Tiny Buddha

Tag: disappointment

  • It’s Okay to Disappoint People When You’re Honoring Yourself

    It’s Okay to Disappoint People When You’re Honoring Yourself

    “Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.” ~Brené Brown

    On a recent day trip to the Yuba River with my daughter and two friends, unexpected tensions arose, offering me a chance to reflect on a lifelong pattern that has often complicated my relationships. It was a beautiful day, and I’d been looking forward to soaking up the sun and relaxing by the water—but my friend had a more adventurous day in mind.

    Though a footbridge led to a clear trail, she suggested we take a more difficult route over steep boulders. Despite my initial hesitation, I went along, wanting to be open to her plans. But as I navigated the rocks with weak knees and slippery Birkenstocks, I started to regret my choice.

    Each step required more balance and focus than I’d anticipated, and as I struggled to keep my footing, I worried about disappointing my friend if I suggested another path. I often find myself accommodating others at the expense of my own comfort—a pattern I’ve been working to untangle for years. Eventually, I did speak up, and as we turned back, I felt pleased reflecting on my growth in honoring my own needs, even though it felt vulnerable.

    However, just as we reached the stairs that would take us to the footbridge, my friend pivoted again. This time, she suggested wading across the river and scaling the rocky bank on the other side. The idea didn’t make sense to me, and I really didn’t want to take this route—but guilt crept in, knowing I’d already resisted one of her suggestions. Feeling that familiar tug of people-pleasing, I once again overrode my own preference.

    So, we waded across, balancing our backpacks and climbing over slippery rocks to reach the opposite bank—which was steep and hazardous. My daughter scrambled up the cliff-like bank with my friend’s help, but as I struggled to find my footing, I could see the anxiety in her eyes.

    In that moment, I realized I was pushing myself to do something that didn’t feel safe for either of us. What was I trying to prove? Why was I putting myself in this stressful situation when it would have been so much easier to just cross the footbridge?

    Ultimately, rather than risk the steep climb, my other friend and I decided to turn back. We waded across the river again and took the stairs to the footbridge I had wanted to follow all along. Reuniting with my daughter and our friend on the other side, we finally embarked on the trail.

    I felt a sense of satisfaction in once again recognizing my pattern of people-pleasing and choosing to change course. However, irritation soon followed—despite passing many perfectly nice spots, we continued hiking as our friend was determined to find a pristine, isolated area to swim. While I appreciated her vision for an adventurous day, I began to feel confined by it, realizing I was still prioritizing her desires over my own.

    We wound up stumbling upon a crowded nude beach—and while I have no judgment against nudity, the situation was uncomfortable for my teenage daughter. My friend tried to convince us to swim past the bathers to find a quieter place, but I knew this wasn’t right for my daughter. This time, I didn’t hesitate. It felt incredibly uncomfortable, but I firmly said no.

    I told my friends I wanted us all to enjoy ourselves at our own pace. So, I encouraged them to keep adventuring while my daughter and I turned back to where we’d started—a spot that had always felt perfectly fine for swimming. My friend seemed disappointed, and guilt once again crept in, but I felt grateful for my decision.

    How often do we let ourselves be swept up by others’ desires, ignoring our own?

    Years ago, I might have felt annoyed or even resentful that my day wasn’t unfolding as I’d imagined. I might have blamed my friend for being “pushy” and not listening. This time, however, I focused on observing my inner reactions rather than letting them take control.

    Each obstacle became an opportunity to examine my responses. I noticed again and again how easily I slip into accommodating others, even at the expense of my own comfort—a pattern rooted in a fear of losing connection.

    I felt no resentment toward my friend; I know she’s simply adventurous and eager to create memorable experiences. Alongside my love for her and trust in her good intentions, I’ve engaged in considerable shadow work. I recognize that judgment and blame are often projections, ways we avoid taking responsibility for our own feelings and needs.

    So, when that familiar pull to please others arose, instead of giving in to resentment or going along just to keep the peace, I practiced something different: listening to my inner voice and aligning my actions with what I truly wanted.

    It took three instances of going along before I finally gained clarity. While openness and flexibility are valuable traits, we must also be willing to risk disappointing others to honor our own needs. Far from weakening our connections, this kind of self-honoring fosters genuine relationships with ourselves and others.

    My daughter and I ended up having a relaxing time in our chosen spot while our friends enjoyed their adventure. When they returned, we all took a final swim together, diving into the cool water and drying off on the warm, sunbaked rocks. On the way home, we shared a fun conversation and even stopped at a roadside stand for some of the best key lime pie any of us had ever had. It turned out to be a wonderful day filled with connection after all.

    Reflecting on this experience highlights common patterns we often encounter: the tendency to please others, the fear of disappointing them, and the guilt that can arise when asserting our needs.

    My relationships and enjoyment of life have significantly improved as I’ve learned to witness and navigate these conditioned responses, ultimately becoming more authentic. This doesn’t mean I no longer face challenges, like the ones I encountered on my day at the river. However, I now navigate these situations with greater ease, and my increased self-awareness has led to continuous growth and a deeper sense of freedom beyond old patterns.

    Based on my experiences, here are some insights that may support you in similar situations—especially when you feel torn between your own desires and the fear of disappointing those around you:

    Pay Attention.

    Notice what’s happening internally and get curious about what triggers you. Identify your inner conflicts—such as discomfort with disappointing others or fear of being seen as selfish. This self-awareness is crucial for navigating your responses authentically.

    Stay Present.

    Focus on the current moment rather than your expectations. Embracing what is allows you to align your choices with reality instead of how you wish things would unfold. Redirect any frustration from unmet ideals into fully engaging with the experience at hand.

    Take Responsibility.

    Avoid blaming others, focusing instead on your own feelings and needs. This empowers you to advocate for yourself in alignment with your values, free from resentment or guilt. By slowing down and reflecting on your choices, you gain clarity and self-compassion. Ask yourself: What do I truly want now?

    Speak Up with Grace.

    Clearly and kindly express your needs and preferences to foster open communication while maintaining connection. Speaking up may feel daunting, but setting boundaries is a vital act of self-love. Trust that your needs are valid and worth sharing and it’s okay to voice them.

    Navigating our experiences in a way that honors our true selves is an ongoing practice. By listening to our inner voice, staying curious about our reactions, and letting go of blame, we create space to pursue our desires without guilt. Each choice becomes a step toward authentic alignment, freeing us from the weight of others’ expectations.

  • How I Learned to Let Go of Attachment to Things I Want

    How I Learned to Let Go of Attachment to Things I Want

    “The happiness we seek cannot be found through grasping, trying to hold on to things. It cannot be found through getting serious and uptight about wanting things to go in the direction we think will bring happiness.” ~Pema Chodron

    When I was a kid, my parents used to take me and my younger brother  fishing during the summer with some family friends. Sitting in the backseat of the car as we drove through the countryside, I had no worries about the future. It was a time of innocence.

    On this particular trip, which stands out in my memory, I would try fishing for the first time. I thought attaching a worm onto a hook was gross, but I was excited to do something adults do. Little did I know that I would learn a few important life lessons on this trip.

    When we arrived at the fishing dock, my dad offered me a small fishing rod, one that was suitable for a small child. I was thrilled. While the adults busied themselves, I ran off with my fishing rod, looking for a spot to catch a fish.

    Moments later, I had my fishing line down an eye-shaped hole that opened up between two boards on the dock. It was perfect: a small hole for a small child to catch a small fish. I crouched beside the hole and peered into the shadowy water beneath the dock.

    Nothing happened for some time. Suddenly, I felt a tug on the line, jolting me alert. I had caught something. I was ecstatic! I drew my line up and saw that I had caught a small fish. Unfortunately, the hole in the dock was even smaller. Yet, I didn’t want to lose my catch.

    I called out to the adults for help. One by one, the grownups around me gathered to help get this small fish through a slightly smaller hole. I implored the adults to try harder as they struggled. As we all tried to pull the fish through the hole, it thrashed in defiance with all its might.

    After some time, we managed to force the fish through the hole. However, we all looked down on the fish before our feet, its outer flesh scarred, now barely alive. A sense of sadness and regret came over me. I realized that I had done something terribly wrong. 

    “It’s no good now. We can’t keep it,” said one of the adults flatly. We threw the fish back into the water in its mutilated state. The crowd dispersed as if nothing of significance had happened. I was left alone, dazed by the experience. I didn’t feel like fishing anymore.

    The memory of the fish has stayed with me through the years. What torment had I put the fish and everyone else through that day? I thought the fish belonged to me, and I refused to let go of what I thought was mine. Of course, I was only a child—I didn’t know any better. Yet, I’m left with this sense of guilt.

    What do we own in life? If we acquire something, whether through our efforts or by chance, do we truly own it? Is it ours to keep? How do we know when it is appropriate to relax our single-mindedness?

    That day, the fish taught me about letting go. When I’m caught in the trap of attachment, other people fall away, and all that remains is me, my concerns, and my one object of desire. When that happens, I contract into a smaller version of myself that fails to see the larger picture.

    The fish also taught me the lesson of harmlessness. If my actions, no matter how justified I believe they are to be, are causing others harm, then it would be wise to stop. What do I truly value, and what are other ways that I can get what I really need?

    Reflecting more deeply, I see that my younger self wanted to hold onto a sense of achievement in that scenario. And if I could keep that sense of achievement, I would gain self-esteem. By having self-esteem, I would experience a kind of love for myself. It wasn’t really about the fish at all. 

    Since that event, the fish has revisited me in many different forms. Sometimes it appears as a person, sometimes a project or job, and other times an identity.

    Recently, I felt close to losing a business opportunity I had worked hard to secure. While I experienced deep disappointment, I managed to step back and make peace with the potential loss. I reminded myself that I was enough, and that my work doesn’t define who I am—even if what I do provides me with a sense of meaning and purpose.

    In life, success and failure are two sides of the same coin. In order to know success, we must also know failure. In order to know failure, we must also know success.

    I now know that whether I fail or succeed, I can still find my self-esteem intact. My self-esteem stems partly from knowing I will inevitably grow from both success and failure. Practicing letting go allows me to continue moving toward growth and wholeness.

    There is one more lesson that I learned from this fishing trip, and that’s the lesson of forgiveness. In writing this reflection, I forgive myself for the harm I’ve done in the past out of ignorance. I free myself of the guilt I’ve been carrying and choose to lead a more conscious life.

    It’s incredible how a tiny fish can give a small child such big lessons; ones that he can only fully integrate as an adult.

  • How I Learned the Power of Letting Go After My Father Developed Dementia

    How I Learned the Power of Letting Go After My Father Developed Dementia

    “There is beauty in everything, even in silence and darkness.” ~Helen Keller

    When I was eleven years old, I would force myself to stay awake until the wee hours of the morning.

    I was severely anorexic at a time when eating disorders were considered an “inconvenience” you brought on yourself. Anorexia was dismissed as a rich, white girl’s disease (although we were certainly not rich)—a disease that was easily curable with a prescription for a chocolate cake.

    Although my emaciated body was a dead giveaway of my condition, it was school that noticed the change in me first. My once stellar grades began to slip, and I was falling behind in the advanced academic and art program I was a part of.

    “Just eat already,” my teachers would tell me, and when I tossed my lunch into the garbage, I’d be sent to the nurse’s office to watch The Best Little Girl in the World. Again.

    At home, grape-flavored bubble gum and bouillon cubes were my foods of choice. I did toe-touches, crunches, and jogged at least four times a day, passed out some mornings, and hid my body under layers of flannel shirts on the hottest August days. But even as my disease raged, home was still my refuge, a place where my eating disorder could take its hair down and run wild.

    Thankfully, both my parents worked full-time and often through dinner, so mealtimes weren’t much of a struggle. And when we did eat together, I became as much of a master at hiding my food as I was at hiding my body.

    I was also smart. Or maybe conniving is a better word. A weekly trip to Friendly’s for ice cream (the irony of that name!) fooled my overworked parents into believing that I was fine.

    Puberty had simply shaved off any “baby fat” I had, they reasoned. What they didn’t know was that puberty never had a chance with me. No sooner did my period appear, I starved it away.

    But even with the ice cream trips and their growing awareness, I still felt fairly safe at home.

    Until that one moment that changed everything.

    On a sunny, unremarkable fall day (Isn’t that what Joan Didion tells us? We are most surprised by those tragedies and traumas that happen on “normal” and “beautiful” days…?), my father surprised me by picking me up early from school.

    Hurrying to the office for dismissal, there was a tiny, naive part of my eleven-year-old self that thought maybe he was surprising me with a trip to Disney World.

    That’s what happened to my friend, Mary, the previous year. When she returned from her impromptu trip, she was sporting tanned skin and a perpetual grin. She then spent most of our fifth-grade year with mouse ears glued to the top of her head.

    But there was no Magic Kingdom for me. Instead, without so much as an inkling as to where we were going, my father hustled me into his car, and we drove away. Sitting next to my father, a man who held all the power over me, my stomach ached as I wondered what was about to happen.

    My weak heart pounded in my chest, and as we drove, I prayed it wouldn’t give out. Catching a glimpse of my ashen skin and white, cracked lips in the rearview, I knew that I was nothing more than a stray dog in a shelter, ripped from my cage by a complete stranger, wondering if I was about to be put down, thrown into a fight, or worse.

    Finally, we arrived at our destination, a medical center in a strip mall. As soon as we walked through the front door, I gagged on the thick scent of medicine and grape lollipops that hung in the air. Without a second to catch my breath, I was whisked into a doctor’s office and onto a scale.

    Looking down her nose at me, the doctor snapped, “You’re too skinny. You need to gain weight.” While I stood there on the scale, she turned to my father and diagnosed anorexia nervosa.

    Then she looked at me. “If you don’t eat,” she warned in a sharp tone, “we’ll have you put in a place for ‘girls like you’.” She then informed me that once I was locked in that wretched prison of force-feedings and shackles (as I imagined it), I wouldn’t see my family again until I was “fixed.”

    When we returned to the car, my father spoke the first words he had said to me all day: “So? Will you gain weight?”

    “Yes,” I answered, too frightened to fight. Too scared to advocate for myself. Too terrified to tell him that this wasn’t a choice. I wasn’t choosing to starve myself; I was sick.

    But even if I had spoken, he wouldn’t have understood. No one did.

    From that moment on, I knew that I was completely alone. That’s when I began to stay up way past midnight, quietly jogging in place. I’d stop only to press an ear to the door, straining to hear what my parents were saying. Would they send me away? To that place?

    “I’ll never let it happen,” I assured myself. I would die before I’d go to a place where I was literally stripped of myself.

    For the next few years, the games continued, and although there were always doctors and threats, I kept myself just alive enough to stay out of that particular treatment center.

    ****

    Flash-forward almost forty years, and today, my father is an old man with dementia.

    As the Universe sometimes works in strange ways, I am now one of his primary caretakers. Although our relationship was strained for many years and I missed out on the experience of having a strong male figure in my life that I could trust, he did walk me down the aisle, and I am here for him now that he needs help.

    My father doesn’t remember that day that will forever be burned into my brain. He doesn’t remember the hell I went through the years that followed—the fear, the insecurities, the isolation, and the self-inflicted bruises I sported because I hated myself so very much. More than anything, he was, and is, clueless of the real battle scars—the ones that lay deep inside.

    He doesn’t know that that one “unremarkable fall day” when he pulled me from school started a negative spiral in my life, a time when I began aligning with damaging beliefs and inflicting self-harm.

    All he knows now is what his dementia allows him to—if the sun is out, if the squirrels ate the peanuts he tossed to them, and whether or not I am there to help him; to deliver his groceries, to take him out on drives, and to care for him.

    Yes, this could easily be the ultimate story of revenge, but years of teaching and practicing yoga have brought me down a different path.

    The path I have chosen is the path of letting go.

    Truthfully, my father’s dementia has left me no choice but to let go, at least of some parts of my life. I’ve needed to let go of expectations, of attachments to the outcome, and even, sometimes, like in those moments when he calls me “Sally,” my own name and identity.

    But in letting go, I have found that his disease has brought some gifts as well. I’ve learned to slow down and appreciate the daisy he wants to admire, the flock of chickadees darting in and out of a bush he’s watching, and the feel of the cool fall air on my face as I help him to and from a doctor’s appointment.

    Letting go has allowed me to experience all those things that I was previously too busy to appreciate. As Helen Keller said, “There is beauty in everything, even in silence and darkness.”

    But letting go because of his dementia wasn’t enough.

    I had to let go for me, too.

    To let go of the toxic weight from the past, I released that moment when everything changed, all those years ago.

    How? By simply deciding to put the weight down—and not just with regard to that event, but in all aspects of my life.

    Was it easy? No. But it was doable.

    In letting go, I didn’t worry about forgiving (although it is an important step for healing), or seeing someone else’s perspective. I simply unhanded my tight grip on all the “wrongs” I had endured and still carried with me, as well as all those things for which I blamed myself.

    Every one of us will live through events, some that we consider positive, and others, not. The only control we have is in how we deal with the circumstances we’ve been given.

    We can choose not to shoulder the burden, and to unpack those weights we’ve been carrying. We can close our eyes, breathe deeply, and tell ourselves, “I will put that weight down.”

    That’s where our true power lies.

    Have I forgotten my past? Of course not. But I have let it go, and in letting go, I have reclaimed an important relationship with my father, and more importantly, with myself.

    By letting go, I have released my suffocating grip on life, and reclaimed my personal power.

  • The Best Way to Deal with Dissatisfaction (It’s Not What You Think)

    The Best Way to Deal with Dissatisfaction (It’s Not What You Think)

    “Trying to change ourselves does not work in the long run because we are resisting our own energy. Self-improvement can have temporary results, but lasting transformation occurs only when we honor ourselves as the source of wisdom and compassion.” ~Pema Chodron, The Places That Scare You

    In my late thirties, I was a yoga teacher and an avid practitioner. I lived by myself in a small but beautiful studio apartment in Tel Aviv, Israel, right next to the beach.

    Every morning I woke up in my large bed with a majestic white canopy and said a morning prayer. I meditated for an hour and practiced pranayama and yoga asana for another hour and a half.

    When I was done, I prepared myself a healthy breakfast and sat at the rectangular wooden dining table, facing a huge window and the row of ficus trees that kept me hidden from the world. I ate slowly and mindfully.

    Since then, my life has shifted. I found love, got married, had a child, started a new business, and moved to live in the US. I stopped having the luxury of a two-and-a-half-hour morning sadhana. But my morning prayer stayed with me all this time:

    I am grateful for everything that I have and for everything that I don’t have.

    I am grateful for the opportunity to live.

    I love myself the way I am.

    I love my life the way it is.

    I love all sentient beings the way they are.

    May all sentient beings be happy and peaceful, may they all be safe and protected, may everyone be healthy and strong, and know a deep sense of wellbeing.

    I created this prayer because I wanted to be grateful for life, but I was not. I wanted to love myself, but I did not. It was sort of “fake it till you make it.”

    I borrowed this principle from the metta bhavana practice. In this practice you send love and good wishes to yourself, then to someone you love, then to someone neutral and eventually to someone you have issues with.

    When you send love to someone you hate, you connect with your hatred and resentment. You can witness how hard it is for you to want this person to be happy and well. But the more you do it, the easier it becomes. The hatred dissolves and you become more authentic with your wishes.

    Similarly, I assumed that if I kept telling myself that I was grateful, I would eventually become grateful. If I told myself that I loved myself, I would eventually love myself.

    Today, I can say that I do love myself and I do love my life, a lot more than I used to when I created my morning prayer. But the more I am happy with what I have, the harder it is to say that I am happy for everything I don’t have.

    Right now, for example, I am dissatisfied with my business income.

    I could reason myself out of my dissatisfaction.

    I could tell myself that I only started my business three years ago, just before COVID. I am still not making enough money, but I am making money and my situation keeps improving.

    My husband makes enough money for both of us, so my life is pretty good as it is. I know I am fulfilling my purpose, and it gives me great satisfaction to serve and inspire others. I get many affirmations that I am on the right path.

    I could also count my blessings.

    I have an honest and deep, loving relationship. I have an out-of-this-world connection with my son. I have a charming old house in a city that, for me, is heaven on earth. I have great friends and a strong community of likeminded people.

    I could compare myself to many other people who do not have any of these gifts.

    This is what most of us do when we feel discontent or dissatisfied with our lives. We sweep our lack of satisfaction under the rug. We remind ourselves of all the reasons we should be content. We convince ourselves to stop complaining and be happy.

    But when we fake our gratitude, when we reason ourselves to be happy, or focus on our gifts rather than our sorrows, we do not increase our happiness, we get further away from it!

    Let me explain.

    Behind our dissatisfaction there is pain.

    There might be childhood wounds, there might be weaknesses. When we ignore our frustration, we miss a valuable opportunity to work with these themes.

    When I delved into my discontent, I realized a lot of it was rooted in my childhood. My father was a banker, and my mother was an artist. My mother loved art and different cultures. She wanted to travel to many places. She worked hard at raising three children, but she did not get to travel because my father thought traveling was a waste of time and money. My mother had no say, since she was not the one who made the money in our house.

    Because of this, as a child I promised myself that I would never be financially dependent on anyone. This decision motivated me to study accounting and economics, and to have a successful financial career. My work did not fulfill my purpose, but it brought me financial security.

    For me, not having a sustainable income equaled being weak, like my mother was.

    When I understood that, I could work with it. I could remind myself that I was not my mother. That I was a good businesswoman. That I’d made some good investments. That I was strong.

    We are afraid to experience dissatisfaction and pain because we fear they will bring us down. But in truth, depression comes from not dealing with the pain! You can only suppress your discontent for so long. At a certain point, everything you swept under the rug comes out, and you discover that in its dark hiding place it grew bigger and bigger.

    After my mother died, when I was eighteen, I decided to live life to the fullest. I was very grateful for being alive, and I thought my gratitude should be expressed with constant happiness. For few years, I forced myself to be happy, and pushed all the pain, hurt, and loneliness away.

    I lived like I was on top of the world, until one day I crashed to the ground. I got so depressed I could not get out of bed or stop crying for months.

    At first, I did not even understand why I was depressed while my life was so “perfect.” It took me years to open my eyes and see all the things I refused to acknowledge before.

    Since then, I’ve come a long way. I stopped running away from my pain. I turned around, looked it in the eyes, and said, “let’s be friends.”

    Even though I have so many reasons to be grateful, I am still allowed to be dissatisfied. I am not going to judge myself for that. I am not going to tell myself to stop whining and snap out of it. I am not going to deny this pain or try to modify it and shape it into gratitude.

    Befriending your pain and dissatisfaction is not an easy process.

    Our natural tendency is to fear these feelings, to avoid them, to deny them. It requires us to go against our instincts.

    On the first slope I ever skied, my instincts told me to lean back to prevent falling. But leaning back is exactly what makes you fall. You need to lean forward, into the downhill, in order to slow yourself down and ride the slope well.

    Leaning into your dissatisfaction works exactly the same. When you accept your dissatisfaction and allow yourself to be dissatisfied, you work with the situation. You make it your teacher. You appreciate the wisdom of it. Only then, transformation occurs, and you become content.

    So why do I keep saying the same morning prayer?

    In his book Infinite Life, Robert Thurman quotes Ram Dass, who once asked his guru “’What about the horrors in Bengal?’ His guru smiled to him and said, ‘Don’t you see, it’s all perfect!’ Ram Dass then said, ‘Yeah! It’s perfect—but it stinks!’”

    According to Thurman, there are two perceptions of reality that we must hold together. There is the enlightened perception in which everything is perfect, and the samsaric perception, in which we experience pain and dissatisfaction, which must be acknowledged and worked with.

    In my morning prayer I hold the enlightened perception. But when I start my day, I remember to lean into my true deep feelings, especially when I feel pain, frustration, and dissatisfactions. It makes me so much happier.

  • Coping with the Grief of a Layoff: 5 Tips If You’re Looking for a Job

    Coping with the Grief of a Layoff: 5 Tips If You’re Looking for a Job

    “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” ~Seneca

    We are in such a hard season of the economy, and the implications of people getting laid off are so real and unfortunately painful.

    No matter how competent or qualified you are, the job search process is hard. And even when you know your layoff was due to reasons completely outside your control, it still hurts.

    The fear, instability, and uncertainty about what your next job will be or when it will come to fruition are emotionally unsettling, and our collective toxic positivity conditioning isn’t always helpful.

    Yes, it’s true that most of us have more to be grateful for than we can feel in the moment, but our hard feelings are valid and need space to be felt.

    I was recently let go from a role that felt like a dream job when I signed my offer letter, and yes, I have healed from that pain, but I had to feel my way through all of it versus simply “thinking positive.”

    I had multiple layers of emotions even before I was let go. First, there was the disappointment that the job wasn’t what I thought it would be, then there was the grief over a chapter of my life ending without knowing why and the lack of closure.

    Despite our difficult feelings, we have the capacity to heal, reconnect with ourselves, and rediscover what needs to come alive during these often-painful seasons of transition. But we have to give ourselves permission to be real—to be honest with ourselves more than anybody else—and we also need tremendous amounts of self-trust and self-belief in a season that feels rife with self-doubt.

    Here are some thoughts that may be helpful if you were let go and are looking for a new job.

    1. Acknowledge what you are feeling.

    You have full permission to feel whatever you’re feeling right now. Feeling your feelings doesn’t make you weak; it makes you brave. And there is a difference between giving yourself permission to feel and move through them versus getting stuck. I am advocating for the former.

    Maybe you had a vacation planned that will now need to be canceled and you’re feeling disappointed, or you may be the sole breadwinner of your family and you’re feeling scared. Maybe you never had a chance to say goodbye to your coworkers, and you’re grieving the loss of those daily connections. Maybe you had the world’s best manager, and you are heartbroken to no longer be working for that person. All of your feelings are valid.

    2. Take care of yourself.

    It can be very tempting to spend every waking minute tweaking your resume, applying to jobs, or doing informational interviews. Prioritizing a few simple self-care basics can go a long way to sustaining your momentum. A thirty-minute walk, some mindfulness practice, and coffee with a friend in real life are all simple but powerful ways to help you stay grounded in what truly is a hard season.

    This can feel obvious, but during our hardest times especially, with uncertainty in the environment, it can be easy to go into a narrative of “I don’t deserve rest” or “I haven’t earned a break.” But here is the truth: Rest, downtime, joy, fun, and play are your birthrights. You don’t have to earn them, and they can actually be effective components of your achievement strategy since they all help you feel and be your best.

    3. Audit your learnings.

    Being a bit distant from the day-to-day work grind can be a good time to reflect on your learnings, who you are as a person, employee, and leader, and what’s truly next for you versus what you think you should be doing next.

    There is a difference, and even if you can’t go for the former, there is power in naming what you want so that you can find components of the “want” even in your “shoulds” and potentially build toward something that will be even more fulfilling.

    Take a moment and think about your peak moments of aliveness in your journey and how can you bring more of them where you go next. What skills do you most enjoy using? What contribution would you feel most proud to make? What are the environments and who are the leaders that bring out the best in you?

    As for me, I had long wanted to work for myself and start my own small business. Being laid off meant I could take something that I had been doing on the side and turn up the dial to do more of it full-time.

    4. Build a solid strategy.

    Once you have a sense of what you want for your future, create a routine and strategy to give your day structure and ensure you’re putting your energy in the right direction.

    There’s no one-size-fits-all strategy. It all depends on your field, aspirations, personality, the season of your career, and more. There are lots of areas where you can invest your time—job fairs, informational interviews, cover letters, job applications, resumes, networking events, and more, so make sure you have a plan while also leaving room for some serendipitous wins so you can prepare for any new opportunities that come your way.

    The important thing is to be proactive instead of reactive. It’s easy to let your fear-based brain run the show, as you scroll through social media and see what other people are doing. Focus on your goals, create a solid plan to work toward them, and stay patient and committed. It’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon, so be intentional, have a plan, and stay focused so you don’t get discouraged or burnt out.

    5. Invite support.

    And finally, my favorite, invite support, not because you are weak and can’t do it alone but because we all do better in community and connection. Find a friend in a similar situation so you can support each other and hold each other accountable. Or hire a career coach or a therapist if you can or join an online support group. Surround yourself with other humans who want to lift you up and are skilled at bringing out the best in you.

    I hope you know that you are not alone on your journey. There are so many humans across the globe navigating this uncertainty every day, unsure of when our economy will recover, when they will find a job, or how long they will be able to hold onto the job that they have at hand. Know that you are doing real hard work with everything happening in our world and the collective grief and trauma we have all experienced as a human species over the last two-plus years.

    I hope you can see your own brilliance, talent, and wisdom and build up the courage to share it bravely with the world.

  • Dealing with a Big Disappointment: How to Soften the Blow and Move On

    Dealing with a Big Disappointment: How to Soften the Blow and Move On

    “New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” ~Lao Tzu

    In the middle of a storm, it is difficult to see any way out. But on the other side, we usually can recognize a silver lining—something we gained from the experience that enhanced our lives in some way.

    When my husband unexpectedly died and left me a single mother to three young children, I could not conceptualize anything good coming out of it.

    Yet, years later, I am here to tell you that the gutting, heart-wrenching experience taught me invaluable lessons that have helped me to not just survive but actually thrive, finding more happiness when I never thought I would again. Although I wish that experience never happened, I also would never trade the person I am today. Life is funny in that way.

    There have been many setbacks and impending feelings of disappointment. Losing loved ones, the end of relationships, professional rejections and mishaps, parenting flops, general life blunders. All of it.

    Each time I survive a setback, I learn something new and I get better. I become wiser when I seek to understand the lesson and reflect on the experience. I realize that these moments of disappointment have a lot to offer me in personal growth.

    However, in order to get to this place, you must take care of your disappointment. It helps to study human nature and the common responses during these emotions, so you can recognize the pitfalls and be proactive about responding to your disappointment in a nurturing, positive way.

    Most recently, when a relationship ended, I knew immediately that I had to make sure my disappointment didn’t turn into something bigger and darker. I learned from previous experiences what not to do.

    Disappointment—what happens when your expectations are not aligned with reality—can be emotionally and physically painful. But when it turns into devastation, it becomes destructive and crushing, potentially putting you in danger.

    Disappointment is a little hole you can jump over or fill in with some effort. Devastation is a deep trench that is difficult to escape and will require monumental effort. The trick is to take care of it before it becomes insurmountable.

    After my husband passed away, it felt like my wings had been clipped. In a second, I lost my best friend, partner, colleague, and source of unfaltering support. I suddenly found myself having to stand on my own two feet with nobody to root me on, and I felt unconfident and unworthy.

    It took me a while to consider dating. When I did meet someone, I had high hopes for that first relationship. I wanted so badly to experience the security of a stable relationship with a committed partner, the kind I had with my husband. I overlooked the fact that not everyone shared those expectations.

    Unfortunately, this person wasn’t the right one. It was disappointing to feel like I’d wasted my time on someone with whom the stars did not align. I was not prepared to deal with the letdown.

    I felt wronged by the universe for being in a predicament that I thought shouldn’t have happened in the first place. If only my husband hadn’t passed away, I wouldn’t be in this ridiculous, embarrassing situation of trying to re-enter the dating field as a single mother in the early years of her middle age.

    I spiraled into self-pity, wondering why me and why not other people. It was triggering to see others in relationships and wonder why they didn’t have to suffer the way I felt our family had. It can feel isolating and lonely when nobody in your social circles is in the same boat.

    That’s the thing about disappointment. We take it so personally. In reality, everyone has their own share of it; we just aren’t privy to seeing all of the ways it manifests in other people’s lives. We have tunnel vision with the realities we spin in our minds.

    That relationship riddled me with self-doubt, which felt embarrassing because I knew I had already experienced more serious loss than that. Still, I wanted to dissect all of the details and ruminate over what happened, what could have happened, and what might have happened.

    I let it linger too long instead of severing ties when I should have. I let the experience reinforce negative thoughts, like the ones where I told myself that I would never find anyone, that I wasn’t good enough, or that I didn’t deserve another chapter.

    This was a classic case of me not taking care of my disappointment. I let my expectations go wild and I took the disappointment as a crushing blow to my ego. I internalized the pain and let it grow, feeding it irrational thoughts and reactions to perpetuate the negative emotions.

    There is a better approach.

    Disappointment is inevitable and natural, but there are ways we can soften the blow to help ourselves heal and move through the feelings instead of getting stuck in them. When we learn to not hold on so tight and let go, seek joy, and imagine the road ahead, we help ourselves dilute the disappointment until it no longer hurts us.

    Letting Go

    First and foremost, learn to accept what you can control and what you can not. This is paramount to taking care of your disappointment. Holding on to a reality that does not exist only makes your wounds fester.

    I keep a journal, and it serves as an outlet for me to dump my thoughts into. I can go back to previous entries, and it is usually then that I make connections and realize that the grass was not always greener. I did this recently with a breakup, and I read, in my own words, about the red flags that I didn’t heed, which helped give me perspective as I processed what happened.

    When we feel disappointed, our levels of neurotransmitters (serotonin, dopamine) go down. We experience emotional and sometimes physical pain as a result. The first night after my most recent breakup, my chest felt heavy, making it difficult to breathe as I struggled to fall asleep that night.

    Even though I knew on an intellectual level that it was absolutely for the best, I couldn’t get over the feeling that I had done something wrong and, even worse, that I had wasted my time again. I find myself defaulting to toxic habits: lashing out, looking for ways to hold on, giving the situation too much benefit of the doubt, and trying to rescue something that was not there anymore. In a disappointed state, we tend to fall into irrational thinking and unsavory reactions in an effort to make the pain stop.

    We have to learn to wrap our minds around the impermanence of disappointment—it won’t hurt this bad forever—and let it go, instead of desperately digging in our heels. At this stage, there’s nothing more important than acknowledging how you feel, but then moving on and adjusting your expectations.

    Find Varied Sources of Joy

    The old adage “don’t put all of your eggs in one basket” applies here. The person that got away, the job you lost, or whatever happened to cause your disappointment was not the only source of your joy. Or at least it shouldn’t have been. You are a person with many interests, and you are going to find your dopamine and serotonin elsewhere.

    If you don’t have any hobbies, now is the time to explore and perhaps learn something new. This will help redirect your attention away from the disappointment and also make you feel good. It’s always a good idea to fill your happiness bucket, and now is the perfect time.

    Some questions to consider:

    • What did you used to do in the past that made you happy?
    • What have you always wanted to do?
    • What can you do now that you couldn’t do before?

    For me, I decided I wanted to finish some projects I had kept on the backburner when I was busy in a relationship, and I decided to learn pickleball to meet new people and go back to pilates, which I had stopped pre-pandemic and never resumed.

    Conceptualize the Road Ahead

    Disappointment is not the end of your road. You are not stuck in a dead end. You simply encountered a bump in the road and there is a way out.

    First, figure out what you want in your life in terms of priorities and values. I spend a lot of time doing this, but when I encounter disappointment, I still find myself swerving off the path and bombarding myself with negative thoughts. I have to consciously separate the disappointment from my identity, and keep reminding myself that I am not what I lost.

    I remind myself of the goals I have, ones that still exist even in the face of loss. Sometimes we need to adjust these goals and find other plans or even go in new directions, but you are still a person with aspirations, hopes, and dreams that belong to you. Disappointment doesn’t get to take that away from you.

    It helps me to create lists of the small action steps I need to take to achieve these goals. I call them “bite-size” actions. Teeny, tiny steps.

    For example, I made a “glow” list after my most recent breakup, with all of the things I wanted to do to enhance and better my life. It included tasks as small as getting my nails done and as big as setting up an investment account. Check items off your list and build your grit and perseverance as you prove to yourself how strong you are.

    Also, embrace an abundance mindset. There are more fish in the ocean. There will be job opportunities you can’t even conceptualize right now. Trust they are out there and be open to these possibilities. Seek them out.

    When I get a writing rejection, I try to reframe it as a learning opportunity, trusting that there will be more opportunities to submit my work and I will get better with practice. You don’t get one shot and you’re done. There are an infinite amount of opportunities still waiting for you to explore.

    Bottom line: Disappointment is an opportunity to grow your emotional resilience. It’s a chance to get stronger and intentional about your life, evolving into a better version of who you were yesterday.

    One way to approach your disappointment is to remember seven-year-old you. How would you talk to that child? What advice would you tell seven-year-old you?

    Treating yourself with compassion and patience, while firmly steering yourself back into a positive direction, will help you overcome the many forms of disappointment you will inevitably encounter.

    I’m human, so disappointment still stings even with all of the work I have done. But utilizing these tools have helped me navigate through negative feelings, enabling me to heal more quickly and move on toward new sources of joy.

    I like this quote by Peter Marshall. He said, “When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure.”

    Never forget that you are a diamond, nothing less.

  • How My Dad’s Advice to Let Someone Else Shine Created My Fear of Success

    How My Dad’s Advice to Let Someone Else Shine Created My Fear of Success

    “Sometimes what you’re most afraid of doing is the very thing that will set you free.” ~Robert Tew

    Everyone has fears. It is not an emotion that is only for a chosen few. One’s fear may seem irrational to the outside world, but I guarantee to that person it is debilitating. So much so, that it shapes their perspective and how they see the world. My fear is of success.

    I know what you’re thinking. “That doesn’t make sense at all. Who doesn’t want to be successful?” Well, let me explain what I mean.

    You see, I am an introvert, so I don’t really want to draw attention to myself at all. My “success” is a personal gain, not a flashy show of pride to the world.

    I wasn’t quite sure where this fear of success began until this year when I was talking to my wife. Our discussions brought up a memory that I am sure started this fear.

    When I was twelve years old, I loved basketball. It was my all-time favorite sport. You had to be good individually but also as a team.

    Being introverted, I had to work hard at the latter, but it was a challenge I was willing to take on because I loved the game so much. I practiced all day every day. My grandma even brought me a basketball hoop to put in her driveway so I could practice. (This was a big deal because she loved her yard and thought the hoop made it look less appealing.)

    Nonetheless, I got good and made the basketball team. So now I could work more on the team aspect.

    One day I was at my cousin’s house, and we were playing basketball. A teammate lived across the street. After my game with my cousin, she came over and challenged me to a game one on one. I agreed

    As we were playing, I noticed she became more intense and aggressive. I didn’t pay much attention to it and just kept playing. When I won the game, I went toward her to say, “nice game.”

    She threw the ball at me and ran toward her house crying. I was so confused. My dad saw and made me go with him to her house, where she was sitting on the porch.

    He asked her what was wrong. She said, “Why does she have to be so good? She always wins. I’m not even a starter because of her.”

    My dad pulled me to the side and said, “You don’t have to be good all the time. Why don’t you let her win sometimes?” 

    I remember being confused. My twelve-year-old mind couldn’t understand why my dad would want me to lessen myself so that someone else could achieve, even though I worked hard. But he was my dad, and she was crying.

    Later, I found out that the girl was the niece of my dad’s future wife. I guess he was trying to impress her. But that’s a story for a different blog.

    From that time on I questioned the results of my success. If I succeeded would people be upset? Would I be taking someone else’s spot? Would this person hate me? Should I not try my best?

    This fear of success became a big deal in my twenties. At that time, I decided to make good on a goal I set for myself when I was in high school—to become a poet like Maya Angelou and Nicki Giovanni and a writer like John Grisham.

    At that time, I was working at a tutoring center, and there was this nice older gentleman name GW. He always saw me writing in my journal, and one day he invited me to an open poetry mic night that he held on Fridays in a barn.

    I didn’t think much of it. When I went home, I looked up the guy and learned that he was a famous poet. So, I decided to take him up on his offer to attend.

    It was great, everyone was kind and just wanted to share their work. After a couple of visits as a spectator, GW asked me when I was going to share my work. The thought was scary for me.

    It took so much for me to even attend. I told him I was just enjoying being there. He then said something that I hold on to even to this day.

    He said, “When you are a writer you have to become two people: the author Nesha and the regular Nesha. The regular Nesha can be afraid and introverted. But the author Nesha needs to be strong, confident, and want success, not fear it.”

    He then told me he was going to feature me as the poet of the night, where I would do a set of my poems for fifteen minutes for everyone. I reluctantly agreed.

    It took so much for me not to cancel. I had to constantly tell myself, “This is author Nesha.” I had to work on being in a room where all the attention was on me. It was a lot, but I’m glad I did it

    This fear of success is tough to deal with, especially as I continue to pursue my writing career.  I feel as though I have multiple personalities. “Author Nesha” wants success. I want to be a famous writer with people reading my books.

    “Regular Nesha” is introverted and just wants to write because I love it. “Regular Nesha” is afraid. I am afraid that I will get successful, and everyone will criticize my art that I worked so hard on.

    Will people say I shouldn’t be where I am because I am not good enough? Will I be taking someone’s spot? Will people want to meet me, touch me, speak to me?

    This fear of success has also morphed a bit into social anxiety. When I do open mics (which is rare because of my fears) I need to have my wife by my side.

    I remember one time I did an open mic, and as I was speaking, I noticed this woman crying and staring intently at me. My mind began to swirl with so many questions. Why is she staring at me? Does she think my work is bad? Will she want to talk to me?

    When I was done, I walked to my seat near my wife. The woman came and sat behind us. She touched my shoulder, which brought fear to my heart. I turned around. She was still crying.

    She said, “Your words brought me so much joy. I am crying because I recently lost my mom and your poem reminded me of her.” It was happening! Someone was talking to me!

    All I could think was, this is going to spiral into a full-blown conversation. All I could muster up was “I’m glad you liked the poem, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

    That night was difficult and exhilarating. Difficult because so many people came up to me and wanted to talk and shake my hand, and I was so afraid and had so many thoughts flying through my head. Exhilarating because OH MY GOD! People liked me!

    This battle between “Author Nesha” and “Regular Nesha” is something I deal with daily. Not only in my pursuit of being a writer but in other aspects of my life.

    I am an English teacher by day. In my staff meetings, I’m afraid to share my ideas because what if I succeed and some people like them? Will they expect me to always have good ideas? What if others are upset at me or think less of me because of my ideas?

    But then again, I want to share my thoughts because I worked hard on them and feel like they are worthy to be shared.

    I know you’re thinking, how do you survive? Well, first, I had to acknowledge that what my dad did when I was twelve was not right. He may have thought he was doing the right thing, but he should never have told me to dim my light so someone else could shine.

    Second, I try to do things out of my comfort zone. For example, in my staff meeting we were discussing how to improve student motivation. Usually, I don’t speak, but I pushed myself to share what I do in my class, and they loved it.

    Of course, I couldn’t help but question If they really loved it, or if someone was upset about my idea, but I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on what I can actually see and hear.

    Finally, success is relative. My idea of success may not be someone else’s idea of success, and that’s okay. By learning these things, I can now follow through on things that scare “Regular Nesha,” and that is me facing my fear of success.

  • When a Mother Fails to Love: What’s Helped Me Move On

    When a Mother Fails to Love: What’s Helped Me Move On

    “You keep meeting the same person in different bodies until you learn the lesson.” ~Brandon Tarot

    Like most girls in junior high school, I tried out for all the cheerleading squads every time tryouts came around—basketball, football, even wrestling. And like 95% of the girls, I never made the squad.

    My kicks weren’t high enough, my splits weren’t split enough, my arms weren’t board-straight enough, I couldn’t jump high enough—and, let’s be real here: I wasn’t pretty enough and I wasn’t popular enough. After all, we are talking about junior high school.

    But eventually, the one tryout came around that I had half a chance at: the pom-pom squad. Even at thirteen years old, I knew I could dance. Pom pom was the group of ten to twelve girls that performed choreographed routines to music at half-time during basketball games, and rarely during the period breaks at hockey games, on ice (I grew up in North Dakota, where hockey was a big deal).

    To try out for pom pom, you usually got together with two or three of your best girlfriends who also wanted to make the team, picked a song you all liked, and tried to choreograph a dance routine to that song.

    Picking the right song was crucial: it had to be a popular song that everyone would immediately recognize (Top 40, currently getting radio play time was best!), and it had to have the right rock-and-roll beat that was not too slow so that it would be boring to dance to, yet not too fast so that we would have a hard time making spins, kicks, or coordinated moves in time with the beat.

    So it came to pass: Eighth grade, tryout date was announced, and teams signed up to compete. It turned out to be myself and my friends Diane and Becky who agreed we were going to go for it that year.

    We had no experience whatsoever in coming up with a dance routine; all we had ever done was watch the previous year’s dance team do their thing, and we figured we might be able to copy a few moves from them. This was 1970, and I believe we chose an Elton John song that was getting a lot of airtime that year.

    We pulled my bright orange record player out to my back concrete patio and set it up, where we played that song over and over as we practiced sequences of turns, kicks, fancy footwork, arm movements, and hip action.

    This patio was right off the back door leading from our kitchen, and in retrospect I’m sure hearing that song play endlessly must have driven my mother insane, because even after my friends left for the day, I continued to practice, practice, practice.

    Finally, the day of tryouts arrived! It was long and nerve-wracking, as we had to watch everyone else’s performance until our turn came around.

    We watched as their nerves got the better of them—as the plastered smiles froze and then faded completely, their eyes widening like deer in the headlights. We saw them forget their steps; turn in opposite directions; one girl ran off before her routine was even over. A few routines went smoothly, and you could hear the collective sigh of relief from those of us still waiting, but the disastrous ones unnerved us completely.

    I actually have no memory whatsoever of how our routine went. I remember our names being called, scampering up onto the gym floor, hearing the scratching of the needle on the record, and shaking like a leaf until the music started. Then I remember sitting down and the polite applause afterward. That’s it.

    We watched as the final teams competed, and waited for the judges to make their picks. This was the worst part of all. The gym was full of girls who all wanted a shot, and they would hear in front of everyone whether they would get that shot or not.

    It was already getting late and the judges seemed to be taking a long time. This event had taken place on a school night, so by now it was past 9:30 p.m.

    One by one, they started to call the girls’ names who had made it onto the dance team. When they eventually said “Gail …” and hesitated on the last name, I knew it was me they were referring to! (I had a Polish last name that always seemed to get massacred.)

    I leapt to my feet and ran out onto the gym floor in complete shock—OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!! My girlfriends pounded me on the back on my way out to the floor and shrieked and clapped for me. Finally, the ONE thing I knew I was good at, and I got my chance to be a part of this group. I was over-the-top euphoric!

    I lived a little more than a mile from my junior high school and had to walk back home that night. Well, I practically ran all the way home; I was so excited and couldn’t wait to tell my mom that I had made the pom pom team! I burst into the back door about 10:30 p.m.

    I yelled out, “Mom!”

    She stormed through the living room and into the kitchen, furious and screaming at me, “Where the HELL have you been??”

    Taken aback, I said, “You know I was at pom pom tryouts. I made it!”

    She said, “I don’t give a damn. You know your curfew is 10 o’clock. What the hell have you been doing this whole time?”

    Dumbfounded, I tried again. “Ma, you know where I was. It went late. It wasn’t my fault. Ma, didn’t you hear me? I made the squad.”

    “I don’t care about that. Next time you call if you’re going to be late.” Then she turned around and went to bed.

    I was stunned. If she had slapped me in the face, it wouldn’t have hurt worse. Literally the only thing I’d ever competed for, and they had said “Yes, Gail, you have talent, and we want you on our team,” and my own mother didn’t give a damn.

    If I ever needed a message that in her mind, my accomplishments meant nothing, she delivered it loud and clear that night. Unfortunately, it left a scar so deep that it remained with me for rest of my life, as the same message continued to be delivered, over and over.

    That night I could not get to sleep. Waves of excitement kept washing over me as I couldn’t believe my good fortune in being picked for this elite team. I remember literal chills going through my body; I simply could not relax. Then I would remember my mom’s reaction and a feeling of incredulity would take over.

    How could someone do that to their own daughter? How could someone do that to anyone who had such great news to tell—be such a horrible wet blanket?

    I never forgave her for how she treated me that night. At the end of that school year, the teacher/advisor who was the head of the pom pom squad thought it would be nice to host a mother-daughter night. The girls would choreograph a special routine, showing the mothers what they had learned all year long, and the teachers would prepare a special buffet for the mothers. This would take place after school one night. I didn’t even tell my mom about it.

    The day arrived, and I just told my mom I had a performance after school and would be home late. When I got home several hours later, she tore into me, furious. One of the other mothers had called her up, offering her a ride to the mother-daughter night. Of course this caught my mom off-guard because she didn’t know anything about it, and it embarrassed her as well. She declined the ride, seeing as she wasn’t ready to go out.

    Obviously, I got yelled at again because of the embarrassing phone call. But this time I didn’t care. I just tossed my head and said, “I didn’t tell you about it because I knew you wouldn’t want to go anyway.” And I walked away.

    The following year, as I was transitioning into high school, I tried out again for the high school pom pom squad. That year, I was the only one from my entire junior high school who made the team. For all three years of high school, I continued to try out and make the team. My senior year, I was the only senior on the squad.

    All this is to say that I was good at what I did. And for the four years I was performing with these girls, my mother never came once to watch me dance.

    I think her ugly dismissal of my winning a spot on the team, and my response by keeping her away from the mother-daughter night, created a gulf between us that never got repaired. The battle lines between us were already drawn, but that incident firmly entrenched them for many decades to come.

    When the most important people in my life essentially told me that I didn’t matter, that my accomplishments didn’t matter, two things resulted: I stopped “putting my pearls before swine,” and I started to seek validation from the wrong people and in the wrong places.

    By pearls before swine, I mean this: I protected my heart by not including her in the big celebratory events of my life. I felt that because of her lack of support, she didn’t deserve to be there and wouldn’t really appreciate what I’d accomplished anyway.

    We started to live a tit-for-tat existence. One day I came home from high school to find out that she’d given away my dog—she left a note for me on the kitchen table. The explosive fight we had when she came home that evening was epic, as was the silent treatment around the house that lasted for weeks afterward.

    She tried to prevent me from attending college, telling me I’d only be wasting money and was only going there to “chase boys” anyway. Four years later when I earned my B.S. degree, I purposely didn’t walk the graduation ceremony to spite her, thus robbing her of her day in the sun. “Why should she get any credit for that,” I thought? Several years later when I earned my M.S. degree, I didn’t invite her to that ceremony either, which I did participate in.

    The most far-reaching decision I made, as early as high school, was that I would never have children. I was the youngest of seven in my family and the only one who never had kids. I was so afraid I would turn out to be a mother just like her, and I didn’t want to inflict that kind of misery on any child.

    Where was my father in all of this? When I was in junior high school, my father had an operation for a brain tumor and its removal was successful. But a few days later he had a stroke that left him paralyzed on his right side and unable to speak. He remained in this state, wheelchair-bound, for the rest of his life.

    This was our alcoholic father who was unfaithful to my mother and physically abusive to her and to his seven children. Our mother, being the righteous Catholic martyr that she was, insisted it was her duty to now care for him at home. I am convinced it was this intensive caregiving for a man she did not love and who had been horrible to her that turned her into the bitter woman who was doing battle with me.

    It took decades of hindsight and therapy for me to see and understand this, but in the thick of our day-to-day dogfights, all I saw was a woman who would do everything in her power to hold me back. If she couldn’t be happy, no one was going to be happy.

    I’ve had three failed marriages, the final one lasting only nine months. My therapist helped me to see that I chose the same personality type each time: three overachievers, three brilliant and talented individuals, three bright and shiny objects. And by doing that, I was seeking my own validation—they reflected well on me, and surely they must see the same qualities in me.

    What I didn’t realize was that in these types of partnerships with high-achieving individuals, there is only room for one successful person, and that person would not be me. Megalomaniacs do not share the spotlight.

    Finally, in my sixties now, I understand that aloneness does not mean loneliness. I am more content and fulfilled than I’ve ever been in my life, as I pursue as many passions and dreams as the remaining years will allow. To finally achieve self-acceptance and self-esteem through rigorous study and therapy has been the greatest gift imaginable.

    It all started with understanding that my mother’s mistreatment had nothing to do with me. She let her pain shape her life. I won’t do the same. And I won’t spend my time seeking validation from anyone else, as I once did with my mother and three husbands. It’s natural to want approval from other people, but all that really matters is that we approve of ourselves.

  • The Six Ps: What to Do and Not to Do When Dealing with Setbacks and Failure

    The Six Ps: What to Do and Not to Do When Dealing with Setbacks and Failure

    “Sometimes you get what you want. Other times, you get a lesson in patience, timing, alignment, empathy, compassion, faith, perseverance, resilience, humility, trust, meaning, awareness, resistance, purpose, clarity, grief, beauty, and life. Either way, you win.” ~Brianna Wiest

    “Good as gold,” the cab driver replied as I nervously handed him the $20 bill and asked, “Okay?” He jumped in his cab and drove off.

    I was pleasantly surprised by his politeness, as I was expecting him to argue with me for extra money because we’d gone around in circles searching for the address that I had given him at the airport. These were the pre-GPS days, of course!

    This was the start of my emotional rollercoaster upon arrival in New Zealand as a new migrant.

    The first few days were filled with excitement and happiness. Discovering a new country, meeting friendly people, learning new things—all these experiences made me a wide-eyed migrant seduced by the charms of my new surroundings.

    After a few weeks, the rollercoaster took a downward dive as I started getting frustrated with a spate of rejections. All my job applications brought forth polite rejection letters. The message I was getting was that my lack of local experience made me very unappealing to prospective employers. Nobody was willing to even interview me.

    How was I going to break out of this Catch-22 situation? I couldn’t get local experience without a job, but I couldn’t get a job without local experience!

    After months of fruitless searching, the rollercoaster finally took an upward turn. Driven to despair by the unwillingness of employers to grant me an interview, I decided to enroll in a university to acquire a local qualification in the hope that it might open a door for me. This out-of-the-box thinking got me my first job through a contact from the university. At last, a feeling of joy!

    I felt that my problems had ended, and now I was set for a long and successful career in my adopted country. How wrong I was! It was time for the emotional rollercoaster to start its downward journey again.

    Within a few months, my joy turned to confusion when my employer went from being very pleased with me to finding fault with everything I did almost overnight. I struggled to understand what had changed.

    A little while later I realized that my employer had hired me only to take advantage of a government scheme that subsidized (for a fixed term) employers who hired new migrants.

    My employer blamed me for things that had nothing to do with me and attributed other people’s mistakes to me. His cunning plan was to make my life so difficult that I would quit. That way there wouldn’t be any awkward questions from the government department about hiring me and then firing me within a few months.

    I felt an overarching sense of sadness and disappointment when I realized that my initial thoughts of everyone in my new country being friendly was just an illusion. I learned the lesson that people were people, some good and some not-so-good, no matter what part of the world they were in. I parted ways with my first employer in rather unpleasant circumstances.

    The long period of unemployment that followed created self-doubts in my mind.

    “Did I do the right thing by moving to another country?”

    “Will I ever succeed in finding decent employment?”

    Feelings of regret began to run riot in my mind.

    “Why didn’t I find out more about my employment prospects in this country before deciding to move here lock, stock, and barrel?”

    “I shouldn’t have taken such a big risk.”

    Every time I heard about someone that I knew doing well back home, I felt sorry for myself. I started feeling like I’d made a mistake by moving to New Zealand. As I had burned bridges before migrating, I felt there was no way of going back and restarting from where I had left off.

    By the time the rollercoaster took another upward turn, I had already been in the country for quite a while. It took four to five years for my career to stabilize and for me to start feeling satisfied with my decision to move. When you migrate to a new country, it’s not just the flight that is long-haul!

    I’ve shared the story of my emotional rollercoaster so I can also share my consequent learnings with you. My hope is that if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, you might be able to alleviate your feelings of hopelessness with the realization that you’re not alone and you can get out of any difficult situation with the right mindset.

    THE SIX Ps

    I’d like to encapsulate this journey of going from where you are to where you want to be in terms of “The Six Ps”—three Ps for what one shouldn’t do, and three Ps for what one should do.

    Let’s first take a look at the three Ps to avoid.

    1. Don’t take setbacks or adversities PERSONALLY.

    It’s important to separate your failures from your identity.

    If we take every rejection, setback, and problem personally, our self-esteem takes a beating and we can easily go down the rabbit holes of despair and depression.

    I was rejected over 200 times, without even getting an interview, before I got my first job. While I would never want to be in that situation again, or ever wish that upon anyone, I realize that I was fortunate not to allow myself to get dragged deep into the swamp of feeling worthless. In hindsight, I believe that this tough phase played a key role in building my resilience.

    2. Don’t allow a failure to become all-PERVASIVE.

    A failure or setback in one area of your life should remain contained to that area and not spill over into other areas.

    When my emotional rollercoaster was on a downward slope, it felt natural for me to start linking my failure in landing a job to every other aspect of life in the new country. Negative thoughts started doing the rounds in my mind.

    “I’m a misfit here.”

    “This place is not right for me.”

    “I am doomed.”

    The unfortunate consequence of such pervasive thinking is that it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy unless you stop this vicious cycle before it becomes too late. Enrolling in a course was the best step I took at that time as it gave my mind something else to focus on.

    3. Don’t think of any adversity as PERMANENT.

    Every crisis in the history of the world has ended. However difficult your challenge might seem, there will always be light at the end of the tunnel. You may not be able to see it from where you are now, but take comfort in the history of the world and assure yourself that your crisis will also have an end.

    My challenge with finding a job as a migrant went on for a long time, but eventually, it did end. If I had adopted a mindset of permanence with thoughts like “I’m never going to succeed here,” my efforts would have waned. When our efforts start to taper off, the desired results start moving further away from us.

    Now for the three Ps to adopt!

    1. Have PATIENCE.

    I’m sure you’ve heard the expression “good things take time.” Have faith in that!

    Some things take longer than we would like. That’s just life. Have the willingness to wait as you keep following the process. Dedicate yourself to the process and allow the results to happen.

    2. Develop PERSEVERANCE.

    Too often people give up just before they’re about to crack the code. The ability to continue our efforts in the face of difficulty or forge through delay in the way of their success is what separates the winners from the also-rans.

    Life is like an obstacle race. Get better at tackling the obstacles and continuing your journey toward your objectives. Take help, reach out for support—do whatever it takes to keep going.

    3. Find your PURPOSE.

    I believe that this third P underpins the other two Ps that you should do to achieve success.

    Without a strong purpose, it becomes easy to give up when the going gets tough. Purpose provides the fuel for motivation.

    Figure out why you want what you want. What is driving you? Go deep, look beneath the surface—sometimes your real WHY can be hidden under superficial WHYs.

    It can be difficult to have patience and perseverance if you don’t know the true purpose behind your goals.

    —

    Life is a journey of ups and downs. Realizing and accepting this fact puts us in a much better position to handle adversities. Most of our disappointment in life comes from having unrealistic expectations.

    If you’re ready to handle the ups and downs of this rollercoaster of life, buckle yourself in and enjoy the ride!

  • How I’ve Dealt with the Shame and Embarrassment of a Failed Career

    How I’ve Dealt with the Shame and Embarrassment of a Failed Career

    “If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can’t survive.” ~Brené Brown

    The embarrassment you feel upon realizing you don’t actually have what it takes to make a success of yourself. The shame of knowing you spent years training to do one thing and then you bailed right at the finish line. The fear of what to tell people when they ask you what you’re up to.

    Of course, you don’t tell anyone how you feel, as you’re too embarrassed to admit you even have these feelings, so you just bury it all away.

    I know these feelings all too well, as I’ve been through them all. It took me years to finally face up to what I actually felt and deal with it. As a coach once told me, “Buried emotions never die.”

    I knew I always wanted to be in the arts. I loved dance and drama, and I wanted to be an actor. I could feel it so strongly that I never even considered a different career.

    I started dance classes at the young age of six, and at eleven years old I went to a performing arts school. So my training began.

    After school I went to a reputable college where I did a further three years of training. I was sixteen years old and was told to lose weight and wear heels and make-up. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this wasn’t the healthiest thing to tell a teenager.

    After three exhausting years I graduated. All the training, the hard work, the sacrifice had led up to this moment. I was going to get an agent, start working in theater, and move into TV and film.

    But that didn’t happen.

    Instead of going full steam into my career, I froze. The last term of college crushed me.

    The last term all led up to our final show. The show ran for a few weeks in different locations around the city, and it was meant to be an opportunity for us performers to show off our talent. Everyone was meant to invite agents in the hopes of getting signed.

    However, I didn’t invite anyone. I was so ashamed of my performance. I felt I had been cast in utterly the wrong role, and no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t make it work, and no one seemed to care.

    I remember wishing I would fall down the stairs of the tube station so I would break my leg and not have to perform; I was so humiliated.

    Rather than leaving college confident and excited, I left with my confidence at rock bottom.

    I never did anything with my training. All those years, all those dreams, all those aspirations, but when push came to shove, I didn’t do anything with it.

    For years I told myself that the last term was so tough that it broke me, and that is why I never continued after college. I blamed everyone else.

    It took me years to admit that it was actually my decision to quit. It took me even longer to understand why that was. I realize now I was scared.

    In fact, I was petrified that I wasn’t as talented as I thought I was. I knew if I put myself out there and tried to make a career out of it and failed, I would have proof that I wasn’t talented.

    If I blamed everyone else and quit before I got started then, in my head, I could always be amazing and could have always potentially had a career in the arts.

    Emotions are so complex, though, that it took me a long time to dig deep enough to find this truth.

    Thus, I found myself aged eighteen years old, with no formal education, and all I had ever wanted to do was perform, so what now? I was totally lost.

    I just froze. I didn’t get an agent; I didn’t go to auditions. I just quit.

    I had spent my entire life working toward this moment, and at the final hurdle I fell. It really shook me up; I felt like an utter failure and was humiliated.

    I was so ashamed and embarrassed that I stayed in contact with no one from college, except two friends.

    I remember walking down Oxford High Street and seeing two of my former classmates. I jumped into a shop to hide from them because I was afraid they would ask what I had been up to.

    All I could think was, “What would I tell them?” They were probably off in West End Shows, and what was I doing? I was a failure. Of course, this was before social media, so no one knew what I was or was not doing.

    Eventually I decided I would take some time out and go to Thailand. I ended up spending a year there. I became a diving instructor, and I met the man that would become my husband.

    Once back home, I got a job in recruitment and my career went from strength to strength. I thought I had moved on and was happy with my life.

    Yet whenever I would meet someone who asked about my education or what I did at school, I would panic. “What do I tell them? How do I explain that I trained, but never turned it into a career?” They would know my dirty secret, that I was an untalented failure.

    I would lie and make up stories as to why I decided to change careers after my education.

    I couldn’t understand why I still cared so much about this. Why did I feel I had to lie?  Although life was great, deep down I felt that something was missing. It sometimes felt like there was a dark mass in the pit of my stomach.

    I had a session with my coach about this feeling, and what came up? The arts, my love for dancing, my failed career, my shame, my embarrassment. I remember breaking down in tears. I was so angry that twenty years later I still hadn’t moved on.

    I was so angry that this was still such a big thing in my life. That it was still there with me. I just wanted it to go away. It felt pathetic that it still had such a huge hold over me; what was wrong with me? I just kept saying, “This is so ridiculous, why can’t I just let it go?”

    But remember what I said earlier? Buried emotions never die. They never leave you; they’re just festering

    I was so confused by it all, I didn’t understand why it still had such a hold on me. Why I felt so embarrassed and full of shame. My coach helped me unpack it all.

    The lies I had told myself had become so much a part of me; I had to work hard to pick it all apart to find the truth.

    After so many years, I was finally able to face up to what had happened. I was just a scared teenager. I was so scared of failure and rejection that I found a way to protect myself by making up a lie and quitting.

    I needed to make peace with this, and I needed to accept responsibility. I found this hard to do, as I didn’t like this version of me. It was much easier to blame everyone else than to see it was my fear that stopped me.

    I needed to forgive myself.

    I stopped telling myself lies and admitted that when I graduated, I was petrified of failure, so I quit before I could fail. I realized I still had a love for the arts and I needed to find an outlet in my life.

    It was hard work and took many sessions to really dig into the truth, but once I did, I was finally able to talk about the arts and my past without shame or embarrassment. I could finally move on.

    I did a lot of work re-connecting with teenage Alice. Writing letters to her, forgiving her, and showing her compassion. I also did a lot of work on acknowledging what I had achieved and who I had become.

    I know I’m not alone in what I felt and what I went through. I wish I could have started this healing process a long time ago because as much work as I have done, I know there is still more to do.

    For anyone who is experiencing what I did, know that you’re not alone and you’re not silly for feeling the way you do. Also know, you can change it.

    I learned so many things in the process.

    You can’t just ignore what you feel.

    At the time I was so confused by what I felt. Instead of trying to understand what was happening, I just buried everything.

    Eventually I had to look my shame and embarrassment in the eye and understand what they were telling me about myself. What was the message?

    There is always a message behind your feelings and emotions; you just need to be brave enough to hear them. I found journaling really helped with this.

    It takes time.

    If, like me, you have already spent years ignoring what you felt, that also means you’ve likely spent years telling yourself lies. What you are feeling is complex, and it will take time to work through it. Don’t expect an overnight change.

    Things still come up now that I have to work through. Human beings are extremely complex, and it takes time to break through all our barriers.

    Share what you’re feeling because you won’t be alone.

    I remember telling my old manager about how I felt. He had the same background as me, and he said, “Alice, I felt exactly the same way.” He told me he moved cities just to get away from people he knew.

    Just hearing that made me know I wasn’t insane. It was amazing to hear he understood.

    We hear it all the time, but sharing what you’re going through really does help. So share your story.

    Stop punishing yourself and have fun.

    For anyone reading this who can relate, you have likely boxed away something you loved. It’s time to take it out of the box and allow yourself to have fun again. You don’t need to keep punishing yourself.

    I didn’t allow myself to dance for years. It was too painful. However, my body was screaming out for it. I realized it wouldn’t be a career, but that didn’t mean I had to cut it out of my life completely. I could still enjoy it.

    —

    It’s been a long journey for me. Mainly because when I quit twenty years ago, I had a rush of feelings and emotions, and I didn’t know how to deal with them, so I pushed them away and lied to myself. It took a long time to undo all the stories I had told myself.

    You don’t need to be embarrassed or feel ashamed, but also know it’s okay if you do feel this way. Just don’t hide from these feelings. Understand them, embrace them, and make peace with them. That way you can allow yourself to move on.

  • 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.

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

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

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

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

    Most of the Things We Learn as Kids Shape Us

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

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

    The Joy of Giving

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

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

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

    The Guilt That Comes with Giving to Yourself

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Life’s a Journey, Not a Race

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

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

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

  • How I Found My Place in the World When I Felt Beaten Down by Life

    How I Found My Place in the World When I Felt Beaten Down by Life

    “Some people are going to reject you simply because you shine too bright for them. That’s okay. Keep shining.” ~Mandy Hale

    After I finished school, I was excited about moving forward with life.

    I thought about the career that I hoped to have, where I hoped to live, and the things that I wanted to accomplish.

    After starting off as a secondary high school English teacher and becoming disappointed with the ongoing changes in the public school system, I went to graduate school for law. I thought it would open up a lot of possibilities, but it did not.

    I never had any dream of being an attorney in a courtroom. Instead, I always wanted to work in Europe or South America with people from different cultures, nationalities, and backgrounds. I wanted to make a positive difference in a humanitarian way by working with people personally to implement change and improve their lives.

    Life had something different in store for me, though. I ended up being rejected endlessly, well over a thousand times for every application that I sent out over a period of years.

    Disillusionment set in. There was the feeling of “why even continue to try anymore?” As the rejections piled up, friends that I had known for years began leaving as well. Their calls and visits became less frequent. They moved on with their lives, careers, marriages, and kids.

    I felt left behind and rejected not just by jobs, but by life in general. The hurts and betrayals were leading me to lose my passion and enthusiasm. Then there were the callous remarks from friends, people in the local community, when I asked if they knew of a position, former professors who couldn’t assist in any way now that I’d graduated, college career center advisors, and even extended family members.

    It took time, but I finally came to the realization that those who were endlessly rejecting me weren’t the ones who really mattered. I would keep shining brightly with or without them.

    Here are the four things that helped me to finally “reject” the non-acceptance and rejection that I was experiencing from others.

    1. Realize that “there is no box.”

    Our background, degrees, friends, teachers, families, and the larger culture as a whole try to get us to conform to a narrow set of parameters. If you went to school to be a teacher, you have to be a teacher.  If you studied to be an auto mechanic, you have to be an auto mechanic. And you have to live in this place or this country, because that’s where your family have always lived.

    Someone once told me, “there is no box.” Society tries to “box” us in and to restrict us to defining ourselves within certain narrow limits. However, I realized that there really is “no box,” and that I could apply my skills and talents in other ways and in other places.

    I didn’t have to conform to where I was or seek acceptance from those who were currently around me.

    I started meeting new people and looking at other places and countries, and I stopped trying to seek the acceptance of those who had already decided that they weren’t going to accept me for who I was. The employers, institutions, and agencies told me I was  “overqualified” or that that there were “many qualified candidates” and I hadn’t been considered, or they’d keep my resume on file.

    It was as though no matter what I accomplished and no matter how hard I worked, it was never “the right skill set” or “enough” for the particular place or person that I was submitting to.

    In a way, I came to accept their rejection, because I knew that the answer was getting out of my box and realizing that someone else would be more than happy to accept me for who I was.

    2. Let go of the need for approval by others.

    Letting go of the need for approval opens up exciting new doors. We are finally free to be who we really are.

    I wanted to live up to the expectations of family and society. I think that’s why it hurt so much to receive so many rejections over such a long period of time. I wanted to be “successful” according to society’s expectations. I wanted to follow the path of what everyone told me was a “regular” and “secure” life.

    I’ve since realized that I get to define success for myself.

    Success, for me, means doing what I love—teaching, reading, traveling, meeting and working with people from throughout the world, studying languages, and experiencing different cultures.

    Everything changed for me when I decided to live my life on my terms now rather than looking for a company, agency, government institution, or some other entity to provide me with the chance or opportunity. I wasn’t going to wait for permission from someone or something else.

    I also realized I can use my skills in the world outside of the narrow and limited context of the jobs and people who were rejecting me.

    For example, I can teach, and I can work to help others, but it doesn’t have to be within the rigid structure of the public education system.

    I can use the skills that I’ve acquired to be a global citizen and to learn and grow every day without confining myself to the parameters of one place, country, or culture. I can be an amalgamation of all of them, as I continue to grow as a person, both personally and professionally, but on my own terms, not those that are dictated to be by someone or something else.

    As I let go of the need for others to approve of me, my world expanded, because now I could go after those things in life that I was passionate about rather than just trying to conform and satisfy others.

    3. Start journaling.

    Journaling and connecting with our true selves, and what really brings us joy, can make us value ourselves again in spite of any opposition and rejection that we experience from the world.

    It can also help us reconnect with the things we used to love when we were younger—the passions we lost after going through years of school and trying to do what we thought we had to do in order to be successful in the eyes of society.

    Journaling helped me get back to my uniqueness as a person and was what really motivated and inspired me. It helped me pay attention to what made me happy again and those things that I’d really like to do or accomplish.

    I was inspired by my experiences in the world that were outside of my comfort zone and by the rich and varied cultures and experiences that were waiting out there. As I continued journaling, I also realized I’d always been inspired by the possibility of teaching and helping others, but in an international capacity.

    As a result, I’ve had the opportunity to help students with autism, to teach English to students and adults internationally, and to write for a variety of places abroad that did accept and value my work. However, I would never have explored these aspects of myself if I had been accepted by those who were rejecting me. Which means really, their rejections were blessings in disguise.

    4. Support those who support you.

    “Your circle should want to see you win.  Your circle should clap the loudest when you have good news.  If they don’t, get a new circle.” ~Wesley Snipes

    We can reject rejection by supporting those who support us through both the good and the more difficult times in our lives. Why support those who are only there for you when life is good?

    The hard times made me realize who really was on my side. The people who stayed with me and continued to believe in me supported me through both the victories and the disappointments. There was a tremendous difference between those individuals and others who no longer answered calls or emails, except when I was “successful.”

    Now, I may not have as many friends as I once did, but those that I do have are an important part of my circle and people that I can rely on.

    Someone once told me, “Now I know who the true believers are.” I feel that way about those who have proudly celebrated my successes and have also been there for me during my darkest moments.

    I hope you’re fortunate enough to have people in your life who genuinely support you, even if it’s only one person. If you don’t, try to open yourself up to new people, and stop giving your energy to people who accept you conditionally or regularly disappoint you. Creating a supportive circle begins with that first step of making a little room.

    —

    It wasn’t easy for me to overcome rejection and non-acceptance, and I still struggle with it at times. No one wants to feel left out or like a failure. But I’ve realized I can only fail by society’s terms if I accept them—and I don’t.

    Instead, I’ve rejected the “box” other people tried to impose on me, gotten outside my comfort zone, let go of the need for approval, started rediscovering what excites me, and shifted my focus to those people who have always supported me, regardless of what I’ve achieved. And I’m far happier for it.

  • 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.

  • If You Expect a Lot and You’re Tired of Being Disappointed

    If You Expect a Lot and You’re Tired of Being Disappointed

    “Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything—anger, anxiety, or possessions—we cannot be free.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

    Almost universally, many of the problems we face in life are tied to our own expectations.  Expectations of ourselves. Expectations of others. Expectations of situations. Expectations of the world at large.

    We may expect ourselves to be perfect and successful in all our pursuits. We may expect to feel constantly happy with our lives. We may expect others to think and react like we do. We may expect life to always go to plan, and the world to be uncompromisingly fair.

    To be clear, some expectations are perfectly healthy and reasonable. For example, it’s reasonable to expect that the people we love will not intentionally hurt us, or that they’ll care when we share our feelings. On the flipside, it might not be reasonable to expect they will show their care in a specific way, since we are all different.

    Holding onto expectations can cause us much harm internally.

    It can eat us up, from inside out. It can lead us to frustration, anger, and resentment. We may blame others and ourselves for the way things are. Or perhaps we feel so hurt that we retreat into a shell to try to protect ourselves, withdrawing from those that care about us and the world at large.

    We can then become indifferent to all that life has to offer. Flat, uninspired, and deeply unhappy. At their worst, these festering emotions can lead us to some very dark places.

    To avoid falling into depression and improve our quality of life, we have to look for ways to let go of our unreasonably high expectations.

    This isn’t easy to do, old habits die hard. Letting go of anything can be tough. We grow attached to objects, habits, people, behavior, and everything in between. But it is possible if we practice self-awareness, continually work at letting go, and have patience with ourselves when it’s hard.

    Personal Experiences: Expectations of Others That Have Only Hurt Me

    Over the years, my expectations of others have brought me much frustration, and some degree of hurt. I’ve left myself open to disappointment when others haven’t seemed to give something that’s important to me equal priority, as I perceive it. As I type this, I realize how trite it sounds. I understand this is entirely about my perspective and expectations, but it’s also something I have had to fight hard against at times.

    This outlook has not been reserved purely for those closest to me, either. A former manager (and something of a mentor in a work setting) once said to me, “Carl, you know your problem is you expect too much out of people.”

    And in that succinct sentence is a very large element of truth. Something I have had to wrestle with.

    I’ve recognized that I hold expectations of others in various circumstances, and it always leads to disappointment. It could be frustration with a good friend for pulling out of plans last minute (even if they had a good reason). It could be a work colleague missing a deadline, that I believe they should have taken more seriously. It could even be related to a stranger not acknowledging the fact that I just held the door open for them.

    Any disappointment I feel in any of these cases is entirely about my own expectations. What I expect others to do, or how I expect them to react. Nevertheless, emotions don’t always make perfect sense, so I’ve had to be mindful of when I’m falling into this harmful pattern.

    Bizarrely, I can also get frustrated at my own frustration—because I expect myself to be better. I’m someone who values calm in my life and sees himself as being pretty rational and reasonably emotionally intelligent. When I let any perceived ‘infringements’ shake this calm, I inevitably reflect on how far I still have to come.

    Self-Examination Without Judgment

    Experiences like these, and how I react to them, have made me confront myself.

    Why did I feel slighted or hurt? Is it all ego, or is something deeper at play? If there is something deeper, what can I do to address the bigger issue instead of stewing in my feelings?

    What good did it do me to carry this energy for any length of time? What good would it do my relationships if I voiced my frustrations?

    Was I guilty of not walking my talk and acting in an adult fashion? Is this the person I want to be? Can I do better?

    Do I expect so much of other people because I expect so much of myself? Would cutting myself some slack enable me to do the same for others?

    This self-inventory is an important step for all of us if we wish to develop ourselves in any way.

    We all have our strengths, and we all have areas that need attention. Without beating ourselves up, we need to ask some tough questions of ourselves at times. If we want to avoid negative reactions in the future and get better at handling expectations and emotions, we also need to have an understanding of them.

    In my case, I’ve realized what a waste of precious life it is to hold onto negative energy. I don’t want to be the person that holds a grudge. I don’t want to carry any anger or resentment with me. I don’t want to be the person that becomes bitter. So now I learn a lesson, if there is one to learn, but then release the negative energy so it doesn’t weight me down.

    I’ve realized that some of my frustrations indicate areas of my life that may need attention.

    If it’s related to a friend who keeps breaking promises, maybe we just need to broach the subject directly, have an open chat, and clear the air. Or maybe, that’s just not the friend for me. We can grow in and out of relationships, as much as we may attach ourselves to them.

    I’ve also realized my ego is often at play in these scenarios. I feel slighted because I take things personally—that someone is cancelling on me, or not honoring something important to me, and therefore, they must not value our time as much as I do. But often, when people disappoint me it has little to do with me and everything to do with their own life circumstances.

    This is something I need to watch and work on. I’m far from perfect, but I am getting better, and now less of my behavior is ego-led.

    I have also made peace with the fact that I may not always be as Zen as I’d like to be, but that’s okay.  My journey is my journey. The important thing is for me to recognize what I am and work on being the best version of me I can be.

    Besides, I’m sure even the Zenist of monks are not immune to the odd expectation and frustration, creeping into their day.

    I have also tried to develop a practice and habit of gratitude in my life to offset the pain of unmet expectations.

    When we feel gratitude, true appreciation and joy for something, it’s hard to stay in a negative space.

    Gratitude enables us to celebrate others for who they are instead of vilifying them for not being who we want them to be. We can embrace the fact that we are all different, we are all fallible. We all have our own little weird and wonderful ways. This is what it is to be human. We can choose to judge less. We can choose to accept and move on.

    We can choose to let go.

    Letting Go Is a Journey

    Expectations are a natural part of life. Not all are necessarily negative, but they often need balancing. If our expectations are causing us pain or making us a person we do not wish to be, we must learn to let them go.

    It doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a journey. It means taking the time to ingrain new habits—like self-reflection, ego-challenging, and gratitude—that will support new ways

    And paradoxically, sometimes our unmet expectations signal something else we need to let go—like friendships that are consistently draining or a career path that is persistently unfulfilling. This means we need to check in with ourselves occasionally to make sure we’re on the right path for us. And we need to be brutally honest with ourselves about what it is we truly hold dear in our lives.

    Letting go not only means confronting ourselves and making challenging choices, it also involves facing down some of our biggest internal fears and perceptions. What we thought we needed may not be what we actually need to nourish ourselves fully. For example, we may realize we need to validate ourselves instead of looking to other people for validation and interpreting every perceived slight as proof of our own unworthiness.

    Learning to let go of our expectations is hard, no doubt, but it’s also necessary to maintain our relationships, our peace, and our sanity and become the best versions of ourselves.

    Are you ready to let go?

  • How to Journal Away Your Disappointment in Yourself

    How to Journal Away Your Disappointment in Yourself

    “Forgive yourself for not knowing better at the time. Forgive yourself for giving away your power. Forgive yourself for past behaviors. Forgive yourself for the survival patterns and traits you picked up while enduring trauma. Forgive yourself for being who you needed to be.” ~Audrey Kitching

    “I can’t do this.”

    “Why do I look so fat? I’m disgusting!”

    “I haven’t done enough today. I am so useless.”

    “I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

    “Oh my god, why did this happen to me? What am I going to do now?”

    Since I was a teenager, there has always been a voice inside my head telling me that things are not going to be okay because I am not enough.

    At school, it told me I wasn’t popular or cool enough. At Arts university, that my work wasn’t original or deep enough. At my first job (which I disliked), that I wasn’t happy enough. In my current work (which I love), that I am never productive enough. And as the cherry on top throughout all these years, guess what—I’ve never been thin enough, talkative enough, or proactive enough.

    This voice has become so present and loud that it has led to severe anxiety attacks.

    One day, the feeling of self-loathing and despair was so strong that my usual journaling affirmations and gratitude practice were not enough. My soul, wounded by all the negative self-talk, needed something stronger. More than being fixed, it needed to be held in a tight, comforting hug.

    So that’s what I did: I knew that journaling was still the way, I just had to find a way to hug myself with it.

    Without thinking, I started writing to myself what a wise mother or a loving mentor would tell me in this situation.

    “My dear, I know you are feeling anxious about not having completed all your tasks for today. I know it makes you doubt if you will ever be able to achieve your goals. I know it makes you fear that you will end up out of money, out of friends, out of love. But here’s the truth: it doesn’t matter that you had a bad day. I know you’re trying hard. I know you’re giving your best. You deserve a rest. You are amazing, and you’re going to make it.”

    The effects were immediate: like with nothing else I had ever tried before, I felt a deep sense of comfort and relief.

    I had just discovered my new soul-medicine.

    How This Exercise Works

    The reason why so many of us constantly push ourselves to be more and do more (and blame ourselves when we fail) is because we’re trying to get from others the approval we have never learned how to give ourselves.

    This exercise teaches us to do just that: to give ourselves the appreciation we crave so much.

    But there’s one more reason why it is so powerful: it’s because it’s written in the second person.

    We are used to valuing more the compliments we hear from others than the ones we give ourselves. Therefore, it’s like having your adult self give your inner child the love and validation it has always wanted and needed, and that’s why it’s so healing.

    On top of that, writing it on paper instead of just thinking it in your head keeps your mind focused, and your heart fully immersed in the process. And it’s also quite relaxing!

    How To Do This Exercise

    1. Whenever your negative self-talk or your anxiety kicks in, grab your journal and a pen.

    2. Observe the thoughts and feelings that are happening right now. Don’t look away. Dive in.

    3. Now, imagine that the person thinking those thoughts and feeling those feelings is your inner child. Try to feel compassion and empathy towards their pain.

    4. Then, ask yourself: “Who is someone I look up to and what words would I like to hear from them in this situation?” This can be a higher power, a parent, a teacher, or whoever gives you comfort and guidance.

    5. Now, try to put yourself in that person/entity’s shoes, and start writing those words to yourself—to your inner child. Here are some examples:

    “I can see that you feel lost. You don’t know where to go next, and you doubt that you will ever know. But you will. I can assure you that you will. And when you know it, you can pursue it. You’ve made it so far, haven’t you? You have more in you than you think you do. You are kind to others, you are taking care of yourself the best way you can, you are doing everything at your reach. You always have. Just keep holding on, my love. This, too, shall pass.”

    “It’s okay to feel angry. Your anger is valid. I love you no matter what. You know what? You can scream. Scream, my beautiful creature. You are stunning when you scream. You are full of power, raw energy, and the time will come to use it well. You are simply taking your time. It doesn’t matter that things didn’t go well this time; but they will, when they have to. You are doing great.”

    As you write it down, let the words flow freely. Get fully immersed in the exercise. It might be helpful to imagine that you are hugging your inner child, and definitely focus on giving love, nurturing, caring.

    At points, the words you’re writing might feel like huge clichés, but it doesn’t matter: all that matters is that you feel them—that’s how you know it’s working.

    All You Need Is Love

    It’s easy to get trapped in a negativity loop: you feel bad because you failed to meet your own expectations; then you feel anxious because you’re feeling bad, and so afraid to get trapped into a negativity spiral that you don’t even notice you’re already in it.

    You can’t fight negativity with negativity. To break the loop, you need love.

    You have been hard enough on yourself. Give yourself the words and love you have been longing to hear. Do it from a different perspective—I guarantee, this will rock your world.

  • Lessons from Infertility: What’s Helped Me Cope with Disappointment

    Lessons from Infertility: What’s Helped Me Cope with Disappointment

    “When you find no solution to a problem, it’s probably not a problem to be solved, but a truth to be accepted.” ~Unknown

    For the longest time, I swore I’d never get married or have kids.

    Growing up with an alcoholic father, in a domestic violence situation, shattered my young spirit and left me putting the pieces back together for years.

    Since I didn’t see healthy coping skills growing up, it’s no wonder I grappled with my own addictive behaviors. I struggled with self-worth, focusing solely on accomplishments to fill a void inside of myself.

    Externally, people saw a well-adjusted, smart girl who excelled at sports and was a natural leader, with plenty of friends.

    All seemed well.

    It wasn’t.

    Internally, I was dying, and I’d take anything I could get my hands on to escape my reality. I used work, relationships, and substances to make myself feel better for a short while.

    However, self-loathing runs deep and it eventually won the day.

    I wasn’t enough, and there wasn’t anything sustainable that would make me feel okay about myself for any length of time. I didn’t realize it then, but what I really wanted wasn’t to merely the fill the void; I was longing for a connection to my authentic self. But I couldn’t figure out how to create it.

    My emotional suffering was crippling.

    While other people were getting married and having babies, I was surviving the day between emotional highs and lows and barely holding on to any form of functioning.

    Though I had vowed never to get married or have kids, I secretly longed for it. I’d disavowed it only because it didn’t seem possible for me.

    Plus, how would I ever bring a child into this mess of a life?

    I wouldn’t.

    When my self-destruction hit a crossroads of kill myself or live, I chose to heal and get better so that I could be a healthy person for myself right then and perhaps for a partner and child in the future.

    I wanted to be the healthiest version of myself, and thinking about what might be helped me get present to what needed to be healed.

    Part of the journey back to my true self was about learning unconditional self-love. Hearing the paradigm that I’m a spiritual being having a human experience opened up an avenue of self-loving within me that I had never experienced before.

    I focused diligently on having a healthy relationship with myself by engaging a daily self-care practice that included positive affirmations, physical exercise, self-forgiveness, and connecting to something greater than myself.

    By learning to relate to myself in a more positive way, I started to have better relationships with others. And one particular relationship came in that reflected back to me my deep self-love and spiritual growth. This relationship would turn into a life partnership and eventually a marriage.

    Though I never thought I would get married, I did the inner work to transform myself into the partner that I wanted to have in this lifetime.

    My spiritually connected and loving relationship with Richard opened me up to the possibility of having children.

    This was a huge shift from my days as a child and young adult where I vowed never to have significant relationships with anyone.

    But then something I never expected happened. We never got pregnant.

    We tried for many years and mutually decided that if we couldn’t naturally have a child, we wouldn’t have one at all.

    There was tremendous disappointment, anger, and sadness. When something isn’t a possibility for you, it can make you want it more.

    I went from obsessed to defeated.

    Richard and I finally landed on and allowed our grieving.

    It was a process. It still is.

    What’s super special about this journey is that I was able to pull from my recovery toolbox to support myself through this experience.

    I focused on these three powerful steps.

    1. Look for the learning.

    Getting my mind right has been the biggest growth opportunity in my healing process. Before learning about my infertility, I’d studied spiritual psychology at The University of Santa Monica, where I learned the twenty-two principles of spiritual psychology. One of those principles, “life is for learning,” has empowered me to look for my spiritual curriculum instead of staying in victimhood.

    Staying empowered versus going into disempowerment has kept me learning from my life experiences, and helped me avoid growing bitter. Through my infertility, I learned to let go of control. I learned true surrender to the unknown. And I learned to trust something greater than my humanness. I’ve experienced so much grief, resilience, and acceptance. Embracing it all has enriched my life instead of making this a solely painful experience.

    2. Accept what is.

    I found acceptance of what is. I’m not fighting reality, saying it should be different. I don’t know what it should look like, and I accept that this is my spiritual curriculum.

    Ego thinks it knows what the human experience should look like. My spirit knows that this is the experience I’m meant to have. Or at least that’s what I believe—that I was meant to grow through this and love myself no matter what. And I’m doing that!

    I’ve also come to realize that even when life doesn’t turn out how we think it should, it can still be enjoyable if we’re willing to shift our focus and do the best we can with the hand we were dealt. For me, that’s meant committing to being the healthiest human I can be, living a purpose-driven life, and helping other people self-actualize.

    Even if you don’t believe you receive a “spiritual curriculum” for life, or are “meant to have” certain experiences for your growth, it feels incredibly liberating to accept what is and choose to make the best of it. This is how I’ve been able to keep my peace instead of giving it away.

    3. Choose peace.

    I choose peace. It’s an affirmation that has served me well for many years through different life challenges. I can choose to be in resistance and suffer, or I can choose to be in acceptance and have my peace. I choose peace. It doesn’t mean I don’t experience some sadness from time to time, but those moments are few and far between because it’s more valuable to me to accept and have peace than it is to hold onto grievances.

    Life didn’t turn out the way I thought it would. I put expectations on life, and life had its own plans.

    My duty is to be with what is and love myself through it.

    Accepting what is has been one of the most freeing experiences of my lifetime because it’s opened me up to new possibilities I wouldn’t have been able to see had I stayed stuck in resistance. Furthermore, I’ve been able to experience motherhood through mothering myself, our four wonderful dogs (Peanut, Ziggy, Tucson, and Bootie), and those I come into contact through my life’s work.

    I can still be a mother—to myself and others. I get to define what that looks like for me.

    When life seems difficult or unfair, focus on the lessons so you can empower yourself instead of victimizing yourself, accept what is, and remind yourself that this is what it means to choose peace. These strategies have offered me continued spiritual growth, supported me in strengthening my relationship with my husband, and empowered me to carry on with co-creating an enjoyable life.

    And if you’re experiencing infertility, like me, know that it doesn’t have to be something that sidelines you. It can not only be a source of tremendous spiritual growth, it can also be the gateway to a different path that could be equally as fulfilling.

  • The Betrayal of Expectations: Coping When Life Doesn’t Go to Plan

    The Betrayal of Expectations: Coping When Life Doesn’t Go to Plan

    “What will mess you up most in life is the picture in your head of how it is supposed to be.” ~Unknown

    I expected to get into college. I expected to have a career after a lot of hard work, and that one day I’d meet a nice man and we would get married. We would buy our first house together and start a family, picking out a crib and the baby’s “going home” outfit and organizing a drawer full of diapers. We’d have more babies and go on vacations and grow old together.

    I expected that one day I’d take care of him until he took his last breath, and then I’d join a travel group with other retired women. My adult children would come over for dinner, and we’d take a family vacation with the grandchildren every year. That’s how it all played out in my mind.

    I had a linear view of life. You go to point A, B, C, and so on. You do what you’re supposed to do and you work hard. It was very simple, life with these expectations. Follow the recipe and then eat your dessert.

    Spoiler alert: Life was only that simple until the universe pulled the rug out from beneath my feet.

    It was an ordinary school day when my life fell apart. These sort of things usually happen on ordinary days.

    My husband and I were both teachers, and we woke up before the sun rose to begin our assembly line of breakfast and lunch preparations. Afterward we’d wrangle children and get them dressed and ready for departure, which was basically like herding cats. Then, he dropped them off at their respective places. I picked everyone up after school.

    In between all of that we worked and went to meetings and ran errands and bathed children and cooked dinner and tended to all the usual moving parts of domestic life.

    Except on that ordinary day, none of it happened.

    On April 27, 2016 I woke up and found my husband dying on the living room floor. Out of left field, in an instant, the life I expected was gone.

    I never considered the possibility of becoming a thirty-four-year-old widow with a one-year-old who I was still nursing, a three-year-old barely talking in sentences, and a six-year-old only two months away from his kindergarten graduation.

    I was thrust into an alternate reality of gnarled, tangled grief, and it was in this new place that I had the painful realization that the life I knew, the one that was familiar and most comfortable to me, was over.

    My husband and I planned each of our children down to the day. We even had number four, the one who would never be, scheduled in the calendar.

    But now I was a single mother. A widow.

    It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but during this time I wasn’t only mourning the loss of my husband. Sure, I missed him so much that I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I lived my days in exile, not knowing where I belonged. The tediousness of my new life as a single mother wore me down to the bones. The loneliness that festered inside of me created a painful hollowness that felt hopeless; the unfairness of this cosmic roll of the dice made me want to give up more times than I would like to admit.

    But there was something else I was grieving: the loss of the life that I expected to live. My dashed expectations. The trajectory of my life that was forever altered, now headed in an unknown direction that felt like it would surely kill me.

    We expect our lives to materialize the way we envision them in our hopes and dreams. When life doesn’t go as planned, it can be difficult to reconcile the disappointment of our new reality. Resistance is the first defense. We don’t want to believe or accept the change.

    This wasn’t the life I chose. I deserved something better, I thought. “This” seemed so patently unfair. Surely there were worse people who were more deserving of this kind of lightning to strike them instead—so why me? I clung to those thoughts and let them bury me deeper and deeper into the abyss. The resistance might have been the catalyst to the darker parts of grief.

    It’s such a disappointing, embarrassing revelation when you realize that you never actually had complete control. It feels like you were lied to. All of those years you spent with your first-world blinders on, thinking that you could plan every detail. It was cute while it lasted. Now it just felt stupid.

    I realized what expectations really were.

    Nothing.

    My expectations were never real. They were nothing more than thoughts in my head. Assumptions. Desires. Never guarantees.

    It was always like that, but for me it had been on a micro level. Micro-disappointment, like not getting the job I thought I wanted. A relationship that ended. Losing a bid on a house. I never prepared myself for the real disappointment in life. Earth-shattering disappointment that makes your world crumble and introduces you to your new constant companion: pain.

    We usually think the bad stuff we hear about only happens to other people. We’re aware that it exists, but not in our reality. Just an abstract thing somewhere else in the world.

    Until it happens to us.

    I remember how mad my husband used to get when I’d be surfing Facebook, bemoaning that so-and-so got a new car, or how in love a couple seemed to be, and why can’t we go to Hawaii like so-and-so?

    “Everyone puts their best on Facebook,” Kenneth told me. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

    “No,” I insisted, shaking my head. “So-and-so and so-and-so are madly in love. Look at how passionate they are with each other. Why don’t we hold hands like that?”

    “We have three kids under five,” he said, rolling his eyes.

    I wish Kenneth lived long enough to know that the so-and-so’s got divorced. He would have told me “I told you so.” And for once, I would have gladly told him he was right.

    It’s memories like those that I like to lean into. Life can’t be as horrible or as wonderful as it appears in my head. There has to be middle ground.

    When I’m feeling an extreme of any emotion, I have to remind myself of this. It’s just thoughts in my head. Sandcastles built out of feelings, and sandcastles get washed away when the tide rises and brings in a new day. It’s not a matter of being a good or a bad thing. It just is.

    My expectations have been a thing that I’ve had to live with my entire life. I’ve always had high expectations for myself. Failure was not supposed to be a thing. As a widow, I found myself floundering in a new reality where I felt like I was constantly failing. Legitimately not capable of doing what I once could.

    I wasn’t the same mother to my children. This new me had less time and patience. She was more tired and overworked and in pain. I had to learn to live with the limitations of my new life. My disappointment pooled inside of me like poison. Nothing I could do was enough. I wasn’t enough. Those are all very toxic feelings to carry around when you are already drowning in grief.

    But there is only so much time you can spend falling deeper into your pit of despair. One day you realize that you are no longer falling and have in fact reached the bottom. There you are, alone with your despair, so sick of yourself that you can’t even handle your own negative thoughts anymore. You can’t take one more second of it.

    This is your moment to get up and wash yourself off and start over.

    When the despair stops roaring in your ears and you have a moment of quiet, you can begin to think objectively about your life. Your new life.

    I realized what was wrong with me. My problem, I decided, came from my expectations. They were the root cause of my despair.

    I expected a long life with my husband, even though he was always a mortal being who was never promised to be mine forever. I expected a lot of things, except for the only thing that was true about life: We are only guaranteed today. Yesterday is over. Tomorrow is unknown.

    I knew I wanted to live as best as I could. I wanted a fulfilling life that was hopeful, joyful, and meaningful. I’d have to change my expectations if I wanted all of that. It was impossible to get rid of the expectations completely. I’m only human. Besides, expectations do serve a purpose. They’ve helped me in life. They’ve also hurt me.

    The middle ground, I decided, was finding “flexible expectations.” I couldn’t be rigid in my thinking. I wanted to have standards and goals, but I needed to have wiggle room for the inevitableness of life not going as planned.

    I had to become more resilient and strategic about my setbacks. I needed to have long-term perspective and not feel like individual moments in my life were the be-all, end-all. I needed to be less attached to a prescribed way to live.

    You realize that in a world full of uncontrollable circumstances, the most powerful line of defense that you have completely in your control is how you think.

    Your attitude.

    Your perspective. Is that glass half-full or half-empty? You decide.

    How you think is your resilience. Your ability to get back up and dust yourself off. The way that you know life is worth living, not only during the moments of joy, but also during the challenges and pain and heartbreak, and this is the reason you persevere.

    Maybe my expectations never betrayed me after all. Maybe it was actually supposed to be one of my greatest teachers in life.

    Around a year after my husband died, I sat down and made a list of “good” and “bad” from the past year. It had gone by in such a blur that I felt like I needed to go back over the details. I anticipated a pity party as I recalled all of the terribleness.

    The bad: my husband died. Single.

    The good: new friendships, a loving community who showed up for us when we needed them, trips to Japan and Italy and Denmark, saw an old friend for the first time in eleven years, more productive than ever with my writing, my kids were happy and adjusted little people, we had a nice roof over our heads, I loved my job that didn’t feel like a job, we were healthy, I worked on the election (even if it meant precinct walking with the toddler on my back as a single mother—but I did it!), and so much more. I kept thinking of new things to add to the list.

    It was very telling. We tend to focus on the negative. My mind wanted to go back to the dark moments of the past year. But after re-reading the list, it was clear that the year wasn’t all bad. There were many bright spots in the hardest year of my life.

    Mooji said, “Feelings are just visitors. Let them come and go.”

    I try to always remember that.

    It’s okay to feel terrible. You aren’t broken for feeling that way. You just can’t let yourself get attached to the feelings. There will be days when life feels too hard. You will feel pain and loneliness and fear that will make you suffer. None of it reflects who you are, nor are they any indication of what your future looks like. They are merely the temporary visitors.

    When the feelings visit me, I acknowledge the pain. Hunker down. Maybe clear my schedule. Lower my expectations of productivity. Give myself permission to rest while I let the thoughts pass. Then I move on. It’s not that you ever forget the pain, but moving on is a way to compartmentalize it so it does not destroy you.

    Eighteen months later, I’m a different person than who I was before my husband died. It’s not the life that I initially chose, but in many ways I am living a more intentional life with a lot more choice. There is some degree of excitement in what I call my “renaissance.” There are no rules. You just live as authentically as you can, with what you have, doing the best you can, and that’s it. No secrets.

    Everything that you need to persevere is already inside of you, and this truth is liberating.

  • How Releasing Expectations Takes the Pressure Off Relationships

    How Releasing Expectations Takes the Pressure Off Relationships

    “When you learn to accept instead of expect, you’ll have fewer disappointments.” ~Unknown

    A few months back, I was having drinks with a friend from university for the first time in a while. I sat across from her, smiling and laughing, almost in awe that we were here—here, not as in at this particular restaurant patio, but here, as in, in this moment that felt so free and so light, unbound by who we used to be.

    During our first couple years of university, we were best friends, always hanging out, living together, supporting each other, swapping secrets, and creating unforgettable memories. And then over time, things changed.

    Throughout university, we had found our own niches, our own interests, our own passions, and as we explored who we were and who we wanted to be, our friendship fell by the wayside.

    In our last months of living together, our friendship created a lot of suffering for me. I constantly felt this weight between us, this heaviness that came from pretending that we were still the same as we were in the beginning, this heaviness of a friendship that wasn’t what it used to be.

    Through my yoga practice, I found the tools I needed to free our relationship from this suffering, by shining a light on the truth and choosing something different.

    So how do we find this freedom in our relationships?

    1. Accept the relationship as it is.

    The first step to changing anything is always to see it as it really is. We often create suffering in our relationships when reality doesn’t match the ideal in our head. We end up trying to force our relationships to be what we think they should be, based on the past or a fantasy, rather than accepting how they actually are in the present.

    For me, this meant facing the truth that our friendship wasn’t as close as it once was and we were no longer the people we used to be. Until I accepted this truth, I suffered.

    When we have the courage to face the truth—when we accept and interact with reality instead of clinging to how we want it to be—the pressure on the relationship automatically starts to lift.

    And sometimes when the pressure lifts, relationships naturally get closer and stronger.

    2. Challenge your faulty beliefs.

    Throughout my confrontation with truth, I unearthed different thoughts that I’d had about our relationship. In particular, I became aware of this mantra that I had been repeating in my head: “I don’t belong.”

    This belief was like an infection, poisoning my mind and tainting how I saw our friendship, before any interaction even took place. That story created and contributed to the heaviness that lay between us.

    When relationships change, we often think it’s something we did. We blame ourselves, we think we did something wrong, or that we just are wrong. We might start telling ourselves things like, “I’m not good enough,” “There’s something wrong with me,” or even “It’s all my fault.”

    We internalize something that is beyond our control, something that is often a natural experience as people grow and develop in their own ways.

    As I grappled with the mantra I’d taken on, I realized that it didn’t just exist in this one single relationship; it went much deeper than that and affected how I saw and therefore how I interacted in other relationships.

    I could see how this same thought had led to me feeling like an outsider in other relationships too. The thought was like a wall that kept me at arm’s length from everyone around me, while at the same time, there I was, wishing it were different.

    Once I realized and accepted the truth, I could start to choose something different. I started to challenge that belief by reinforcing the opposite, “I belong here.”

    When I spent time with her and other friends, I reminded myself that I was a part of this group. Whenever I questioned whether or not I belonged with any group, I reminded myself that I did. The more I did this, the stronger the new mantra got and the quieter the old one became.

    3. Practice a new way and let go of expectations.

    When we know the truth about our relationship, and we acknowledge our part in creating the suffering, we can start to practice something different.

    We have to override the way we used to do things, or the thoughts we used to tell ourselves that led us to suffering, and consciously choose a different path. What this practice looks like depends on what truths you uncover.

    For me, I asked my friend if she wanted to get together and catch up. Having recognized that I’d formed this idea that I didn’t belong and that our friendship was broken, I consciously set an intention to not compare our evening with how things used to be, and to let go of any expectations of how it should be. In essence, I wiped the slate clean, leaving myself open to however it turned out.

    When we let go of how we think things should be and allow them to just be, we can interact with what’s really there. If we don’t set an ideal, there is no story to compare reality to. There is only reality.

    As I sat across from her that day, I was no longer tethered to the past mantras or the disillusioned expectations of how things used to be. There was only the present moment, however it was going to be.

    I wasn’t sure what would become of our friendship. We had spent so much time under the heaviness that I didn’t know what would be there when we took it away. I didn’t know if there would be anything left. All I knew was that I didn’t want this friendship to create anymore suffering; we both deserved to be free. I wanted our relationship to be free to be whatever it was now.

    When our relationships create suffering, it often isn’t the relationship that has to change; it is how we see the relationship and how we interact with it.

    Freeing our relationship from expectations brought back the lightness that I had missed so much, that I had fought for so long to get back.

    In some ways, it felt like it used to, only different because the specifics of our friendship didn’t change at all. We aren’t as close, we don’t get together that often, and we aren’t as involved in each other’s lives. The only thing that changed was how we saw it. And because of that, when we do get together, our friendship is fun, supportive, and freeing again.

    Have the courage to seek the truth within yourself and acknowledge the effect of your thoughts, beliefs, and actions with compassion and without judgment. Only then can you choose a different way, a freer way.

    Sitting across from her that day, there was freedom. I could feel it. And I think she could feel it too.

  • The Big Little Secret to Rejection: How to Get Past It Quickly

    The Big Little Secret to Rejection: How to Get Past It Quickly

    “I am good at walking away. Rejection teaches you how to reject.” ~Jeanette Winterson

    Rejection is something that can impact all the big parts of our lives—friends and loved ones, education, jobs, and romantic relationships. It can change how we see ourselves, paralyze us into not taking chances, and even make us give up on pursuing our dreams.

    There’s a lot of wonderful advice out there about rejection, but I wanted to share a bit of a different perspective. It’s a simple perspective I was lucky enough to hear a long time ago but have only just begun to truly believe and practice. And wow, is it a revelation.

    I was a short-term contract worker for a very large, very popular media company for ten years. Through time it became obvious that no matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t seem to get up the ladder.

    Many of my colleagues were progressing and getting hired as permanent staff, whereas it would take me months to even land a contract. When I asked for extra training to shoot and edit or offered to write scripts, I was refused. My ideas either fell by the wayside or were given to others to work on.

    As time went on, they inexplicably put less and less trust in me. So I worked harder and harder to try and prove myself and spent all my spare time teaching myself skills and making the content that I so desperately want to do at work. I was exhausted and demoralized, and I eventually began taking anti-anxiety medication.

    It was a bewildering experience because I did a great job and was conscientious. Why was this happening to me? What was I doing wrong?  

    It all came to a head after a particular campaign for kids that I was hired to steer from behind the scenes, given my insider experience and knowledge about the campaign topic. Nine months later, when the campaign was extended, my job was just given to someone else less suitable.

    When an email went around to the department announcing the new appointment, my co-workers were as confused as I was. I heard, “Why aren’t you heading this up, Amanda?” at least nine or ten times that day. I had no answer.

    In a fog, I got up from my desk, left the building, and walked into the courtyard. And just then, something clicked in my head. I finally got it. They simply didn’t want me.

    They had been telling me this for ten years. And I had been ignoring it.

    I looked back at the building—at all the people in the windows, happily busy doing their thing—and suddenly it was like there was a flashing neon light saying, “YOU DON’T BELONG HERE!” I burst out laughing. How could I have missed this the whole time?

    We do this type of thing a lot, don’t we? How many times have we refused to see we’re being rejected, no matter how obvious?

    It’s so easy to react to rejection with our egos. We think, “How dare you!” or “I’ll show you I’m right for you.” We need to be right. We need that validation at the expense of that part of us that knows our worth and is powerful enough to walk away.

    Consider this situation that most, if not all, of us have experienced: We date someone, really enjoy it, and see a lot of potential with them. But after a few weeks or months, we begin to feel a noticeable shift on their part.

    Maybe they start texting less often, or they aren’t as excited to see us, or they are less available, or they close themselves off a bit. It throws us for a loop, doesn’t it? We may even panic a bit. So we react by assessing the situation, reading between the lines, trying a bit harder, asking friends for advice, and Googling articles that make us feel better about what’s going on.

    We give this person all of our headspace while we try and figure things out when, deep down, we know exactly what the problem is. They just aren’t feeling us. But we try to convince ourselves that if they just give us a little more time, take a chance on us, they will come to the magical conclusion that we are actually perfect for one another.

    Is this strategy in any way healthy? Does it work? Does it make us feel better? Of course not.

    So here’s the big little secret about every rejection we’ve ever had in our lives. Once we realize and accept it, it can change the way we feel about every past rejection and change the way we see rejection in the future. Ready?

    When someone rejects you, for whatever reason, it’s because you two aren’t a good fit—they just saw it first. Eventually, you would have seen it as well. The fact that they acted on this early realization is actually a blessing because they are saving both of you from wasting time.

    It doesn’t matter why they are rejecting you. Often it is purely about themselves and their issues. So why spend the time worrying about the reason?

    Of course, not every rejector is honest and upfront about their feelings. In fact, many are afraid of confrontation, so they reject in an indirect way. But even when this happens, if we are honest with ourselves, we can admit that we ignored the signs in the single-minded pursuit of what we wanted.

    But if we can understand and appreciate the secret of rejection, we can better recognize the signs when we see ourselves in the same situation in the future. Think of the time, effort, and energy we can save with acceptance!

    So what happened with that media job crisis? After I stopped laughing and went back into the building, I gave them my notice. While I worked that last month, my eyes were opened, and I began to understand that the company was right all along.

    I didn’t belong there because my life perspective and the things I valued did not align with them. That’s why I had struggled there for so long.

    They saw it first, and I saw it eventually.

    After I left the company, I was free to do all the things I really wanted to do, in my own voice. I’m finally a television writer who has begun making short films about mindfulness to help others. This never would have happened if I had stayed at that company and worked trying to fix their constant rejection.

    If only I had done it sooner rather than spend ten years hoping to be accepted by someone who didn’t appreciate me!

    So the next time you are rejected, instead of immediately reacting, consider the situation. Accept your rejector’s judgment that you don’t fit, because they are right.

    Of course, it may still hurt a bit. In fact, it may hurt a lot. But if you keep reminding yourself that you would have eventually come to the exact same conclusion, and if you allow yourself to be grateful for the time and further hurt you have just been saved, you will be much better equipped to negotiate where you go from this point.

    And best of all, you’ll be free to find a place—be it a job, a friendship, or a romantic relationship—that honors who you really are and allows you to thrive, grow, and make the most of your unique gifts and perspective.