Tiny Buddha

Tag: dreams

  • How to Reconnect with What You’re Hungry For

    How to Reconnect with What You’re Hungry For

    “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” ~Anaïs Nin

    What is it about us that makes us wait for permission? To do what we want. To be who we are. We wait until we’ve “earned” it, until we’re thinner, smarter, more talented. Until we’re finally good enough.

    Everyone has dreams, right? Some want to travel. Some want to write a book. Others dream of running a marathon. Or something smaller: a bold haircut. Or something bigger: quitting a job that drains you.

    And still, we wait.

    We wait for someone to say, “You’d look amazing with short hair.” Or for someone to nod at our resignation plans and say, “Yes, you should go for it.” That’s when we feel allowed. That’s when we move.

    I know that waiting. I’ve lived it.

    Finding My Voice

    As a kid, I sang constantly. But no one praised it. My family was mostly annoyed. So I stopped. I only sang when I was alone. Later, in a shared student flat, I stopped altogether, afraid of bothering others again. It never occurred to me that I could choose it for myself.

    Only last year, at twenty-eight, did I realize that I still loved singing. Deeply. I didn’t need a record deal or an audience. I just needed to sing. So I signed up for lessons.

    And something shifted.

    The envy I used to feel toward other singers disappeared. I no longer needed to watch from the outside, admiring those who gave themselves permission to take up space. I was finally doing the thing I had always wanted to do.

    The Power of Permission

    That small, seemingly impractical thing changed how I saw everything. Because it wasn’t about singing, really. It was about permission. It was about allowing myself to follow what lit me up, even if no one else understood it, even if it didn’t look productive or impressive.

    The more I sang, the more I felt connected to myself. Singing wasn’t just a hobby. It became a practice of self-connection. A form of expression that didn’t require explanation. A way to feel my emotions directly. A space where I didn’t have to be “good,” just real.

    I kept thinking: Why did I wait so long? Why did I assume I needed someone else’s approval to do something that made me feel so alive?

    And that made me wonder: What else are we not doing because we don’t think we’re allowed to? What are we hungry for—not in our stomachs, but in our souls?

    From Productivity to Presence

    The world is full of beauty. There’s so much to explore, to feel, to create. Colors to wear, places to visit, ideas to follow. And yet, so often, we’re taught to value productivity over presence. We’re encouraged to measure our worth by how much we do, not how deeply we live. Even joy is shaped by consumption—buying more, doing more—rather than simply being with ourselves.

    As an empathic child, I learned to listen closely. I became good at being helpful, at making others feel better. I was insecure and eager to be liked, especially by the louder kids, the ones who seemed confident and sure of themselves. I felt like a shadow, orbiting them like a small planet around a bright sun.

    Without realizing it, I gave others a lot of power. Their approval made me feel like I belonged. But I wasn’t truly seen, because I only said what I thought I was supposed to say. I adjusted, adapted, and slowly drifted away from myself.

    Now, as I reconnect with who I really am, I notice how strong and steady my voice feels. It’s warm and grounded. And the more rooted I am in myself, the more I want to reach out to others—not to prove anything, but to share something honest. From a place that feels real.

    Becoming My Own Sun

    Singing, writing, exploring my inner world—these practices make me glow. As strange as it sounds, they help me see who I am. They help me ask: Who am I circling? Who am I waiting for?

    Or maybe, just maybe, I’m no longer circling anyone. Maybe I’ve become my own sun.

    A few years ago, I didn’t know I could feel this steady, this full. That it could all be sparked by something as ancient and simple as using my voice is nothing short of awe-inspiring.

    Why It Matters

    For a while, I wondered, why is it so important that I feel good? Why does it matter that I sing, that I write, that I want to be heard? Isn’t that selfish? Isn’t it enough to live quietly and be kind?

    I struggled with that. But I’ve come to believe this: when we’re connected to ourselves—truly, deeply—we show up differently. More honestly. More gently. More powerfully. Not just for ourselves, but for others. Using your voice, in whatever form it takes, isn’t just about being seen. It’s about being aligned. And from that place, it’s easier to love, to give, to create something real.

    I’ve also noticed how much I admire expressive people. I love watching them, listening to them, the ones who dare to use their voices and share their insights. Through them, I see myself more clearly. I understand life better. Not just through psychology or theory or polished words, but through colors, soft fabrics, melodies, laughter, and tears.

    I never imagined I could be one of those people. Someone who creates something raw and real from lived experience. Someone who turns ache and wonder into something that touches others.

    I didn’t think I was talented enough. I didn’t think anyone would care. I didn’t think I had permission. But now I know: I have to try. Because when I don’t, I feel numb. A little lost. It’s like the light dims—not completely, but just enough that I start to question who I am and what I’m meant to do in this world.

    An Invitation

    I’m deeply grateful if my work resonates with anyone. But more than anything, I hope it encourages others to tune into themselves too—to share what’s on their minds, vulnerably and tenderly, as artists, as friends, as strangers, as humans.

    Because I believe this now: when we find and express our true voice, we open the door to real connection. That’s what I’m hungry for. Not just to shine, but to sit beside you in the light and in the dark.

    So let me ask you:

    What are you hungry for, not in your stomach, but in your spirit? What’s calling to you quietly, again and again?

    When I talk to friends or clients, I often notice that many can’t answer this question right away. When our wishes, desires, and creative longings have been ignored or even shamed for years, they tend to go quiet.

    But that doesn’t mean they’re gone.

    Ways to Reconnect with What You’re Hungry For

    Here are a few gentle ways to rediscover what you might be craving, deep down:

    Look back at your childhood.

    What did you love to do, naturally and freely? What made you lose track of time?

    Notice what you do when you’re procrastinating.

    What are you actually drawn toward? I used to hum and sing unconsciously while avoiding tasks. Now I see that as my creative energy trying to reach me. What’s tugging at your sleeve?

    Pay attention to envy.

    Who do you envy, and why? Envy can be a compass, pointing you toward a part of yourself that’s longing to be seen or expressed.

    Try something unexpected.

    Take a class you never thought you’d sign up for. Explore a new hobby that feels exciting or strange or slightly scary.

    Follow what feels warm, light, alive.

    It doesn’t have to be big. A color that makes you smile. A conversation that lights you up. A song you keep playing on repeat. That spark matters.

    You don’t need permission to begin.

    You just need curiosity. And the courage to listen to the quiet, persistent part of you that’s been whispering all along.

  • To the Dreamers Reading This, I Want You to Know…

    To the Dreamers Reading This, I Want You to Know…

    There I was, eating cereal and watching a CNN documentary about Kobe Bryant—yes, I mix deep life reflection with Raisin Bran—when his old speech teacher said something that made me pause mid-chew. He described Kobe’s approach to life as giving everything—heart, soul, and body—to his craft. No halfway. Just all in.

    I sat there thinking, “Yes! That’s it!” That’s the very thing I try to convey to my students in class, usually while making wild arm gestures and accidentally knocking over a marker cup. I believe in that philosophy with every fiber of my chalk-dusted being.

    High Risk, Deep Roots

    But here’s the deal: it’s also terrifying.

    This idea of going all in on your calling—it sounds noble and exciting and worthy of a motivational poster—but the truth is, it’s a gamble. A high-stakes, heart-first kind of gamble. Especially today.

    I mean, the ancient world totally backed this idea. Aristotle called it arete—excellence as a way of life. The Stoics preached about inner strength, Japanese samurai gave us Bushidō, and every jazz musician who ever improvised their way to bliss knows the power of flow. Even athletes talk about that magical zone where time melts away and it’s just you, the court, the ball, and that buzzing sense of rightness.

    Modern Metrics vs. Timeless Passion

    But our modern world? Eh, not so much. Today, we value your output. Your metrics. Your monetization plan. It’s like we collectively replaced passion with performance indicators.

    Don’t get me wrong—I’m not against paying the bills. I enjoy food, shelter, and the occasional streaming service. But if you’re a young person with a dream that doesn’t come with a subscription model or an app-based hustle plan? Welcome to what I call “existential whiplash.”

    You’re told, “Follow your bliss!” and “Live with purpose!” But the next second someone’s asking, “Yeah, but how will you monetize that?”

    This contradiction is exhausting. And it gets inside your head. You start to think, “Maybe I’m wrong to want this. Maybe I should just do something safer. Maybe dreams are for people with trust funds.”

    But here’s where I get a little loud in class—yes, I stand on chairs occasionally—and say: No. Your dream is not a liability.

    It’s a pulse. A heartbeat. A spark. And you owe it to yourself to explore it—even if it’s hard.

    Now, I won’t sugarcoat this: you can throw your whole self into something and not get the rewards you hoped for. I’ve lived that. I’ve made documentaries that reached small audiences. I’ve written things I thought would change the world and heard nothing but crickets. I’ve built programs that vanished when the grant money dried up.

    But here’s the weird thing: I still wouldn’t trade it. Because in the pursuit—yes, even in the flops—I found something essential.

    The Gift of Flow and Presence

    Flow. Purpose. Connection.

    When I was filming at dawn in a mountain village in the Philippines, or listening—really listening—to a student struggle their way into their voice, I wasn’t thinking about success. I was there. Fully. Mindfully. There’s nothing else like it.

    Those moments are why we do the risky thing. Because we’re not robots. We’re not spreadsheets. We’re meaning-makers. And when we pursue something with full attention and intention, we tap into something sacred.

    Still, let’s be real. In our society, even mindfulness has been commodified. There’s a subscription for calm. A brand for stillness. A market for minimalism. If I sound cynical, it’s because I’ve watched so many of my students get talked out of their deepest truths by the crushing logic of “practicality.”

    Redefining Success

    So, what do we do? How do we hold on to our inner compass when the GPS keeps yelling “Recalculate!” toward a safer, more profitable life?

    I think it comes down to redefining what “success” really means.

    I tell my students: don’t measure your life by likes, views, or even income (although, yes, make sure you eat). Measure it by the depth of your experience. By the risks you were willing to take. By the people you helped. By the moments you felt alive and grounded in something real.

    A Quiet Life Can Still Be Epic

    Because that’s what makes a life worth living. Not perfection. Not applause. But presence.

    You can live a small-looking life with a vast inner world. You can chase something meaningful and not be famous. You can teach or paint or write or code or dance or build without needing to “go viral” to matter.

    Yes, there are trade-offs. Believe me, I’ve wrestled with them. I’ve had months where I wondered if I made a mistake, if I’d be better off in a more stable career. I’ve asked myself whether it’s selfish to keep chasing ideas when I could be saving for retirement instead.

    But then I remember: a life without dreams, without creative risk, without vulnerability? That would break me faster than any unpaid invoice.

    This Is the Gift (and the Gamble)

    To the dreamers reading this—especially the young ones, or the older ones just beginning again—I want to say this:

    Don’t let the world’s cynicism shrink your vision. Stay mindful, not just in meditation, but in how you choose—how you spend your time, your energy, your attention. Live with full awareness, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

    Because that’s the gift of mindful living. Not constant calm or peace—but full contact with reality. The beauty and the fear. The creativity and the chaos. The risk and the reward.

    Show Up Anyway

    And maybe, just maybe, that’s the point. That life isn’t about winning. It’s about showing up fully, heart, soul, and body. Just like Kobe. Just like all of us trying to do this thing with courage.

    I’m not indispensable. I’m not a guru. I’m just a guy who still gets goosebumps when a student discovers something real inside themselves. I’ve lived long enough to know dreams don’t always pay off, but they always teach you something vital—about who you are and what you care about.

    And for me, that has always been enough.

  • Trusting the Pause: When Patience Is Better Than Pushing

    Trusting the Pause: When Patience Is Better Than Pushing

    “The most powerful thing you can do right now is be patient while things are unfolding for you.” ~Idil Ahmed⠀ 

    I still remember my last year of college vividly. I was frustrated and disheartened after my application to study abroad was rejected. I had been obsessed with exploring the world through academia, convinced that further study was the best way to achieve my dream.

    While most of my peers were preparing to enter the workforce, I envisioned a different path for myself—one that involved research, intellectual growth, and ultimately a career in academia.

    However, there was one major obstacle: my English proficiency. Since English is not my native language, I struggled to meet the minimum IELTS score required for my application. My first attempt was a disaster. I scored poorly in the speaking part and barely passed the writing section. I never expected it to be this difficult.

    The test was expensive, making it impractical to retake the test multiple times without the confidence of passing it. I felt trapped. If I failed again, I had no backup plan—I had not applied for any jobs, fully investing myself in the dream of studying abroad. The dilemma weighed heavily on me: Should I continue pushing myself to pass the test and secure a scholarship, or abandon my dream and focus on competing in the job market?

    Both options felt like dead ends. I was not good enough to pass the test, nor was I prepared to compete for jobs.

    In my frustration, I sought consolation in books. I read some spiritual books in hope of finding peace. That was when I encountered Rumi’s quote, which he quotes from his mentor: “When I run after what I think I want, my days are a furnace of distress and anxiety. If I sit in my own place of patience, what I need flows to me, without pain.”

    The words struck me deeply. I realized that I had been fixated on a single path, convinced it was the only way to reach my goal. I had never considered any other alternatives.

    I have been a fan of Rumi since high school. When I entered college, I found even more of his works that resonated with me. During this time, I also became interested in spiritualism and self-awareness. That is also when I started practicing meditation as part of martial arts training.

    I decided to take Rumi’s wisdom to heart. Instead of obsessing over the problem, I stopped forcing a solution and, for the first time, embraced stillness.

    It felt unproductive at first, but gradually, I began to understand something: If I was not ready for my dream at that moment, then perhaps it was not meant to happen yet. I accepted that progress would not come instantly and that my journey was not over just because I had hit a roadblock.

    Stillness reduced my anxiety and my self-deprecation at least. It restored the feeling that I was alright, and the sky was still above me. Amidst this realization, a friend from high school called me. She asked if I had graduated, and when I said yes, she mentioned a vacant teaching assistant position at her school.

    I sat up straight. I had a degree in education, so yes, teaching is my forte. More importantly, this particular school is an international school where most of the students and the teachers are expatriates.

    I did not fully understand it at the time, but I felt that this was exactly what Rumi means by “what I need flows to me, without pain.” So I said yes without hesitation.

    Long story short, I got the job. As a teaching assistant, I basically helped the main teacher to prepare the learning material and assisted the students with their work. The environment immersed me in English—I spoke it all day, read documents, read books, and wrote reports in English, improving my English significantly.

    Eight months after I started working at that school, I retook the test. I felt truly confident. The anxiety was gone, and I knew I would at least meet the minimum score. The test was, as Rumi promised, painless. I did not achieve the perfect score, but it was more than enough. I felt relieved, and I knew that the biggest obstacle had been eliminated.

    The test I took was just the beginning of my journey to studying abroad. I completed all the required administrative processes and secured a spot at my desired university just three months after the test. I was also accepted into a scholarship program, so within a year of my initial uncertainty about my future, I experienced a joy that I had never imagined before. Everything fell into place, and I realized it was meant to happen at that time.

    Patience, I realized, is the best cure for anxiety. Yet, most of us—including me at that time—struggle with it. The urge to take control and rush toward our goals is overwhelming. We are always taught to push, to strive, to achieve. Surrender and waiting are never part of the curriculum.

    I now believe that while ambition is important, relentless pursuit is not always the answer. Patience is not about giving up; it is the ability to wait while still focusing on the target. I think it is similar to a lion when it hunts its prey. The lion remains still, observing, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. A predator understands that patience is the key to success.

    So patience is not passive. It is an active projection of trust and readiness. Through this particular experience, I started to understand the differences between stillness and doing nothing.

    When I relax and allow myself to slow down, an alternative path emerges. What I once considered a detour—getting a job—ended up being the very thing that helped me to reach my goal. By not chasing my dream directly but rather waiting patiently while doing something else, I ultimately found my way.

    Now, whenever I am in pursuit of something, I remind myself to pause. I take a step back, observe, and ensure that the odds are not stacked against me. If they are, I wait patiently and explore other possibilities. Because sometimes, the best way forward is to stand still.

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

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

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

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

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

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

    This happened across the board.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    Instead, I thought, it must be me.

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

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

    It was an unconscious feedback loop.

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

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

    But this time I interrupted my pattern.

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

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

    That moment showed me something big:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Releasing Self-Sabotage: 3 Simple Ways to Catch Yourself and Redirect

    Releasing Self-Sabotage: 3 Simple Ways to Catch Yourself and Redirect

    “The greater part of human pain is unnecessary. It is self-created as long as the unobserved mind runs your life.” ~Eckhart Tolle

    “Holy shirtballs!” I yelped and leapt out of the ice-cold water stream, gasping for air.

    There I was in an Argentina hotel at 5:30 a.m., bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, with no chances of hot water and a back that felt like the surface of the sun.

    I had gotten the worst sunburn of my LIFE the day before from laying on my belly, deeply absorbed in my first self-help book. I couldn’t believe that other people out there were like me, had huge ambitions, and wanted to develop themselves beyond societal boxes, too.

    I was so absorbed, in fact, that I forgot to put on ANY sunscreen. (Lesson learned!)

    When I packed my bags and left Argentina with a newfound sense of confidence and thrill—plus a killer tan—I vowed that I would use what I learned from that first book to change my life into exactly what I wanted. An epic relationship with a man who cherished me, freedom to start my own business, and finally getting in shape.

    And then, I touched down in my hometown, Buffalo.

    I was in college at the time, studying to be a Spanish teacher.

    Giving my family a squeeze, answering the good-natured questions they peppered, and looking out at the cold winter scene, I thought, “What was I thinking? Only uber-successful people can live that kind of life and set those kinds of goals. I’m just a girl from a small town with a successful future as a Spanish teacher. I already have so much. I can’t ask for more.”

    And thus began my years of self-torment, in which I lived a good life on paper but sabotaged the crap out of myself when I dared to dream bigger. When brave action was required to get in shape, push forward my career, or meet someone new, I found myself watching endless TV, shying away from the job posting, or saying no to a second date with a perfectly reasonable guy—all while my confidence and self-trust swirled down the drain.

    If you’ve also been there, shopping more after setting a goal to spend less money or ordering a pizza in week two of your new fitness plan, then you know that self-sabotage can be a frustrating habit that we may feel we’ll never kick.

    But there’s good news!

    Self-sabotage is actually the last action in a chain of predictable events. And these events happen to everyone. We can easily catch these precursors to self-sabotage ahead of time and deepen the richness of our pursuit towards our goals with the following three steps.

    1. See imposter syndrome as EXCITING!

    Before we begin to dive into self-sabotage, we need to change our mindset around its precursors—the predictable events that lead up to self-sabotage.

    These precursors include:

    • imposter syndrome
    • overwhelm
    • self-doubt
    • analysis paralysis
    • worry
    • believing we’re not good enough

    These precursory experiences drive the behavior we take when we are acting from a place of “I can’t.” The new fitness plan, the next step in the relationship, or the promotion seem outside of our realm of control, and our brains immediately default to “I can’t handle this, so I can’t do this.”

    When we’re on the precipice of taking inspired action to lead our most fulfilling lives, we are taking a huge step outside of our comfort zones.

    Our brains, which have no evidence of success in this new arena and thus can’t adjust their blueprint to encompass it, will purposefully create these precursory thought patterns in order to get us to stop moving ahead. It sees anything outside of the comfort zone—including growth and fulfillment beyond where we are—as a psychological danger that it can’t account for.

    While we can’t stop our brains from trying to implement these safety measures, we can stop ourselves from buying into them.

    The change in mindset comes when we stop seeing the presence of these precursors as a bad sign or something to fix and instead see them as something EXCITING.

    I know you may be thinking, I HATE feeling overwhelmed or like I’m not good enough. It sucks!

    I don’t disagree that these are uncomfortable experiences. But I will say that these feelings are also evidence that you’re moving in the right direction.

    If you’re experiencing overwhelm, imposter syndrome, or self-doubt, it’s because the thing you’re considering doing is outside of your brain’s comfort zone. And because our purpose in life is to grow and evolve, and all growth and evolution takes place outside of our comfort zone…

    These behaviors only crop up when you’re about to do something BRAVE!

    Feeling like you’re not good enough is no longer evidence that you’re not good enough. It’s just evidence that you’re making a bold decision for yourself to truly live and grow instead of letting your brain stop you.

    You will likely always feel some precursor like overwhelm, self-doubt, feelings of not being good enough, comparisonitis, or imposter syndrome when you’re about to make a brave decision.

    When you can detach from the volatility of these precursors and come to understand that they are natural markers of exciting progress—not the end of the road but just a stop sign along the way—you can pivot from nervous self-sabotage to determined advancement.

    2. Feel your feelings.

    All of us are guilty of modulating our emotions in ways we know don’t serve us. Maybe for you it’s scrolling through social media or going out with friends. It could be a glass of wine or an extra piece of chocolate cake.

    I always find myself drawn toward a Netflix comedy special when I’m overwhelmed. Or I just watch TV in general to take my mind off of what’s coming up.

    I want to stress that there’s nothing wrong with these behaviors in moderation. In fact, these pleasures are meant for us to enjoy in our time here on earth. But if we’re constantly procrastinating with these behaviors, they become a warning sign of self-sabotage about to occur.

    This is because the root of all self-sabotage is avoiding an uncomfortable emotion.

    When we convince ourselves not to follow an inspired idea, we may believe that we are “protecting” ourselves from more concrete things, like our friends and family judging us, loss of money, or loss of time. But these are just neutral circumstances that don’t have an emotion inherently attached to them.

    What we are actually protecting ourselves against is the uncomfortable emotion our brain produces from these circumstances, like disappointment, shame, or guilt if we fail.

    A mentor once shared with me a hypothetical story—that if aliens came down to earth and asked humans about the emotion of shame, the humans would shudder and describe it as the absolute worst feeling in the world. The curious aliens would be intrigued by this bold claim and ask the humans, “Wow, what happens when you feel shame? Does your face melt off? Do you break out in hives? Do you start bleeding profusely and die!?”

    The humans would probably turn sheepish and say, “Um, no, actually. My tummy just hurts.”

    I share this anecdote to illustrate that feeling emotions doesn’t cause us bodily harm. It’s just uncomfortable.

    But given all that we’ve overcome in our lives, all the adversity we face each day, and the strength of the human spirit that unites us, a little discomfort is nothing we can’t handle. It’s so worth it for the exciting life waiting on the other side of our bravery.

    To stop ourselves from self-sabotaging and move forward, we need to learn how to face and feel those emotions. (I promise your face won’t melt off when you do!) When we feel the shame, embarrassment, and disappointment fully, their potency will dissipate, and we’ll be able to access objective clarity.

    The simplest way to feel your emotions is to sit down somewhere quiet and identify the emotion that you’re feeling. What is the name of it? (Fear, disappointment, panic, and worry are common examples.

    Then, set a timer for one minute and feel the emotion. I don’t mean think about the emotion. I mean FEEL the sensation in your body that this emotion creates.

    Where is the emotion in your body—your chest, your hands, your throat, your stomach? Does it have a color or a shape? Does it have a weight?

    Touch your hand to where you feel it most in your body and allow yourself to fully experience the sensation over the course of one minute. Chances are high that just directing your attention to this emotion for one full minute will allow its potency to dissipate and give you back your sense of higher thinking.

    3. Take ownership of your story.

    Once our emotions have been fully felt and respected, we can start to think critically to address the root of our self-sabotage.

    A favorite question of mine is, “What is the story here?”

    Remember that your brain is initiating self-sabotage to keep you from feeling an uncomfortable emotion. But it had to get evidence from somewhere that this action you’re about to take would result in disaster. So… where in the past did a similar situation play out that ended in an uncomfortable emotion?

    Let’s say you come across a flyer announcing open auditions for a local musical. It piques your interest, and you get excited to audition, picturing yourself on stage and all the fun you’d have as a performer. But then you start to hear the precursors of, “I’m not good enough, I don’t have the time, I could never do that,” which dampens your spirits and causes internal conflict.

    If the last time you auditioned for a musical, your voice broke on the high note, and you didn’t get the part, we can’t fault your brain for sending you those precursors! It wants to pump the brakes and protect you at all costs from that previous feeling of embarrassment. And those thoughts of “not good enough” have always been effective at stopping you in your tracks.

    But with clarity and compassion, we can see this experience for what it is—just a story in the past. A story that doesn’t have anything to do with our future, unless we continue to bring it into the present by calling it to mind.

    When you ask yourself, “What is the story here?” quietly observe how your brain automatically floats a memory or long-held belief to the surface. Once you’ve identified the source, you can now ask yourself one last powerful question:

    “Do I want to be the steward of this story anymore?”

    We all have a choice, each moment of every day, to hold onto stories from our past or let them go.

    The stories we hold onto provided us safety at a time. The story of the musical audition protected us from more embarrassment of daring to believe in ourselves again and possibly failing. If we trusted someone before, and they broke that trust, our story of “I can’t trust others or open up to them” protects us from that pain of unreciprocated vulnerability.

    It’s important to honor and recognize that these stories did serve a purpose and did protect you for a time. But to stop self-sabotage and move forward in brave action, we can let the stories that hold us back go. We can start to recognize and get excited about all that is waiting for us on the other side of releasing this story, allowing us to write new stories and access our truest inspired life.

    –

    Sometimes it’s difficult to see the forest for the trees. It’s important to find compassion for yourself when you notice self-sabotaging behavior and realize that it’s just your brain playing a fun trick to keep you safe from the unknown. Luckily, these tricks are predictable, and once we learn to see them as a good sign, feel our feelings, and release old stories, we can continue to grow into our bravest, boldest selves.

  • How My Life Changed After 365 Days of Self-Discovery

    How My Life Changed After 365 Days of Self-Discovery

    “The only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle.” ~Steve Jobs

    In 2017, I stood at a crossroads. Armed with a law degree but burdened by uncertainty, I faced a future that felt both daunting and uninspiring. The path I had chosen—the one society had essentially prescribed for me—suddenly seemed hollow because the path did not align well with my values and a vision of fulfilling life.

    I knew I needed a change, but the prospect of starting over terrified me. Today, I wake up every morning filled with purpose and excitement. I’m a passionate educator, inspiring students and shaping futures.

    The transformation from confused law graduate to fulfilled teacher didn’t happen overnight, but it did occur in just one year. Here’s how I navigated this life-changing career transition, and how you can make a change too, regardless of your starting point or destination.

    The first step was reframing my mindset. Instead of viewing my career change as a risky leap into the unknown, I decided to treat it as a year-long experiment in self-discovery. This shift allowed me to approach each day with curiosity rather than fear.

    I set a simple goal: learn something new about myself or a potential career path every single day. Some days, this meant reading articles about different professions. Other days, I attended networking events or conducted informational interviews.

    The key was consistency. I committed to doing something every day, no matter how small.

    One of the biggest hurdles I faced was the weight of others’ expectations. Friends, family, and even strangers had opinions about my choice to leave law behind. “But you worked so hard for that degree!” they’d say, or “Lawyers make such good money; why would you give that up?”

    I had to learn to silence these voices—not just externally but internally too. I realized I had internalized many of society’s expectations about success and prestige.

    Letting go of these allowed me to truly listen to my own desires and intuitions.

    Each evening, I spent fifteen minutes journaling about my experiences and feelings. This simple practice became a powerful tool for self-discovery.

    I asked myself questions like: What energized me today? What drained me? What am I curious to learn more about? What fears or doubts came up, and where did they come from?

    I also began noting moments of gratitude, no matter how small—like a kind word from a friend or the warmth of the evening breeze. These reflections not only helped me understand my emotions but also shifted my focus toward growth and possibilities.

    Over time, patterns emerged. I noticed how my energy soared when I helped others understand complex topics and how I lit up when discussing ideas rather than legal statutes.

    Leaving the familiar world of law behind was uncomfortable. There were days filled with doubt and anxiety. But I learned to lean into this discomfort, recognizing it as a sign of growth.

    I started small, challenging myself to do one thing outside my comfort zone each week. Sometimes this meant attending a meetup group alone; other times it was reaching out to a stranger for career advice.

    Each small step built my confidence and resilience.

    The pivotal moment came when I volunteered to teach a weekend workshop on basic legal concepts for high school students. Standing in front of that classroom, watching eyes light up with understanding, I felt a spark I’d never experienced in law.

    This experience led me to seek out more teaching opportunities. I tutored, led study groups, and eventually secured a position as a teaching assistant at a local community college.

    With each experience, my passion for education grew stronger.

    My year of self-discovery wasn’t just about passive reflection. It was an active cycle of learning and doing. I’d learn about a potential career path, then find a way to experience it firsthand.

    This hands-on approach accelerated my growth and helped me quickly identify what resonated with me.

    Looking back, I realize that the most crucial factor in my successful career transition wasn’t innate talent or lucky breaks. It was consistency. By committing to daily action and reflection, I made steady progress even when I couldn’t see the end goal.

    This consistency put me ahead of 99% of people who dream of career changes but never take sustained action. It’s not about making huge leaps every day; it’s about small, consistent steps in the direction of your dreams.

    My path led me from law to education, but your journey might look entirely different. The beauty of self-discovery is that it’s uniquely yours. The “right” path isn’t always obvious or immediate, but by giving yourself permission to explore, you open the door to possibilities you might never have imagined.

    As you embark on your own journey of self-discovery, remember:

    1. Reframe challenges as experiments and learning opportunities.

    Each hurdle is a step closer to understanding yourself and what you’re capable of.

    2. Practice daily reflection to uncover your true desires and motivations…

    …perhaps using the questions I shared above to identify what energizes and drains you, what excites your curiosity, and what might be holding you back. Writing your thoughts consistently will create a map of your inner world.

    3. Embrace discomfort as a sign of growth.

    The moments that feel challenging often signal transformation. Lean into them with trust and courage.

    4. Seek out hands-on experiences in fields that interest you.

    Whether it’s through volunteering, interning, shadowing, or simply having conversations with people in those spaces, the exposure can illuminate paths you hadn’t considered.

    5. Stay consistent, taking small actions every day.

    Progress doesn’t require giant leaps; steady steps compound into meaningful outcomes.

    6. Be patient with yourself and the process.

    Meaningful change and self-discovery don’t happen overnight. Celebrate the small wins, and remember that setbacks are part of the journey.

    Lastly, cultivate gratitude and curiosity. These are the twin forces that fuel resilience and creativity, helping you see the beauty in both the process and the unknown.

    The only way to fail in this process is to never try. So, I encourage you: start your year of fearless exploration today. Your future self will thank you for having the courage to seek a life and career that truly fulfills you.

  • I Had Enough: What’s Happened Since I Quit My Job

    I Had Enough: What’s Happened Since I Quit My Job

    “Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away from the things that no longer serve your growth or well-being.” ~Unknown

    I’ve always been a very independent person with an adventurous spirit, so no one was surprised when I moved away from my small town in Ontario, Canada, to become a nanny in Spain the second I graduated from high school.

    It was a whole new world with ancient streets, delicious food, and friendly people. I knew that I had made the right choice to adventure away from the place where I was raised.

    I’m someone who has itchy feet. It’s been difficult to stay in one place for any length of time. Over the last twelve years, I’ve lived all over the map, from Spain to Calgary, Alberta, and most recently in Vancouver, British Columbia.

    The town where I grew up is known for its brutal winters, quiet neighborhoods, and having “not much to do” there. So naturally, I spent my twenties looking to live in any place that was as different as possible from that boring town where I was raised.

    The first time I had visited the west coast, I thought: Why would anyone live anywhere else in this country besides here? The mountains, the ocean, the active lifestyle, the endless options for outdoor adventure… I fell in love with it and ended up spending almost a decade of my life as a West Coast girl.

    During this time, I got a university degree and, shortly after, landed a job at a tech company, where I was earning a salary that I didn’t ever think would be possible for me.

    At first, the job was a positive feature in my life: I learned all kinds of skills I hadn’t had the opportunity to develop before. I was given promotions and eventually was put in a position to lead a team, something I ended up really enjoying. But over time, I started to notice little things that made me question whether I was really happy.

    I remember having a conversation with a close friend about a year and a half into the job, where I expressed strong discontentment for my work. My friend, the wise woman she is, immediately validated my concerns and gave her opinion that I should really quit this job.

    I remember thinking, how shortsighted of her. Doesn’t she realize if I quit, I won’t be able to make this salary again? I have bills to pay and people on my team at work who need me.

    Fast forward; another year flew by, and things only got worse. I was working ten-hour days consistently, and I developed stomach pain and started having migraines. My weekends were bogged down by thoughts of the mess I would return to on Monday morning.

    My friends and family continued to call out how this job was not constructive for me and let me know that I wasn’t the same “light” person I used to be. My mother in particular did not like that I was no longer writing or doing anything creative anymore as a result of my energy being sucked away by this job.

    After many nights of sleeplessness due to the nature of this massive decision, I finally decided to act. Now, in case anyone is reading this and is in a similar situation, I want to share just how difficult this decision was for me.

    I wasn’t able to hear feedback from my family and friends and immediately quit my job. No, there were many months in the middle where I would flip-flop. I think leaving a job is the same as leaving a relationship—only you will know when you are truly ready.

    Quitting this job was one of the most difficult things I’ve done in recent years. I had spent countless days and nights weighing the pros and cons of my decision, thinking about the team members involved. Who would I be putting in a tough situation? Would the company be able to replace me? Would I be upsetting team members, my boss, the CEO? Was I a failure for quitting? Did this burnout say something about my value as a worker, as a person?

    When I finally turned in my resignation, I was stunned to learn that nobody really cared. I thought for sure I would hear from the folks I worked with after I left, but it has now been several months, and I have heard from no one.

    In the middle of this decision-making process, I was in close contact with my mother. She is an amazing woman who lives on her own in a quaint, lovely house in the small Ontario town where we’re from. The town that I spent years dreaming about leaving. So, when she heard I was thinking of quitting my job and suggested I could move back home and live with her, naturally, I was offended she would even suggest the idea.

    Move back in with my mom? What would everyone think of me? Thirty-one, jobless, and living at home?

    But over time, to everyone’s surprise, especially my own, I started to warm up to the idea. Living alone in a big city, working a difficult job, and providing everything for myself for the last fourteen years was catching up to me. I was exhausted and lonely.

    So, in March this year, I packed up my apartment in beautiful North Vancouver, fit what I could into my Toyota Corolla (including my border collie mix, Rex), and drove across the country, back to small town Ontario.

    In a lot of ways, being back in my hometown is weird. There is definitely less to do here than in big Canadian cities. Instead of spending my weekends with friends, I usually spend them with my mom’s friends or my siblings. Instead of hiking epic, world-famous mountains, I walk in the trails along the street where we live. It is a quiet life, much different than what I’ve left behind.

    But at thirty-one, after the last decade of independent living and the last few years of this difficult job, I welcome the quiet life with open arms.

    I traded long days and late nights working remotely, feeling stressed and isolated, for sleep-in mornings with my dog and forest walks where I’m not checking my watch because I need to make sure I get back for a meeting at 1 p.m.

    Now, instead of trying to find time in the day to eat a meal, I cook big dinners that I get to share with family and friends. I now get a hug from my mother every morning instead of only once a year at Christmas.

    We’ve all heard the cliches about life being short, time with family being invaluable, money isn’t everything, etc.. But isn’t it true that cliches are cliches for a reason.

    We know that days on this earth are not promised for any of us. I didn’t want to be thirty-one years old, working in a lonely apartment, giving my energy to a company that didn’t care about me for another ten years.

    While the decision was difficult, especially in this economy, I will say it is amazing how many doors open when you free your mind from the mental gymnastics of a toxic job and the decision-making of whether you should leave it.

    My life looks different now: I’ve started writing again (look, you’re reading one of my articles now), I’ve started a master’s program, and I’ve got plans to become a fitness instructor, something I’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the time.

    Of course there are unknowns in my life, and I don’t know if I will live in this small town forever. But for now, it’s given me invaluable time with my mother and family, a place to rest and recover from years of working a very stressful job, and a chance to start a few new projects that make me feel like “me” again.

    If you are in a similar predicament, and if you are lucky enough to have some of the same privileges that I do, I recommend that you allow yourself a break. This doesn’t have to mean moving back in with your parents. It could also mean leaning on your partner for a while if that’s an option. Or utilizing savings for a bit, if you have any, to give yourself time to focus on what really matters and figure out what’s next.

    Family, health, and happiness should always come before the corporate grind, society’s expectations of you, or any amount of money. I hope this serves as a reminder.

  • 5 Tips for Updating Your Career and Life to Match Who You Are Now

    5 Tips for Updating Your Career and Life to Match Who You Are Now

    “All you’re going to lose is what was built for a person you no longer are.” ~Brianna Wiest

    I’ll admit it. I stayed in a failed marriage for five years past its expiration date. I got especially good at faking smiles in public and relegating myself to my laptop most evenings.

    I also sentenced myself to a career that stopped “lighting me up” about a decade before I was ready to wave the white flag of surrender. As in my marriage, I refused to believe its end for ages and tried everything I could think of to keep this dying flame alive. I switched positions and teams, constantly created new goalposts for myself, changed organizations, and even moved to Asia well before I was willing to let my career go.

    And one day, without warning, my sister called from New York to say that our beautiful mother had just crossed over to the other side. On that soft green couch in South Korea, thousands of miles from family, my already deeply unsatisfactory private life imploded. So did the carefully curated and adventurous-looking life that everyone on the outside saw. I was broken.

    Please allow me a “real talk” time out, folks.

    Can we discuss the importance of using our persistent feelings as signals, or guideposts? I’m not suggesting we throw out logic. I’m also not referring to our typically loud and fleeting reactions to everyday stressors. I’m talking about an instinctive knowing, the quiet kind that’s easy to ignore.

    Though I routinely taught this to my own two children and students, my intellectualizing didn’t mean I was actually practicing what I preached. Not by a long shot.

    Not until a powerful wave of grief swept the rug out from under me, that is.

    Deeply empathetic and sensitive, with a mother who was a counselor, I grew up learning how to accept and validate my feelings. I knew to listen to them, to manage them when they didn’t serve me, and to use them to identify opportunities to learn more about myself. So, why on earth would I work so hard to hide them from my own conscious awareness for years when I knew my marriage and career were no longer right for me? I’ve got thoughts on that.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing kept me safely in a socially acceptable family structure.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing made it easy to receive invitations to holiday dinners with other international families while living abroad.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing allowed me to continue to make good money, feel successful as a professional, provide for my children, and travel to new countries a few times a year.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing had predictable, albeit routinely unpleasant, results.

    Perhaps it was because I had no idea who I would be if I wasn’t a wife or a teacher.

    But when my mother passed away, my entire world went dark. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

    Losing my mother was the single hardest experience of my lifetime. It was also the catalyst for my own wake-up call on multiple levels. And perhaps this was what my soul needed to remember how to seek what did matter, and to recognize my own fulfillment as worthy of sitting at the very top spot of that list.

    Layers of grief forced me to experience feelings I’d been bottling up for years. Grief pressed me to listen to my feelings and to ask what there was to learn from the patterns in my life. It begged me to create the space and stillness to finally accept that the career and life I had built were ones I had long outgrown. It also prompted me to finally ask for help.

    I wasn’t happy living a life I had built decades ago because I was no longer that person, and accepting this realization was empowering.

    Eventually, and with the aid of some irrefutable signs from the universe and some excellent coaching, I gave myself permission to pivot from my profession. I could also see that my resistance to change had been the only true thing standing between me and a much more fulfilling life and career. Not anymore.

    Loss is a beast. But on the other side of it, there is inevitably gain.

    If you find yourself at a crossroads in life and crave a pathway for building something new to fit the person you have grown into, I have an annoyingly obvious secret to share. The only person capable of carving this way forward is you. And while this may feel like an impossible and unwelcome challenge, I venture to say that this fact could end up being your greatest gift.

    What if you could see beyond the endings and revel in the endless possibilities ahead?

    What kind of work and contribution to the world would you pursue if none of society’s imposed limits existed?

    If money were no object, what would you spend your time doing.

    What type of life do you want to build for yourself?

    What would future you, nearing the end of their life, look back on and smile contentedly about?

    While I can’t give you any of your answers, my own failures and aha moments have allowed me to compile the following tips for folks like you who may be approaching a career transition.

    If you’ve decided your fulfillment should be at the top of your life list and you’re ready to update your career to match the version of you who is reading this today, try these five tips on for size.

    1. Create some space or spaciousness before life creates it for you.

    Once upon a time, before my whole world stopped with a single sharp loss, my mind loved wasting entire days on unimportant details of daily life. The state of constant busyness I tended to wrap myself in had allowed me to bury the deep feelings of restlessness and dissatisfaction lurking faithfully just below the surface.

    My incessant thoughts were part of my unconscious “living” and were a big part of what prevented me from being aware, present, and authentic in my current reality. I thought my thoughts were me, but I was so far from the truth.

    I may never have stopped this incessant mind-drivel had I not been handed Don’t Believe Everything You Think: Why Your Thinking Is the Beginning and End to Your Suffering by Joseph Nguyen.

    It taught me that if I didn’t choose to actively create internal space by taking up daily yoga and meditation (or another practice), I never would have gotten to know who I truly was. And without that, how on earth would I have created a career shift to match the updated version of myself? (News flash: I would not have.)

    If you choose just one item from this list to try before making a career shift, please let this be the one. Commit to one practice that creates spaciousness in your life and refuse to let go. Because if your new career is going to match the updated version of you, you have got to start with getting to know yourself. And you’ll only achieve this by making space and staying there a while, routinely.

    2. Take stock of the childhood dreams you (mistakenly) labeled as fantasies.

    What did you want to do when you were seven? You may laugh, but this question is so useful in helping us to see what our soul has always been drawn to do (at least, before society stepped in with all of its “shoulds”).

    When we’re young children, we’re not nearly as caught up in our own minds as our adult selves are. As a result, we’re much more easily opened up to our purpose, our desires, and joy-seeking behaviors.

    Make a list of the things you enjoyed doing as a seven-year-old. Do you still do any of these things today? Do any of these things appeal or inspire new, similar ideas? Take stock, and please don’t laugh them off. The key to a glorious, fulfilling future may lie in these former hobbies and interests.

    3. See yourself for who you are now (not for who you used to be).

    Let’s also be sure to get to know the person we have become today.

    If nobody in your family could see into your ballot box for career-choosing, where would your vote go? We no longer need to please our parents! We’re adulting, after all. We aren’t here to please our spouses or our children either (though we can and should darn well love the heck out of them). We are here to please ourselves, and once that’s in place, well, you know the rest.

    For some of us, asking people who are closest to us for feedback can really help to get the ball rolling, too. What do our closest friends or colleagues see as our key strengths and weaknesses? What do they notice us bringing to any room we enter? Keep the feedback that resonates and leave the rest.

    4. Notice what fires you up.

    What do you find yourself getting passionate (either intensely interested or completely annoyed) about? What could you spend your whole day doing (if life wasn’t always “lifing”)? What comes easily to you and allows you to feel in the flow?

    Herein lie clues about your interests and passions, and potentially some of your core skills or gifts. What makes time fly by for you? What conversations do you find yourself drawn to or searching for?

    What do you realize you stand for again and again, regardless of circumstances? What values does this reflect that you hold? Once you’ve answered some of these questions, check to see if the career paths you’re considering would complement, jive with, or fall right in line with at least one of these things.

    5. Test out potential careers before jumping.

    A change as big as a career shift warrants some personal research. And according to professional research, humans are pretty terrible at predicting what will make us happy. We’ve simply got to test our ideas out.

    What if I told you that you could create some ways to test out potential career pivots before making them? Have you considered volunteer work? What about emailing every contact you have to ask if they know anyone working in the field who’d be willing to have a career curiosity call?

    Could you come up with a project that would allow you to test out/try out new skills? What about a job shadow day? Have you considered cold messaging someone via LinkedIn who works in that field?

    Whatever ideas you come up with will inevitably be better than simply jumping at your best guess. Get in there! Get creative. And get started on updating your life and career to match who you are today, not the person you were years ago when you created the life you’re still living now.

  • How Slowing Down Helped Me Reclaim My Dreams

    How Slowing Down Helped Me Reclaim My Dreams

    “For fast acting relief, try slowing down.” ~Lily Tomlin

    “Are you the owner?” asks, well, yet another customer at our local Italian eatery.

    “Nope—I’m just old!” I reply, all sheepish but pleased.

    It’s true. At fifty, I’m not exactly your classic, college-struggling part-timer.

    Actually, I’m the oldest employee at our restaurant—the staff “mom,” if you will. I’ve been at this serving gig three years now and haven’t looked back. Which might seem weird considering how I got here in the first place. What a contrast to the world I once lived in.

    I co-owned a financial services company with my dad for sixteen years. We had a good thing going. Our clients were well taken care of—we were winning awards, and the money reflected that. At forty-five, I had it all: a full-tilt career, a decent marriage, two kids, and a nice house.

    To say that wasn’t enough for me wouldn’t be honest. No, it was more like it was TOO much.

    I felt overwhelmed by the life I’d helped build. 

    I was stuck on the treadmill of Keeping It All Together, running faster and faster with each passing year, terrified I’d fly off the back end in one spectacular “Sam-Style” crash. I longed to slow down enough to examine my choices, my reality, and myself. The pace was killing me. Whoever the “me” was that I’d become.

    Couldn’t I just walk for a while?

    My running took me to a thirty-three-day meander on the Camino de Santiago in Spain in May of 2019. It was one of those “sort-out-your-shit” mid-life pilgrimages. I walked in, a pile of cynicism and confusion, but walked out with confidence, clutching one very ballsy answer:

    “Quit your career.”

    For context, it was driving me crazy. I’d crossed a threshold where it didn’t matter how much money I was making because I was miserable. Investing for others never felt like me—artsy-fartsy “Sam” was drowning in portfolio pressures. Uncontrollables like market returns and regulation built on the assumption that all financial advisors could be out to screw their clients had me on edge 24/7.

    Looking back, I am grateful for those years that never felt like me. Because they eventually helped inform a more authentic life. That’s the one I’m living now. It’s a more peaceful, more meaningful existence. Even if I am “just serving up pasta.”

    See, when you’re stuck on the treadmill and the universe keeps ratcheting up the pace, it’s all you can do to breathe, let alone hold any other aspiration in your head.

    You simply can’t. There’s no time for that sort of fluff.

    You’ve got clients and deadlines and responsibilities and targets. Your files come home with you. Your conversations with loved ones center around what ridiculous head office battle you had to fight against today, just to keep up with the demands of your job.

    Dream?! Snort. This IS the dream… Isn’t it?!

    Apparently, it wasn’t MY dream.

    Fast forward to a world where I’m out three or four nights a week, doing a literal (and warmly received) tap dance if the kitchen is backed up. I collect tip pools on Wednesdays. I clock in, I clock out. And when I’m home, I am not thinking about work.

    This is a far cry from my Sunday night anxiety, when I would lie awake in dread over what fires I’d have to put out the following morning.

    As a server, I’m counted on to provide care, kindness, good humor, and advice for tourists and newcomers on our area, along with the obvious meals prepared to their liking. It’s a curated experience that comes with a smile. A can’t-fake-it smile.

    The smile is legit, because I’m happy. 🙂

    But there’s something else at play here. Taking my foot off the gas—that is to say, making the difficult decision to slow my life down—has allowed me the time and space to dream.

    And I am (and always will be) “one of those.” I know, I know, I know; insert eye rolling from my realist peeps in the audience. I am a DREAMER.

    I believe our dreams matter. 

    How can they not? Why else are we here, spinning on this giant rock? Are we meant to come into the world, then run like hell unquestioningly until the day we die? Methinks, no.

    The problem most of us have with dreams is threefold: (1) they’re seemingly impractical, (2) they require courage to get started, and (3) they need time to germinate and take off.

    The sad fact is most of us are in survival mode just to exist. We don’t have the time to dream.

    Dreaming is a bloody freaking luxury! We have more urgent matters to attend to—like mortgage payments and helping our aging parents understand their cell phone plans.

    But I think casting our dreams aside despite today’s survival mode reality is already a slow descent to the grave. We may still be alive, but are we really?

    Sure, we can pinch ourselves and feel that pain, looking around at the world’s we’ve built and the treadmills we’re running on to keep it all going. Of course we’re alive. We’ve got the tax bill to prove it!

    Inside, though? Our soul might be one breath away from lights out. This happens when we shrug off the whispers it quietly sends to us, succumbing to one of our great failings as human beings: we settle.

    Uggg, settling.

    Some people might think I’ve “settled” in choosing to swap a lucrative occupation for some part-time job waiting tables.

    It’s the opposite.

    I’d have been settling if I would have stayed the course in my previous career. And I’d probably be dead by now. That may sound dramatic to you, but I was on the cusp of CRACKING at least quarterly. I just assumed this was something I had to suck up.

    It was only when my dreams came at me unflinchingly loud that I realized I had to do something. Thanks to that meander on the Camino, all those “shoulds,” “musts,” and societal expectations that otherwise took up head space dissipated, freeing up fertile ground for my dreams to matter. In essence, my dreams became louder than my misery.

    But I thought I was nuts. Who would walk away from security and set off for the great unknown?

    An insane person would. At least, that’s what I’d thought. And you can’t blame my distorted thinking; remember, I’d been running at warp speed for years.

    It would take that far slower pace for me to see things clearly. To see things for myself.

    Today, chasing my dream admittedly comes with frustration, exhaustion, and its own version of disillusion.

    I have taken my walk across Spain as inspiration to help other women try and slow down so they, too, can sort out their shit and find themselves. It all sounds good in theory. But anyone who has ever started a business before will tell you it is often a lesson in failing forward.

    (Then swallowing your pride with each lesson learned—like, who buys 2,000 custom “thank you” bracelets for a company that hasn’t yet launched anything to thank someone for?! Yeah, I did that!)

    I know, though, that if this dream of mine matters, I’ve got to continue to find the money, motivation, and stamina to invest in it. These are all ME problems, but I’m dealing and pleased to see the wins when they come.

    What’s important here—and this is part of my self-talk when feeling frustrated—is that I’m not ignoring what matters to me.

    I’m not shoving it down, beating it into submission, or deluding myself that it doesn’t exist in the first place.

    If Slowing Down Is Key—Then How?

    My answer here isn’t going to sound like rocket science or some earth-shattering discovery. It’s easy: get out and walk.

    I will forever champion the slowed-down art of moving your body, one foot in front of the other, on the cement sidewalk of your urban jungle or the mossy loam of your backyard forest. Walking IS the answer. If we can tear ourselves off that treadmill for twenty to thirty minutes a day, we’ll begin to see a shift.

    Stress levels decrease, and this is documented scientifically.

    With less of that pesky stress hormone “cortisol” coursing through our veins, we’ll feel better without even trying. You show me a person whose mood isn’t lifted after a walk, and I’ll show you the millions in my bank account. (Ha! There’s no such thing as either!)

    Walking has been a time-honored tradition of problem solving, creativity-fueling, and dream-catching for years. Beethoven would set out for long walks, pen and paper in hand, ready to capture those melodies as they came to him.

    So, I’m not saying go out and quit your job. I’m just saying, get outside for some deliberate movement. Which brings me to my next point.

    The Importance of Conscious Decision-Making

    Aiming for a life with no regrets takes decision-making to the next level.

    If that means tightening up our purse-strings while I work on my dream, or relying on my husband to carry the bulk of the financial torch, or going out and getting a serving job to help take the pressure off—so be it. I make these choices willingly and with the fortunate support of people who believe in me.

    “Conscious” decision-making requires us to weigh the options and think about others in the fallout of our choices. How does my desire to go after this dream impact those I love? What do I need to consider? What’s my downside, and how does that inform any decisions we need to make as a family?

    Those Who Are Watching

    A by-product of going after our dreams is the message it sends to those who follow. In my case, we want to show our two daughters that their dreams are important. I’d have been selling out completely if I’d never left my career; that “your dreams matter speech” we parents often dish out would have otherwise felt like flavorless gruel. At least for us.

    Over the last four years, I’ve seen how my tenacity (read: head-banging, stubborn persistence) has inspired my kids.

    My eldest will shoot for the stars with the loftiest expectations. And while talking her off her ledge over NOT being accepted into the most competitive university in North America felt daunting, I secretly loved that she tried.

    Because why not shoot for the stars? Her playing large will net a guaranteed number of disappointments, but it also fuels her grit. And on those few occasions when she swings hard and knocks one out of the park—how great does that feel because she took the chance to begin with?

    Don’t Aim to Be the Example of Success—Aim to Live the Dream, Failures and All 

    I judge myself harshly. And those midnight, panic-stricken voice messages I send to my friend Carolyn are proof. Nothing happens quickly. Nothing is easy. Nothing goes the way we think.

    But in the end, if we’re breathing life into those dreams of ours, we’ve already won. We aren’t merely going through the motions. We are in the arena, taking chances, learning lessons, failing forward, getting back up, and squeezing the juice out of how we want each moment to feel.

    And I’ll keep it even more real for you.

    I sometimes feel as though I’ve traded one treadmill for another. It’s in those moments when I back away slowly from my laptop, shove my feet into my hikers, and hit the trails. When I’m feeling overwhelmed and unclear, I literally walk away.

    A full-tilt life is exciting (and exhausting), but it’s not always the one best aligned with our souls. We need to slow down—meander, even—so we can recognize when things are spinning out of control. Our walking can even lead us to our dreams, if only we take the time to put one foot in front of the other.

  • How I Created a Beautiful Life on the Other Side of Burnout

    How I Created a Beautiful Life on the Other Side of Burnout

    “If you don’t give your mind and body a break, you’ll break. Stop pushing yourself through pain and exhaustion and take care of your needs.” ~Lori Deschene

    For forty-five minutes, I lay on my yoga mat in child’s pose, unable to move.

    The exhaustion in my body felt like a thousand kilos, and the ache of failure pricked my eyes with tears.

    Despite all my early morning runs, after-work bootcamps, and restricted meals, my body did not look like the bikini models I saw on Instagram.

    Despite all my energy, efforts, and attention, my romantic relationship had fallen apart. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, he didn’t love me anymore, and I couldn’t understand what I had done wrong.

    Despite my long working hours and high levels of stress, my boss didn’t recognize me, and I had to face the fact that I just wasn’t the talented designer I was trying so hard to be.

    As I wallowed in my failure and the heartbreak of ‘not enough,’ I felt my body pleading with me.

    “Why don’t you love me?” she asked. “Why do you push me so hard? Why is it NEVER enough?”

    I was taken aback, as it was the first time I heard this voice, and it was full of the pain of rejection.

    In that moment, I realized that everything I had been pushing for had been sending the message that I was ultimately unacceptable as I was. I needed to change or be different in order to be loved, valued, and successful.

    The harder I tried to be perfect, to achieve, to prove my worth, the more exhausted, broken, and small I felt. By desperately trying to win other people’s approval, I was actually rejecting and abandoning myself.

    This realization flooded me with grief. What had I done to myself???

    Since this was clearly not working, I made a decision that changed my life.

    “Okay,” I said to my body. “We’re going to do things differently.”

    “From now on, I’m going to listen to you,” I promised. “We are going to do this TOGETHER.”

    As soon as I made this commitment, I felt my body exhale with relief. She had been waiting for this moment my whole life.

    In the months that followed, I left my job, I left my friendships, and I left the home my ex and I had built together.

    I found refuge on my parents’ couch with severe burnout. After years of pushing, my body had finally collapsed.

    My body struggled to walk to the end of the street. Being in a store was so overly stimulating that I felt like I was going to pass out. I couldn’t sleep for months. I had severe stomach pains and terrible migraines, and I couldn’t think straight. My heart was broken. I felt like my life was over.

    It was physically excruciating. It was emotionally devastating. It was the biggest blessing.

    My body was giving me the chance to start again.

    The thing about burnout is that you can never go back to how you were living before. That way was clearly not working: the lifestyle, the thought patterns, the identity, the environments—it was not serving you.

    Burnout burns it all to the ground and forces you to start over.

    My identity used to be a “hardworking, people-pleasing perfectionist addicted to external validation.” If I hadn’t done the inner work to let go of that pattern and completely rewire my identity, I would have ended up straight back in burnout just a few years later (which is, sadly, something that happens to others).

    Trust me, burnout is not something you want to repeat. I promised myself I would NEVER end up in that situation again.

    During my healing journey, I focused on building a relationship with myself and my body. Not one where I commanded and pushed my body, but one where I regularly checked in with her, learned to listen to her, and respectfully honored her needs.

    Every morning, I sat on my meditation cushion and took time to go within.

    What was I feeling?

    How was I speaking to myself? 

    Where was I judging myself?

    What did my body need from me that day?

    My burnout took two years, almost three, to recover from fully. To say I felt impatient to feel “normal” again is an understatement.

    Any time I felt frustration toward my body, I quickly shifted my attitude to compassion and gratitude, recognizing that my body had been through hell and was doing her best to recharge back to optimal health. My impatience was only adding more stress that, honestly, she didn’t need to deal with.

    It was in this way that I learned to love myself, as I was, without all the labels of achievement. Burnout had stripped away everything I had worked so hard for—my career, my relationships, my physique, my home. I had to learn to truly love myself without the badge of productivity.

    Through this loving commitment, my body guided me on how to live a life that was right for me.

    I found I was a Human Design Projector, which is an intuitive guide who needs to manage their energy to stay happy and healthy in this hectic productive-obsessed world. I adjusted my schedule based on my energetic rhythms to include more rest and play in my day (which, admittedly, was not easy at first with my workaholic tendencies, but now I can’t imagine any other way).

    Creating more space allowed me to find my soul’s purpose in teaching others how to connect to their bodies, love themselves unconditionally, and create successful lives in a sustainable way. I created a business based on what I love to do, began coaching women, and held retreats all over the world—without the extreme hustle I had been used to.

    All the pressure to shrink down was gone. Instead of counting calories and pushing my body to the extreme, I focused on nutrition and movement that felt good. I didn’t care if my cellulite was showing or what people thought of the outfits I chose. The space that this opened up in my mind after years of obsession was the most freeing thing ever.

    Learning to love my body changed my entire approach to life. It made me aware of my boundaries for the first time and helped me to create balanced relationships that felt truly fulfilling.

    I went from overworking in a job I hated and over-giving in terrible relationships to running a purpose-led business where I get paid to be myself and surrounding myself with truly supportive people.

    All because my body pulled the breaks on my old life and made me change direction. She showed me there was a more sustainable, more joyful, and more aligned way to make my dreams come true.

    And for that, I am eternally grateful.

  • The Dangers of Safety and How to Live Fully

    The Dangers of Safety and How to Live Fully

    “A ship in a harbor is safe, but that’s not what a ship is built for.” ~John Augustus Shedd

    Growing up in the Midwest in a traditional family steeped in Catholic values, safety was paramount. We adhered to conventional roles: father, mother, brother, and sister, with me as the baby sister.

    My parents were loving, but my mom parented through a lens of fear, constantly worrying about potential dangers. This fierce protection was a testament to her love, yet it ingrained in me the belief that taking the safe route was the only way to navigate life.

    One day, when I didn’t get off the bus because I went to a track meet after school, I was met with a sobbing woman when I got home an hour late. Now, as a mother, I can fully understand this. It was long before cell phones, but she taught me early on that safety was my priority, and I never wanted her to be scared for me again.

    In the Midwest, the traditional path is clear: go to school, come home, play outside with friends, graduate from high school, stay close for college, meet a partner, get married, and have kids. This is the safe plan. The thought of deviating from this path—being thirty, unmarried, or childless—was paralyzing.

    What if I didn’t follow the script? What if I dared to be brave and bold and leave the familiar zip code? What if I yearned for non-traditional roles and longed to explore the world? Who could I have become if I had let my heart lead instead of my fears?

    Safety is a universal desire. We plan for financial security, choose safe neighborhoods, and follow predictable paths. As a coach, I see this pattern repeatedly. Clients stay in marriages longer than they should out of fear of the unknown. They stick with toxic friends or jobs, fearing how their lives might change if they let go.

    This fear surfaces when people want to leave their industry or start their own business, worrying they are too old or lack the skills to succeed independently. Consequently, they live quiet, safe lives, confined by a small glass box that keeps them stuck.

    What if we were taught and supported early on to stretch beyond our comfort zones? To make brave decisions? To put ourselves out there, even at the risk of failing? We could maintain the safety net of “you’re always welcome at home, and home is safe” while also encouraging bold steps—go play, go away to school, travel the world. I often wonder who I would be if I had learned this lesson earlier.

    I followed the traditional plan to a T. I did what was expected and what was safe. I attended a nearby college, graduated, got a job, met a man, got married, and had two children—a boy and a girl. I thrived in business, got promoted, bought a house, and built another. I followed the rules and fit right in. I made friends and, by all accounts, was successful, checking all the boxes.

    But I was in an unhappy marriage, and things on the inside did not reflect the outside. Divorce wasn’t part of the plan. There wasn’t a checkbox for it, so I stayed. It wasn’t until my husband said, “You won’t divorce me, hotshot,” that I decided to let go of the checkbox and let myself take the reins of my life.

    I vividly remember sitting there with a racing heart, feeling like it would beat out of my chest. Did he call me “hotshot?” about our lives?

    The thing is, he was trying to call my bluff. I told him I was unhappy that the years of pain had finally caught up with us, but he knew, or at least he thought, that I would never leave. Because I followed the rules, he felt that we could continue the same abusive path that we had been on for a decade because I would not veer from the good girl path.

    This time, I boldly made the change. I called the lawyer and started the process of filing for divorce. This started my seven-year journey of trying to come back to who I am at my core. What do I want in my life, and am I living for my heart or out of fear?

    Only when I allowed myself to step outside the lines did I truly start living. I feared what others would think, but how could I continue living based on others’ expectations and not on what I wanted for myself? I took the brave step to file for divorce.

    This fear of judgment resurfaced when I wanted to leave my high-income corporate sales job to start my own business.

    I had just started with a company a few months earlier, went through training, and knew this wasn’t going to be a long-term fit. I hated corporate culture and the made-up rules that went along with it. We were governed by rules created out of fear. I knew I wasn’t going to survive in this role. But quitting after I just started was scary, and I agonized over what others would think.

    I knew I wanted to do something so much more, with deeper meaning, with the possibility of helping others. But this, again, was not something that was on the checklist. Start a business? Become a coach? What the heck is a coach anyway? Will people make fun of me behind my back? That thought made me want to play small.

    I explored every possible way to succeed without sharing my plans with those who knew me. Again, there wasn’t a checkbox for this. But I did it anyway.

    Looking back, I realize that staying small in my life has hurt me. I got married before I was ready, remained in a marriage longer than I should have, and worked corporate jobs with chauvinistic men who I wouldn’t say I liked because that is what I was supposed to do.

    My house was pretty, my Facebook pictures looked happy, and my salary grew. By all external accounts, I was a success. But these come at their own costs. Playing safe has confined me, limited my potential, and stifled my dreams.

    I have learned that safety, while comforting, can be dangerous. It can keep us from truly living, experiencing the fullness of life, and discovering who we are meant to be.

    So, I urge you to leap. Be brave. Step out of your comfort zone. Embrace the unknown.

    We are all given one chance here on this earth, and we spend it playing safe. What a shame not to allow your beautiful visions to become a reality. Safety may protect us, but it can also hold us back.

    Let go of the fear and let your heart lead the way. You might stumble, you might fall, but you will also soar. And in the end, you will find that the dangers of safety are far greater than the risks of living boldly.

  • Lessons from a Late Bloomer Who Wanted to Be Famous

    Lessons from a Late Bloomer Who Wanted to Be Famous

    “You are not too old and it is not too late.” ~Unknown

    I’ve been indecisive since I was a child. When I was small, I wanted to be a ballet dancer. My parents even bought me a ballerina cake topper for one of my birthdays. As I grew a little older, I wanted to be a singer, which led me to go to a performing arts high school. I even learned how to read music notes and play a little piano during my time at that school.

    I believe my desire to be a singer was influenced by my experience being bullied in school. I wanted to feel loved and thought I could get that through becoming famous and gaining fans. This is behavior you’d expect from children, as they have such wild imaginations.

    I couldn’t make up my mind on what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I was certain that whatever career I had, it would be a successful one. I was excited about the day I would become a successful grownup.

    By the time I became a legal adult, however, I no longer wanted to be a dancer or singer. I have scoliosis, so that would have made it difficult for me to become a professional ballerina. Dancing was never really my talent anyway. And I don’t have a bad singing voice, but it’s not exactly professional singing material. I still enjoy singing every now and then, though.

    Despite letting go of my childhood dreams, I still wanted to be well known in some way. I just didn’t know how I was going to achieve this. It didn’t matter to me that I was unsure of what career I wanted to go into. I was still young and had time to decide. Time flies, though, and before I knew it, I was a grown adult, pushing forty years old.

    Being indecisive was cute and acceptable when I was a child, but I was a grown adult who was still undecided about her career. I wasn’t even a young adult anymore. I was definitely not where I thought I would be at this age, and I felt embarrassed.

    By forty, people are usually settled in their careers and have at least a few years of experience under their belts. Many celebrities start their careers early and are retired by forty. Even those who don’t retire around that age could retire if they wanted to, because they’ve earned so much.

    This is what I thought was in store for me. I thought by the time I hit twenty-one years old, I would be making a lot of money and helping my parents. With the way the cost of living has gone up, it was a stretch to think I could be so financially secure that young, but I thought for sure I would be there by forty.

    Today, I am still undecided about my career. I am still doing some soul-searching to figure out what I want to do with my life. And I often feel I’m too old to still be struggling with finding a career.

    Many of my peers have established careers already. This often makes me feel terrible about myself, but then I remind myself that I don’t need to be in the same place as my peers or any of the celebrities around my age.

    It’s okay if I don’t have my career figured out yet, and I know I’m not alone in working on and discovering myself later in life.

    One family member of mine loves art, and she does a lot of research on different famous artists. She often shares her research with me, and one particular artist stood out to me—the Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama.

    Yayoi Kusama was born in 1929. She started to receive a lot of attention for her art in the 1960s, but there was a new appreciation for her art in the 1980s. She started to receive even further recognition during the 2000s.

    Yayoi Kusama’s story shows that a person can become successful at any age, even in their older years. Her story is an example to everyone that it is never too late to live your dream.

    She’s not the only artist or celebrity to become successful in her older years.

    Judi Dench is a household name worldwide, but she only started acting on the big screen in her sixties.

    Comedian Lucille Ball started staring in her iconic show, I Love Lucy, in her forties.

    Morgan Freeman played the roles that turned him into a sought-after actor during his fifties.

    The late, critically acclaimed Toni Morrison published her first book, The Bluest Eye, at thirty-nine years old.

    Singer Susan Boyle became a viral sensation at the age of forty-seven thanks to her time on Britain’s Got Talent.

    Many celebrities found acclaim later in life, and their stories are inspiring to me. But I realize now that success doesn’t have to mean notoriety.

    There are lots of people out there who go back to school later in life and find new paths that bring them joy and meaning, enabling them to touch lives regularly.

    I personally have been dealing with depression, and my therapist has changed my life for the better. She is not world-renowned, but she gets fulfillment in life by helping people with mental illness.

    And though I don’t have a career I feel passionate about right now, I’m often told my smile is beautiful, and that it made someone’s day brighter. Maybe that’s its own kind of success.

    There is nothing wrong with fame or desiring it; however, I now know that becoming famous isn’t the only way to be successful and find purpose in life.

    I’m still discovering what my dream is and what I’m meant to do with my life. However, I’m realizing that is okay.

    I’m also realizing that success can mean different things to different people, and there is no timeline for finding passion or purpose.

    So, if you are a late bloomer like me, know that it’s okay. Don’t compare yourself to others. We all move at our own pace, and we all have our own unique path to meaning and making a difference.

  • Feeling Lost or Miserable? Your Heart Knows the Way Through

    Feeling Lost or Miserable? Your Heart Knows the Way Through

    “Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” ~Rumi

    My tear-stained face stared back at me in the mirror. Every Sunday evening was the same. I was overcome with the dread of having to get up the next morning and go to a job that, while good on paper, was slowly sucking my soul. I was twenty-seven years old, and I was completely lost, spending my days doing work that didn’t light me up in any way or form.

    Until I was twenty-five, I had mostly followed my heart in life, doing things I loved that came easily to me—namely, a degree in Spanish and Portuguese, followed by a job teaching English in Japan for three years.

    At the age of twenty-six, I decided I needed to do something “more useful” than teaching languages, so I got a master’s degree in a business-related subject and landed myself the aforementioned soul-sucking corporate job.

    This was the first time I’d followed my head instead of my heart in life, and due to my deeply sensitive nature, it caused me a level of existential pain and darkness I’d never even imagined before.

    There was nothing wrong with the job itself: the people were (mostly) lovely, there were lots of fun, young folks, and we had a lively social life on the weekends. But getting up for work every morning with deep, whole-body dread for the day ahead and spending most of the day feeling like a fish out of water at the office were loud-and-clear messages that I was living out of alignment with my true self.

    However, the job was extremely sought-after and well-paid; I’d worked hard to get there, using most of my savings to pay for business school; and I could see no alternative career option for myself in the near future. I couldn’t just leave without a plan B. I felt completely stuck and deeply miserable.

    My Heart Knew the Way Out of the Darkness

    Luckily, my heart kept nudging me to find things that I loved to do, so I tried a variety of different activities, even if just to make me feel better.

    I knew exercise would help relieve the stress of my new job, so in the first months, I’d go for a 7 a.m. swim at the local pool, a few days a week, before I went to the office. It was an effort, but it boosted my mood and helped me start the day with a positive attitude.

    The job had meant a move to Swindon, a town far away from all my family and friends, so I joined a local women’s football team (soccer, for those of you in North America) to meet people outside of work. The training sessions gave me something to look forward to in the evenings.

    Now, I’m no great shakes as a footballer (understatement!), but running up and down a muddy footy pitch chasing after the ball on Sunday mornings with my teammates, come rain or shine, was just the tonic I needed to get me out of my slump.

    When an opportunity came up to take part in the London Marathon with a charity through work, I signed up immediately because I’ve always loved running and it had been a dream of mine since childhood to do the London Marathon.

    I trained with two guys from the office week after week in all weathers, and the endorphins, the camaraderie, and my improved fitness soon helped me to feel more like my cheery self again.

    These physical activities all got me out of my head and back into my body. They helped me make friends, and they uplifted me and silenced my negative mental chatter, turning my thoughts to more positive ones, which brightened my mood and my general outlook on life.

    The Importance of Dreaming Big

    During my first year in the job, in the depths of my what-the-eff-am-I-doing-here crisis, I met a woman who had been chosen to represent the company on a trip to The Gambia in West Africa. (Our company chose one person each year to visit its charity projects in developing countries.)

    When I asked her how she’d managed to get picked out of the 12,000-strong workforce, she told me, “You’d be surprised, Louisa. Most people think they won’t get chosen, so they don’t even apply.”

    There and then, I felt the spark of possibility ignite in me. I vowed I would apply to represent the company on its charity trip the next year, which turned out to be to Tamil Nadu in southern India.

    India had always had a special place in my heart, and I’d always wanted to visit the country with a meaningful reason for being there, not just as a tourist.

    Reader, I was picked! It was the trip of a lifetime and the realization of a dream I’d had since my teenage years. I participated in community groups in inner city slums and remote villages, visited water projects, helped build toilets, and generally learned about the charity’s work in the region.

    Back in Swindon, I still didn’t love my job, and that Sunday night dread cycle never completely disappeared, but slowly but surely, my feelings toward the company I was working for turned to gratitude and appreciation.

    I had chosen this job because it was a large, international company, in the hope that I’d eventually get to travel or work abroad and use my languages. My chances seemed pretty slim, as I was the world’s worst business analyst, and I still hadn’t kicked the fish-out-of-water feeling of being a linguist masquerading as a businessperson.

    But languages open doors that might otherwise remain closed, and after eighteen months of living and working in Swindon (with the sole—and wonderful—exception of my India trip), I finally got transferred to the international division, which meant six months in Paris followed by a two-year move to beautiful Madrid.

    I was now living in Spain, a country I loved, and using my language skills, but I knew I needed to escape the corporate world and find more fulfilling work that I was actually half-decent at.

    Be Clear on What You Want and the Path Will Appear

    The longer I worked in that job, the clearer one thing became to me—that it was of vital importance to me to find work I loved. The anguish of spending day after day doing work that was so far removed from my “zone of genius and joy” brought great clarity on that front, if nothing else.

    After I switched to the international division of the company, I spent plenty of time alone on flights and in hotel rooms in foreign cities, which was perfect for daydreaming up my next move. I started to make plans, and after two years in Madrid, I finally made my escape from the corporate world.

    I had no clear roadmap of what lay ahead, but I knew I had to follow my joy rather than be miserable doing work I didn’t love. I enrolled at a Spanish university and did postgraduate studies in subjects I was passionate about: Hispanic literature and teaching Spanish as a foreign language.

    In the third year of my postgrad studies, I found work teaching English at a Spanish university. Through the university, I fell into work as a freelancer, translating psychology articles for various university clients and academic journals, which I continue to do and love today. I also started bringing together my passion for writing, positive psychology, and languages to write self-led learning materials for language magazines and online publications.

    It’s been a meandering path, but my work has become more deeply fulfilling as the years have gone on. Recently, I’ve seen a dip in my main work, psychology translations, due to the improvements in translation technology. But twenty years of following my heart, not my head, have shown me that the path always appears, even when the future seems uncertain.

    I am staying focused on what I love and what I’m good at, and I am trusting the path will appear, as it always has. And I’m going to answer the following two questions in my journal to gain even more clarity on my heart’s desires going forward. Care to do this with me, dear reader?

    Question 1: Are you clear on what you want?

    Grab a pen and paper and jot down all the “impossible” dreams you’ve ever had. (They can be in any life area: work, love, family, travel, skills, fun, health, creativity, etc.) What does your heart truly desire?

    Now, just allow yourself to daydream a little. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were possible for you to do some of those things, perhaps in the not-too-distant future, and maybe even all of them eventually?

    You may not know how they might possibly come to fruition, but if you don’t even allow yourself to daydream about the things that light you up, you can be sure as anything they won’t appear in your reality.

    Every great thing that was ever created once started off as an idea or a daydream, so don’t underestimate the importance of spending time on this.

    What tiny steps can you take in the direction of those big dreams? Can you take up a new hobby or volunteer in a different field? Sometimes just the satisfaction you get from taking action in the right direction can change your mood, and perhaps it will even open a door to a future opportunity you never thought possible.

    Question 2: Are you being the you-est you possible?

    Ever wondered what makes you you? Write down the answers to these questions, allowing your pen to write freely and express what your heart knows is true, even if you haven’t allowed yourself to reflect on these things for years (or perhaps even decades).

    What makes you come alive? What makes your heart sing? What could you do until the cows come home, even if no one paid you for it?

    If these questions are hard for you to answer, think back to your childhood self and who you were before adult obligations started to weigh you down and tell you who you should be. Journal on these things until you remember what it is you love and how you’re meant to be showing up in the world.

    Go Forth and Shine Your Unique Light

    Now go out there and be the you-est you possible, my darling. Follow your heart and allow the essence of you to shine through in your daily life, in big and little ways.

    Life is a precious gift, and we’re not here for very long. So take baby steps each day (or each week) to do more of what lights you up, and you will light up the world around you in ways you previously only dreamed of.

    Your heart knows the way, dear one. Get still and listen, then be sure to follow its whisperings.

    Now, what’s one step you can commit to doing this week to follow your heart and do more of what you love in life?

  • Finding Happiness When Your Big Dreams Didn’t Come True

    Finding Happiness When Your Big Dreams Didn’t Come True

    “Everyone who gives up a serious childhood dream—of becoming an artist, a doctor, an engineer, an athlete—lives the rest of their life with a sense of loss, with nagging what-ifs.” ~Glenn Kurtz

    Childhood dreams are a funny thing, aren’t they?

    Our adolescent years are filled with nearly unlimited imagination of what we can achieve growing up. Some people become doctors, presidents, and professional athletes, so why can’t we? It just depends on hard work and occasional lucky breaks to get where you want.

    Reality slowly starts to set in as you grow into your teenage and adult years. Maybe those ambitions are a lot tougher than I thought they’d be. Perhaps I was delusional more than anything.

    Is it all bad, though? Even if we were unrealistic, our dreams and even delusions fed our motivations and made life more fun. Dreaming of going to space or playing at Yankee Stadium is integral to our creativity, so it’s essential not to regret everything.

    What I do regret are the things that were more in my control.

    When you’re a kid, seeing married couples in real life and on the silver screen is natural. As we enter our teenage years, we think dating and marriage will be easy as a natural part of life. It may come easily to some, but it’s become as complicated as quantum physics to me.

    Getting two people on the same page about love and relationships is an uphill battle, to say the least. Even if you get married, the odds of divorce are relatively high. About 44% of American marriages end in divorce, and past relationships have opened my eyes as to why this happens.

    Not every couple can be like Pam and Jim from The Office or Monica and Chandler from Friends. As I’ve learned, putting your love in somebody else’s hands is a tall task. More often than not, you’ll find yourself heartbroken.

    My first real relationship was smooth for a few months until the mask started to slip. Bottling up feelings and avoiding communication create a recipe for disaster. The next go-round would be better after I learned my lesson, right?

    If only I weren’t so naive.

    The next serious relationship wouldn’t come until a couple of years later. While it went better than the first time, the person I tried to love was far too hot and cold. I didn’t have time for someone personifying a Katy Perry song.

    The third time could have been the charm, but I ran into yet another situation of poor communication. After a while, I started to wonder if I was the problem. What responsibility did I bear in my failed relationships?

    The childhood version of me thought love was supposed to be easy, but it’s far from a linear process. You must be ready to deal with the ups and downs to sustain a long-term relationship with someone.

    I’ve learned a little more about life and myself with each failed relationship. Additionally, I compare how I view relationships now and how I saw them as a teenager.

    In high school, I was desperate for love and attention. I had never had a long-lasting relationship until college, so I longed for that feeling.

    So, what’s changed? The difference between now and high school is I have learned to love myself.

    You can’t love another person until you love yourself, which has been a hard pill to swallow. However, I am better off with this mantra because now I’m more confident and perfectly fine being alone.

    Now, over a decade has passed since that first relationship, and I’ve had plenty more experience. Some good, some bad, and some painful to even revisit. Still, I’ve yet to find “the one” that the younger me dreamed was out there.

    Will that relationship ever come? I’ll survive either way because I’ve prepared myself with love and care. While it may sound selfish, I’ve realized I am the most important person in my life—nobody can take that away from me.

    I love myself by eating a mostly healthy diet, focusing on my fitness, and surrounding myself with supportive family and friends. What more could I reasonably ask for?

    Another childhood delusion I’ve dealt with in adulthood is my dream of wealth. Just like our experience with relationships, we see people with extravagant lifestyles in real life and in media. Even if we didn’t get that in childhood, we aspire to work hard and live like rich people someday.

    Why can’t I be the one on House Hunters looking at million-dollar homes? In my younger years, I envisioned yearly trips to France, Japan, Disney World, and everywhere in between.

    It’s another case where reality hits you in the face as you age. You can dream of wealth, but it’ll stay in your subconscious. You’ll need to win Powerball a few times to be Bill Gates-rich.

    Money is nice because it gives you more freedom to do things and accomplish your goals. However, I’ve realized it’s not everything. Money doesn’t make me happy—I can take responsibility for that.

    To be clear, I wouldn’t mind winning the lottery or hitting the jackpot at the casino occasionally. However, there’s so much more to my life than an impressive bank statement.

    I have a career with short and long-term goals I want to accomplish. My professional growth could and hopefully will lead to more money, but dollar signs aren’t my primary concern.

    I’ve learned that money comes and goes in life, but your happiness shouln’t depend on it. I make a living doing something I genuinely enjoy, and as long as I can pay the bills doing so, that’s enough for me. I embrace my working life and relish sharing my thoughts with others.

    You know what makes me happy? Instead of aspiring for more money, I take pride in being smart with the money I have while enjoying life and experiences with my friends.

    Who needs a multimillion-dollar mansion with spiral staircases and gold spoons? Having a smaller home with people who care about you is invaluable.

    Another fixation I had in childhood was my aspiration to be a professional athlete.

    I knew football and baseball weren’t for me at an early age. I didn’t need a scout to tell me that after watching my games, but basketball was different for me.

    I got my first hoop in fourth grade, which helped me fall in love with the game. Basketball was a sport I could play by myself and train to be just like the pros. 

    Growing up, I thought I could be the next Dirk Nowitzki or Kevin Garnett. Their ability to score from inside and outside the paint inspired me to work on my game in the driveway.

    However, reality quickly set in when I got to middle school. A lot of kids were much taller, faster, and stronger than I was then. The intimidation overwhelmed me and prevented me from trying to make the team.

    I don’t regret not trying because life took me in different directions once I got to high school. Juggling basketball would not have been wise for my academic priorities back then. Plus, my fitness made me nowhere near ready to run up and down the court for two hours.

    Regardless, I quickly threw cold water on any hopes of playing professional basketball because the odds of making it are so low. Even if I’d somehow been the star of my high school team, I would’ve had to get a spot on a college team or international league, too. That’s not an easy task.

    Then, if you’re lucky enough to play college basketball, you can forget about going pro unless you have other-worldly talent. Research shows only 2% of college athletes make the pros, and I didn’t want to try out for my middle school team.

    Nowadays, I get my basketball fill by playing in a local YMCA league with some friends. We take the game seriously, but we play for the love of the sport—not because we think we deserve spots on NBA rosters.

    Basketball is one of the hobbies I use to keep myself going, and I’ll admit, I’ve legitimately gotten good. Do I still pretend I’m going one-on-one with professional players? Yes, but I’m now well aware of reality.

    Speaking of hobbies, let’s talk about music. Many of us dreamed of winning American Idol when we were young and thought we had a chance.

    Your voice may sound incredible when singing in the shower, but how do you sound on a microphone in front of thousands watching?

    As a kid, I thought I could be a legitimate music artist. Learning to play instruments in high school certainly fueled the dream, though at times I let my imagination run ahead of me.

    I used recording software in high school to produce a song I had written. It was far from something you’d see at a professional label, but I tried to make it work. When I played it back, I was proud of what I’d created.

    Ultimately, what started as a hobby never became a career, but I’m okay with that. I enjoy what I do and am satisfied by creating for the fun of it.

    I daydreamed of Radio City Music Hall, Madison Square Garden and Shea Stadium concerts. For now, I’ll entertain the imaginary audience in my shower and the small crowds on karaoke night.

    As a child, you think the world is your oyster. Your imagination runs wild with how far you believe life will take you.

    I dreamed of hitting buzzer-beating shots and falling in love with the first person I found. However, it’s not that easy.

    The good thing is we can still get a lot out of life if we find things we truly enjoy. I love my job, hobbies, family, and friends, and that’s good enough for me.

    The adult version of me has realistic goals, both short and long-term. I get my happiness by caring for myself and doing what I need to find satisfaction in life.

    While playing professional basketball would’ve been nice, my only regret is not learning to love myself earlier. Now, I protect my peace and live a happier life.

  • Finding Magic in the Dreams That Didn’t Come True

    Finding Magic in the Dreams That Didn’t Come True

    “Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us.” ~Steven Pressfield

    I was born a decade too late in 1975 in a small Pennsylvania town. By the time I was old enough to buy a record, the legendary rock and roll culture of the 1960s and 70s was a distant memory. To some, it might have even seemed uncool by then. But to me, a teen in the late 80s, the era of sex, drugs, and rock and roll was everything.

    I spent hours writing song lyrics in my flowered journal, watching MTV, and poring over Circus and Rolling Stonemagazines, trying to catch glimpses of the personal lives of my favorite rock stars. I strummed my guitar and pretended I was Janis Joplin. I was a dreamer, obsessed with poetry and music and the romantic notion of traveling across the country to see my favorite bands.

    At twelve years old, I took a bus from my small town to Philadelphia to see the band Heart. At fourteen, my parents drove me hours away to see Stevie Nicks. Then, in my late teens, I drove all the way to Ohio and Las Vegas, Nevada to see her again. No distance ever seemed too far to travel for my favorite music.

    Back then, I envisioned myself following bands and living a carefree, hippie lifestyle where my only concern was getting to my favorite artist’s next show. And most of all, I dreamed about a concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater in Colorado.

    But somehow, by my early twenties, that dream felt out of reach. I met a man, got married, and had a daughter. Our life was filled with routines that were so different from the vagabond life I’d envisioned for myself. I traded spontaneity for discipline and gave up my dreams of traveling for the security of a stable life and a house in a good neighborhood.

    Eventually, the responsibilities of marriage, career, and never-ending to-do lists made my dream of going to Red Rocks feel more and more like only that—a dream.

    And it went on like that for seventeen years. Then, after years of doing what I thought I was supposed to do, my husband and I decided to separate.

    I embarked on life as a single mom. And as I did, I reflected on the last two decades. We’d married young and, in retrospect, I realized we probably weren’t a good match. He was a real estate attorney with a strong personality and even stronger opinions. I gave our marriage the best of me that I could, but it felt like I was always being who he wanted me to be.

    I had lost myself. I’d lost sight of my own hopes and ambitions. I’d never even made it to Red Rocks.

    In 2016, newly single, I felt eager to date again, so I downloaded Bumble and set up a profile. Not long after, I matched with Jerry. He lived on the West Coast but was in my hometown of Philadelphia for a Dead and Co. concert—the same one I had tickets to.

    Jerry had told me he’d followed the band as a teenager, but he hadn’t stopped going to concerts like I had. He’d held onto his dream and seen them at least 500 times. It was almost like he’d lived the life I’d imagined for myself way back when. We seemed to be kindred spirits. But I had a type, and that was someone who was within a fifteen-mile radius, so I decided not to meet up with Jerry at the concert, despite being intrigued.

    Jerry and I kept in touch over the next four years, although I never held out any hope for anything more. He was a divorced man with children, on a dating app; I assumed he’d meet somebody close to home, and I’d eventually stop hearing from him. But to my surprise, he reached out periodically, often to talk about what was happening in the world of Grateful Dead concerts. It seemed he wanted to stay on my radar. He was always polite and respectful, never creepy or pushy.

    Jerry was ten years older than me, but somehow reminded me of my younger self. He had a refreshingly youthful spirit, which was completely different than any man I ever dated. Like me, he had a corporate job, but he didn’t let that stop him from following his band across the country. Music was a huge part of his life, like mine.

    We kept in touch, and by the summer of 2021, the pandemic restrictions had started to loosen. Outdoor events resumed. I’d been itching to go to an outdoor concert, and that’s when Jerry told me he had an extra ticket for Dead and Co. Honestly, when I accepted the ticket, it wasn’t to finally meet Jerry in person. I was just tired of being stuck at home.

    I didn’t have any expectations. But the first time I saw Jerry smile in person, I had this feeling my life was about to get a lot more adventurous. And I realized I liked him. He was intelligent, polite, and handsome, and he loved all the same music that I had loved for years.

    After that first concert, Jerry told me he was falling for me and that he wanted to see me again on his travels with the band. When I reminded him that I was a single mom with a full-time job and couldn’t follow a band, he offered to take me to Red Rocks for my birthday.

    I couldn’t say no. Jerry was handing me my childhood dream on a silver platter, and I wanted to eat until I was full.

    He pursued me relentlessly, and it was exhilarating and romantic. Nothing like that had happened in my adult life before him. We spoke daily, and our adventures over the next two years were amazing.

    But about two years into our relationship, I began to realize that Jerry and I might not be forever. We led such different lives. His was wild and interesting; mine was more predictable. And as much as I loved his spontaneity, I began to see how chaotic his personal life was. I started to wonder: Was I in love with Jerry, or was I in love with the way he had stayed connected to his childhood dreams as an adult?

    After two years of seeing each other periodically and talking daily, the facade started to fade. The rose-colored glasses were off, and I was seeing things more clearly. While professionally successful, Jerry jumped from job to job. He lived in constant drama with his family, and all his traveling took a toll on his health and his relationships. I also started to wonder if there were other women like me in his life.

    I never doubted that Jerry cared deeply for me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he had women like me in several states. I never asked him. I wanted to stay in my bliss, living out my childhood dream of music and love—to stay in the bubble of contentment and happiness with what we had, with one exception.

    I wanted to see more of him. And, ultimately, I wanted to know that I was important to him.

    Jerry couldn’t do that. He had a hard time committing to anybody or anything other than the band. I understood. It was that lifestyle that drew me to him in the first place, but I couldn’t continue a relationship like that.

    The last time I saw Jerry, as I was dropping him off at the airport to fly home, I started to cry uncontrollably. I realized that the free-spiritedness of dating Jerry had a dark side: uncertainty. Every time he left, I never knew if or when I would see him again. Like the bands I had loved to follow, everything was on his terms. He decided when, where, and how, while I just showed up. It was incredible, but I wanted—needed—more.

    When I told Jerry that I wanted more commitment, I thought for sure that he would choose me. It’s what I would have done. But he didn’t. And it broke my heart. At least for a while.

    Once my relationship with Jerry ended, I had time to reflect. I realized that in our pragmatic world it’s all too easy to exist on autopilot. Still, we shouldn’t abandon our childhood dreams because they connect us to our inner truth and reveal the magic that surrounds us—and not only in iconic destinations like Red Rocks or in grand gestures like love-bombing and being swept off my feet.

    Magic also exists in the beauty of a cotton candy sunset while driving home after a long day at work. It exists in the time I spend with the people I love, like my ninety-year-old mother, whose short-term memory no longer exists, but when we sit hand-in-hand and play Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” we smile and sing every word and feel joyful in the moment, even if we’re off-key.

    Magic surrounds me when my ex-husband, who I consider a friend now, and I watch our magnificent eighteen-year-old daughter live her life, and beam with pride at the amazing young woman she’s become.

    Most days, though, I find that when I listen to music, attend concerts, and spend time writing, those are the moments I know who I am, and my childhood dreams come to life.

    And, of course, falling in love with Jerry taught me a valuable lesson:

    Relationships don’t have to be long-lasting to be impactful. Sometimes, a short-lived experience, like those concerts I chased all my life, could contain years-worth of depth, love, and meaning.

    And, I learned, dating doesn’t have to lead to a ring. Sometimes it leads to living a childhood dream and falling in love under a clear Colorado sky.

    Sometimes, that’s enough.

  • Daring to Fail: Uncovering the Hidden Strengths in Our Struggles

    Daring to Fail: Uncovering the Hidden Strengths in Our Struggles

    “Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.” ~Robert F. Kennedy

    How do you define failure?

    When something doesn’t go as planned?

    When someone tells you they don’t like what you’ve made?

    When an outcome doesn’t match your expectations?

    I find it increasingly important to define failure. Which seems like a weird thing to do because we’re all trying to avoid it. Even talking about failure feels like it has the power to bring about failure.

    No one wants to be labelled a failure. And it’s because of that underlying fear that we end up stuck, miserable, and afraid of the very actions that will release us from that doubt.

    Here’s a glimpse into a story I often find myself repeating. I come up with an idea, I get feedback, and I start building. I’m acting from a place of creative excitement where my juices are flowing. I’m swept away by the belief that this idea could change the trajectory of my life.

    And then… the outcome doesn’t match my expectations. It doesn’t reach as many people as I thought it would. Or it isn’t as profitable as I thought it might be.

    It bloody guts me.

    I grasp what I think is the issue. I ruminate on what should have been. I get pissed off because it feels like I’m back at ground zero.

    Am I doomed for failure?

    That depends on the choice I make next.

    Do I give up?

    Then you best believe I’m a failure.

    Because the life we want reveals itself by taking another step forward.

    As Winston Churchill said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”

    You’ve heard of the Fortune 500, right? It’s a term that gets thrown around a lot, especially in business circles.

    The Fortune 500, an annual leaderboard published by Fortune magazine, ranks the 500 most revenue-generating companies in the United States. It’s a snapshot of business success. Yet, a glance from 1955 to 2019 reveals only 10.4% of companies remained on the list.

    This stark turnover underscores a crucial lesson: Success is fleeting without continual adaptation.

    And therein lies peace of mind.

    The point isn’t to climb the peak and stay there. These places that feel like destinations are nothing more than sandcastles, eventually washing away with the tide.

    The point is to use what you’ve learned and apply it to your next adventure.

    So how do we decide which direction to take after a “failure”?

    How can we know which choice will lead us to the best possible version of our lives?

    Failure = feedback.

    We can only tell where something is in relation to something else.

    Putting in the effort means we have something to compare and contrast it to.

    There’s a tendency to focus on what the tiny sliver of companies did to succeed, but far more can be gleaned from what the majority didn’t do and why they disappeared.

    What did they stop doing?

    What did they foolishly ignore because they wanted to be right?

    Why did they stop asking questions?

    Why couldn’t they see their blind spots?

    Whether it’s a failing business, someone who has plateaued with their health goals, or a parent who can’t connect with their teenager, they all share one commonality that led to their failure: They stopped seeking feedback.

    Meaning they no longer put in effort. The one and only action that gives us clarity.

    I remind myself of this when I’m hyper-focused on the outcome. I feel like a helpless failure because I’m ignoring the actions that will change the outcome: the inputs.

    Thomas J. Watson, a former chairman and CEO of IBM, identified fear of failure as the reason we don’t experience momentum in our lives: “Would you like me to give you a formula for success? It’s quite simple, really. Double your rate of failure. You are thinking of failure as the enemy of success. But it isn’t at all. You can be discouraged by failure, or you can learn from it, so go ahead and make mistakes. Make all you can. Because remember that’s where you will find success.”

    Don’t like the taste of your spaghetti bolognese sauce (the outcome)? Change the ingredients (the inputs).

    Here’s the lesson I’m still learning: This takes time. The most effective way to change the outcome is by changing one input at a time. If I switch out all the ingredients at once, I’m back to playing a guessing game.

    But if I try San Marzano tomatoes instead of diced tomatoes? Oh, hot damn. We’re cooking up something delicious, and now I understand what brings me one step closer to the outcome I want.

    In the context of my creative pursuits, instead of discarding a project, I engage in more discussions to understand what isn’t working. I ask: Have I offered a valuable solution to a widespread problem? Have I demonstrated how my solution works? Then, did I adjust the project and clearly convey the changes to those who provided feedback? This keeps me on track without guesswork, acknowledging that the first iteration, untested, often fails.

    It feels a hell of a lot less daunting to approach failure like an experiment.

    Transform failure into a laboratory. Each misstep is an experiment, a finding. Adjust one input at a time, observe the change, and inch closer to your desired outcome. This week, change one ingredient in your strategy, whether at work, in relationships, or in personal goals. Observe, learn, iterate.

    Life is a constant iteration, a series of experiments where failure morphs into feedback, driving us closer to the life we envision. Remember that every step forward, no matter how small, is a step boldly taken toward your dreams.

  • How to Let Go of Your Dream When It’s Time to Move On

    How to Let Go of Your Dream When It’s Time to Move On

    “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

    There’s something I find rarely talked about in discussions about letting go, but I notice all the time. It’s not the release from letting go of outdated stuff. It’s not grieving the loss of loved ones. It’s not healing from trauma. All of these precious topics are talked about and should be more so.

    What I find rarely discussed is the letting go of past versions of oneself—often versions you’ve worked tirelessly to become. This is really the crux of clutter clearing work. It gives us back our birthright to reinvent ourselves throughout our life—to experience birth and death cycles to their fullest.

    Last week in yoga class the teacher said, “We shed our skin more than snakes do.” Ain’t that the truth! Whether we notice or not, we’re constantly evolving. Struggle can arise when we resist this universal truth. When we forget that the only constant in life is change, then change sucks. Then life can get stagnant, full of internal resistance, which is often reflected in our homes and workspaces.

    As I’ve gained more and more years of observing people of all ages in my line of work, I’ve recognized it’s letting go of past versions of ourselves that trips us up.

    There’s one version of myself that comes to mind, which was excruciating to let go. It was being a ballerina.

    I remember being around six years old, kneeling in my bedroom, praying, “Dear God, please let me be a soloist with the Boston Ballet.”

    Fast-forward twelve years, and I’ve sacrificed my entire childhood and adolescence to the art form. Elite gymnast-level training is very similar to what kids do in the ballet world. From age eight, my teachers let me (and my mother) know I had talent and promise. I was hooked, and it became my identity.

    All the countless hours of raw hard work in the studio and on stage didn’t come close to what it took to let that identity go.

    People receive beautiful support in attaining their dreams. But what about letting go of their dreams? When one knows it’s time to lay a part of themselves down, unconditional consolation and support is arguably needed even more than when one is building something.

    Loss hurts. Death hurts. Whether the dream was realized or not, grieving is most efficient and least painful when one is witnessed and held. That’s just the way we and, more specifically, our nervous systems work. And that’s why I love being there with someone who’s letting something go, reminding them that it’s okay and I’ll be right there with them through this transition.

    The leading authority on the intersection of women, wealth, and power, Barbara Huson, shares, “Clinging to the security of the familiar prevents us from discovering what awaits us in the future. The ledges of our lives offer the illusion of safety, but in truth their only value is to keep us hanging. These ledges take many forms, both concrete and intangible. They can look like unfulfilling jobs, unpleasant relationships, inappropriate goals, untrue beliefs, unhealthy habits, or bottled-up emotions.”

    When it comes to laying down a version of ourselves, we are terrified. The amount of anxiety, depression, and paralysis experienced—I’ve come to learn that not all of it is necessary. We can’t blame ourselves for how we deal (or don’t deal) with transitions these days.

    In mainstream culture this fact of life is essentially swept under the rug. “Move on” is the dominant message we receive. But how? Here’s what I recommend in a nutshell:

    1. Acknowledge and articulate what you are letting go.
    2. Process it. Grieve it.
    3. Treat yourself like you would a very dear friend (self-compassion).

    Acknowledge and articulate what you are letting go.

    Speaking it out loud to a trusted loved one, in your own words, can be liberating. Writing it out in your journal can be a potent dose of clarity. This is particularly helpful with letting go of versions of ourselves, which are innately not as concrete or easy to articulate.

    Process it. Grieve it. 

    Step one above actually carries you right into step two. Have you heard the phrase “To heal you must feel?” Designate some time to slow down. Carve out time and space to just be and feel the uncomfortable emotions. There is no one-size-fits-all timeline for this.

    A friend who’s a therapist recently told me, “The way one figures out how to process [emotions/trauma/loss] is as unique as their fingerprint.” I responded, “Yes, and it’s figuring out what it will look like for you that is part of the healing process.” Some excellent resources as a starting point are:

    • Transitions by William Bridges, PhD
    • The Grief Recovery Handbook by John W. James and Russell Friedman
    • Seeing a certified therapist or mental health counselor. I personally recommend someone who specializes in inner child work or EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization & Reprocessing)

    Treat yourself like you would a very dear friend (with self-compassion).

    Throughout this shedding of an outdated version of yourself, the softer, kinder, and gentler you are, the less painful it will be!

    Snakes don’t rip their dying scales off; they accept the gentle sloughing off of what cells no longer serve them. If one branch of a tree is struggling, the tree slowly lets it wither and die, in order to become stronger and able to grow in new directions.

    When it comes down to the biophysical level, you are more like a snake or a tree than you may have considered. Let the unaffected ease of nature and the human ability for self-compassion be your guideposts.

    In the grand scheme of things, this is what we’ve lost—the healthy relationship between consuming and releasing, growing and decomposing, acquiring and letting go, on the physical, emotional, and spiritual level.

    But if we unlock this innate knowing once again inside ourselves, there’s no stopping how strong, wise, and fulfilled we can become.

    What are the versions of yourself that have been the hardest to let go of so far in your life? Maybe who you were in a particular career? Going from single to married with kids? Being a people-pleaser? I would love to hear your story. Please feel free to reach out.

  • How My Divorce Was the Portal to My Greatest Dreams

    How My Divorce Was the Portal to My Greatest Dreams

    “The way of love is not a subtle argument. The door there is devastation. Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall, and falling, they are given wings.” ~Rumi

    You can create your dream life from devastation.

    I speak from first-hand experience.

    On Thanksgiving Day, my husband knelt before me and said he didn’t think he loved me anymore and didn’t think he wanted to have children. He had flown in that day from our  home in NYC to see me perform in a Christmas musical in Salt Lake City. Both being working actors, we hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

    His unpacked suitcase was sitting in the living room, standing against the wall. And even though we had been trying to get pregnant for the last year and a half, I placed all of my attention on his specific word “think.”

    It wasn’t an absolute!

    He wasn’t coming to me and asking for a divorce, or saying he wanted out; he just didn’t “think” he wanted these things.

    So, even though I felt like the ground was going to swallow me whole, I went into hyperdrive.

    I was willing to do anything to stay in my marriage.

    I finally confessed to my husband that I had an affair too. I had been keeping this secret inside of me for four years and told him I wasn’t in love with this other man, and the affair actually showed me I wanted to stay married to my husband.

    It didn’t matter that my husband’s face darkened when I shared this. I was telling the truth finally and letting him know I wasn’t perfect and I knew how he felt.

    I took my husband’s phone, found the number of the girl he was having an affair with, and told her to stop talking to him. I threatened her, saying I would tell everyone she was a husband stealer.

    It didn’t matter that my husband went into a rage because I had contacted her. I felt justified. I was doing what was necessary.

    The next day, on Black Friday, after my husband slept on the couch, I made him get on a plane back home.

    It didn’t matter that, as working actors, we had spent most of the year away from each other or that I had felt panicked for months that something was wrong. He needed to go home, get his life together, and recommit to our marriage.

    When I arrived home from my theater job weeks later, I immediately found a couples therapist so we could work this out.

    It didn’t matter that my husband spent most of the time avoiding the deeper questions and refused to let his therapist speak to our couples’ therapist. I felt I was doing the right thing. 

    I could make it work.

    I could turn this around.

    So I called his parents and best friend, pleading with them to help convince him to stay. I then crawled under the pull-out couch and refused to come out until my husband said he loved me.

    I stopped eating and locked myself in the bedroom. I canceled all our travel plans for the holidays so we could just be isolated at home together.

    I even told the man I was having an affair with to never contact me again.

    I could do this. Until our final couples therapy session, when instead of answering the question of why he wanted to leave the marriage, he just talked about how amazing his girlfriend was.

    Each comment caused me to curl into the fetal position in agony. I had never felt so invisible in my life. He didn’t seem to see me shrink and break right beside him on the couch.

    Nothing I was doing was working.

    So, when we left the therapy office, I told my husband to go home and pack his bags.

    I then hired our couples therapist as my own and went to the bookstore to buy a book on divorce.

    And the first thing the therapist said to me was, “You must be exhausted.”

    And something within me broke.

    A dam that had been built for years holding my life together. Holding a lot of lies together.

    The lie that we were happy.
    The lie that we both wanted to have children and create a family.
    The lie that we both wanted to grow as a couple.

    And the biggest lie of all—that it was my job alone to make this marriage work.

    We were both such great actors in this marriage. I had always thought he was a better actor than me, but I suddenly realized my talent was far more advanced.

    Sitting on my therapist’s couch, I wept. I wept in the way that I had needed to for years. I acknowledged that I had been the driving force in our marriage.

    I had been the cheerleader, the motivator, and had done everything I could to ignore the fact that I wasn’t happy, and hadn’t been for a long time.

    I allowed the dam to break and the water to flow finally.

    I asked for help.

    I stopped trying to control my marriage and let it fall apart.

    The waves took me, shooting water up my nostrils and tossing me upside down. My whole body was submerged in the grief that I couldn’t stop.

    I had to accept this was out of my control.

    And then, when I was washed up on the shore, with my face down in the sand, my mouth opened and I took a breath.

    Deeply.

    And an image came forth.

    An image of a family.
    An image of a loving partner holding our child.
    An image of all of us smiling with ease.

    And slowly, with great care, I lifted myself up and wrapped my arms around myself with love.

    A love that had been missing in my marriage.

    And I vowed to heal from my divorce and learn what it meant to be in a healthy relationship where I wasn’t trying to control everything.

    The following year when Halloween arrived, I went to the store and saw a pair of white wings. I borrowed red clothes from some friends and dressed up as something entirely new.

    A phoenix.

    Placing the wings on my back, I felt my shoulders relax.

    I was navigating the single scene for the first time in my life and was practicing something very radical for me.

    Self-compassion.

    Those wings were thrown away a few years later when I moved in with my fiancé, and replaced with red wings I wore the Halloween before we adopted our daughter.

    “The way of love is not a subtle argument. The door there is devastation.”

    That moment of being on your knees, of feeling like your heart is literally tearing apart in your chest, can actually be a portal to the life you have always desired.

    Simply because, when our hearts are broken, we soften.

    We become deeply vulnerable, and our guard comes down.

    We may rail to the heavens shaking our fist and exclaiming, “This is NOT what I want!”

    And in that moment, we can suddenly see what we DO want.

    Because the situation we are in is so painful, there is actually this radical moment of honesty that can arise that wouldn’t have if we were still in the relationship.

    Especially since when we are in relationships, we are usually spending all of our energy on staying in it.

    But when it is slipping through our fingers and there is nothing we can do…then the real magic begins.

    While going through a divorce after fifteen years of marriage was excruciating, it did light the fire within me for what I wanted more than anything, which was to create a family.

    Because of that heartbreak, I gave my full energy to healing from the divorce so I could call in a very different man and marriage that would support a family.

    The truth was, I was not living my dream life in my first marriage. I was just trying to make it work every day, and completely blind to the truth of my relationship.

    Going through heartbreak can help you see the truth.

    And finally learn that you are capable of creating what you most desire.

  • How to Draw Your Way to a Life You’ll Love

    How to Draw Your Way to a Life You’ll Love

    “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” ~Albert Einstein

    We all know the basic script we are encouraged to follow in life—work hard at school, then go to university or get a good job. Conform and fit in and everything will be fine.

    I did well at the first part; however, by my early twenties, the “everything will be fine” bit wasn’t happening for me. Far from it. I had been prepared for a “basic script” life, but I wasn’t happy by any means, and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

    When I left school in the UK, before going to university, I drove an old Bedford van with some friends from London to Turkey. It was a pretty wild trip. We met others on the road who were returning from Afghanistan, India, and Asia. I was enthralled by the stories they shared and remember thinking to myself, “That sounds like living. That’s what I want to do.”

    I returned to the UK and started university in Edinburgh; however, a burning desire to complete the travel that I dreamed of developed. Some friends and I bought an old Land Rover and spent every spare minute refurbishing it in a friend’s garage. We made a pact to spend a year driving overland from the UK to Australia, despite the voiced opposition from well-meaning parents. As soon as we graduated, and after a year of work to earn enough money, we hit the road.

    I was fascinated by the people we met and the variety of cultures and spiritual traditions we encountered as we traveled across Europe, the Middle East, India and Nepal, Asia, and then Australia. It sparked a lifelong interest and study of people, history, religion, and the gnostic wisdom that sits behind every religion.

    I met a kindred spirit In Australia, who became my life partner, and we both had a similar longing to live life on our own terms.

    We decided to embark on a journey of self-development together. We traveled extensively, studied yoga in Sri Lanka, and learned to meditate with Tibetan monks. We read countless books and attended every self-development workshop we could. It was an amazing time in our lives.

    I realized that, although I understood the principles of the physical world from my engineering degree, I was clueless about the unseen, metaphysical world. The inner realm of thoughts, emotions, values, and beliefs were a complete mystery to me. As was the world of quantum physics and the consciousness of the universe.

    No one taught me any of that at school, and I’m pretty sure it is the same for you. I tackled this gap in my knowledge by applying my analytical engineering skills to the study of metaphysics, which is how I became known as a metaphysical engineer—someone who makes the complex unseen world easy to understand and navigate.

    We settled in Australia and started a family, so I began to build a career in the corporate world. As a senior manager in the oil and gas then the computer industries, I was challenged with managing teams of people of whom peak performance was expected, with zero training budget.

    Out of sheer necessity, I began to coach my teams using the self-development principles I had learned to see if they could help us achieve our business goals. It worked and, in fact, we far exceeded our targets many times over. Other managers approached me to train their teams once they saw the success we were having.

    I realized then that empowering people was my real passion. I loved coaching people, and I was good at it. I made the decision to quit corporate life and build my own mentoring and coaching business.

    While upskilling for this new chapter in my life, I attended a course where the facilitator recounted an experience she’d had while running a workshop on the long-term future of Australia’s Barrier Reef.

    There were many vested interests represented in the room, many arguments, and no agreements. Then an Aboriginal Elder walked quietly to the front of the room and drew a picture that linked the various interests into one vision. The facilitator recalled that the ensuing energy in the room was incredible as the group began to discuss how the vision could be achieved.

    Something clicked for me that day. I had heard the phrase “a picture paints a thousand words,” but I had never thought about a life or business in terms of a graphical vision.

    I returned home and drew my vision for my life—a map of the world for my new mentoring and coaching business, as I envisioned it as a global business. I stared at my vision every day and drew on my knowledge of physical and metaphysical principles to make my vision a reality.

    Over the next twenty-eight years, I was invited to work in thirty countries across five continents in hundreds of organizations, empowering thousands of people. My simple drawing became a reality.

    In my study of metaphysics, I had learned that a vision has an energetic pulling power that attracts the events, people, and coincidences that bring the vision into the physical world. The key skill of developing a graphical vision of future success became a hallmark of my workshops in business and government.

    In 2017, I decided to condense my learnings into a toolkit that anyone could access globally. I drew this vision below of empowering people around the world with an online program.

    As you can see, you don’t need to be Picasso; a simple drawing of your vision will do. The second image of my vision was created by a colleague using Canva. So you don’t need to be a graphic design expert either to create a vision!

    The key is to place your vision where you’ll see it every day as a visual reminder. It will motivate you like nothing else can. I am astounded at the people, events, and circumstances that continue to show up to help bring my Life Journey Skills program vision into reality.

    That’s not to say everything has come easily to me. This isn’t a magic bullet. We still need to put in the work. We’ll still face obstacles. We’ll still need to push through phases of difficulty and uncertainty. But a graphical life vision can help us believe in our vision and stay committed to the path of bringing it to life.

    My uncle was a keen sailor, and my mother suffered from seasickness. He said to me when I was young, “David, if we are out sailing in rough water and you feel queasy, don’t look at the bottom of the boat or at the waves. That makes you feel worse. Just look at the horizon. Why? Because it’s your stable reference point.”

    When the waves of life are getting a bit rough and we’re feeling queasy about life, a stable reference point can steady us and give us the strength to go on. It can keep us less focused on what we don’t want—all the struggles we’re currently facing and all the worst-case scenarios we imagine for the future—and more focused on what we do want. And that’s the key to staying the course so that we bring our vision to life.

    My advice to you is to have a go at creating a graphical life vision. Block out the ”shoulds,” rewrite the script, and live your life the way you want to live it.

    Be bold, be brave, and go for it!

    —

    Click here to access David’s FREE mini course, Win at Life. In this short program, David draws on the laws of physics and metaphysics to help you navigate challenges and find your way to a more fulfilling life.

    Thank you to Golden Thread Media, this month’s site sponsor, for this wonderful free offer!

  • How I Found the Courage to Leave My Unfulfilling Job

    How I Found the Courage to Leave My Unfulfilling Job

    “‘What if I fall?’ Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?” –Erin Hanson

    Have you ever considered how much you’d be willing to tolerate before feeling forced to leave a workplace?

    In this economy, people wonder whether leaving their jobs to preserve their mental and physical health without another lined up is worth it if it means financial insecurity. So many people feel stuck in their jobs, and I was no exception.

    I told myself any money was better than no money, so I stayed with a job that made me miserable.

    After spending several years with the company, I thought I should’ve been paid more than what I was getting, but I lacked the confidence to bring it up to my boss.

    Also, the working environment grew hostile over time. I thought I had no room for error—it all had to be perfect. I had to get it all right on the first try without asking questions, or else I would feel like my job was at risk.

    I say it was my thinking because that’s important to differentiate—how you feel about a situation versus what others tell you to feel. Everyone has their own perceptions and feelings, but when you feel uncomfortable in a specific role, you have to ask yourself: Do I need to change, or does my workplace need to change?

    Or do I need to walk away from it entirely?

    I had to ask myself: How badly do I want to change? Will it alter my experience at work?

    After confronting myself, I had to recognize whether I felt comfortable confronting my boss about my feelings. Would it have the outcome I wanted? Would it assist my co-workers or future employees in their journeys? Even more important, was I willing to put myself out there for the chance of something different happening?

    Next, I had to consider my own feelings. I tend to avoid confrontation because it often isn’t worth the anxiety it brings. It’s disheartening when no talks yield the result you want.

    So I had to think to myself, and it took a while for me to decide the answer. Did anything make me want to stay at the job, even if the discussion wasn’t fruitful?

    Ultimately, I decided to stay at my workplace. While I didn’t thoroughly enjoy what my workplace offered, I loved what I did. I stayed because I felt like I was making a difference.

    Things were fine for a while—especially once I accepted that “it is what it is.” My supervisor showed me empathy often, but I was still uncertain of their reaction if I addressed that the company culture didn’t work for me.

    Unfortunately, ignoring the problem went exactly as you might think. It didn’t make things easier for me.

    If I could go back in time, I would make different choices. The confrontation may have been worth the potential opportunity to open my employer’s eyes. Standing by only ensured things remained the same.

    Were I to do it again, I would approach my boss with an open mind and an honest heart. In my experience, employers value honesty about certain situations, and my supervisor was more than willing to help me with solutions.

    Still, I always feel nervous when approaching a supervisor because I worry they won’t take me seriously. If I could go back, I would go in with a plan and substantial evidence to support my claims. Having the proof to show something was amiss might have influenced my boss more than my anxious words alone.

    However, looking back on it, it could have been just as likely that my concerns were ignored or dismissed. I’ll never know because I didn’t take the chance for myself. I wish I had—it might have made the decision to leave even easier.

    Over time, I let the problems build and eventually snowball into something much worse—something that affected my self-esteem and my ability to perform well at work. I suffered greatly.

    With over 60% of people saying they’re less productive at jobs they aren’t happy at, I realized I was in good company. It wasn’t a problem with me; I just wasn’t a great fit for this job. I was the puzzle piece that got mixed up in the wrong box, my true purpose lying elsewhere.

    Unfortunately, these issues made me feel even more hopeless. Was there even a point to working? Did the good money I was making justify the environment that made me feel uncomfortable and unsettled all the time?

    Only I could answer those questions for myself, but I did look to my loved ones for guidance. I asked my family and friends what they would do in my situation. Really, I just wanted some form of reassurance that I was doing the right thing.

    Everyone I talked to agreed I should leave my workplace. They’d seen my mental state deteriorate over time and listened to my lamentations. When stress gets to you, it makes you do funny things, including questioning whether obvious decisions are the right ones.

    You are not weak for wanting to remove yourself from a toxic situation.

    Those words took me a while to process, but they’re true. I wouldn’t get a badge of honor for being mistreated at work. People don’t look at several hours of overtime as something to admire anymore.

    It wasn’t worth it. Many workers are putting themselves first. I wish I would have, instead of wasting months before finally leaving the job.

    My mental health mattered. I thought the money was worth it, but that was the only thing holding me back—and I should’ve found another job to serve that purpose. No money will ever make up for a job that hurts my mental health, robbing me of my time and leaving me burnt out beyond belief.

    Looking back, the slippery slope to a lack of self-care happened faster than I knew. I poured more of myself into work, leaving less time for my own needs, and I chose to ignore my hygiene for late nights at the office. I skipped meals and sleep to ensure I met every deadline and still had some time for myself at the end of a demanding day.

    Not every job would drain me the same way. I only realized that after some time of reflection.

    For every bad boss, there are several good bosses. I’ve had supervisors who encouraged me to speak my mind and clearly valued my viewpoint. Though it took some time, I found an environment I belonged in.

    As I healed from my past job and worked to improve my self-esteem, I realized boundaries are essential. I didn’t need to do anything outside of my job description and reminded myself it was okay not to want to work long hours. Having the luxury to say no to more work isn’t something everyone is afforded, but it’s a right everyone should have.

    Not everyone will be in the privileged position I was to step away from a job that was actively hurting me. I was fortunate to be able to heal and identify my worth for a period after I left it, before I was ready to search for a new job. Many folks don’t have the same luxury, as their salary might be the only income for their household.

    One of the worst things about a toxic work environment is just how hard it is to make that first step away. Taking that step, even when unsure where you’ll land, is likely to be worth it.

    For some, that’s taking time off, even if just a little, to find something better. For others, that might be opting for another job—perhaps one not even in the same field—to make ends meet rather than continuing to waste away at their current job. Every job is as temporary as you need it to be.

    This can even be as simple as putting out a first new application. Not everyone can take that leap away from a rotten position without a backup plan in place, but that doesn’t mean they’re without hope. It all just depends on taking that first step.

    There is that turning point, though, and I knew it the moment I hit it. What would my loved ones do if I made myself mentally or physically sick working for a company that didn’t value me? There is only one me.

    I’m not irreplaceable to any workplace. There will always be someone else with a similar set of skills that can take over for me if I leave my job.

    My advice to my past self would be always to look for the job you feel fulfilled in. Too many people go to work depressed and come home burnt out. You may be just another number to a lousy job, but think of how much you matter to your loved ones. There’s only one you.

    Being overworked is the leading stressor among employees. I’m still looking for the best ways to manage my stress, but I’ve actually made it a priority now. With less stress, I’ll also reduce my risk for chronic diseases and ensure I have time for myself whenever I need it.

    One thing I learned was to prioritize myself, especially since I had the privilege of being able to leave my job. I could run fast and far from a situation that hurt me. Thanks to that, I could preserve myself and save people from worrying about my health more than they already did.

    I was the only one who could have made that decision for myself. The “turning point” moment was all I needed to seek out better opportunities. I deserved more than putting myself through unimaginable stress in a subpar working environment, and realizing that was when it all changed for me.

    When the time was right, I found a new job.

    I felt refreshed and ready to tackle any challenge. I felt valued and celebrated by my new team. It made me realize I really deserve to be happy in what I do every day, and it was time I reminded myself of what that feeling was like.