone close to us isn’t changing, it may be time to get honest with our self and find out what is really going on.

    The question of whether or not to end a relationship with a difficult person, whether a friendship, work or romantic relationship, can only come from within you.

    If you can honestly say you have done what you know to do, have asked for help from a friend or professionally and nothing is changing, then its time to go within for the answer and trust what you find.

    On the other side of a difficult person is an opportunity to grow.

    No matter what we are presented with in life, we have an opportunity to choose more or less responsibility. Remembering that true responsibility is our ability to respond in the moment.

    Of course, this takes practice and is not easy. However, as we take more and more responsibility for our life, circumstances and people lose their power over us. We learn to choose our responses moment by moment, no longer being dragged around by emotions, thoughts, or circumstances created by another or our self.

  • How to Respond to Negative People Without Being Negative

    How to Respond to Negative People Without Being Negative

    “Don’t let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace.” ~Tenzin Gyatso, 14th Dalai Lama

    A former coworker seemed to talk non-stop and loudly, interrupt incessantly, gossip about whomever wasn’t in the room, constantly complain, and live quite happily in martyrdom.

    It seemed nothing and no one escaped her negative spin. She was good at it. She could twist the happiest moment of someone’s life into a horrendous mistake. She seemed to enjoy it, too.

    At first, my judgmental mind thought her behavior was quite inappropriate. I simply didn’t approve of it. But after weeks of working with her, the thought of spending even one more moment in her presence sent me into, well, her world.

    Her negativity was infectious. More and more, I found myself thinking about her negativity, talking with others about her negativity, and complaining about her constant negativity.

    For a while, though, I listened to her whenever she followed me into the lunchroom or the ladies’ room. I didn’t know what to say, or do, or even think. I was held captive.

    I’d excuse myself from the one-sided chit-chat as soon as possible, wanting to someday be honest enough to kindly tell her that I choose not to listen to gossip. Instead, I chose avoidance. I avoided eye contact, and any and all contact. Whenever I saw her coming, I’d get going and make for a quick getaway. I worked hard at it, too.

    And it was exhausting because whether I listened to her or not, or even managed to momentarily escape her altogether, I was still held captive by her negativity.

    I interacted with her only a handful of times a month, but her negative presence lingered in my life. And I didn’t like it. But what I didn’t like didn’t really matter—I wanted to look inside myself to come up with a way to escape, not just avoid, a way to just let go of the hold this negativity had on me.

    When I did look within, I saw that I was the one exaggerating the negative.

    I chose to keep negativity within me even when she wasn’t around. This negativity was mine. So, as with most unpleasant things in life, I decided to own up and step up, to take responsibility for my own negativity.

    Instead of blaming, avoiding, and resisting the truth, I would accept it. And, somehow, I would ease up on exaggerating the negative.

    I welcomed the situation as it was, opening up to the possibilities for change within me and around her.

    I knew all about the current emotional fitness trends telling us to surround ourselves with only happy, positive people and to avoid negative people—the us versus them strategy for better emotional health. I saw this as disconnecting, though.

    We all have times when we accentuate the positive and moments when we exaggerate the negative. We are all connected in this.

    Instead of continuing to disconnect, to avoid being with negativity while denying my own, I wanted to reconnect, with compassion and kindness toward both of us.

    She and I shared in this negativity together. And once I made the connection and saw our connection, a few simple and maybe a little more mindful thoughts began to enter my mind and my heart. This reconnection would be made possible through love.

    And these simple little, love-induced thoughts spoke up something like this:

    • Patience can sit with negativity without becoming negative, rushing off to escape, or desiring to disconnect from those who choose negativity. Patience calms me.
    • While I’m calm, I can change the way I see the situation. I can see the truth. Instead of focusing on what I don’t like, I can see positive solutions. I can deal with it.
    • I can try to see the situation from the other person’s perspective. Why might this woman choose or maybe need to speak with such negativity? I can be compassionate.
    • Why does what this woman chooses or needs to say cause me to feel irritated, angry, or resentful? I have allowed her words to push my negativity buttons. I can’t blame her.
    • She doesn’t even know my buttons exist. She’s only concerned with her own needs. I’ve never even told her how much her negativity bothers me. I see what truly is.
    • I see that we are both unhappy with our shared negativity. People who complain and gossip and sacrifice themselves for others aren’t happy. I can help to free us both.
    • I will only help. I will do no harm. I have compassion for us both. I will show kindness toward both of us. I will cultivate love for us, too. I choose to reconnect.
    • I will start with me and then share love with others. May I be well and happy. May our family be well and happy. May she be well and happy. I choose love.

    And whenever I saw her, I greeted her with a kind smile. I sometimes listened to her stories, excusing myself whenever her words became unkind, much the same as I had done before. But I noticed the negativity no longer lingered within me. It disappeared as soon as I began choosing love again. I was freed. And I was happier. Compassion, kindness, and love had made me so.

    My desire was not to speak my mind in an attempt to change hers, to change her apparent need to choose negative words. I did hope she might free herself from negativity and liberate herself by choosing positivity instead. Our reconnection was complete, quite unlimited, too, and it gave me hope that happiness could be ours, shared through our connection.

    I continue to cultivate this loving connection, being compassionate and kind whenever people, myself included, choose to speak negative words, for we all do from time to time. We are positively connected in this negativity thing, and everything else. And compassion, kindness, and love happily connect us all.

  • When You’re Hard on Yourself: Replace Guilt with Self-Compassion

    When You’re Hard on Yourself: Replace Guilt with Self-Compassion

    “Be gentle with yourself if you wish to be gentle with others.” ~Lama Yeshe

    “Guilty,” admits an offender. “Guilty,” proclaims a jury. Things are pretty black and white in trial verdicts and courtroom pleas (although there are still plea bargains and hung juries, mitigating circumstances and appeals).

    Life is rarely as cut-and-dried as the criminal justice system.

    I’ve experienced guilt in different shades of grey—in rational and many irrational ways that bear no real relation to the “crime” at hand, or to any crime at all.

    I’ve experienced guilt simply for how I think, how I feel, not for anything I’ve actually done or failed to do. Shame, really.

    And I’ve suffered guilt like a chronic disease, believing that I could never be “good enough” unless I somehow felt guilty, because of course I could always do/be better. (You see the strange logic, don’t you?)

    I’ve been far from gentle with myself.

    Guilt is a signal that you are striving to be better, and unless you’re doing that, you’re not good enough, or at least not acknowledging all the ways you aren’t perfect. Apparently! There’s always room for improvement, and guilt is the electric prod to remind you, lest you ever get self-satisfied.

    I’ve been unpacking, or should I say undressing, the anatomy of guilt lately. In true Irish Catholic tradition, I feel guilty for that!

    This ingrained religious belief came down my family line, passed on subconsciously most of the time, at other times with sharp criticism.

    I reckon the whole confession tradition encourages you to look for all the things you’ve done wrong rather than celebrate what you’ve done right. The doctrine reinforces all the ways you are fallible and unworthy rather than focusing on how you are simply human and born “good enough.”

    I was good at school, but that, in itself, didn’t make me good (which is just fine). Sure, I was praised for my grades, but I had a sense that it was never enough, even though my parents didn’t pressure me to achieve and correctly taught me that grades aren’t everything.

    Yet somehow there was almost too much pride in any kind of achievement, too much selfishness in any kind of ambition—guilt even made being good feel bad!

    It wasn’t so much about being a do-gooder, as only being allowed a very small quota of acceptable selfishness before guilt kicked in. As it should (or so I thought)!

    I heard the “love they neighbor” bit loudly, but forgot to listen to the “as you would love yourself”—the irony being that you can only love your neighbor based on how much you love yourself.

    Guilt can be fuel to change, to make amends, and that’s fine. Sometimes we need a guilty conscience to remind us that our thoughtless actions can have negative impacts, even if unintended. Remorse must surely come after criminal acts, or there is no room for rehabilitation.

    But when I find myself feeling guilty for feeling (not acting) selfish, I’m stuck in that shame spin cycle, going round and round.

    This was how I felt during our long struggle for children—infertile, guilty as charged. How irrational is that?

    I realize that I suffered a guilt complex along with the depression that descended in the mire of many cycles of IVF.

    Now as a parent of two beautiful adopted children, I’m trying not to pass on the guilt gene.

    And I have some tips on reframing guilt in your life.

    1. Only allow guilt as insight.

    This is the only positive version of remorse. If you’ve genuinely done something wrong, focus on the lesson and the alternative ways you’d act in the future as your “contrition” and motivator to change.

    2. Apologize, and then let it go.

    If you’ve done something that has hurt someone, apologize if you can and then let it go. Accept the gift of forgiveness graciously rather than beating yourself up. And if someone won’t forgive you, accept that your genuine expression of sorrow and regret is enough.

    3. Apply the logic test.

    Most guilt is illogical but it still feels the same way as “useful” guilt. Guilt does not equate to wrongdoing any more than joy equates to a new possession. If it doesn’t make sense (apply the objective test of a judge), then the verdict is “not guilty.”

    4. See guilt as a symptom of fear, more than a sign of caring.

    Often feeling guilty is a symptom of our fear of change—especially when we put off doing something for ourselves.

    You can make excuses that you’d feel bad (guilty) taking time out from looking after others to pursue a passion, when in fact you’re simply scared of chasing your dream. Of course, it’s good to care for others; just don’t use guilt as an excuse to care for yourself.

    5. Be compassionate.

    Start with being gentle with yourself and you’ll learn to be gentle to others. Be gentle with others and you’ll learn to be gentle to yourself.

    Being compassionate means you are “being good,” which should leave you with few (logical) reasons to feel guilty. Being self-compassionate means you’ll find fewer (logical) reasons to hold onto any remaining guilt.

    Guilt isn’t real; it’s only an emotional response, and often an irrational one.

    Compassion, on the other hand, is tangible and felt by others, played out in thoughtful actions, spoken in kind words, expressed in good deeds and in forgiveness.

    Guilt can’t exist where there is compassion, because compassion is understanding and non-judgmental.

    Guilt may have its place in courtrooms, but my verdict is the real answer lies in compassion and gentleness—starting with yourself.

  • Compassionate Posting: Minimizing Social Media Comparisons

    Compassionate Posting: Minimizing Social Media Comparisons

    Social Media

    “We must each lead a way of life with self-awareness and compassion, to do as much as we can. Then, whatever happens we will have no regrets.” ~Dalai Lama

    If you’re anything like me, you may have a love-hate relationship with social networking.

    There are so many cool facets to social networking sites, such as Facebook, but I am finding that the relative ease of information sharing with the masses and portable nature of technology bring their own set of challenges. Not a bad thing, per-se, but perhaps an invitation to practice even greater mindfulness and compassion.

    Consider the title “FACEbook”

    Jungian psychology describes the journey of the self through personal individuation. It’s a path of learning how to better understand and shed aspects of our persona—the “mask” or public face we use to make an impression on others, while potentially concealing parts of our true nature—as we work toward integrating a more holistic and genuine self-presence in our world.

    The hope is that in coming to better understand our multi-faceted selves (desired and undesired aspects), we come to realize that while we are unique, we are also very alike in our fears, our longings, our hopes, and desires.

    In other words, after all our all our striving to be someone, we eventually learn to relax into who we are in our shared humanity, which is broken and beautiful. 

    Facebook has been both my friend and enemy throughout the past year and a half, as I have struggled to recover from surgery after surgery due to traumatic injuries suffered in a climbing fall in November of 2012.

    Mindfulness practice is something I have chosen to embrace as part of my recovering journey. I am finding that as I come to better understand my own feelings in relation to pain and struggle, loss and gain, ability and disability, and despair and hope, I am comforted by the realization that these are the things I share with all human beings.

    Awareness

    I think I am not unique in the sense that, by nature, I tend to compare myself to other people. The society we live in encourages the competitive spirit—the edge that somehow sets one apart as “better” or “more deserving” of praise, affirmation, or whatever.

    We are proud of our accomplishments, our abilities, our attractiveness, or the things we believe define us. The feelings that arise with these qualities are good, even though they are fleeting.

    But what happens to our spirit, or our psychic energy, when we are faced with loss of ability, loss of attractiveness, or loss of what has typically brought us happiness and fulfillment? 

    When we are faced with any type of emotional experience, Facebook can provide a fertile opportunity for composting those feelings, or churning them around in our psyche.

    These feelings can serve as a reminder to have compassion with ourselves.

    For a period of time, I found that I needed to limit my interaction with Facebook, as the postings of others seemed to really magnify the pain and losses I was feeling.  

    Seemingly “perfect” lives appeared to reach out from my computer screen to punch me in the face. I was consumed with my own personal misery—my scars, my disabling injuries, and my frustration with how limited my life had become, as well as my uncertain future.

    My initial reaction to these feelings was to feel really bad and guilty, and to minimize my own experience.

    As my mindfulness practice evolved, however, I was able to create maitri, or unconditional self-acceptance as a part of my healing journey. To be able to tell myself “yes, your life does suck right now, and it is okay to mourn your abilities, your hopes, and dreams” was incredibly liberating.

    Since then, I have taken dozens of vacations from Facebook, and I return when I am ready.

    The feelings we experience as a result of social networking can also serve as a reminder that we are not alone. They are shared by all human beings.

    The Buddhist concept of Big Mind indicates an awareness of reality that transcends the merely personal, into the collective reality of all humankind.

    Have I ever felt proud of my abilities and my appearance? Absolutely. Have I felt the desire to share my joy in accomplishment or circumstance with others collectively? Of course. These are awesome feelings, and they teach us the value of gratitude.

    But I am acutely aware that there are folks out in Facebook-land who are also faced with struggles and challenges, and that whatever I post may engender a variety of responses or feelings in people with varying life circumstances.

    Mindful Compassionate Posting

    With every post, I try to be mindful of feelings and personal reactions. I ask myself these questions:

    What is my reason for posting this?

    Is it because I want to share what is happening in my life, to communicate good or helpful information, or a positive message?

    By my posting this, I obviously have some kind of expectation of others reading it (otherwise, why would I post?). How will I feel if the comments or feedback (or lack of them) are not what I had hoped for?

    Am I posting this because of some kind of validation that I need, or can I let go of the expectations that I might have?

    If I am posting to share good news (new job, achievement, marriage, children photos, etc.): Am I aware that my posting could bring up feelings of loss or pain in others?

    I know that every day, people are faced with job-loss, acquired disability, divorce, or inability to legally marry, infertility, and other losses of hopes and dreams.

    If I am posting to share news that is difficult, again, what are my expectations?

    To be encouraged? To simply share information? Am I willing to not take things personally, understanding that sometimes the written word is not adequate to share or respond to some things.

    It is unrealistic to think that in an age of widespread mass-communication, we can circumvent certain challenges and difficulties.

    But we can become more aware of our reactions and compassionate in our interactions. 

    We can learn to brace ourselves for a variety of emotions when exposed to a huge diversity of experiences—all of which are relative and changing, and utilize Facebook and social networking as tools for cultivating greater loving-kindness toward ourselves and all beings.

    Photo by geralt

  • 6 Ways to Deepen Your Compassion to Help People Who Are Hurting

    6 Ways to Deepen Your Compassion to Help People Who Are Hurting

    “Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” ~Dalai Lama

    I thought I understood compassion. Having spent ten years of my life training to be a psychiatrist, I knew how to define it, describe it, and think about it. I thought I got it.

    A few years ago, my brother was diagnosed with a serious mental illness. Being the mental health professional of the family, I took a long break to be with him as he navigated the initial stages of treatment.

    This experience taught me that compassion is more than being nice to someone for a few minutes or hours.

    True compassion is hard work, but it’s worthwhile. As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.”

    In trying to help him, I too was changed for the better.

    Among the many things I tried as part of the process, some worked. Here are the top six that have stood the test of time.

    1. Listen.

    Often while listening to someone, we are formulating replies in our mind, waiting for a lull in the conversation so we can interject. Try instead to just listen. Suspend all judgment and give the person your undivided attention.

    There is powerful healing in sharing your darkest secrets and having another person truly hear it and still love you. (more…)

  • The Zen of Dogs: On Mindfulness, Compassion, and Connection

    The Zen of Dogs: On Mindfulness, Compassion, and Connection

    “Joy is the simplest form of gratitude.” ~Karl Barth

    We were lying in bed. I said, “We can’t do it.” She said, “I don’t see what else we can do.” We lay there in silence, trying to figure it out.

    It was the third big decision of our relationship. The first was when I asked Nicole to marry me. The second was when she said yes. And the third—the one we couldn’t figure out—was what to do about Ralph.

    She’d had Ralph—a female German Shepherd—for a little over a year. Nicole had been waiting for years to get a dog, and now she’d found one, and it all felt so right—the timing, everything.

    What she didn’t expect was meeting me.

    And that I’d be allergic to dogs.

    Nicole was heartbroken, but decided that the only way we could live together would be to find a new home for Ralph. So we did—a nice, older couple who’d lost a dog years earlier who looked just like Ralph. We went to their house, and Ralph loved it there.

    But something in us just wasn’t ready to let Ralph go.

    So we lay in bed and tried to come up with a solution. We were getting nowhere.

    Then I surprised both of us by saying, “We’re not giving Ralph away. We’re just not.” We didn’t know what the solution would be, but we went on faith.

    I ended up trying new allergy medicines, and here we are ten years later. Ralph, hard to believe, is almost eleven. Our decision to keep her turned out to be one of the best we made—not just because we love her (and dogs in general), but because Ralph has been such a spiritual teacher.

    The first thing Ralph taught us is that you can’t predict the specifics of your life. You just can’t. You can envision the future, but life often turns out to be not quite what we were planning.

    And this is a good thing.

    So often we strive for control, certainty, predictability, but imagine how dull life would be, how much less wondrous, if we knew the specifics of our lives—the challenges as well as the joys—before they happened. (more…)

  • No Act of Kindness is Too Small

    No Act of Kindness is Too Small

    “There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle, or you can live as if everything is a miracle.” ~Albert Einstein

    One of the key ways to bring about greater harmony and peace in our lives is through understanding—looking at a situation and taking the time to put ourselves into the minds and hearts of others.

    And the key to understanding begins with the seed of compassion. Sounds so simple, right? So why don’t we do it?

    As people living in the west, we can sometimes be in too much of a rush to be kind—particularly when we’re dealing with deadlines and pressures.

    Can you think of a time when you brushed passed a certain situation and later regretted it? Feeling afterward that somehow you should have lent a helping hand, no matter how big or how small?

    In Northern India I am very fortunate to have what I call my Tibetan family within a monastery there. The monks have welcomed me into their world, and as they go about their daily business, I’m right there with them spending time.

    The benefits of this unique and special opportunity range from attending wonderful sacred events to sitting watching TV together as they serve me momos (dumplings).

    One night, while relaxing with the monks after a nice meal, I received a late call and learned that my cat back home in London was sick.

    The monks stopped what they were doing—one was even dragged back out of bed—and did an impromptu prayer session for my furry friend without a second thought.

    There they were, five of them chanting away. It blew my mind, because it demonstrated to me that they understood my fears and concerns and held my cat’s health in great importance.  (more…)

  • Being Kind When It’s Seen as a Weakness

    Being Kind When It’s Seen as a Weakness

    “The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good.” ~Samuel Johnson

    When I worked in the corporate world, I didn’t focus on a race to the top. I enjoyed the day-to-day work of running a product line, finding opportunities for new markets, and helping managers in other countries launch similar lines tailored to their markets.

    My approach was to be ethical in all aspects of the work, to have concern for the people I was working with to achieve results, and to share the credit appropriately. This was not the latest “management style,” nor was it proven.

    The most senior managers saw the bottom line increase and gave me more responsibility and a promotion, while immediate supervisors discredited me since I was not like them.

    A transfer to Asia fortunately took me out of the quagmire of home office politics. I felt the freedom to continue managing in a way that was natural to me: to encourage my teams with kindness, cooperation, and credit while we increased market share and the bottom line.

    My staff felt safe and enjoyed their work. The division prospered.

    However, my immediate superior didn’t value my approach. He viewed it as a sign of weakness that I was caring and thoughtful, and that I cooperated and shared with each colleague. (more…)

  • 4 Ways to Be Kind When You Don’t Feel Like It

    4 Ways to Be Kind When You Don’t Feel Like It

    “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” ~Plato

    I used to have a horrible boss.

    I worked as a trainer in a big corporation. I can remember him coming into one of my training sessions and telling me off about something in front of my whole group.

    He talked to me as if I was five years old and I’d done something terrible. When someone talks to you like that it’s difficult not to start feeling you are five years old and you’ve done something terrible. I wanted to sink into the ground.

    He treated other people badly, too. He frequently criticized people and talked down to them. He set unreasonable deadlines. He didn’t trust us to get on with our jobs.

    Plato suggests that we be kind, for everyone we meet is fighting a hard battle.

    Some people are very easy to be kind to.

    If my friend is having a bad time in her relationship, my instinct is to call her and ask her if she’s okay. If we see an elderly person trip over on the street, our instinct is to go over and see if we can help them up. It is easy to be kind.

    But what about my boss? Was I kind to him? And why should I be kind anyway? (more…)