Tiny Buddha

Tag: desires

  • How to Get Out of Your Own Way and Bring Your Dreams to Life

    How to Get Out of Your Own Way and Bring Your Dreams to Life

    “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.” ~Albert Einstein

    For a long time, I lived under the illusion that I was solving the problems standing between me and my desires.

    Whether it was love, success, or the kind of life I dreamed of, I believed I was taking the necessary steps to create what I wanted. But what I was really doing (without realizing it) was keeping those things forever at arm’s length.

    I was trying to create something from the same conditioning I’d adopted to navigate a difficult childhood, and all it did was reinforce the self-concept I’d walked away with (low self-worth and feeling “unreal” and inferior) and create more circumstances that reflected that self-concept back to me.

    This happened across the board.

    Early on in my business, I’d pour everything into creating an offer—a course, a program, something I deeply believed in.

    I’d work tirelessly, build a sales page, send out an email, and if the response wasn’t immediate, if people didn’t sign up right away, I wouldn’t send another email (or ten) or look at the data and refine accordingly.

    Instead, I would assume that something was wrong with me. That I needed to be better, work harder, explain myself more, train more, throw it all away, and start over.

    What I wasn’t seeing was the most basic thing every successful entrepreneur knows: sales take time, and people need multiple touch points before they buy.

    I couldn’t see that. So I’d abandon ship too soon, leaving money on the table and keeping myself stuck in a cycle of proving, perfecting, and starting from scratch. This lasted YEARS.

    The very same pattern shaped my love life in my twenties.

    I wanted deep, healthy, genuine love more than anything, but…

    I gravitated toward men who were emotionally unavailable and mirrored the same early-life relationships that affirmed my low self-worth.

    And when a relationship was killing me, when they didn’t commit or were inconsistent, withholding, or dismissive, I didn’t think, “Hmmm, maybe they aren’t the right fit for the deep, healthy, genuine love I want, and it’s time to let this go and look for what I want.”

    Instead, I thought, it must be me.

    I was sure if I was better—more lovable, cooler, thinner, more normal, less broken, more aligned with their wants, beliefs, and perspectives—things would change.

    But they didn’t. And I’d leave these relationships with a reinforced sense that I was not enough, and the problem was me, not the kind of men I was picking. Which kept me attracted to men who reflected that back to me.

    It was an unconscious feedback loop.

    The same thing happened with one of my biggest life decisions—moving to Tuscany.

    For years, I knew I wanted this life. I pictured myself in the Italian countryside, building a life that felt expansive, rich, and connected to nature. But I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready. That I hadn’t accomplished enough. That I’d allow myself this when I was somehow “good enough” to deserve doing what I knew I wanted to do.

    But this time I interrupted my pattern.

    I asked myself, “What if I stop trying to make myself good enough for what’s already in my heart and just take the steps to make it happen?”

    I’ve been living on this Tuscan hilltop for two and a half years.

    That moment showed me something big:

    The conditioning that tells you to keep fixing yourself, that tells you anything that’s not working the way you want it to boils down to a deficit in YOU, stems from deep childhood wounding and is the very thing keeping your desires out of reach.

    The problem isn’t you. When you think you’re the problem, you focus on fixing yourself, which robs you of your power to address the real issue and create the life, love, friendships, business, and bank account you’re already worthy of.

    Back then I wasn’t really finding the right business strategy—I was trying to make myself good enough and hoping my business would do that for me. It didn’t.

    I wasn’t really creating healthy relationships—I was trying to be chosen by men who were incapable of real intimacy. Never lasted more than a couple of years.

    I wasn’t really building the life I wanted—I was trying to become the kind of person I believed was “worthy” of it.

    None of this actually moved me forward. It was just a feedback loop that kept me stuck in the same cycle.

    But when I started separating my present desires from my emotional baggage and past distortions of how to get from A to B, everything changed. Life started happening instead of me waiting to be given permission for it to happen. You know what I mean?

    If you find yourself spiraling inside your own feedback loop, I invite you to ask yourself:

    • Am I treating every setback as proof of my inadequacy instead of seeing it as data and feedback that lets me know what I need to adjust to get to where I want to be?
    • Am I trying to be “better” for people who are fundamentally incapable of giving me what I want?
    • Am I waiting to feel “good enough” before I allow myself to take the steps that would get me there?

    Because the problem was never you. And the moment you stop trying to fix yourself for what you want—and start taking the steps to claim it—you’ll finally see just how much was always available to you.

  • How to Free Yourself from Your Constant Desires

    How to Free Yourself from Your Constant Desires

    “Wealth consists not in having great possessions but in having few wants.” ~Epictetus

    I surely can’t be the only one tired of constantly wanting things. By things, I mean a new job, a nice car, new clothes, a new home, perhaps even a partner, more friends, more money, or better holidays in more luxurious locations.

    It feels like we are forever stuck in a cycle of seeking the next bigger or better thing. Once we have achieved one goal, yup, you guessed it, here comes another, even bigger goal that will probably be harder to reach than the last one.

    It seems that we always want more; nothing is ever enough.

    At one point I felt like I had truly gotten lost in trying to keep up with expectations from society, my peers, my colleagues, and even strangers!

    I was fed up with not getting what I wanted when I felt I needed it, and with getting what I wanted but only enjoying it for a short time before I wanted the next big thing!

    When does it end? When do we pass over to the other side? When do we reach enlightenment?

    I was tired of constantly chasing things. It was exhausting, and I didn’t have the energy for it.

    I wanted to afford to live on my own instead of having to house-share or live with family. I wanted a partner who would be true to me. I wanted my side hustle to earn me enough to do it full time. I wanted holidays multiple times a year.

    I was eventually offered a flat viewing for an affordable housing scheme. These were few and far between, so I was lucky to be offered one. I thought that this would be my chance to meet my goal of living alone.

    If I got the flat, I could tick it off my list! I would be halfway there to the ‘perfect’ life I had envisioned for myself.

    Sadly, I wasn’t offered the flat for reasons unbeknown to me, but being rejected for it certainly put things into perspective for me.

    To my surprise, I was not in the slightest bit angry, upset, or disappointed!

    I sat and asked myself what it would have changed if I had gotten it. I would have been happy in the flat for a short period, but it wouldn’t have been long before I was itching to live in a house, somewhere bigger or in a better area.

    I concluded that it wasn’t life handing me the shit stick; it was me. I was the problem! I always wanted more, I didn’t appreciate what I already had, and I was always looking to the future when things would be “better.”

    I sat and wondered what it would feel like to just be, to not want anything, to take everything as it comes without judgment or fear of where I’d end up if I didn’t meet my goals.

    Call it a spiritual awakening or an epiphany that there had to be more to life than constantly chasing things I desire.

    Annoyed and frustrated with myself, I turned to a search engine for answers. “Is it possible to live without desire?” I typed into Google.

    I was met with many articles that provided helpful information.

    I have discovered, through books, meditation, online information, and reflection on my own experiences, that desire isn’t necessarily bad.

    Issues arise when we chase desires because we feel they are necessary for our well-being and happiness, and we rely on them for fulfilment. The problem is that when we do not get the things we want, it leads to disappointment and misery.

    That was certainly my issue. I had become fixated on looking for things outside of myself to bring me peace, joy, happiness, and fulfilment, and they never did, or at least not for a significant period of time.

    We Desire More Because We’re Chasing Happiness

    We chase external things because we are ultimately chasing happiness; we think these things will make us feel good. When we acquire them, they usually do, but the feeling of happiness never lasts. Usually, it’s not long before we want something else.

    I discovered that as long as you believe there is something outside of yourself that can bring you happiness, you will never truly be happy because it starts within.

    Our Desire is Linked to a Feeling of Lack

    We want things because we think we lack something, even when all our needs are met, but if we constantly feel there is never enough, we will wind up creating more of that feeling.

    This is the basis of the law of attraction—like attracts like. What you focus your energy on, you receive more of.

    I realized that I needed to make changes in my life, slow down, refocus, and tame my constant need to obtain things. To do this, I had to look within to connect with who I really was—a spiritual being to whom materialism and what I have (and do not have) do not matter!

    In order to tame my constant striving for more and find happiness within, I implemented the following.

    Temper your expectations.

    We have to understand that the world doesn’t owe us a thing, but that doesn’t mean that we should stop pursuing the things we want. We should just refrain from expecting everything to turn out the way we hope they will.

    If we get what we want, that’s great; if we don’t, we didn’t have our hopes pinned on it anyway, so it’s also okay!

    When you have fewer expectations, less can disappoint you, and if you do feel disappointed about something, you will recover and be able to bounce back quickly.

    Accept where you are in life.

    Acceptance will free you from the victim mentality that keeps you focused on what you lack. Once again, this doesn’t mean you can’t strive to improve your situation. It just means you’ll get out of the judging mind that fixates on how unfair life is, enabling you to enjoy the things you do have and more effectively work to change the things that aren’t working for you.

    Surrender to life.

    Loosen your grip on your life and stop trying to swim against the tide.

    Often, we get so caught up trying to control everything and make everything work in our favor that we cause more harm than good, usually to ourselves.

    Trust that things could work out even better than you knew to imagine if you let go a little, and when you face adversity, remember it will pass, because nothing lasts forever.

    When you do have goals you want to achieve, try to enjoy the process of getting where you want to be instead of focusing on the end result. Things usually fall into place when we relax and let go of outcomes.

    Practice being more present.

    By constantly chasing our desires, we can end up living in the future and not here in the present moment, which means we can’t appreciate what’s right in front of us.

    The only matter that truly matters is that of now because yesterday is dead and tomorrow has not happened yet.

    I found that being present reduced my anxiety and worries about the future, because I made a conscious effort to only focus on the now.

    Practice gratitude.

    When we appreciate everything we have, we tend to focus less on what we do not have.

    Gratitude is linked to greater well-being and overall happiness, and it’s also effective in reducing stress and anxiety.

    What helps me is to take a little time at night to find something from the day I appreciated. It doesn’t have to be something big; it can be a colleague helping me with a task at work or a stranger holding the door open for me.

    —

    Upon reflection, I personally think that it is okay to live with desire. We are human, and living from a desire-less state would be extremely difficult—even wanting to live without desires is a desire itself!

    It’s natural to want to eat tasty dinners, to look nice when we go out, and to be able to treat ourselves for our hard work. While these wants may be minor, they are still desires.

    Some would even argue that if we did not have any desires, our lives would have no meaning or purpose, and we wouldn’t be motivated to do anything.

    But constantly chasing external things and relying on them for happiness and fulfilment is an unhealthy way to live, leading to stress, worry, fear, and even depression.

    The alternative is to appreciate all the goodness we have in our lives and understand that happiness cannot be measured by the things that we have, or found by constantly looking outside of ourselves; if they could, then those that could afford to have everything they ever wanted would be the happiest people in the world, and this just isn’t the case!

  • What Carrots Are You Chasing, and Are They Worth the Sacrifice?

    What Carrots Are You Chasing, and Are They Worth the Sacrifice?

    “Not to arrive at a clear understanding of one’s own values is a tragic waste. You have missed the whole point of what life is for.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt

    I promise this essay isn’t an attempt to convince you that you’re living inside The Matrix. (Okay, maybe it is a bit.)

    But do you ever find that days, weeks, or even months have passed that you didn’t feel present for? I describe this odd sensation as feeling like you’re going through the motions like Bill Murray trapped in Groundhog Day.

    Every day bleeds into the next because you’re future-focused, and what you’re doing right now only feels valuable insofar as it’s laying the groundwork for something else; the next stage of your career, the renovation that means the house is “done,” a number in the bank account that means you’ll never have to worry about money again.

    I think it’s fair to say we both know this is total BS. We’ve climbed enough mountains in our lifetime to know that as soon as we get what we want, we’re already planning what’s next.

    The problem is not with the aim or the goal but with the belief that we can cross a finish line that will magically make these uncomfortable feelings disappear. In psychology, they call this the hedonic treadmill.

    You know that promotion that would change your life?

    You know that new kitchen you obsess over because it would make life much better?

    You know that extra cash that would mean all of life’s money troubles would disappear?

    Will they provide everlasting happiness?

    Doubtful.

    We can blame this on the hedonic treadmill.

    It’s in our human nature to quickly return to a relatively stable level of happiness despite major positive or negative events or life changes.

    Put another way: No matter what we do, buy, or hope will change our life permanently, it’s a short-lived shot of happiness injected into our life.

    I understand why people don’t want to believe this. Because it forces us to question why we’re working so damn hard to change things and to be present with what is right now.

    When I realized this, I began to reflect on what it meant for my life in a way I couldn’t when I was lost in the chase. Accepting that we have a baseline is liberating. Most of what we’re chasing is nothing more than stupid carnival prizes in a game we didn’t know we were playing.

    If the $40,000 kitchen renovation will give you a flash-in-the-pan taste of happiness, is it worth the years of your life you need to sacrifice to pay that off?

    Is it worth more hours in the office?

    Is it worth less time with your family?

    Is it worth the crippling stress?

    You have no control over the hedonic treadmill. Still, you can control how much of your life you’re willing to trade for a future that won’t make you any happier in the present.

    It’s a hard habit to break because, as philosopher Alan Watts explains:

    “Take education. What a hoax. As a child, you are sent to nursery school. In nursery school, they say you are getting ready to go on to kindergarten. And then first grade is coming up and second grade and third grade… In high school, they tell you you’re getting ready for college. And in college you’re getting ready to go out into the business world… [People are] like donkeys running after carrots that are hanging in front of their faces from sticks attached to their own collars. They are never here. They never get there. They are never alive.”

    It’s drilled into us from the day we’re born to always think of what’s next.

    You end up chasing carrots to eat when you’re not even hungry. Hell, you probably don’t even like the taste of carrots.

    This lack of presence is toxic for our children. They end up repeating the same cycle we do when we role model the idea that we need to prioritize a future self (that may never come) over time spent with them.

    Life only feels short because we burn much of our alive time on shit that doesn’t matter.

    Do you want to experience a deep, rich, and fulfilling life?

    Start by asking, what carrots are you chasing? Are they worth the sacrifice? And what values would you honor in the present if you stopped living for the future?

    I can say family means everything to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to support and provide for them. But if I’m consumed by my phone when I’m with my ten-month-old daughter, what value am I reinforcing? To make more money in my business so I have the freedom to do exactly what I’m too busy to enjoy right now?

    To honor my values means putting the phone down, looking into her eyes, and giving her literally the only thing she wants and needs from me. My presence. And that right there—being present enough to enjoy our lives—is what will give us the happiness we crave.

  • Why Many of Us Chase Big Dreams and End Up Feeling Dissatisfied

    Why Many of Us Chase Big Dreams and End Up Feeling Dissatisfied

    “A dream written down with a date becomes a GOAL. A goal broken down into steps becomes a PLAN. A plan backed by ACTION makes your dreams come true.” ~Greg Reid

    We all have dreams, some of them really big. And if we are serious about achieving these dreams, the next logical step is to set a goal, make a plan, and start taking action.

    But we are missing out on one very important step in the dream-creating journey.

    This step is one that has taken me, personally, two decades to come to realize. And my first clue came from my kids’ bedtime story book, of all places!

    Down in the depths of the ocean lived a sad and lonely whale who spent his days searching and searching for the next shiny object, never feeling complete or fulfilled in his quest for more. Then one day, stumbling upon a beautiful reef, a clever little crab stops him and asks:

    “You are the whale that always wants more. But what are you really wanting it for?”

    We seem to spend our whole lives setting goals and planning out our dreams, but we rarely stop to ask ourselves what we want these things for. What do we want the new car, job, promotion or house for?

    If we stopped to think, and if we were really honest with ourselves, we would all have a similar answer. Because our goals and dreams often boil down to the same underlying human need for significance: to feel good enough, valued, validated, accepted, loved, or worthy.

    Most of our goals are essentially attached to our need to feel good enough in the eyes of others and ourselves.

    The Missing Step of Having an Unattached Goal

    Having an unattached goal is the missing step in our dream-living process. It is such an important step for two simple reasons. When we have goals that are conjoined to the need to be good enough, we can only end up with one of two finish-line photos:

    • You on the podium with the winning medal around your neck, but looking around at the next shiny medal to chase, not fulfilled by your achievement.
    • You not crossing the finishing line, with an “I’m a failure” sign around your neck, left with an even bigger hunger for validation and self-worth.

    Cease the Endless Quest for More

    Just like in the children’s book The Whale Who Wanted More, a typical pattern is to chase goal after goal, finding that we are never satisfied for long and continually hatching plans for the next shiny object to chase.

    It makes complete sense when you realize that these goals are forged together with the need for significance, acceptance, or validation. Because if we don’t fill those needs first and instead use our goals to meet them, there is no car, house, promotion, or partner that will. And we will always be looking for that next thing to meet those needs.

    Cease the Self-Sabotage

    Self-sabotage was my MO for many years. Just like an ironsmith beating his flame-red metal into shape, I had beat and bent my purpose so that it would fulfill what I lacked in self-worth and what I secretly craved in acceptance and validation. I would be enough only when I achieved my purpose-related goal.

    And here’s the kicker—I not only needed to live my purpose in order to fulfill my need for significance, I also had to swim against the undercurrent of feeling like I wasn’t capable of actually doing it.

    The fear of failure was so real, because if I failed at this I wouldn’t get the validation and worth that I needed. So any time I felt like failure was in sight, I would give up and hatch a new plan to reach my purposeful goal, and in doing so, sabotage my own path to it. My way of seeing the world had become: better to keep the dream of a possibility alive than have the reality of failure come true.

    The Question That Opened My Eyes to My Attached Goals

    I lived for twenty years under the guise of a pure purpose, a burning flame to help others. And though that was very much part of my drive and work over the years, it was subtly intertwined with the need for recognition and “becoming someone.” And it had slowly and silently transformed into a shackle for self-worth and significance.

    About a month or two after reading that bedtime book to my children, I heard a question that split my tug-of-war rope in half; a question that left my goal on one side and my self-worth safely on the other. It gave me the separation, distance, and freedom I needed to be me and to go after my goals with no emotional agendas, just pure passion and purpose.

    And the magic question was:

    If you don’t get what you want, what would that mean about you?

    When I first heard that question, my answer came so quickly:

    I’d be a failure.

    It seemed like a simple mathematical truth to me: don’t achieve my life-long goal equals failure. What other answer could there possible be?

    As it happens, there is only one right answer to this question. And it wasn’t the one I gave. The right answer sounded simple. There was nothing complicated about it, but it just didn’t sit, settle, or disperse in any way. It just kind of hung there in front of me, just waiting for something to happen.

    And something did happen, about a week later.

    I was running through my typical pattern: the way I would always approach my purpose-related goals and how, after seeing and concluding that nothing would ever come from my efforts, just give up.

    But that day, I suddenly remembered the question, if you don’t get what you want, what would that mean about you?

    And more importantly, I remembered the right answer:

    Nothing.

    Yes, you read that right. The right answer is nothing. Not getting what you want changes nothing about who you are. You are still you.

    You are still worthy. You are worthy, whether or not you achieve your goal. When we tie so much meaning and worth to what we are trying to achieve it becomes a huge block. And we end up chasing that goal or that dream for all the wrong reasons: so that we don’t feel like a failure; so that we feel loved, accepted, and recognized.

    Your goals do not complete you. You are complete whether you achieve them or not.

    When you truly feel that not getting what you want means absolutely nothing about you, you know that you have an unattached goal. And when you have an unattached goal, you are free to go after it without those typical self-sabotaging patterns and to enjoy achieving your goal when you reach it.

    A dream written down with a date becomes a GOAL. A goal broken down into steps becomes a PLAN. A plan backed by ACTION makes your dreams come true.

    But a dream unattached to your self-worth is the real dream come true.

  • When the Pursuit of Happiness Makes You Unhappy: Why I Stopped Chasing My Dream

    When the Pursuit of Happiness Makes You Unhappy: Why I Stopped Chasing My Dream

    “We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” ~Joseph Campbell

    From as far back as I can remember, I was enchanted with music. One of my earliest memories is of circling a record player while listening to a 45 rpm of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson.” I made my public singing debut in the third grade, performing Kenny Rogers’ mega-hit “The Gambler.” I sang it a cappella at a school assembly, even though I technically didn’t know all the words.

    At home, I devoured my dad’s records and tapes (pop, show tunes, classical, “oldies”), and started building my own collection at the age of nine (early ‘80s Top 40, and hard rock). For fun, I made up my own bits and pieces of songs and wrote the lyrics down in a notebook.

    After much begging, I finally got my hands on a guitar at the age of thirteen and began lessons. Having discovered The Beatles a year or so before, music became nothing short of an all-out obsession. I practiced relentlessly, paying for my lessons with a job I took at a local record store at the ripe young age of fourteen (I was in there so often they eventually hired me), and within a couple of years began my first serious attempts at songwriting.

    My musical heroes provided such joy, comfort, catharsis, and inspiration during my teenage years that it was only natural for me to emulate them and develop an overwhelming desire to have a music career of my own. Performing for my peers in social situations tended to generate lots of positive attention, which fed my already ravenous appetite to succeed that much more.

    Music also became, for me, a way to mitigate the typical insecurities that come with being a young person.

    In college, I would habitually wander around the dorm with my guitar and offer spontaneous concerts for anyone who would listen. It was a great way to test out new material and connect with others, and few things in life gave me as much pleasure as singing and playing.

    I recall a coffeehouse gig I played on campus that received such a positive response, there was simply no turning back. Being so appreciated for doing something I already loved to do was a euphoric high, so I sought out performing opportunities—formal and informal—even more compulsively.

    Somewhere along the line, music and entertaining became not just my passion, but the thing that made me feel worthwhile. The guitar was like a superpower—with it, I could be wonderful. Without it, I was insignificant.

    After college, I moved to Nashville—a mecca for songwriters of all stripes—and dove headfirst into the music scene. I lived frugally, worked whatever day jobs I needed to, and spent the bulk of my energy on making music and attempting to get a career off the ground.

    I wrote new songs, performed at writer’s nights all over town, and befriended and sometimes shared living quarters with like-minded musicians.

    I recorded a studio demo that was rejected or ignored by seventy-five different record companies. But to me, these rejections were simply part of the dues-paying process and made me feel a spiritual kinship with my heroes, all of whom endured similar trials on their way to eventual success.

    My closest songwriter friends and I became our own mutual-admiration-and-inspiration society, and helped each other endure the slings and arrows that are par for the course pursuing a career within something as notoriously difficult and fickle as the music industry.

    One Sunday morning, I received a call from a DJ who hosted a show on my favorite local radio station, Lightning 100. “What are you doing this evening?” he asked.

    Apparently, he liked the demo I had sent him.

    To my amazement, that same day I found myself on the 30th floor of the L&C Tower in downtown Nashville with a king-of-the-world view of the city, being interviewed live on the air. The DJ played two of the three songs on my demo over the airwaves during my visit. I shouted gleefully in the car afterward and headed straight over to my closest friends’ apartment (they had been listening from home) to share my giddy excitement with them.

    Without record company backing or interest, I ended up financing and overseeing the recording and production of a full-blown studio album myself, while working full-time.

    Once the album was complete, I started my own small label to release it, and quit my day job so I could focus full-time on working feverishly to get it heard. I became a one-man record company (and manager and booking agent, to boot), operating out of my bedroom and sending copies of my finished CD (this was the ‘90s) to radio stations, newspapers, and colleges nationwide. I followed up with them by phone (this was still the ‘90s) in the hopes of securing airplay, reviews, and gigs.

    I contacted hundreds of colleges and universities—mostly on the east coast where the concentration was highest—to book my own tour.

    The idea was to play as many gigs as humanly possible at schools large and small, driving myself from one to the next, selling CDs, and building up a mailing list along the way. This would allow me to eke out a living doing what I loved, in the hopes of gaining greater exposure, building a fan base, and ultimately establishing a bona fide career as a musician/performer.

    It was an incredibly exciting time, but also stressful and intense. I did get some airplay on radio stations around the country, and received some reviews of the CD, but not many. I was racking up debt, working obsessively, and putting everything on the line to make my dream a reality. On the practical side, I figured that whatever attention the CD did or did not attract, I would experience life on the road and most likely at least break even, financially speaking.

    After months of relentlessly following up with the 182 schools that gave me the green light to send my promotional materials, things were looking increasingly bleak. My points of contact frequently changed hands (and were often students in unpaid roles), and promising deals fell apart.

    When all was said and done, I ended up with a single, solitary booking to show for all my efforts. One. This would be the extent of my “tour.”

    What I had not anticipated, aside from such dismal results, was the toll this would take on me. I was exhausted in every way imaginable: physically, financially, emotionally, creatively. Most significant, though, was the toll on my spirit. I had believed that if I just worked hard enough, I would succeed, on at least a modest level. These results suggested otherwise.

    I never expected, regardless of the rejections I had accumulated, to ever stop trying, as this was the only thing I wanted to do with my life. But now it seemed I had no choice. I could barely get out of bed.

    I soon learned that even though I had dutifully kept up with my share of the rent, the housemate I was renting from had apparently not been paying the landlord! A notice I found showed that we were many months delinquent and faced potential eviction at any moment. I needed to find a new place to live. And a new job. All of which would have been a nuisance but doable, had I been my normal self. Alas, I was not. I was a wreck.

    On a phone call with my mom, she said, “Why don’t you just come home?”

    In what was perhaps the biggest testament to my desperate state, I could not come up with a better option. I moved back into my childhood home—for me, the ultimate concession of defeat.

    I had completely lost my way, my direction, my purpose, my drive. A huge part of my self-worth had been tied up in my success—both artistically and commercially—as a musician. I had defined myself by this identity and pursuit. What was I, who was I, without it?

    Though I struggled greatly with accepting it, I found that I had no more energy, zero, to invest in my dream. The immediate task at hand was climbing out of depression. And debt.

    It took a couple of years before I felt the urge to re-engage with life in ways that reflected my natural enthusiasm. Even then, the desire to resume the pursuit of a music career was gone. But once I started to regain a degree of emotional and financial stability (a boring office job helped this cause tremendously), I took some tentative steps in new directions. I enrolled in a few adult education classes, including an acting class that was quite fun and led to trying my hand at some community theater.

    Hiking had been a key factor in my recovery, so I joined the Delaware Valley Chapter of the Appalachian Mountain Club and began hiking with groups of other folks rather than just going out in nature by myself. This led to being invited on my first-ever backpacking trip, which proved to be life-changing and sparked an even greater love of the outdoors.

    Feeling better, and finally regaining a sense of possibility for myself, I moved out to California and did a lot more exploring, both inwardly and outwardly.

    In the twenty-plus years since, I have done things I never imagined I would do, broadening my palette of interests and life experiences in ways that no doubt would have completely surprised my younger self. I also met an incredible partner and got married.

    In other words: I made a life for myself, and became a much happier person, despite never having realized my dream of being a professional musician, nor of even having achieved any notable career success in some other domain.

    Though I abandoned my pursuit of music as a livelihood, I never stopped loving music.

    Over the years I have performed in a variety of settings, sometimes for pay but more often just for the love of it.

    I have shared my passion for music with numerous guitar students, played for hospital patients as a music volunteer, been an enthusiastic small venue concertgoer and fan of ever more artists and styles, continued developing my own skills on guitar and even began taking classical piano lessons.

    I will never stop loving music. The difference is that I finally learned to love myself, regardless of any success in the outer world of the music business or lack thereof.

    We all, to varying degrees, seek external approval, appreciation, recognition, and validation from others, and it can be momentarily pleasurable to receive these things. Being dependent upon them, however, (not to mention addicted to them!) is a recipe for persistent unhappiness.

    The Buddha teaches that all our suffering stems from attachment. While it is perfectly normal and human to desire things, our desires are endless and never satiated for long.

    If we make our own happiness or sense of self-worth dependent upon things going a certain way, then we are signing up for misery. The more tightly we cling to our notions of what should be, it seems, the more profound the misery.

    The good news, as I have learned, is that life is so large that it does not need to conform to our meager ideas about what can make us contented, happy, or fulfilled. It is large enough to contain our most crushing disappointments and still make room for us to experience meaningful and satisfying lives, often via things we never would have expected nor could have anticipated.

    My twenty-something self would likely not have believed it, but I lovingly send this message to him anyway through space and time: It is possible to be happy and live a fulfilling life even if your biggest dream fails to come true. Hang in there! I love you.

  • The Joy of Not Getting What We Want

    The Joy of Not Getting What We Want

    “Remember that not getting what you want Is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.” ~Dalai Lama

    Let me tell you a story. I first read it in a book on Taoism, but I’ve seen it in at least a dozen other places since then, each with its own variation. Here’s the gist:

    There’s this farmer. His favorite horse runs away. Everyone tells him that this is a terrible turn of events and that they are sorry for him. He says, “We’ll see.”

    The horse comes back a few days later, and it brings an entire herd of wild horses with it. Everyone tells him that this is a wonderful turn of events and that they’re happy for him. He says, “We’ll see.”

    The farmer’s son is trying to break one of the new horses, it throws him, and he breaks his leg. Everyone tells the farmer that this is a terrible turn of events and that they’re sorry for him. He says, “We’ll see.”

    The army comes through the village. The country is at war and they are conscripting people to go fight. They leave the farmer’s son alone because he has a broken leg. Everyone tells him that this is a wonderful turn of events and that they’re happy for him.

    The farmer says, “We’ll see.”

    Now let me tell you who I was when I first heard that story. I was twenty-three or twenty-four, trying to get off of drugs and stop drinking and turn my life around in general. I had recently rolled my car out into a field, lost my wife and most of my friends, and had moved to West Texas to start over.

    I was smart enough to know something had to change, but I wasn’t quite smart enough to know how, so I tried to do what I thought smart people did—I started going to the library.

    I initially got into a bunch of weird stuff like alternate theories about the history of the world, cryptozoology, and things like that. Not really the change I needed.

    One day I went to the library looking for a book about the Mothman, but Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time was sitting in its place. I didn’t know anything about this book or the things it talked about, but the title was cool, and libraries are free, so I checked it out.

    It’s hard to exaggerate how much this book revolutionized my view of the universe and my place in it. It was thrilling to recognize how much there was out there that I didn’t know. Atlantis and Bigfoot were replaced by quantum mechanics and string theory.

    I eventually stumbled onto The Dancing Wu Li Masters by Gary Zukav, rearranging my worldview again. Having grown up in a pretty strict evangelical home, any sort of eastern philosophy was completely outside my frame of reference. This led me to begin studying Taoism and Buddhism, most specifically Zen Buddhism, and to the story I started this post with.

    I started to recognize that I had a mind, but I was not my mind. Meditation showed me how this mind was always grasping and wanting and reaching out for different things. It was a craving and aversion machine.

    It wasn’t long before I realized that it wanted these things solely for the sake of having them, and that none of them were all that important. I just wanted what I wanted because I wanted it.

    This changed everything.

    I had spent the previous fifteen years running from one thing to another in order to avoid anxiety, fear, anger, and depression. I did this through drugs and alcohol and taking crazy risks with my life. These things have consequences.

    These consequences came as car wrecks, jail time, hospitalizations, and a long string of destroyed relationships. I was so captivated by my wants that I was running through life with my eyes closed, blindly chasing them, with predictable results.

    Realizing that I was not my mind gave me a sense of objectivity about the things I wanted and the things I did not want. It taught me that I didn’t have to be so attached to having or avoiding things. This let me stop running.

    I learned that getting our way is overrated. Once we recognize this, we are much less susceptible to the whims of a flimsy, fragile, and fickle mind.

    Why We Have No Business Getting What We Want

    There are three primary reasons we need to be careful about being too invested in getting what we want:

    • We are emotional creatures, driven by things like hunger and a bad night’s sleep.
    • To a great extent we’re wired for short-term thinking. Immediate benefit often outweighs long-term consequences.
    • We experience time in a linear fashion, so the future is completely unknown to us.

    Let’s take a look at these.

    Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired

    I often encourage people to memorize the acronym HALTS to use when making decisions. It stands for hungry, happy, angry, lonely, tired, stressed, and sad.

    These are all common emotional states, and they are all terrible times to make a decision. We’ve all heard the advice not to go shopping while we’re hungry, and there’s a reason for that—it’s good advice. You will buy more food than you need, all based on how you feel in that moment.

    I’m not sure I’ve ever seen good decisions come from these emotional states, unless luck intervened and let the person off the hook. It all makes sense when we think about it.

    Anger shuts down the best parts of out brain. Situations go from bad to worse and from worse to unfixable when we decide to address something in a moment of anger.

    When we are sad the entire world seems bleak and it feels like it will never change. This is okay, unless we make long-term decisions based on the idea of an ominous, crushing world.

    Stress makes even the smallest things feel overwhelming. We cannot make good decisions when making our bed or going grocery shopping sound like monumental tasks.

    When we’re lonely we’re likely to let the wrong people into our lives just because we need someone. This opens us up to toxic, manipulative, and malicious people.

    Our brains are slow and sluggish when we are tired, and our decisions are, unfortunately, rarely our best.

    Even the so-called positive emotions aren’t safe. I know I have overcommitted to things on days when I was happy and feeling a little bit better than normal.

    When you take all of this together, it helps us to see that the things we want are flimsy and that they change depending on our mood. The things we want become a lot less important when we realize that we might only want them because we had a bad night’s sleep, or we skipped lunch.

    Short-Term Planning

    Our immediate responses are rarely oriented to the long term. This makes sense, since most of the things our body needs are immediate—food, sleep, protection, sex, using the bathroom, etc.

    The problem arises when we focus on meeting these needs to the exclusion of the things that are good for us long term. I wasn’t stupid—I’d always known that the drinking and drugs were a problem. The problem was that rational James was usually outvoted by crazy James.

    I had good intentions, and they held so long as I wasn’t around any of my temptations. My long-term planning was solid until short-term fun was in front of me. It was infuriating to watch my resolve and dreams go out the window over and over again.

    As I mentioned above, our wants are flimsy when we begin to explore them. Why do you want chocolate? Why do you want a beer? Why do you want to go on a walk? Why do you want to go to Disney World?

    We have all sorts of answers for these questions:

    Because I deserve it.

    Because I need to relax.

    Because it’s a nice day outside.

    Because Disney World is the happiest place on earth.

    These don’t really hold up when we examine them though.

    Why do you deserve it?

    What does it mean to relax?

    What makes it a nice day?

    What makes Disney World the happiest place on earth?

    If we keep going, we always arrive at the realization that we just want to feel good one way or another. We want to feel good for the sake of feeling good. While there’s definitely nothing wrong with this, it is ultimately baseless, and we cannot let it drive our lives.

    Not feeling good is a part of the human experience. You’re going to get sick, you’re going to have days that are not as good as other days, you’re going to have a headache sometimes. These things are unavoidable.

    The things we want right here and right now are rarely the best things for us long term. Because of this, long-term planning requires intentionality and energy. It may be inconvenient but it’s true.

    We Can’t Predict the Future

    As a kid, I remember thinking it was weird that we couldn’t remember the future. If I could remember what happened yesterday, why couldn’t my brain go the other direction?

    This is one of the primary limitations of our species, and the most important reason that we shouldn’t hold the things we want too tightly. We don’t know how anything is going to turn out, including what will happen if we get what we want.

    I used to drive through Lubbock, Texas, once or twice a year to go skiing. Lubbock is a city out in the desert, and while I have come to love it here, I don’t think anyone would describe it as beautiful.

    Lubbock has some dubious honors. We have been voted most boring city in America, worst weather in the world, and I recently read that we have the worst diet in the United States. Our poverty and violent crime rates are roughly double the national average, and we score high on things like child abuse and teen pregnancy.

    I always swore I’d never live in a place like Lubbock when I would pass through here, but moving here twenty years ago saved my life. The place that I loved, Austin, I brought me to rock bottom. it was only a matter of time before I was dead or in prison.

    On the other hand, the place that I swore I’d never live has given me a college education, a family, and a successful business—all things that I thought only existed for other people. I honestly shudder when I think what my life would have looked like had I not moved.

    There have been smaller examples along the way. I was working at a CD store and loved it, but one Sunday corporate came in and said they were shutting the place down. They gave me a two-week paycheck to help them pack the store up and move it out. It was that abrupt.

    It sucked, but this led me to working at hotels, where I was able to get paid to do all my homework and still have time to read for fun. I burned through all the Russian classics, made all A’s, and got to spend a lot of time with my son when he was little. I will always be grateful for that.

    Before opening my practice, I was working at a private university. For someone with sixty-plus jobs in their life (my wife and I made a list), working on a college campus was amazing—it was the first place I saw as a “forever” job.

    When things went bad, they went all bad and it was obvious it was time to leave, but I was comfortable. I ignored some problems I should not have been ignoring, and it caught up with me. By the time I left I was burned out and sick all the time.

    This catapulted me into opening my own business because I didn’t really see any other options. I’d never seen myself as being responsible enough to do this, and people told me I didn’t have the head for it.

    Six years later, my business has been super successful and afforded me more freedom than I could ever imagine, but even this wasn’t the end. I recently closed my office to stay home with my kids, another twist I couldn’t have seen coming.

    We are trapped in linear time, so we don’t know what’s coming right around the corner. Holding on to one thing or another as the right thing or the thing we “should’ have often causes us to miss the amazing things right in front of us.

    Accepting What We Get

    My life has been a series of hard lessons brought about by my self-absorbed, entitled, and foolish choices. They have all, in one way or another, taught me one thing: I don’t know what’s best, so a majority of the time I don’t have any business getting what I want.

    Things like someone shelving a library book in the wrong place, corporate closing the place I worked, and moving to a city I actively disliked have brought about the best things in my life. I would not have chosen any of these if I’d been given the choice.

    We are emotional, shortsighted creatures who have no access to the future. Learning to cultivate acceptance for the things outside of our control often opens up amazing paths for us. I know it has for me.

  • Finding the Courage to Go After What You Want Out of Life

    Finding the Courage to Go After What You Want Out of Life

    “Just because you’re not doing what other people are doing, that doesn’t mean you’re failing or falling behind. You’re charting your own course and staying true to yourself, even though it would be easier to join the crowd. You’re creating a life you can fall in love with instead of falling in line. You’re finding the courage to do what’s right for you, even though it’s uncertain and scary and hard. Give yourself some credit, because these are all reasons to be proud.” ~Lori Deschene

    I wouldn’t call myself a laid-back person. I have anxiety that leads me to catastrophize, and I struggle with perfectionism. That said, I do pride myself on being a person who’s able to go with the flow, who’s open to just about anything—a person who is, in a word, agreeable.

    Where do you want to go to lunch? I’m okay with whatever. Which movie should we watch? I can probably find something to enjoy in most of them. What should we do this weekend? I don’t know; what do you want to do?

    If I have a really strong opinion about something, I’ll speak up, but what I really enjoy is being in the company of people I care about. I’m usually most happy when everybody around me is happy. As far as I’m concerned, the details of what we’re doing don’t matter as much as the fact that we’re doing it together.

    This attitude is rooted in a number of different things.

    For one, I was raised in a mid-sized, West Coast, seaside town where slow movement and a languid approach to decision making were part of the local culture.

    In addition, I usually took on the role of passive peacemaker in my family of origin, making sure the stress level was manageable for all involved by avoiding conflict at every turn.

    Finally, I grew up immersed in a religion that believed humans were inherently bad and it was essential for each of us to follow God’s will, as opposed to our own, in any given moment.

    Thanks to this combination of influences, I learned to tune out my own desires (to the point where, after a while, I couldn’t even hear them anymore) and take every reasonable opportunity offered to me as a potential good.

    I have rarely said “No” in my life—not because I didn’t want to be offensive or hurtful, but because I didn’t want to miss out on what that experience might have to offer. And, there’s also the fact that I had no trust in my own imagination or sense of personal direction.

    These aren’t always bad traits to have. I’ve met a lot of interesting people, seen a lot of gorgeous places, and tried some very unique foods (fried sheep brains, anyone?) because I was open to what the people around me had in mind. Deferring to the whims of others can have its perks.

    Plus, it is true that sometimes other people know better than we do about certain things. I’ve found myself on many an unexpected but fruitful detour in my life thanks to an idea someone else gave me that I never would have thought of myself.

    Of course, there are also some major drawbacks to letting life just happen. The biggest one for me is the fact that I don’t get much closer to my goals and dreams when I’m ready to say yes to whatever invitation or opportunity comes along.

    Much like wandering around a big, unknown city with no map in hand will lead you to some novel experiences but is not a good way to get you to all of the places you actually want to see, going through life open to every option you’re offered might lead to some fun times but it can also leave you standing nowhere in particular in the end.

    And I don’t know about you, but I want to be somewhere in particular. I want to be a full-time artist. More specifically, I want to be a full-time writer.

    It’s a destiny that’s been calling me ever since I was young. When I was in middle school, my humanities teacher was so taken with a writing project I did that she went out of her way to tell my parents about my talent. I won the all-school writing day scholarship prize when I was a senior in high school. Imagining the future of our class on graduation day, our valedictorian gave a speech that listed a handful of students by name and their predicted successes. “Grete Howland,” he said, alongside the words “famous author.”

    I was surprised to hear it. I was not a popular kid—there was no reason for him to think of, let alone mention, me out of the hundreds of people with whom I graduated on that day. Unless I really was that good. Unless this was something that was feasible for me.

    However, like I said before, I am not the kind of person who’s inclined to choose a goal, set a path toward it, and make decisions that will keep me on that path until I reach my intended destination. As much as I felt flattered, it didn’t occur to me that what my classmate said on that day to the hundreds of people gathered was something I could try to make a reality with a little bit of confidence and some good old fashioned planning.

    Life just went on. I did study English in college, but only because it was what I loved most, not because I had a specific use for the degree in mind. Out of college I moved back to my hometown and worked a mind-numbing data entry job while I figured out what I wanted to do next.

    Traveling the world seemed exciting, and I knew friends who belonged to a global missionary organization who got to do it. Still very much devout to my faith at that point in my life, I applied for the program, raised the money, and then spent six months in New Zealand, Australia and Vanuatu just doing what I was told by the people who were leading the trip.

    When I returned to the States, I was once more directionless. Graduate school seemed like a natural next step, and I had a few friends in seminary, so, yet again, I poured a lot of time and money into an interesting thing I saw the people around me doing while having no particular goal in mind.

    The only thing I knew when I graduated from seminary was that I wanted to keep living in the community I’d formed during my time there, so I found a job close by and stayed in southern California. That job, as an administrative assistant at a small independent school, was particularly fortuitous because I fell in love with their progressive philosophy and decided that I wanted to teach English. Thankfully, a position opened up, and I set off on what would end up being a 7-year foray into middle school education.

    There are no words to express the love and gratitude I have for the time I spent in those classrooms and the relationships I developed with students and colleagues. I witnessed seventh and eighth graders find their voices, discover deep connections across multiple subjects, and develop passionate convictions about social justice. At the same time, I also discovered after a few years that pouring all of my mental, emotional, and physical energy into helping others become better writers and thinkers left me too depleted to work on my own creative writing outside of my job.

    I adored teaching, and took pride in the identity of “teacher.” But I also had to consider whether I really wanted that to be my vocation forever, working in service of others’ creativity at the expense of my own. Half-done writing projects were whispering in my ear, calling me back to them, asking me to forgo my pleasant but aimless wandering in favor of a strategic path of my own.

    So I did it. Earlier this year, I walked away from teaching with the goal of finding a job that leaves space for my writing to flourish. It was a decision both scary and exciting. And even though I’m still learning to have the courage not to settle for any job I can get simply because it feels safe, I know I made the right move.

    Thankfully, my spouse and some very wise friends have kept me accountable to holding out for what will move me forward on my journey. As they encourage me to make space for my destiny, despite all the risks, I am beginning to see the value in identifying and prioritizing my own dreams and desires. I think I’m finally starting to believe in my own potential—or at least believe that exploring it is worth an honest try.

    It can be very comforting to take on the role of being the agreeable one. There’s no risk of rejection or failure when you’re happy to do what everyone else is doing, and when you’re willing to take whatever life hands you without holding out for more. What if more never comes?

    Taking the time to consider what you really want for yourself is scary because it can feel like a good opportunity might pass you by. But the other side of that is the fact that you can just as easily miss out on something better because you decided too soon, because you didn’t have the faith that you’d actually be able to achieve what it is you really want.

    So be flexible, yes. Be open-minded. Be selfless where it counts. But don’t make a habit out of letting other people make decisions for you. Don’t live your life settling for what’s in front of you just because it’s there.

    Take the time to learn what it is you want to do with your life. Chart a course toward it, and go. Get somewhere in particular, or as close as you possibly can. Practice being picky. This is your life, after all.

  • How I’m Freeing Myself from the Trap of Stuff I Don’t Need

    How I’m Freeing Myself from the Trap of Stuff I Don’t Need

    “In the marketing society, we seek fulfillment but settle for abundance. Prisoners of plenty, we have the freedom to consume instead of the freedom to find our place in the world.” ~Clive Hamilton, Growth Fetish

    I come from a time where passbook savings accounts were the norm.

    I can recall skipping along to the bank, aged eight, with one pudgy hand enveloped in my dad’s and the other clutching a little booklet.

    I’d wait my turn in line with butterflies in my belly. The teller was always so far away. But once I got to her, it was magical. She’d open a hidden drawer, extract the exact notes, and scribble the remaining balance into my passbook. Et voilà—cash in hand!

    Everything about this performance was concrete and transparent: Whenever I withdrew money, I immediately saw my bank balance decline. And without the risk of it nosediving into overdraft, it’s how I understood money was a finite entity. It’s how my parents taught me to not spend beyond my means, to only buy stuff I needed or had saved up for.

    Having a passbook savings account in my childhood and adolescence protected me from buying stuff carelessly.

    Fast-forward to 2018, now living in Australia—which equates to residing in opulence for those living in developing nations—I’m not only thirty-six years apart from my eight-year-old self, but also thirty-six worlds away. In this world my eight-year-old self would throw a tantrum if she didn’t get the Barbie doll she wanted. I blame credit cards for that.

    What also saw me come out on top all those years ago was the absence of the advertising glut that now penetrates an eight-year-old’s sphere.

    In 1982 Fiji, TV did not exist. I played outside. I read Enid Blyton. I didn’t read the newspaper. And I can’t bring to mind any specific billboards of that time, even though I’m sure there were a few in the city, where I did not live.

    Today, at forty-four years of age living in the era of affluenza and having a disposable income, advertisers know my attention is priceless. Yet, they get it on the cheap. This is despite my creating an anti-advertising bubble to cushion me: In 2014, I deleted my Facebook account. In 2017, my Twitter account. While I have Instagram, I do not use it. And I rarely watch commercial TV.

    The ads for stuff don’t just infiltrate this bubble—they gush in. Into my inbox, even when I didn’t sign up for the next celebrity’s latest self-help book because I am something to be fixed. On my phone, when I receive a text promoting a sale of 15% off TVs all day today (and today only!). On trams, trains, buses, buildings, freeways…

    The humble bus shelter does not escape from being turned into a billboard either. When I walk my dogs, I pass one that is currently telling me I can “drive away in a Polo Urban for only $16,990.” (Do I need a new car? After all my current one is nine years old, although it is running smoothly. Hmmm…) The posters on this shelter change weekly. It does not allow me the grace to become immune.

    Even if I could construct an impenetrable bubble, it’d be pointless. The Internet and its cookies would see to that.

    These cookies know—and remember with unfailing memory—what I desire (printed yoga leggings!). And they flaunt my desires by dangling carrots in front of me, whether I’m reading an online article, watching a video on YouTube, or searching on Google.

    And if the Internet tempts with its cookies, then it decidedly seduces with its availability. I can now stare at the blue light on my ever-ready smartphone and make decisions to buy yoga leggings whenever I want.

    The perfect time to do just that is before I flop into bed, after a long day’s hard work, cooking dinner, washing dishes, and watching an episode or two of my favorite show on Netflix. I should feel elated when I hit the buy button, but I find myself getting into bed not only with my husband, but also with guilt and a larger credit card debt.

    The grab for my attention and time under the guise of convenience and a better life is, however, simply the tip of the iceberg. What no one can see is that I am waging a war against myself—with the monkey-mind chatter that jumps from one justifying thought to another, convincing me that something is a need not a want. This is an example of what the Buddhists call suffering.

    About two years ago, my husband and I moved into the new house we built. It’s much bigger than one we’ve ever lived in. And as we prepared to move into it months beforehand, the justifications began:

    We need new furniture to match the modern feel of the house. (Danish style, as we had been subconsciously brainwashed by Instagram with everything that was hip in interior design.) And we need a bigger TV for the bigger living space. A new fridge because our old one won’t neatly slide into its allocated spot of the spacious kitchen. And more paintings, since we now have more walls…

    Not only did we ‘need’ all this stuff, but we also had to choose stuff that was ‘us.’ And it all had to look ‘just so’ when put together. So we researched online. Visited furniture, home, and electrical stores each weekend. Read reviews. Let the cookies take our minds into a rabbit hole of stuff we didn’t realize we needed.

    Just thinking about all the time, money, and energy we invested to get it ‘right’ sets my heart aflutter and raises a sweat. It was gruelling—the number of choices, the number of decisions (Did you know that an eight-year-old now has hundreds of different Barbie dolls to choose from?). Luckily my husband and I have similar tastes; otherwise, I’m afraid, adding a number of arguments into the mix might have broken us entirely.

    The evidence continues to pile up in favor of stuff even after the purchases have been made. After decking out our new house, I soon learned that not only did I possess things, but they also possessed me.

    I worried about scuffing the freshly painted walls, staining the white kitchen benchtop with turmeric while making a curry, and my nephews scratching the wooden dining table by racing their toy cars on it. (What’s that saying? Is it “Stuff is meant to be used and people loved”?)

    If I didn’t feel the compulsion to fill in the space, to make everything perfect, simply because the world presents me with the choices and pressures to do so, what would—what could—I do with all that extra time and energy, not to mention money? Read, write, hang out with my mum? See another part of the world? And, more importantly, who would I be? A happier, more relaxed person? The irony.

    So, with the odds stacked completely against me, how do I even stand a chance of coming out on top of all this stuff? (How does anyone?)

    I don’t believe the answer is to cut up my credit cards and get a passbook savings account, or to become a Luddite. The answer lies in cultivating awareness. By becoming aware of my thoughts and feelings, I can regain my power. Asking questions is paramount:

    Will it give my life meaning? Make my life easier, better? Why do I really want it? Is it only because I am chasing a feeling? Or because I want to squelch one? What would happen if I didn’t buy it?

    Failing this, I can always remind myself that almost everything material is optional.

  • How to Start Setting Boundaries and Prioritizing Your Needs

    How to Start Setting Boundaries and Prioritizing Your Needs

    Woman at the Beach

    “You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce.” ~Tony Gaskins

    I highly value being loyal, honest, empathetic, and supportive. I am also partial to advocating for the underdog. As a result, I have historically attempted to be a ‘hero’ in situations of difficulty, tension, conflict, or stress.

    I take pride in being the person who others can turn to for support, guidance, and empathy after an upsetting experience.

    When a friend was going through a troublesome period, I literally dropped everything to race to her and give her a hand. I drove her everywhere when her car was destroyed in an accident. I sat with her in the car for hours each day and listened to her troubles in the driveway when dropping her home.

    I often answered the phone late at night when this friend was having a crisis. I barely spent time with my husband as I tended to her needs, even when our marriage began to show cracks as a result.

    I would fall prey to her criticism and insults when she was distressed and seemingly needed a ‘punching bag,’ or when I didn’t respond as quickly or as perfectly as she desired. I regularly defended her behavior and tried to cheer her up when she questioned her value as a friend, in an attempt to help her feel better.

    I convinced myself that it was a stage that she was going through and that she needed my support—that despite the emotional manipulation and unreasonable expectations—a good friend would stick by her, no matter what. Besides, she was a beautiful person and a wonderful friend in many respects.

    When another friend wanted to provide a quote on a personal project, despite my intuition warning me against mixing friendship with business, I proceeded out of concern that I’d offend him if I did otherwise.

    When he made a number of errors and contradictions, was significantly late with his submission, and quoted a much higher figure than initially indicated, I continued to reinterpret his behavior and make excuses for him.

    Even upon first hearing that he had then proceeded to lie about conversations and events to others, my initial reaction was to defend him and make excuses for how he might have been misled by other influences (when this was very unlikely to be the case).

    When a single friend who liked to frequently sleep with different women who he met at a bar each weekend suddenly got upset by the fact that he hadn’t met his soul mate, I’d regularly open the door to him at three in the morning if he wanted to have a drunk DMC about his life and situation.

    When a man came at my friends and I with a baseball bat in a Melbourne train station, I tried to reason with him and determine why he was so worked up and how I could help deflate that— before my friends dragged me away to safety in disbelief.

    I could provide many more examples of where I have put the needs of others before my own, to the point where I have been hurt or experienced significant difficulty. I bet that if you’re still reading this article, that you can do the same.

    I thought I was being a loyal, giving, and kind person who continuously chose to see the good in people. I took pride in this, and identified with it being a core part of who I was. But then I started to notice a painful pattern.

    My own health, happiness, needs, and desires were continuously neglected. I was so busy helping others that prioritizing my own needs wasn’t possible.

    I implicitly told people that I didn’t have boundaries, so it was understandably a shock to the system when I tried to put them in place at a later date.

    I also demonstrated that I held an impossible expectation for myself to be perfect in a relationship, and people started to hold me to that level of perfection and expect it from me 100% of the time (even when they did not hold their own behavior to anywhere near the same level or quality that they expected from me).

    And what hurt most of all is that I started to notice that people often didn’t do the same for me. They didn’t risk putting their neck out on the chopping board and they certainly didn’t hang around to fight for our relationship when even the slightest bit of difficulty appeared. When I started to better manage my own energy and space, they would ‘dump’ me in a flash.

    I suddenly realized that I needed to change.

    I needed to respect and value myself and my needs more. I needed to make me a priority. I needed to stop being a martyr. I needed to introduce and maintain boundaries.

    I needed to find a way to balance being big-hearted, loyal, and generous with taking care of myself and protecting my own energy and interests.

    It was a difficult period—a period of adjustments and lessons, that are still continuing to a lesser degree. But at the end of the day, my increased emphasis on taking care of myself was not only good for me, but also for the people that truly loved and valued me.

    But how could it be a good thing, you might ask? You lost friends, you suffered, you learned that many people you loved wouldn’t be there to back you up when you needed them. How is that a good thing?

    Please, let me explain. When I ‘lost’ or better managed those who drained energy from me and disregarded perfectly reasonable personal boundaries it:

    • Freed up more time for me to support and enjoy the company of those who did respect, value and cherish me—those who were uplifting and supportive
    • Led to me respecting, valuing, and honoring myself and my own needs more, which allowed me to feel more energized, vibrant, happy, healthy, and ‘on purpose’ than ever before
    • Allowed me to learn more about myself and what I valued in a relationship and to be more cautious about spending time with people who didn’t align with these values
    • Helped me further fine-tune the art of boundary setting, a skill that I believe can impact on your life in so many ways
    • Encouraged others to start treating me with more respect
    • Inspired others to start taking better care of themselves and their needs too
    • Helped me learn how to say no and to ask for help—two valuable skills to have in your internal wellness toolkit

    The above are only examples, of which I am sure there are many more, of the benefits I have experienced from setting boundaries and learning to prioritize myself and my own needs.

    Now this might sound great in theory, but I know from personal experience how difficult it can be to start setting boundaries and to prioritize your own needs, desires, and dreams. Some suggestions to help you get started include:

    1. Begin to take notice of who you spend your time with and how they make you feel.

    Do you enjoy their company? Do they make you feel supported and uplifted? Do they bring you joy? Or do they deflate you? Make you feel bad about yourself and your character? Suck the energy from you? Perhaps it is time to consider how you manage your time with these people in the future.

    2. Take time out to reflect on and identify your own needs, desires, and dreams.

    Do you have a self-care and me-time practice? Do you make time for activities that you enjoy? Do you feel satisfied with your work, home life, health, or other areas that you value? Commit to making a conscious effort to start prioritizing these areas more in your life.

    3. Actively look for ways to make time for you.

    What can you organize or change in your schedule to make this happen? Where can you find efficiencies or introduce systems that will make time for you? Where could you ask for help or delegate work or tasks to free up time? What items can you cull from your to-do list in order to drop some balls and pick up the self-care ball?

    4. Practice saying no.

    Putting a stop to the automatic “yes machine” and learning to say no are vital steps for setting boundaries and learning to place more value on yourself, your time, and your desires.

    Learning to say no can take practice. I suggest that you start with a ‘buying time’ script, where instead of responding with a clear “yes” or “no” straight away, you tell people that you are busy and that you’ll check and get back to them. This buys you time to formulate a more considered response in line with your own needs and desires.

    At the end of the day, please remember that you matter. Your life matters. Your needs and desires matter. And when you take care of yourself, you are in a much better position to be of service to others and the world.

    In finishing, I’d love to leave you with a quote from Dodinsky that sums up one of the main points of this article: “Be there for others, but never leave yourself behind.”

    Woman at the beach image via Shutterstock

  • When You Don’t Know What You Want Anymore

    When You Don’t Know What You Want Anymore

    Man Thinking

    “We learn more by looking for the answer to a question and not finding it than we do from learning the answer itself.” ~Lloyd Alexander

    There was a time when I looked at the world without hope. My future felt dark because I didn’t know what I wanted to do.

    I felt like I was a random player in a chaotic game. I didn’t like it, and I didn’t like life.

    Luckily, I stumbled onto resources, ideas, and practices that helped me reconnect to my wisdom, my heart, and my interests.

    I applied what I learned, and clarity emerged.

    I’ll share what happened and how I gained clarity, but in order to do that, let’s start at the beginning.

    The Problem

    The problem wasn’t that I didnt know what I wanted to do. It was thinking that I should know what I want.

    When I think I should know, I put pressure on myself. I feel stressed out, and I feel like I’m not good enough because I haven’t got life figured out.

    When I accept the present moment as it is, it frees up a tremendous amount of energy. When I stop resisting, I can start living.

    When I look back at the darkest moments in my life, not only do I see their purpose, but I also see that, deep down, I always knew what step to take next.

    But at the time I couldn’t see this because my vision was clouded by my fears.

    The Solution

    The solution was to see through what held me back from connecting to my heart, and to my desires.

    I did this by becoming mindful of how I was letting my fears dictate my life. I began to deliberately challenge my fears by taking action.

    I took tiny steps forward. I listened to my heart as best as I could.

    Instead of shrinking away from my fears, I wondered, “What would happen if I took a step forward anyway?”

    By doing this, I discovered that most of my fears were false. They weren’t real. They didn’t come to pass, even though it felt like they would.

    I realized that acting on what I was interested in right now was enough to start the ball rolling. With time, I could sense what was right for me.

    Today, I feel like I have cat whiskers on my body, and I navigate through feeling.

    Our desires can never be put out. They can be dampened and dismissed, but never extinguished.

    3 Steps to Uncovering What You Want

    So the question then becomes: How do we reconnect to our desires?

    Well, I’m not going to tell you what to do, because there’s no real formula. And I’m not the expert on you. You are.

    So what I’m going to do is share a few examples from my life. That way, you can pick what resonates with you and apply it to your life.

    Don’t take what I say for granted. Instead, test it out.

    1. Become quiet.

    Whenever I feel confused and don’t know what to do, I take it as a sign to calm down. During those times, I notice that my mind is speeding along, trying to figure everything out.

    I often lie down on my bed and just breathe. Sometimes I take a walk, and sometimes I watch a movie.

    I don’t have a set routine. I listen to my heart. I notice what I feel pulled to do. I trust my body and my inner wisdom to know what is right for me at that moment.

    But there are times when I don’t know what’s right. I just feel confused. When that happens, I become quiet and I focus my attention on my heart area.

    My mind often tries to pull me back up, but I gently re-focus on my heart.

    I ask my heart: What is important right now? And I wait. I don’t always get an answer, but I try to listen every day.

    I’ve noticed that whenever I’m stressed, it’s not because life is stressful; it’s because I’m entertaining stressful thoughts.

    Becoming quiet and reconnecting to my heart helps, especially when I don’t know what to do.

    2. Explore through writing.

    Something else that I’ve found immensely useful is writing.

    I don’t use prompts. I don’t have a structure. I open up a notebook and start writing what’s on my mind.

    I clear my mind by dumping it all on paper. This seems to give me better access to my heart. So I begin by writing what’s on my mind, and I end up writing what’s in my heart.

    Some call this journaling. Some call it freewriting. Julia Cameron calls it writing your “Morning Pages.”

    The label isn’t important. What’s important is the result.

    After writing for ten to fifteen minutes, after getting all the craziness from my mind on paper, clarity emerges. I can feel my heart becoming warmer.

    I sometimes ask my heart questions. I don’t always get great answers, but sometimes I do. Sometimes I feel like I’m connecting to an intelligence greater than me. And who knows, maybe I am?

    The bottom line is that it works.

    3. Take micro steps.

    Once I reconnect to my heart, and clear some of the mind chatter, I begin asking myself: What tiny step can I take to reconnect with my desires?

    You may want to rephrase this question. If you do, make sure you keep the focus on ridiculously tiny steps.

    Sometimes the tiny step is to lie down. Relax and recharge. Stop trying to figure everything out. Stop stressing about the imagined future.

    Micro steps are not only useful in reconnecting with your desires. I use them in everything I do.

    The reason they work so well is that they bring you back to the present moment. Micro steps help you focus on what you can do with what you have.

    You can’t predict the future. You can’t control outcomes. But you can do the best you can, right here, right now. When this realization sinks in, you relax and life becomes brighter.

    —

    The biggest mistake I make over and over again, even though I know all this, is getting stuck in my own thinking.

    I notice my thinking trying to figure it all out. But all my thoughts are assumptions about life. They aren’t reality. Just thoughts.

    This doesn’t mean we should condemn thoughts. It means we need to take our thoughts less seriously.

    Because what if you let go of the story that you didn’t know what you want? You would simply enjoy what’s right here, right now. And if you felt drawn to do something, you’d do it.

    When I watch my son play, he doesn’t know what he wants. He’s completely in the present moment, enjoying life. He’s almost three years old as I write this, yet he’s showing me how to live and enjoy life.

    You see, I’ve noticed that I tend to take life too seriously. I take my thoughts, my fears, and my future seriously.

    Yet what I’ve realized is that I’m always experiencing my life through my thoughts. I don’t feel the outside world. I feel my thoughts.

    So when I help people find and follow their passion, even when they don’t know what they want, I discover that the spark never went out. It simply got obscured by their thinking.

    I’m not going to tell you to make a radical change in your life. I’m going to tell you to take the tiniest step, and to bring your attention back into this very moment.

    You only need to notice a tiny thing you enjoy doing, and follow it. This isn’t about picking the right thing.

    Right now, it’s about simply learning to follow your interests, and reconnecting to your heart and joy.

    Thinking man image via Shutterstock

  • Overcoming the Worst Part of Finding Your Passion

    Overcoming the Worst Part of Finding Your Passion

    Reach for the stars

    “You gain courage, strength and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt

    Finding my passion made me fat.

    Not fat in an “I have to wear a Homer Simpson Mumu” kind of way, but in an “I eat cookies and chocolate all the time and I’m not sure what happened to my muscle. Oh, and these pants, they don’t really fit anymore” kind of way.

    I always was a stress-eater. Not early in my life, but as soon as I arrived, confused and distracted, into the world of corporate America.

    I ended up being a consultant after merrily traveling the world and earning an international Masters Degree. But, tired of being poor and rained on (I lived in Belgium for awhile), I headed back to the East Coast and into an office. That’s when the stress eating started. And it stayed with me for years.

    I managed, through a lack of grocery shopping and the occasional bad break-up, to control my weight despite a ready influx of cookies and cupcakes that always seemed to find me. But I thought to myself, “Okay, I’m eating like this because I’m unhappy and bored at work. As soon as I find my passion, I’ll be really svelte and trim. No worries.”

    I spent years on the quest to figure it all out, dreaming about finding a career that required wearing a tiara and spending time at the pool, and complaining about how I’d be stuck in my day job forever.

    Finally, I really did start to find my way. I thought about a few career fields that fit with my interest in helping people with their careers, and explored them. After attending a weekend on coaching, I was hooked. I knew career coaching in some form was my destination; I just had to get there.

    So, I got certified as a coach.

    I set up a website.

    And, I finally quit my job.

    And that’s when the stress eating really happened. Terrified about being without benefits, a steady paycheck, and a pretty fancy title for the first time in a long time, I panicked. Hard.

    Cookies and ice cream and chocolate couldn’t do enough for me. They filled a void that I hadn’t even seen coming. And I ate. And ate. And then took naps because my blood sugar was out of control.

    I was locked in a crazy cycle of eating, sleeping, and worrying—and I was terrified. I had found my passion after all, right? How could I be feeling worse than I did when I was consulting?

    Every time I felt afraid, I ate.

    And then I realized: every time I felt afraid…I ate.

    I was literally eating my fear.

    And that’s when I took myself out for a walk. Sitting and worrying and staying in my head was doing nothing for me. I had to try something else. Walking seemed as good an idea as any.

    As I walked, I asked my heart this question: “Is this the right path for me?”

    And then I kept walking, took deep breaths, focused inward on my heart, and listened.

    As much as I was hoping for a “Yes! And here are three things to do right now to feel better,” what I got instead was a feeling of peace and certainty.

    I was on the right path; I just had to put down the cookie and feel my fear instead of eating it.

    I went back home and thought about all of the things I wanted to do with my life, even though they felt terrifying. Things like moving to a place on the ocean, traveling more, and only working with individuals and not companies.

    I put together a list of everything I thought I should do, even though I felt weighed down by these ideas. Things like buying a home in my current location, working for anyone who would pay me, and traveling less and saving money.

    Then I threw away that second list. I was determined to live life on my own terms, no matter how scary.

    And I’ve never looked back.

    So now it’s a few years later, and I did move from DC to San Francisco, I only work with cool people instead of big companies, and I’m kind of excited for my next trip… to Oregon. I know, nearby, but I’ve never been!

    For me, the worst thing about finding my passion was the fear. The best thing about finding my passion was facing down my fears and embracing what I really want.

    I still feel them, but they have less power over me now, and I don’t think I’d have the kind of success I do now without having taken a leap of faith and truly listened to my heart.

    Struggling with fears around your passion? Here’s how to stop.

    1. Get your body involved.

    Go and do something that relaxes you and brings you some peace. Walking, yoga, crafts, fishing, sitting in the sun—do whatever you love to do. It’s time to get out of your head so you can hear what’s inside your heart.

    2. As you do it, ask your heart: Is my passion the right path for me?

    Take a few breaths, and focus inward. See what you feel in your heart.

    3. Write it out.

    Go home, and make a list of everything you want to do related to your passion, no matter how scary, and why it’s important to you. Now make a list of everything you think you should do instead. Throw the second list away.

    4. Remember that feeling in your heart, and pick one thing on your list of wants.

    Now plan how you will do it. You only need to take one step to start the journey, and with every step you take the less afraid you will be. You can do this!

    Reach for the stars image via Shutterstock

  • 7 Simple (and Surprising) Tips to Help You Realize Your Dreams

    7 Simple (and Surprising) Tips to Help You Realize Your Dreams

    Kid trying to catch a star with a butterfly net. Digital watercolor.

    “Don’t be pushed by your problems; be led by your dreams.” ~Unknown

    It’s tricky sometimes, isn’t it?

    Trying to find our place on this planet.

    Tapping into our inner desires.

    Sometimes we know what we want but not how to get there. Sometimes we know “this isn’t me,” but we have no clue who “me” is. And sometimes we think we’re already there, then something out of the ordinary happens and we realize, this isn’t me at all.

    At each stage there are pitfalls than can keep us looking in the wrong direction, stuck in fear, or stressed about how to move forward.

    I know, I’ve been back and forth through all of them.

    At twenty-five I had a postgraduate science degree and no wish to use it. At thirty-five I wanted to teach, write, and paint, but no idea what form this would take. And at forty-one, my work is read by thousands and every day I receive emails telling me what I do makes a difference.

    (Keeping it real: People also email me and tell me I suck.)

    Through it all, I’ve learned simple laws to help navigate the ups and downs of discovering and following your dreams.

    1. Don’t think about “your path in life.”

    Sounds contrary, doesn’t it?

    Because isn’t that exactly what we should be thinking about?

    Yes, and no.

    Where it can be detrimental is when we stand at the precipice of making a decision and we worry, “Is this my path in life?”

    A path is a track laid down to walk on. A path implies there’s only one way, a preconceived singular course. It implies that you can make a wrong decision.

    Watch it! Don’t step off the path!

    Yes, our life is wonderfully, marvelously one of a kind. No doubt. And trying to make it look like someone else’s is a first class ticket to unsatisfied-ville. But thinking about our path, now, can put unnecessary pressure on us. It makes us feel nervous.

    There are infinite routes to a satisfying, uplifting, life. Whatever decision you make—and have made before—you’re on the right path. It’s all “the path.”

    2. Forget everything your guidance counselor said.

    Do you remember after high school, tossing around a hodge-podge of career options—trying to decide what to do with your life?

    Should you become a podiatrist (have your own clinic), or an actuary (pays well)?

    You talk to other podiatrists. You find out what an actuary actually does.

    You listen to your parents. You seek advice.

    We live in a world saturated with messages about what we should do. There’s nothing wrong with advice. Sometimes. In moderation. You just gotta push it through your “no one but me knows my dreams and desires” filter.

    It’s not that our guidance counselor/parents/spouse/bus-driver don’t mean well. They do. They just don’t know. They can’t.

    And we might not know either, at first anyway.

    Whatever we hanker for, this gives us the greatest joy. And it’s often not some grand thing—that’s our mind (ego) imposing society’s rules.

    I knew a woman once whose three greatest loves were her children, fishing, and next to that, working on an assembly line—she loved the camaraderie and seeing things get done.

    3. Ask this simple question.

    When I was young, if you’d asked me what job I’d like, assuming I had all the skills necessary, I’d have thought it was a trick question. I thought everyone wanted this.

    I wanted to be a writer and painter.

    If only I had been given those talents! And I surely hadn’t. (Can’t draw, painting even more tragic, messy handwriting.)

    I trained in nutrition science. I was even fairly good at it. But I don’t believe it’s what I’m here to do.

    Pay attention to your desires, even when—no, especially when—they seem ludicrous. Roll the idea around in the back of your mind. 

    What life would you choose if you could wave a wand and have every skill that you needed?

    No pressure. Just notice.

    4. Stop worrying about how to get there—or if “there” is even a good idea.

    Human beings are wired for safety. This is why we want our trajectory mapped out.

    An illusion for sure.

    To get to where we really want to go, there is no pre-drawn map. The good news is that we don’t need one! All we need is the next step. And we always know this.

    For instance, say you have the feeling that you’d like to make shoes. Rather than worry about the fact that almost no-one makes shoes by hand anymore, consider, what do you feel moved to do, right now?

    Maybe it’s a simple as ordering a copy of How to Make a Shoe. Or arranging to meet a friend of a friend who’s a clothes designer.

    Big changes come from a series of incremental decisions. Trust that there is a wise hand guiding you (because there is). Take notice of seemingly small inclinations.

    Sure the shoe thing seems far out, but so would most successful ventures when they started.

    5. Learn the difference between an inner desire and unhelpful mind talk.

    Most of us know the value in listening to our intuition. But it’s confusing sometimes.

    Is the voice telling us to buy snowshoes—even though we live in Texas—our intuition? Or is it our mind (ego) fooling with us.

    Here’s how I tell:

    My mind uses logic and likes to copy others. It sounds like: “Bill moved to Italy and now his life is awesome, so I should go.”

    When my heart (intuition) speaks, it’s more like a deep feeling. I can see myself wandering around Rome, eating pizza.

    (Then, what usually happens is that my mind comes up with reasons not to do it—”You’re gluten free, you’ll starve in Italy.”)

    As author Chetan Parkyn says, some people are guided by strong gut feelings that hold true from start to finish. For others, their gut feeling is less sure, and where they find clarity is by taking a tentative step, then reassessing.

    If you’re not sure, dip your toe in. See how it feels.

    6. Be happily confused!

    What if (after everything) we can’t feel the tug of our inner desires? Or, we’re uncertain about the next step?

    Answer: Don’t worry.

    Don’t worry, because the only way to get where we’re going is through uncertainty (and sometimes turmoil). Feeling discombobulated is part of it.

    It’s not a bad thing. Rejoice!

    You’re on your way!

    You might be drawn to actively search for an answer. Or maybe you feel like sitting back and giving it some time. Or a combination.

    Go easy on yourself. Be lazy. Have fun. Try things. Spend time just sitting and being quiet. Spend less time online. Take a job and don’t worry about how it fits into your plans.

    Allow yourself to be in a state of confusion. It’s not always comfortable, but it’s perfectly normal.

    7. Expect to feel afraid.

    Making a lunge for what’s important to us is scary.

    Always is.

    Every time I’ve followed what was in my heart, most people thought I was loopy. But you know what? The voice of derision you most need to watch out for is your own.

    I’ve found these things helpful:

    • Mentoring
    • Not telling people what I’m doing—I didn’t tell anyone about my blog for six months.
    • Reading books like The War of Art by Stephen Pressfield
    • Reading books about others who followed their dreams (or blogs like Tiny Buddha)

    Finding our way is as much about getting out of our own way. Letting go of ideals that have been imposed on us. Taking leaps. Stumbling and getting up. Trusting our inner guidance.

    And remembering, always, we’re doing fine. Even when it seems like we’re making a mess of it. We’re not.

    Photo by Ingo Schmeritschnig

  • Overcoming the Painful Desires and Beliefs That Feed Addiction

    Overcoming the Painful Desires and Beliefs That Feed Addiction

    “Taking responsibility for your beliefs and judgments gives you the power to change them.” ~Byron Katie

    I had spent five horrible years in and out of rehabs and support groups for my substance use problems. Along the way, there were a few periods where I cleaned up for six months, eight months, and almost a whole year one time, but nothing seemed to stick.

    The worst part was that even with all of the painful effort it took to keep the drug and alcohol use going, and all of the painful consequences that were piling up, I was happier in that life than I was during the sober, trouble-free times.

    I believed that getting high and drunk was really great, and I believed that sober life was complete drudgery. These beliefs played themselves out quite predictably.

    I felt tortured and deprived when I was sober. I would trudge to work, then I would trudge home and hope that I could fall asleep quickly to end the misery until the morning.

    Then I would wake up and do it all over again. I lived with a painful desire to get high and drunk the whole time.

    I thought about it when I got up in the morning. I thought about it while I worked. I thought about it when I met with my counselors and therapists. I thought about it before, after, and during the support group meetings that were supposed to help me to resist the desire to get high and drunk.

    I was hanging on by a thread—resisting my desire to get high and drunk one day at a time. Eventually, resisting would become too painful, too unfulfilling, and too unsatisfactory to maintain any longer.

    I was resisting this desire so that I could stop bad things from happening in my life. But then I just ended up lacking bad things. I didn’t have any good things going on.

    When I was abstinent, I didn’t have the thing I believed I needed to be happy and comfortable: heavy drug and alcohol use.

    I took it for granted that I would always have a painful, overpowering desire for heavy drug and alcohol use. I could fight it or give in. I repeatedly gave up the fight and gave in to the desire.

    But then I found a new approach. After years of being taught how to fight the desire, and years of failure, I found a way to change my desire.

    I learned to accept my substance use habits as a simple pursuit of happiness activity (rather than as a compulsion). I learned that I was desiring it and doing it because I believed it was my best shot at feeling good. I learned that I could re-examine that belief once I acknowledged and accepted it.

    I know this might be scary to people who’ve been taught that such habits have nothing to do with choice, but think about it—everything you do is because you believe you’ll benefit from it in some way.

    In some cases the benefits are small, like when smoking a cigarette, which is an extremely mild stimulant that may provide a good feeling for a few seconds or minutes. In other cases the benefits can be big, like when going to college, which can result in more employment opportunities and job security that lasts a lifetime.

    Everything we do is driven by our belief that it will bring us closer to some sort of happiness or benefit.

    Now, getting back to my substance use habit, I had to take responsibility for my beliefs about drugs and alcohol.

    I believed that drugs and alcohol were cure-alls, and that I needed them:

    • For the traumatic pain left over from my childhood
    • For my social anxiety, generalized anxiety, and depression
    • To have a good time at all in any way
    • To feel normal
    • To wake up in the morning
    • To go to bed at night
    • To be creative
    • To clear my mind

    That’s a crazy list of powers I believed that drugs and alcohol had. Several of them are contradictory; yet, these beliefs are not uncommon at all.

    Every time I hear someone express that they’re struggling to stay sober, such beliefs are involved. In fact, I saw someone complain about struggling to stay sober on Facebook recently, and she said:

    “I hate that I can’t have a drink because I know it’ll quiet my mind and I’d relax.”

    This is what creates desire. If you believe you need something to be happy, then you will desire it.

    Unfortunately, our culture has done a great job of convincing us that drugs and alcohol have amazing powers to cure all of our ills. They have also done a great job convincing some of us that we need to “self-medicate” with these substances too.

    The thing is, drugs and alcohol don’t medicate anything. But as long as you believe they are your medicine, you will feel deprived and suffer when you don’t have this medicine. The sooner you stop believing that they are medicine, the sooner this desire will go away.

    The fact is, most of the emotional and behavioral experiences people have while using drugs and alcohol are subjectively created. They’re mostly an effect of expectancy. As a noted addiction researcher observed:

    “Sometimes alcohol may be a relaxant (the martini after the hard day at the office) and sometimes it may act as a stimulant (the first drink at the party).” ~Norman Zinberg, Drug, Set, and Setting, 1986

    Isn’t that a bit unbelievable? It’s a total contradiction and thus literally impossible. Stimulants and relaxants are total opposites. Yet, you probably know from your own experience or watching others that people can have both of these effects while drinking.

    The key is to realize that these effects don’t come from the alcohol itself. They come from you.

    The fact is that you don’t, in reality, need alcohol to relax, and you don’t need it to get wild at a party, because alcohol itself does neither of those things. If you want to relax, you can do it, with or without alcohol. Same goes for getting wild at a party.

    And the same goes for the plethora of things we think drugs and alcohol do.

    The reason for this is that you are actually cognitively creating these states with your intentions. You expect to have these experiences when you drink or drug, and that expectancy itself creates the experience.

    There are plenty of other ways to intentionally put yourself into a relaxed state or any of the other states we believe are caused by substance use. The self-help world offers plenty of good advice on how to do this through mindfulness and other techniques. This website is a great resource for that.

    I encourage readers to seek out such techniques if you feel you need them. However, before you do so, the best thing you can do is rid your mind of the belief that substance use is a cure-all. It is not.

    If you haven’t broken these beliefs first, then in that moment that a new coping skill you learn doesn’t work so well for you (or you just don’t feel like using it—we’ve all been there!), you might feel tempted to return to substance use to deal with the problem.

    If you have broken these beliefs, then you won’t feel tempted to use substances to cope. In this case, when a coping skill doesn’t work out, you’ll rightly look for a different coping method, rather than back to drugs and alcohol.

    Stop giving drugs and alcohol credit for things that they don’t really do. Be mindful of these beliefs, and have the courage to change them. Once you do, you’ll find that you have much less of desire to use substances.

    By severing the connection between stress and substance use, you can permanently end the phenomenon of feeling triggered to use substances when you encounter stress.

    The same goes for severing the connection between substances and any of the other false benefits we’ve been taught to attribute to them. Then it’s up to you to decide how to deal with these life problems, but it will be much easier to solve them without the specter of a “relapse” hanging over your head.

    I embraced the responsibility I had for my beliefs about substance use, and I examined them. I changed them. I ended up believing that drugs and alcohol didn’t have much to offer me anymore, and I believed I could be happier dedicating my time elsewhere.

    Changing my beliefs was my choice. No one else could do it for me. Methadone couldn’t do it for me. Meetings couldn’t do it for me. Even the people who showed me these ideas couldn’t do it for me.

    It was up to me to consciously question what I believed about the objects of my addiction, and how happy they could truly make me.

    As a result of changing my beliefs, I haven’t had an issue with drugs and alcohol for twelve wonderful years now. I don’t feel deprived. I enjoy a drink now and then, without feeling desperation or loss of control.

    When the normal troubles, hard times, and disappointments of life come along, I no longer feel like I need a drink or drug to deal with them, because I no longer believe they’ll help with the situation. When I’m bored, I no longer feel like I need substances to be entertained.

    I now get to live my life feeling free of addiction, and it’s wonderful.

  • Writing Your Way to What You Want

    Writing Your Way to What You Want

    Writing

    “All the arts we practice are apprenticeship. The big art is our life.” ~M. C. Richards

    There is an art to living, to creating your life on your terms based on your desires, talents, values, and dreams. In a culture where we must attend thirteen years of school, we’re rarely taught to look within and name what it is we want from life.

    We’re rarely taught that we have the power within to live the lives we want, not what other people expect of us.

    While we can’t control what happens to us, we can control how we respond to what happens based on what we want.

    Five years ago I resigned from teaching in the public schools after giving birth to my son. A year and a half later, awaiting the birth of my daughter, I struggled. I missed teaching. I missed connecting with kids in a classroom.

    I missed having something in my life that was my own. While I felt blessed and lucky to be home, I also wanted to teach. But I didn’t know how to join these two desires that felt mutually exclusive.

    Having written in a journal throughout my twenties and into my thirties, I understood the power of pinning down thoughts into words. So within the swell of this profound transformation into motherhood, I began to write about the things I knew I wanted: (more…)