Tag: escape

How I’ve Learned to Stop Running from Things That Scare Me

“The beautiful thing about fear is when you run to it, it runs away.” ~Robin Sharma

At the age of eighteen, I started running. It was a rainy night, and to get home quicker from the gym, I began to run. As I approached a park about a mile from my house, I decided to run around it rather than going straight home.

It wasn’t a conscious decision but felt natural and necessary.

The rain had gotten a bit heavier, but I wasn’t worried. All I could focus on was the lack of internal heaviness as I ran. That lack began to change to lightness with each stride. I had a walkman with me, so I put on a tape and my pace quickened even more.

The lightness became openness, and visions of possibilities entered my mind. Solutions seemed simple. And awe at the newness of my mind opening made its way into my body.

On my third loop, my pace quickened even more, and I began to sing along (out loud) to the tape in my walkman. It was dark, and I was soaked. I could feel the water pouring on my head, and I relished this feeling of being bathed by the sky.

I stuck out my tongue to taste it, and with heavy soaked clothes at the end of my third loop, I stopped and began walking the mile toward my house. Noticeable was how slowly I was walking in a downpour, and how completely at ease, open, and elated I felt.

On this dark, rainy night, I discovered a way out of myself: running.

Yesterday my head began to ache, my body became weak, and nausea set in. I sat on my floor crying for my mother and vomiting. The thought underlying all of this was “I have to get out of here.” I had not felt these symptoms in two years since healing from chronic issues, but here I was, suddenly in a relapse, with one thought running through my mind: “I have to leave.”

“Leaving” was a pattern I knew well.

As a child, I could not get out of situations I wanted to flee, so I did so only in my mind. Daydreaming, being quiet, and withdrawing were all methods of escape for me both in school and daily life.

I “ran” from bullies, from friends, from friends I was afraid were turning into bullies, from teachers, and I “ran” from family.

Running in an active way was not available to me, so, as I said, my escape was withdrawing internally, or avoiding.

In my all-girls high school, lunchtime was a source of angst because I did not have one set group of friends. Girls usually sat at the same table, same spot each day. It was with a group they had something in common with—the jocks, the rebels, the popular girls, the artists, etc.

I floated to whichever table allowed me to. But I didn’t stay long. The next day, I would find a different table, exposing myself only minimally. When I had exhausted the cycle, I started to eat lunch alone near my locker.

It was after high school that I started to physically run outside. From the first day of experiencing the ability to leave myself, I was hooked. Running became my top priority, and anything else, whether it was time with friends or family, came second.

I completed half marathons, marathons, and even ultramarathons. It satisfied my desire to flee, but also helped me access emotions like joy and a state of calm I could not reach otherwise.

As I began having intimate relationships, I withdrew anytime I sensed something was off, anytime I became uneasy based on a perception or reality. It was easier to run than to communicate my fears. It would be easier to run than to even acknowledge that there were fears.

Sometimes, I ran after the person, but eventually, it would be me fleeing.

At work, I started out with a group of friends and would spend lunch with them. But it wasn’t long before I found myself “running” from group to group. When absolutely no one felt safe anymore, I started to take my sneakers to school and run outside by myself.

Eventually, because I started to get overwhelming symptoms from chronic issues, my running became shutting off the lights in my classroom and sleeping at my desk. The same occurred even after work.

Any movement I enjoyed began to dissipate, and my running turned into a state of freeze. I slept more and more. I was still “getting out of here” in a different way.

I hung onto running as much as I could, traveling any time I could, because it felt better to be away. Traveling, like daydreaming and avoiding, was another way to flee.

When I finally completely crashed in 2018, there was no longer a way to run. I spent a lot of time in bed, sometimes unable to walk. The desire to flee showed up many times in the years I spent trying to heal, and once in a while I dragged myself outside, exhausted and in pain, and tried to run to satisfy the part of me needing this.

It would end with walking slowly, but a part of me felt relief.

I now had no choice but to listen to the sensations inside and notice the thoughts running in my mind.

As much as I loved running, as much as it helped me, it was time to learn how to walk.

I learned to listen to this part longing to flee to see what she needed. Just closing my eyes and observing the sensations, I began a dialogue with a part of me I had not really listened to. Safety is what she asked for over and over.

During this time of illness, I learned a way back into myself, being present with my inner sensations and the thoughts running behind them.

Each day, I went inward and sent messages of safety to this very scared part of me. This fear began long ago, and now, as I could no longer run away, I began “running” to it. I met this trapped fear inside with love and compassion, or at least I slowly learned to.

Along with these messages of love, safety, and compassion, I provided real evidence to this part of myself to prove that we were indeed safe, and I would always do my best to keep us so. My conversation with this part of me went something like this:

“I understand, and I am sorry that you are scared, and you have every reason to feel this way. It was hard; it wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t have been treated as you were. You are a very special little girl. You deserved better. I love you and I will keep us safe now. I have kept us safe. Look at all the times I made good decisions for us. We live in a safe house. I cooked breakfast for us this morning. I make good money, I took a break from some things you are afraid of, and I am proud of you for letting go of some of that fear. You are safe and loved.”

The physical responses were of release and a deeper sense of ease. Before, these feelings were only accessible through running.

Slowly, I exposed myself to the things I was afraid of. I let go of those who didn’t want to stay. I made amends with those I’d wronged, as much as I was ready to. I forgave, as much as I was ready to. I faced the child inside asking me to keep moving and learned to nurture her instead of always giving into her. And I gave in to her, as much as I felt aligned with the desire.

I learned to reframe my thinking and decided that in the future I would no longer run from; I would only run to.

When I could, I walked slowly and mindfully, noticing each step. I spoke to flowers along the way. I watched clouds run across the sky before the rain. I watched sunsets. I spent time being still.

I spent time connecting to all the different parts of me, all speaking through emotions and beliefs, and acknowledged and validated them.

I gave myself grace.

This morning, after that momentary relapse, I woke up fine. It was raining. Memories flooded me, and I heard this part of me whispering, “Let’s go, I have to get out of here” again. In that moment, I spoke to this part of me who still longs to run when things are difficult and reminded her we were safe.

And I reframed: “We are not running away, but sure, let’s run to…“

So I put on my sneakers and running clothes and headed out, stopping once in a while to walk slowly, notice the flowers, watch the clouds running above, and relish in being bathed by the sky.

November 8, 2023
Conscious Escapism: The Benefits of a Spiritual Cheat Day

“The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom… You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough.” ~William Blake

Many people discover spirituality through suffering. I found the path due to years of depression, anxiety, and psychosis. Part of the awakening process is identifying behaviors, traits, habits, or thoughts that don’t serve you. As your behavior changes, so does your diet. Not just what you eat, but everything you consume, including what you listen to, watch, read, and pay attention to.

Orthorexia is the term given to an unhealthy focus on eating in a healthy way. This sounds like a paradox, as a healthy diet improves overall health. However, there’s a tipping point—eating well can become an obsession. You might develop anxiety around eating junk food, and your desire to eat well influences your social life, or you feel guilty for the times you indulge.

Your spiritual diet isn’t free from its own form of orthorexia. A healthy spiritual diet—such as a practice of meditation, reading spiritual texts, spending time in nature, serving others—boosts your spiritual health. But there is a tipping point.

What if you guilt yourself for wanting to spend an evening watching Netflix? Or eating without being mindful? Or being distracted and unfocused? Or not having the energy to serve? Or not catching yourself before reacting in anger?

What if when you feel anxiety, you don’t want to journal or meditate or unpick and dissect its root cause? What if you don’t want to spend the energy to “raise your vibration” or reframe your thoughts? What if all you want is to eat ice cream or go out with friends or have a glass of wine or watch the Champions League?

The time will come where you no longer crave junk food, for the nourishment of the path itself satiates you more than anything. Until this point, rather than trying too hard to resist, it’s much more beneficial to allow yourself to indulge, and give yourself the occasional treat, without guilt or shame.

Unconscious Escapism vs. Conscious Escapism

In psychology, escapism is defined as a behavior or desire to avoid confronting reality. I place escapism into two categories: unconscious and conscious. This is an important distinction, because most people who practice meditation and mindfulness are, to some degree, aware of when they are engaging in unhelpful behavior.

Unconscious escapism lacks self-awareness. It is a default, auto-pilot reaction to certain uncomfortable feelings. It’s not wrong, or bad, it’s just a way we learn how to cope. But in the context of spiritual growth and healing, unconscious escapism perpetuates suffering. It distracts us from discomfort and ultimately distracts us from ourselves.

However, conscious escapism explores and acknowledges underlying emotions with compassion, before choosing to indulge. Maybe you’re just tired or require a feeling of comfort, or simply want to enjoy a movie. All of these options are okay, and don’t make you any less “spiritual.” Quite the opposite: choosing to do a mindless activity can be a great act of self-compassion.

Conscious Escapism Is the Cheat Meal

Conscious escapism is choosing conventional distractions, knowing the occasional cheat meal doesn’t reflect your overall diet. It’s acknowledging where you’re at and allowing yourself to lean on mechanisms behaviors that provide temporary solace, fully aware this isn’t the ideal solution.

To get physically fit, a manageable and balanced routine and diet are better than an extreme, high-intensity routine and crash diet. Start off with high intensity, you’ll likely burn out and return to old habits. Instead, as you progress and form new habits, you might increase the intensity, or find that eating well becomes easier.

There’s no reason the spiritual path has to be any different. Over the years, I’ve experienced the extremes of depriving myself due to the belief around a spiritual person wouldn’t… (get angry, eat nachos or other unhealthy food, binge watch Netflix when feeling down, argue with their partner, enjoy buying new clothes, curse, procrastinate on tackling their finances…)

It’s only when I allowed conscious escapism that I’ve discovered what really benefits me.

Mostly, I was encouraged to try this route by supportive friends and family who could tell I needed time off. I’ve always pushed myself, I’ve always placed high standards on myself, and these traits of perfectionism were absorbed into my spiritual practice.

Over time my need for conventional escape has reduced. But that doesn’t mean I won’t skip a meditation session or watch a few episodes of Community to lighten my mood if it feels right to do so. Going too far in the other direction creates a feeling of stress or even resentment towards my practice, a result of spiritual orthorexia.

The Spiritual Diet and Discernment

A word of warning: Conscious escapism isn’t an excuse to choose the path of least resistance. The ego can hijack this concept, too, weaving a narrative of deceit that finds excuses and reasons as to why you deserve to not meditate, or why your unique spiritual path is finding enlightenment through Game of Thrones.

Be cautious of this and apply the principle of a standard diet. Understand which foods are good and which aren’t. I know that a healthy diet requires me to eat well most of the time. I know that if I always indulge in high-fat, high-sugar junk food, it’ll lead to reduced health. But I know the occasional treat is fine.

Knowing when to indulge and when to do the work is a matter of trial and error. It takes time, practice, and self-honesty. It requires self-compassion for the moments you over-indulge, knowing sometimes the road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom.

When you find momentum with your practice, you might experience a tendency to go all-in. The joy and inspiration that comes from meditation, or spiritual discussions, or insights, or noticing areas of growth or healing, create a sense of wanting more. You might feel the spiritual path is your life’s calling, and you’ll do all you can to honor it.

This is beautiful, and it’s worth appreciating the innocence of this intrinsic motivation. However, I’m here to tell you—you can take the day off. You can breathe, pause, and take time away from growth or development.

You can, unashamedly, give yourself permission to indulge in conscious escapism.

February 25, 2021
How Spending Time Alone Helped Me Overcome My Loneliness

“If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company.” ~Jean-Paul Sartre

I have spent most of my life surrounded by people, which is probably why I never realized I was lonely. For the majority of my adult life, the only quiet times I had to myself were the very start and very end of the day. Otherwise, my mind was inundated with chatter, notifications, and distractions.

This constant noise let me mask the depths of my loneliness. I was bombarded with texts and distractions at all times, but I lacked deeper connections. As the years passed and I grew busier and busier, I found that I actually took steps to reduce my alone time. I’d watch TV until I fell asleep; I’d check my work emails first thing in the morning.

Looking back, the situation was obvious—I was terrified of being alone with my own thoughts—but at the time, I just thought I was being productive, or simply didn’t like being bored.

I didn’t realize my problem until my laptop suddenly broke. One chilly afternoon, when I was curled up on the sofa, ready for some New Girl, it unexpectedly powered off, and I was faced with my own reflection in the black screen. My phone was out of charge.

Without distractions, work, or social media filling up my mind, I came to the abrupt realization that, despite all my activities and invites, I was deeply lonely. And that was making me profoundly miserable without even realizing it.

That afternoon, I found out I was terrified of being alone. I looked at my relationship with myself and found it lacking.

The prospect of being stuck in my own company was so scary to me that it jarred me into action. I’d gotten so good at filling my mind with chatter, I didn’t know who I was when I was alone. I was definitely one of the many Americans who spend more than five hours a day on their phones, according to a 2017 State of Mobile report—never really alone, after all. But I didn’t know how to start being less lonely.

I didn’t want to only rely on others, so I made a plan to build my relationship with myself.

I decided then to be mindful about my intentional alone time. First, I figured out when I had space to be with myself. Then, I identified the times I found it hardest to be alone. Finally, I picked out the obstacles.

That left me with a solid three-point strategy: I had roughly three chunks of time during the day when I could have mindful alone time. My mornings and evenings were roughest for me. And my phone was the primary driver in stopping me from my goals.

My plan was to have three sections of alone time: active alone time, time meditating, and time doing something that didn’t involve a screen. But before I did any of that, I had to remove the biggest obstacle: my phone.

Even though it kept me connected to the world, it was holding me back from developing a deeper relationship with myself. I spotted that I used it most in the morning and the evening, so I invested in an old-fashioned alarm clock and decided on a strict no-screens-after-9:00pm rule.

Normally, my morning started with me staring at my phone’s notifications. Instead, I got up and went for a fifteen-minute walk in my neighborhood. At first, it was boring—I was desperate for distraction. But the more I did it, the more I found myself capable of noticing birdsong, thinking about my plans for the day, unraveling the tangled feelings of the day prior, and looking forward to my first cup of coffee.

I also worked in a five-minute meditation. At the time, meditation was new for me, so I figured that five minutes would be short enough for me to start getting into the habit. I quickly realized I needed to invest in an app to do guided meditation, which really helped me stay consistent and get actual benefits from it.

Finally, I filled my evenings with reading and painting. Both of these activities are manual, which meant that I couldn’t check my phone while I was doing them. I was able to rediscover my love of books, and while I’m not very good at painting, the process of producing tangible art helped patch the gap in the evenings when I normally would reach for my phone.

Research proves that loneliness is harmful for your physical and emotional well-being, but you don’t necessarily have to look outside yourself to cure your loneliness.

All my habit changes pointed to one final conclusion: You can’t depend on others to feel better about yourself. Learning to be okay with being alone was crucial to my journey with myself. You can’t begin to work on real relationships with others until you have a solid relationship with yourself.

For me, it took one crucial moment to bring home the reality of the situation. From there, I needed to actively carve out alone time—not just time without other people physically present, but time without distractions, notifications, phone calls, or emails.

Time that belonged just to me.

Finally, it did take tweaking. I tried to do it with my phone, but realized it was impossible, so I removed it. I originally tried to do a half-hour walk, but the time away from any devices stressed me out. When I began meditation, I thought I could do it without an app, but found I spiraled into negative thought patterns or fell asleep.

My point is, I didn’t get it right on the first try. The most important thing for me was that moment of realization. From there, I was able to keep trying until I found methods that worked for me. The results were amazing in the long run. I have a better image of myself, and I’ve found my relationships with others have improved.

Because I’m dedicated to feeling my feelings instead of drowning them out in a blur of notifications and escapes, overall, I’m more present and self-aware than I used to be, which helps keep me more self-accepting and centered. Nowadays, when things get rocky—and that does happen, as an unavoidable part of reality—I’m able to draw from my reserves and go with the flow.

It was uncomfortable, it was difficult, it was frustrating, but it’s definitely been worth it.

January 20, 2021
Escape Isn’t Self-Care: What We Really Need to Feel at Peace

“A pause gives you breathing space so listen to the whispers of the real you waiting to happen.” ~Tara Estacaan

You and I, we’re much too busy. We’re doing too much. We’re stressed. We’re overscheduled and overwhelmed. And we’re not doing enough self-care.

The good thing is there’s help. There are headlines, hacks, and half-baked gurus who promise to bring us to the less-stressed light. And there’s a vast supply of products to help too. Bath salts, wine, essential oils, yoga classes, massages, chocolate cake, books, life coach packages, etc. But sometimes I wonder, are all the articles and products about becoming less busy actually helpful? Does the practice of self-care actually take care of yourself?

For the last few weeks I’ve been dosing myself regularly with the things prescribed as self-care. Bath soaks. Chocolate cupcakes. Mantras. Spa music. I’m doing it and I feel like if I fake it till I make it, maybe I’ll soon feel like my life is better managed. I’ll feel less stressed. I’ll run to social media and post a bunch of cloying hashtags: #blessed #metime #nofilter.

I’m somewhat inclined to think that most of the snake oil being peddled as self-care is feel good fluff. It’s not bad. Baths are lovely. Chocolate cupcakes are really lovely. But, it’s not self-care in and of itself. It’s escapism that that has often been packaged and sold to us.

Escape is a completely necessary and wonderful practice. One I enjoy with some frequency. Escape practices allow for quiet, space, pampering, indulgence. Do it. Enjoy your escape.

But the reality is all these practices aren’t bringing me even a slice of peace. I am sitting in the bathtub with billions of thoughts swarming my head. I don’t know how to turn off. My life moves faster than I can. My daily existence exceeds my ability to process it all. Things have to change.

This here is the crux of actual self-care. Self-care is parenting yourself. It’s cleaning your room by the time your family returns home. Not having candy for dinner. Getting lessons in how to make a solid pasta with bolognese. Kissing booboos. It’s going to your room and thinking about what you’ve done and continue to do; not as a practice of shaming or punishment, but as a practice of self-awareness and understanding the consequences of your actions.

Self-care means pausing and paying attention. It’s asking yourself a lot of questions: How am I? What’s working? What’s not working? Why am I stressed, sad, mad, overwhelmed, feeling ashamed, etc.? What can I change? If I can’t change it, how can I cope? If I can change it, what do I do first? Self-care can…suck.

Sometimes I pause, check in with myself, and realize the thing I need right now to relieve some pressure from my life is a hot bath and a glass of wine. Perfect. Escape can be self-care. But sometimes I pause, check in with myself, and when I really pay attention I am forced to recognize that the way I am living right now isn’t cutting it.

My habits, jobs, or relationships have become cycles that bring frustration, stress, sadness, or other crappy feelings. I can throw all the yoga classes and massages at those feelings, but I won’t actually feel better until I change something.

When you come to the point where you need to take care of yourself, it means your current way of being isn’t working and you need to guide yourself back to a good course.

It’s saying no to something. Sometimes it’s saying no to something deeply ingrained in you or in our culture. It will feel like parts of yourself go missing. It will feel like you are doing it all wrong. You will have to keep reminding yourself our materialistic and accomplishment-obsessed culture got it wrong, and you have a right to sanity.

Here are some of things I have done out of self-care that have sucked: reduced my eating out budget, quit a job, put a goal on hold, taken a six-month break from drinking, disappointed my daughter, disappointed my wife, let myself feel pain rather than seeking distraction from it, and opened my heart knowing it will break over and over again.

Self-care can be gritty, treacherous stuff. It’s like a scramble up a steep incline. Rocks are loose under your feet. It’s hard to find stable footholds and grips. But, eventually, you get to the summit and take in a windy, clear view.

About a year ago I made a list of things that make me feel most human. At the time of making the list I didn’t realize it, but looking back I realize this was a list of things I do to pause. The practices that work for me to connect to myself and check in. A walk in the woods. Time alone. A soak in a hot bath. Yoga.

None of these things are necessarily self-care in and of themselves, though they can be. But, they are practices that allow me to listen to myself. They make room for self-awareness.

Your self-care will be varied, inconsistent, and dependent on your current circumstances. But, the practices you use to pause, pay attention, ask yourself a bunch of questions, and listen to the answers can be consistent, regular practices. Schedule them into your life. Make yourself accountable. Ensure you are pausing. Give yourself the opportunity to listen.

Self-care is what enables me to go to a lovely massage and return to a life I like. I’m not just waiting for the next time I can get away. The neverending chase for bliss and ease doesn’t provide me substance or solidity. So instead I work to craft a good daily life. A life with rhythms and cycles that I can sustain while maintaining a feeling of wholeness.

This simplicity is exactly what has brought me the most happiness. This life that is wholly boring, introspective, questioned, and arranged with intention.

December 25, 2018
How to Bring the Fun and Excitement of Traveling to Your Everyday Life

“Instead of wondering when your next vacation is, maybe you should set up a life you don’t need to escape from.” ~Seth Godin

Over the last few years I’ve felt a little trapped in a cycle of travel, normal life, travel, normal life, constantly changing externals in an attempt to find a level of contentment.

I travel because it excites me, makes me feel alive, and brings me satisfaction. Then, when the draw of home and seeing loved ones sets in, I’ll return, determined to get a “real job” and settle into daily English life.

This usually lasts a year or two before the boredom and dissatisfaction set in and I head off on another adventure.

Although there is nothing wrong with this existence, the last time the “real life suffocation” set in, I decided to stay to explore those feelings so I could understand what made me feel so alive when I was away and so suffocated when I was at home.

I wanted to discover what away has that home doesn’t—apart from the beautiful vistas, constant change, and sunshine—and if there was any way I could incorporate the feelings of being away when I was back at home.

Here’s what I found.

Be More Mindful in Your Daily Life

I was sitting in a dark, dank Northern Line tube carriage on my daily forty-five-minute commute into central London when I decided, for a change, to look up from my headphone-induced daydream and be totally present in that moment.

I started to hear the sounds of the carriage slicing its way through the underground maze. I studied (in a non-creepy way) the sullen faces of my fellow commuters, who appeared lost in their own daydreams, when it struck me:

When I’m away, I am always fully present in every experience, no matter how mundane or challenging.

When I am trying to be a “real life participant,” I lose that focus and attention to detail, often forgetting completely to be present.

Instead, I go through daily experiences almost on autopilot—head down, headphones in, coffee slurped in a rush, lunch eaten at my desk in between dealing with an ever-growing inbox of emails.

If I were away—sitting in a café in New Zealand, on a bus in Costa Rica, or on a beach in Mexico—my eyes would be peeled, studying every color, creature, person, or thing; my ears would be pricked to the sounds of chattering or wildlife; I’d taste every sip of each thirst-quenching drink or bite of a spicy meal; I’d pay attention to the smell of car fumes, or tropical trees. I’d invite magical experiences and synchronicity into each day.

Be fully present in every moment, no matter how mundane. Be nowhere else but where you are and notice how your mindset changes.

Surround Yourself with Your Kind

It always surprises me, every time I come home from being away, how little has changed. Some people are still complaining about their other halves or another friend, regarding something trivial that happened five years ago.

I sometimes find myself, in groups of people I love, feeling like a black sheep, uninterested in the hearsay chatter, feeling so very different from them. I don’t view them or myself as any better or worse off for our life choices; we each carve our own path aligned to what makes us happy.

But I have often dedicated time to people at home, due to habit or obligation, that I might not have if I had met them when I was away.

I’ve been faced, at times, with questions such as: Are you going to be putting your life on hold again to go away? Shouldn’t you start thinking about settling down at your age?

The beauty of life is you always have a choice. You get to choose who is in your tribe.

They say you’re the average of the five people you spend most of your time with. Don’t turn your back on people from your past, but give yourself permission to move on from relationships that don’t serve you, or that bring you down.

When you’re on an adventure and you meet someone you connect with, you spend time with them and perhaps even share part of your journey with them; and there are those you don’t connect with, so you both move on. It’s okay to apply this to “real life” too.

Choose your five people (who you spend most of your time with) carefully, just as you would when you’re away.

Kill Your TV

Seriously. Put it on eBay and buy yourself a concert ticket or a ton of new books. When you’re traveling or on holiday, when do you ever watch TV? The occasional film or show, sure. But you likely wouldn’t spend your evenings or weekends sitting in front of a box, starting at it.

Okay, so maybe don’t get rid of your TV altogether, but you could cut down on how much TV you watch. I hear so many people say, “I haven’t got time to…go to yoga, read, cook, learn something new, draw, play an instrument, be creative, meditate…,” yet they can tell you who’s on Celebrity Big Brother, who’s been voted out of The X Factor, or how many times they’ve seen the same episode of Dinner Date.

Don’t deny yourself your favorite show if it brings you joy, but keep it in a healthy balance with other activities you enjoy when you’re away. Read, go exploring, meditate, go for a walk, go see a local band play. Stay active, stay curious.

Be Authentic

It should be so easy to be yourself, because that’s who you are! But often we find ourselves in jobs, careers, situations, or relationships where we barely recognize ourselves. Cue the “square peg in a round hole” feeling.

I tried so hard in the past, when home, to care about what my peers cared about—DIY, pay scales, job titles—but I just couldn’t.

I was trying to follow a career path that didn’t feel aligned with my passions, but it just led me to those feelings of being trapped or suffocated, and in turn resulting in a “run away” adventure to escape and take a big gasp of air.

It is so important to prioritize staying connected with yourself and your own happiness in everyday life, much like you do on vacation. By doing so, you will show up as your best self in your relationships, commitments, and responsibilities.

You cannot serve others or your work effectively if you are not being true to yourself or them.

Write down, explore, and really understand what it is you love about yourself and your experiences when you’re away.

An easy way to do this is to write down the details of your favorite vacation or trip.

What made it so special? What did you allow yourself to do in order to make yourself happy? What did you love about yourself in that experience? Was it wild adventure or cultural break? Did you take time out for relaxation, walking, or a massage?

Be clear on what you love, what makes you come alive, and try to incorporate that into your “real life.”

For me, I came to realize that I love spontaneity and change, I love being by the sea or in wild open spaces, I love being with and supporting people, and I’m not very good with routine. Therefore, chasing a nine-to-five management career in London simply because it looked good on my resume or paid well wasn’t serving my authentic self.

You don’t have to move to the country or turn your life upside down to be authentic, but rather simply identify the treasures, passions, and interests you’ve uncovered for yourself when adventuring, and then make time for and prioritize them into your “real life” at home.

Join an activity group, write, volunteer, use your weekends wisely, and be unapologetically you, wherever you are on the planet and whatever situation you find yourself in.

And probably most importantly, try not to see “home” and “away” as two separate lives.

Your adventuring isn’t running away; it is a rich life experience. Similarly, don’t see being home as set rules of shoulds or musts to be followed.

There is a beautiful sweet spot in between the two, that, with some time and exploration, you can find.

April 3, 2016
When Your Mind Feels Like a Prison and You Zone Out to Escape

“All the suffering, stress, and addiction comes from not realizing you already are what you are looking for.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

I’m currently obsessed with Orange is the New Black. As a binge TV watcher, I find dramas at least three seasons long and watch them like a prisoner eating a box of contraband donuts. I’m glued to the iPad in every spare moment, while I cook, exercise, or eat.

Then it’s over. And all I have left are wasted hours and a tidal wave of guilt. I always make the same promise to myself—no more binge watching.

I punish myself. I cook and eat in silence, avoiding the TV. I put myself into the mental equivalent of solitary confinement, criticizing and shaming myself.

But always after the punishment, I’m overwhelmed with the most powerful desire to rebel. I inevitably find myself again lost in the beautiful bliss of screen time, obsessed with yet another show.

I watched the entire 144 episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in a month and a half during one of my worst rebellions.

Whether it’s TV, alcohol, drugs, or food, most of us use something to escape. We take the edge off, relax, and zone out.

But at some point, all of this zoning out can start to become hazardous to our mental and physical health.

I’m addicted to zoning out. Zoning out has trapped me in my own personal mental prison.

And I want out.

My Iron Mind

We get addicted to escaping and zoning out because we create minds worth escaping from. My mental prison is a foggy and grey place.

The leader of my mind runs a very tight ship, full of strict and unrealistic rules. When I inevitably fail, I punish myself.

In my former life as a lawyer I remember not letting myself pee until I finished an email, in punishment for surfing the Internet and wasting 0.2 of a billable hour.

All of this constant punishment and self-criticism then puts me in such a bad place emotionally that the only way out is an escape route. I binge-watch TV, have too many glasses of wine, pot, or an entire German chocolate cake.

The War on Binge TV

The war on drugs tried to teach us that the drugs are the problem. We were told that drugs hijack our brain and force addiction.

But research now proves that it’s actually not the drug’s fault at all. Two different people exposed to the same drug don’t get addicted the same way.

In other words, your propensity to addiction to anything is directly related to the circumstances you are in—your life.

When you live in a mental prison full of punishment and internal criticism, for example, you escape to survive. You escape to not go crazy.

So if you want to stop escaping with food, drugs, alcohol, or OITNB, you must work to make your mind a happier place.

I must find a way to dissolve my internal prison.

Your Inner Bubble Wrap

Now I’m no expert here, obviously. But I have to think that if I created this mental prison, I can let myself out of it.

First, I have to stop doing what I’m doing—stop this never-ending pattern of punish-rebel-punish-rebel.

Whatever your pattern is, try this:

Stop engaging in it. Just accept what has already happened and then cover the whole thing in compassion.

So when I watch too much TV, for example, engaging with my pattern is to punish myself with a crap ton of guilt and shame, and then escape that criticism by watching more TV.

Another way to engage with your pattern is to fight with it. Like for me, arguing with my inner critic to plead my case actually gives it more power.

Inner criticism is particularly mean and tricky. Try too hard to stop criticizing yourself and you will start criticizing yourself for criticizing yourself.

Instead of fleeing or fighting, just accept what happened and accept yourself in spite of what happened. Like, if you drew a circle around all of the behavior that you accept for yourself, draw a bigger one.

I like to look right at my inner critic (in my head) and say, “Yea, so what? So what if I watched too much TV?”

This opens you up to self-compassion. When you accept yourself no matter what you did, you can start to dissolve even the most powerful mental prison-y pattern.

Next, you need to replace the negative pattern with a positive one. Plant a garden of positive feelings in your mind, like gratitude and joy.

I like a “grow” analogy because new thoughts and patterns are like little seeds. At first they may seem small, but if we continue to water them and feed them with our attention, they will grow.

So start finding ways to create a feeling of gratitude and joy.

Every time you can remember to do it, find something you love about your life and acknowledge it. Most of us think of gratitude as “I’m thankful for mommy and the dog.”

But gratitude is so much bigger and more powerful than that. Your mission is to cultivate the ability to find gratitude in any given situation.

Even if the only gratitude you can find is in your breath, find it. Gratitude is about the feeling state that it creates. Gratitude is inextricably tied to joy.

This process won’t necessarily free you overnight. But it will start to wrap you in mental bubble wrap, protecting you from the guilt, punishment, and shame that lead to your pattern.

Strive to become the softest place for you to land. Dream of becoming your own most supportive and accepting friend.

When you can let go of the way you think you must run your mind, you can embrace what is already a perfect system.

Mental prison image via Shutterstock

August 2, 2015
Imagine Living a Life You Don’t Need to Escape From

“Instead of wondering when our next vacation is we should set up a life we don’t need to escape from.” ~Seth Godin

I was a senior human resources professional at the biggest company in New Zealand. I had a great team of people, a flash company car, and got to stay at the posh hotels and dine at the nicest restaurants.

I was paid more than I thought I’d ever earn, I had a house overlooking the beach, and got to vacation at some fantastic destinations. My life had all the hallmarks of success from the outside, but inside there was a hole in my soul.

I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I left school (or even a decade after), but I was taught what success looked like—a high salary, job security, a fancy title, and the higher up the ladder you went, the better. But my experience didn’t really fit this model.

I’d had a feeling for some time that the corporate world wasn’t for me.

In the morning I struggled to put on my work shoes and dress for the office, preferring to be bare foot on the beach in my shorts.

I hated being stuck inside. Some days I’d never get to go outside my office. It just didn’t seem like me, but it paid well and every time I got promoted people would tell me how great it was.

Eventually I had enough of climbing the ladder, pretending to be important, checking emails at 10pm, attending back-to-back meetings, commuting in city traffic jams, and sitting for hours in front of a computer screen, my phone constantly going.

I would sit in meetings talking about strategies and adding value while looking outside, daydreaming of where I’d rather be.

I was exhausted, unhappy, and I kept getting sick. It wasn’t so much the stressful job that tired me; the really exhausting part was pretending to be something I wasn’t, committing to things that didn’t matter to me, and selling out on my values and purpose.

The further I climbed, the more I earned, and the more successful people told me I was, the unhappier I became. I had a full bank account but an empty soul. I thought there must be more to life than that.

When I told people I did not find my job fulfilling, they looked at me like I had two heads.

“Why would you expect it to be? It pays the bills; that’s its purpose. There isn’t anymore.”

For a moment I thought maybe I wasn’t being grateful. I was lost in the cycle of wanting more; perhaps I was looking for greener grass? There was only one way to find out, so I took the leap, quit my job, and walked away.

Many people thought I was brave for making the decision to leave such a good job without any qualification to do anything else and no other job to go to. Many more thought I was crazy.

But I’m not the only one. Lots of people are now choosing to put their health and quality of life before work and seeking balance. We are beginning to wake up to the fact that it’s important to live our values and spend our days doing things that matter to us.

Of course, you don’t always have to quit your job to achieve this. There are those who are happy in their work and love what they do, and if that’s you, I salute you.

For those yet to find that, don’t panic. Think about what you’re good at, what makes you tick, and what you enjoy the most and begin to bring those changes into your life.

We can all feel trapped in our day jobs, whether it be for the perks, the status, the career progression, or just the need to pay the bills. These are all forms of security, and it’s one of the reasons we spend so long in jobs we can’t bear.

There is a natural fear of the unknown, a new job, having to retrain, the need to pay the bills.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Whether it’s updating your resume, meeting with recruitment agents, looking at home study courses, budgeting your finances, or sitting down and setting some goals, the key is to make a start.

Taking a risk into the unknown is scary but also liberating. We are motivated and excited by change, but at the same time it can send us running back to the things we know. It’s all too easy to find excuses to put off making a change and stay where it feels safe.

We perceive security in our pay checks and the things familiar to us, even if they don’t make us happy, but as Einstein said, “Insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results.”

I did this for years. Every time I was forced into a change of job I would tell people, “I might try something different this time and do something I really enjoy,” but the call of the familiar pulled me back to the corporate world (not to mention the money I needed to pay the rent and the fact that I wasn’t qualified to do anything else).

I used to spend my days looking forward to long weekends and vacations. Now I have a life I feel I don’t need to vacate from.

When I left the corporate world I spent my new found freedom learning to be a yoga teacher, living in Ashrams, and undertaking meditation retreats. I can now put that knowledge and my passion into what I do every day.

I feel like I help and inspire people, although it’s not all butterflies and rainbows; I earn less, have to get up earlier, and sometimes I don’t know when or where the next job is coming from. But my work is part of my life now rather than an inconvenient interruption to it.

It keeps me fit and healthy, I get to travel and meet like minded people, and for the first time I feel there’s a purpose and reason to what I do, and it’s a wholesome one.

I firmly believe in the mantra “Do what you love and love what you do and you will be successful.” I always wanted a job you could turn up for in yoga pants and a hoodie and the best of all, you don’t have to wear shoes!

Happy man image via Shutterstock

June 8, 2015
Learn to Love and Accept Yourself, Wherever You Go

“Wherever you go, there you are.” ~Confucius

The sweat of my palms saturated our boarding tickets. Even as I stepped onto the plane, I still could not entirely believe we were doing it.

My husband and I finished our master’s degrees and instead of immediately securing jobs, buying a house, and starting a family, we decided to travel.

We thought escaping our lives was living on the wild side—rediscovering ourselves. Well, at least that’s what I thought.

I lived in Spain during my undergraduate degree ten yeas ago and had ceaselessly fixated on the idea about returning ever since.

I longed for the days of dipping churros in chocolate once more and sipping on the local morning brew, café con leche. I daydreamed of sharing pitcher after pitcher of chilled sangria with my husband and the neighboring couples dining to our left and our right.

In the midst of my most vivid daydreams, I heard the cries, olé olé as the bullring radiated with history and pride.

I had created such an idea of how I’d imaged our lives that I completely forgot the reality of the situation.

I convinced my husband to sell most of our items and put the remaining personal belongings in storage while we set off to Europe. I believed downsizing and emptying ourselves of these excessive items would really make things better.

I was blind to the fact that Spain had changed so much in ten years—I had changed so much in ten years.

We arrived tired but eager to explore the land of paradise I had talked about for a decade—but Spain had another plan for us. Spain wanted to remind me that I would not return to be the person I once was.

Everything had changed, and what was most shocking, my views about Spain had changed.

Because my eating habits grew as predictable as my daily gym routine, the bread and potatoes that I once loved certainly did not agree with my finicky body.

My stomach, accustomed to mostly spinach, fresh fish (which we could not always afford), and organic green salads did not adjust to the Spanish cuisine as it had in the past.

But this was supposed to be perfect, I thought. I’d overlooked the fact that my body’s rejection of what I was eating was a symbol of something deeper.

No longer in my twenties, I realized I required much more sleep than I once needed. The long, amorous nights I once spent partying until the sun rose had been replaced with quiet nights of exhaustion and the stress of organizing plans to the next hostel.

There were a number of other changes, such as living in hotels and hostels instead of with a host family. Little by little, each of these external factors pointed directly to the core of my very being.

Escaping to Spain would not make me disappear. My husband and I still bickered over who had the better set of directions and where we should eat for dinner. Even throughout the many Kodak moments, I still found myself experiencing bouts of depression and anxiety.

But this was not supposed to happen, I thought, still discarding the sobering reality of my dream trip. Spain was supposed to solve all my problems!

We dashed over to Portugal and Ireland, and while these beautiful places are forever sealed inside our hearts, we still experienced many of the same challenges. It wasn’t until returning home and letting our lives literally settle back down that I started to gain a shocking perspective.

The trip to Europe taught me to zero-in on myself. It was not the country in which I lived, not the town I visited, not the house in which I slept, or the room in which I sat, but all the way down into my own heart I began to understand there was nowhere else to run.

I learned the blatant lesson that happiness begins and ends within me.

The trip taught me that any time I am uncomfortable, I must ask what is not pleasing me in that moment. It shattered my sense of self and my dreams, which graciously reminded me that over-fantasizing is often an escape from current situations.

It taught me how excess imagination about the future is different from goal setting, which separates us from the beauty of what is available to us now. It taught me to find the joys in the present moment, to enjoy where I live, the community around me.

When I yearn to reach out for something—buying an item of clothing, wanting to take a trip—I ask my heart why I think this item will please me. Am I grasping onto something deeper?

While this is an extreme case of the inability to escape oneself, we all experience this in our lives in various ways. We think if we get a new job, our fear of failure will disappear only to discover it is heightened with our new role.

We think if we get a new boyfriend or girlfriend it will turn out like the fairytale stories we hoped, only to discover our insecurities have followed us into the new relationship.

We can point the finger to bosses, jobs, relationships, even cultures, but until we turn the finger back to ourselves, we will face a life of pain and constant struggle.

In each situation, we must ask, what am I learning from this? What is this telling me about myself?

We are such beautiful and complicated creatures. No technology in the world can tap into the mystery of the heart, of the soul, of our dreams.

Wherever you go in your day—to the grocery store or to a new city, to a friend’s home or a different room of the house—be grateful that you will never escape yourself.

Be grateful that you have this lifetime to learn to love and accept yourself.

In a world so full of travel and movement, it is important we take a moment to pause and reflect on the sacredness of stillness and quietude within ourselves.

It is my wish that we can all sit comfortably in a chair someday as we soften in body and in heart, full of gray hairs and wrinkles—that we may smile widely from each memory contributing to our wear and know we really have nowhere to go.

Everything we need has been inside us from the start.

Photo by Kerry

July 11, 2013
We Take Ourselves With Us, Wherever We Go

“A man is not where he lives but where he loves.” ~Proverb

I have moved 19 times in my life. At first it was from an adventurous spirit. I lived in Alaska for a summer in college and moved to the Southwest after graduating just because I’d never been there.

After I got married, the Navy decided my moves. My officer husband was stationed overseas, which gave me the opportunity to live in Japan for three years.

When my husband left the Navy, work opportunities drove our moves. Naturally, I have enjoyed living in some places more than others. Every location has its plusses and minuses.

The main lesson I have learned from my many moves is that home is wherever I live. My family is my home, and where we are located doesn’t really matter. I don’t have one location where I have spent a significant amount of time so I can’t say, “Oh my home is in _________.”

I have had to learn to make my home wherever we end up.

Moving can be hard. You are so new in the beginning. Just the simple things like how to drive to the grocery store from your house can be a challenge. Finding a good eye doctor or knowing where to get the best hair cut can seem like big mysteries. Realistically it can take up to a year to feel like you have made any friends.

Everyone handles change differently. When my mother moved from sunny, warm Florida to the cold, wet northwest she was miserable. She resisted the change, refused to see the beauty around her, and chose to be angry the whole time she was there.

Some people have the opposite thought. They think that moving will make their lives better. They are unhappy with their friends or family and think a change of location will fix their problems. They feel miserable in their job or neighborhood and long to escape. Everything will be so different if they just lived somewhere else.

The thing is, joy is not something you find outside of yourself. Joy is something you bring with you wherever you go.

If you are someone who responds to situations with anxiety or are shy and have a hard time making friends, moving to a new state is not going to magically make you brave and outgoing. If you can’t find a good romantic relationship in your current location, you are not going to have your phone ringing off the hook from all your potential suitors somewhere else. (more…)

July 4, 2012
Are You Running Away from Yourself?

“No matter where you go, there you are.” ~Confucius

I am accustomed to not moving. To move was to feel pain—the pain of seeing how worthless I believed myself to be. Sometimes I would sit in the same place for hours, sometimes not leaving the house for days.

By isolating myself, I avoided finding evidence in the outside world that proved how I saw myself was the absolute truth.

My worst nightmare was that others would show me (through what they said or didn’t say, or what they did or didn’t do) that they too found me as rotten as I knew myself to be.

And so, I was often left in the privacy of my own dreaded company. My best friends were the little pills that I could rely on to knock me unconscious. I had neither the tolerance nor strength to face myself, and I often chose the easy way out.

Sedatives, tranquilizers, hypnotics—I lived for them. They provided me respite from the constant agony of my internal voice, which asked, “What’s wrong with me? Why am I so damaged? Why do I hate myself? What have I done to deserve this?” And concluded, “I don’t want to feel again.”

Sleeping was my only escape. And I did more and more of it.

Sometimes I pushed the boundary too far: Like the time when I swallowed enough hypnotics to probably kill a few buffalos. When I simply woke up a few hours later asking for coffee, I lost interest in testing myself that way again.

But when I started realizing I was losing chunks of memory, I knew I had reached my limit. I would bump into people on the street who talked about a party I was at and I had no memory of ever being there, nor the few days surrounding the event. (more…)

June 4, 2012