Tiny Buddha

Tag: family

  • The Most Important Lessons We Can Take from This Pandemic

    The Most Important Lessons We Can Take from This Pandemic

    EDITOR’S NOTE: You can find a number of helpful coronavirus resources and all related Tiny Buddha articles here.

    “And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.” ~Kitty O’Meara

    While this pandemic is turning out to be a very confusing and difficult time for many people, it is undoubtedly giving humanity an incredibly rare opportunity to learn some challenging lessons. I believe these lessons will trigger a much-needed change of perspective for how we do things on this planet and will hopefully enable us to turn over a new leaf.

    For so long it felt that we had been living in a way that went against everything that is natural and sacred.

    We had been living in a way that neither serves humans nor the natural world, and yet we continued on this path seemingly powerless to stop what we were doing.

    It’s as if we were all part of this machine that kept on chugging along, but no one could find the stop button. Well, that stop button has arrived and it’s not like anything we could have ever imagined.

    Over the last several weeks we have seen a massive change in our priorities, and the economy has echoed this to a great degree. Sales of food and health products have gone through the roof, while sales of clothes, makeup, cars, etc, (you know, the stuff we don’t really need but think we need to attain some kind of happiness) has plummeted.

    In my personal life, I can feel that my priorities have massively shifted due to this pandemic, and it has been eye-opening to see how so much can change in such a short space of time.

    I recently found myself looking at pictures I had taken a couple months ago of me and my daughter out and about, and suddenly this strange thought came to my mind: In some way, life will never be the same again.

    I think most of us are wondering what the future will hold and how this pandemic will change the way we do things, but I feel there is no way to escape the change in perspective that it will bring.

    This is our silver lining, and it will hopefully allow us to look back on this time and feel there were some benefits.

    Here are six valuable lessons I think we will learn from this.

    1. The power of stillness.

    Our lives were put on pause, many were forced to work from home, and we can longer travel unless necessary.

    With this, we were given the power of stillness and the opportunity to unapologetically slow down. There is no other situation other than an outbreak of a virus where our world would come to such a pause. This will most likely be an opportunity that we never get again (and ironically, we are all hoping we won’t ever get again).

    As such, now more than ever—for those who are still under lockdown—this is the time to go within and be still with yourself. Heal, remove emotional blockages, meditate, and practice yoga. Take this opportunity to do the inner work that you previously had no time for. If ever there was time for personal transformation, it’s now.

    And as the lockdowns begin to lift perhaps we will see the value in living a quieter and more peaceful life.

    2. Friends and family mean everything.

    Probably the most difficult part of this journey for most people is being separated from their friends, family, and maybe even a romantic partner.

    I once heard someone say that “connection is something that all humans need, but we are just not very good at it.” Who here feels that maybe they took human interaction for granted before this? I will raise my hand to that.

    Connection is something that is so critical for our emotional and mental well-being, yet it something we often take for granted.

    After this is over, I think people will reach out to each other like never before and everyone will be so overjoyed to see their loved ones again. And just maybe we might be a little bolder and share our smiles and greetings with those we don’t even know.

    3. Nature continues to thrive even if the world has shutdown.

    For many during this lockdown, including myself, nature has been a life saver. Whether we spend time in our garden, walk through a park, do gardening, grow food (I grant that not everyone has been able to enjoy these luxuries), or simply poke our head out of our window for some fresh air and sunlight, the serenity of nature has been something we can rely on. While the world stopped, nature remained constant.

    Incredible stories have also emerged about wild animals taking over quiet city centers and dolphins returning to waters that they haven’t been spotted in for hundreds of years. Nature never stops, and the sad truth is that less human activity has meant that nature has been able to thrive in a way that most of us haven’t seen in our lifetime.

    Yet, maybe seeing nature in full force with all its beauty will prompt us to create new systems where humans and nature can thrive together. I can’t bear to think of losing our new fresh air or the animals that have finally felt safe enough to come closer to us. Perhaps this will be the big wake up call we needed.

    Either way, I believe humans will make a renewed relationship with nature and just hopefully this might lead to big environmental change.

    4. Material goods mean nothing.

    As I have already mentioned, this pandemic has forced us to completely rearrange our priorities, and I can’t help but feel this is a good thing. What good are material things when your health, safety, and access to food are jeopardized? They mean zero at times like this, which I think just helps us put into perspective exactly what we should be prioritizing in our lives.

    Since realizing this virus was going to be something that was very serious, I have barely bought anything that isn’t absolutely essential. And of course, this doesn’t mean that I am done with buying beautiful clothes or things to make my life more enjoyable, but it has cast a light on how little I actually need and what truly makes me happy.

    5. Our health is gold.

    Health is something we so easily take for granted until it is at risk. The possibility of our health taking a downturn has made many of us pay more attention to our nutrition intake and cleanliness. Some of us have even been taking preventative health measures and steps to boost our immune system.

    If we have a working body with no serious physical ailments, we should be beyond grateful!

    6. Essential workers are heroes.

    Every good story needs its hero, and in the story that is playing out on our planet right now, our heroes are of course key workers—healthcare workers, delivery drivers, bus and train drivers, and those who work in the supermarkets and food distribution. These are the people who are keeping everything going and right now risking their health and safety every day to do it.

    In the past, so many of these professions were deemed as jobs that require little skill or don’t deserve much pay, but right now there is no saying what we would do without these people.

    I hope in the future these professions shall be seen with high esteem, and the soldiers fighting on the frontline will be remembered. If this pandemic is teaching us one thing, it is not to take anyone or anything for granted.

    What Will Be the Outcome of All This?

    I think everyone is wondering what exactly will come out of this crisis and whether we will really change our ways. Will we learn the lessons or go back to the way we were before—our unhealthy ‘normality’?

    This is yet to be seen. However, as individuals we can make our own choices, and it is our individual choice that will make all the difference.

    Let us learn from this situation and do what we can to preserve nature, to bring more stillness into our lives, and to never take people or our health and safety for granted again. As always, individual change and transformation will always triumph.

  • If You Have Nothing But a Caring Family

    If You Have Nothing But a Caring Family

  • How to Reduce Holiday Stress by Setting Strong Boundaries

    How to Reduce Holiday Stress by Setting Strong Boundaries

    I love the holidays. I eagerly anticipate the first snowfall, adore the scent of pine, and watch It’s A Wonderful Life every year without fail.

    That said, even the merriest among us know that the holidays can be emotionally, physically, and psychologically taxing. In addition to buying gifts, negotiating travel plans, and shuttling from gathering to gathering, many of us spend extended time with our families—and every family, no matter how loving, has its fair share of challenges.

    When these difficult family dynamics combine with holiday-season stress, we may find ourselves at a crossroads. Do we burn out, freak out, and spend the holidays in a state of discomfort? Or do we set boundaries around our time, space, and energy?

    Setting Boundaries With Family Members

    For many of us, breaking the people-pleasing pattern and setting boundaries poses a unique challenge. Personally, I was taught that my value lay in how much I gave, and so speaking up for myself—or setting limits on my giving—at first felt mean and inconsiderate.

    Setting boundaries among family members can be doubly challenging. For years, we may have felt burdened by unspoken expectations that have made it hard to put our own needs first.

    For most of my life, I struggled to set boundaries with my parents because they raised me, fed me, clothed me, and supported me financially until I reached adulthood. At first, it was hard to instate boundaries because I felt I owed them everything.

    Likewise, many parents would leap out in front of a train for their kids, and many siblings would go to great lengths to keep one another safe and happy. As a parent or sibling, you may feel obligated to offer your time, money, space, or energy without limitation.

    Boundaries illuminate and challenge these unspoken expectations. Whereas before you may have been the resident people-pleaser or over-giver, setting boundaries changes your role in your family system. They enable you to prioritize your own needs and give at a sustainable rate.

    Boundaries can protect your material possessions, your emotions, your physical space, or your spiritual beliefs. They are not “mean.” They simply draw a line between what belongs to you and what belongs to others.

    As I prepare to have difficult conversations about boundaries, I like to keep these four key principles in mind:

    When we refuse to set a boundary, we prioritize other people’s comfort over our own needs. Setting boundaries is a courageous act of putting ourselves first. It’s a great way to break the people-pleasing habit and practice the art of self-care and verbal self-defense.

    Difficult honesty is not unkindness. It’s not mean to stand up for yourself. It’s actually the most truthful and authentic way to interact with others.

    You can manage your boundaries or manage other people’s feelings, but you can’t do both. The bottom line is, your boundaries might make people feel frustrated or resentful. That burden is not yours to bear.

    Other people are not mind-readers. Don’t expect them to be. There is no shame in directly asking for your feelings to be acknowledged or your needs to be met. Even our loved ones need ongoing instruction in how to care for us because we are always changing—as are our needs and boundaries.

    This holiday season, practice setting boundaries in your family to give yourself the gift of feeling joyful, peaceful, and empowered. Here are some common holiday scenarios in which boundaries might come in handy:

    Example #1: It’s okay not to go home for the holidays.

    Maybe your adult children have finally fled the nest and you want to spend the holiday in Cancun with your spouse. Maybe you want to visit your fiancé’s family instead of your own. Maybe home is a toxic environment and you’d prefer to stay home and enjoy the company of your dog, Bobo.

    You are not selfish for wanting to spend the holidays in the way you’d like. You are allowed to have desires that differ from your parents’ or siblings’. You are allowed to have a different understanding of what makes the “perfect” holiday.

    It can be tough to buck traditions that have been in your family for decades. Sometimes, finding the right language is the hardest part.

    My favorite way to communicate a boundary is the “I-statement” approach developed by clinical psychologist Thomas Gordon in 1970. It centers your feelings and experiences, reduces the likelihood of defensiveness in the listener, and offers concrete suggestions for change.

    Here’s how it works:

    • I feel _________________________________________.
    • When you _____________________________________.
    • Because _______________________________________.
    • I need ________________________________________.

    In the case offered above, you might try this: “I feel sad and overwhelmed when I come home for Christmas because there’s a lot of unresolved tension in our family. I need to spend a peaceful Christmas on my own this year.”

    Example #2: It’s okay to need a break if you’re hosting.

    Holiday hosting is no small feat. In my extended family, Christmas Eve was always a bonanza, complete with platters of hors d’oeuvres, mountains of gifts, and screaming kiddos hopped up on Neapolitan cookies. My grandma, our gracious hostess, would start preparing the moment summer vacation was over. It was a big deal.

    Whether you’re hosting the extended family for one evening or hosting your kids for two weeks, you are offering your time, space, and energy in a big way. It’s taxing for your nervous system and your body, and it’s okay to take a break. “Taking a break” might mean spending a day by yourself, enjoying an afternoon nap, or outsourcing host responsibilities for an hour in the midst of the party.

    Try this: I feel stressed when I host the family for Christmas Eve because it’s a ton of work to cook the food, mingle with guests, and clean up afterwards. I need someone to help me clean up when the guests start to leave.

    Example #3: It’s okay to need alone time if you’re visiting.

    Visiting entails fewer responsibilities than hosting, but it’s not always a walk in the park. As a visitor, you’re out of your comfort zone. You’re in a new environment, away from your routines and creature comforts. Even if you haven’t seen the folks you’re mingling with in months or years, it’s perfectly normal to take some time to be alone.

    Try this: I feel overwhelmed by the non-stop festivities when I visit for Christmas because I’m used to having a lot of time to myself at home. I need one day where I can be alone so I can rest and recharge.

    Example #4: It’s okay to disengage in controversial conversations.

    Despite the litany of horror stories that illustrate the dangers of talking politics/religion/etc. around the dinner table, some of our loved ones can’t seem to help themselves. I know from personal experience: Some family members get a kick out of instigating uncomfortable conversations.

    This year, you don’t have to choose between entering a heated conversation or forcing a chuckle on the sidelines. You can set a boundary that simultaneously protects your values and limits your involvement.

    Try this: I feel uncomfortable when you talk about politics over Thanksgiving dinner because it creates an atmosphere of tension. Let’s change the conversation to something less controversial so we can enjoy one another’s company.

    Example #5: It’s okay not to be okay with your family’s dynamics.

    Every member of every family changes over time. Habits or routines that you loved as a child might not feel comfortable as you get older. Certain family tensions may have worsened as the years have passed.

    Bottom line? Just because you accepted these behaviors and dynamics before does not mean you need to accept them now.

    Maybe your brother always comments on your weight, and you’d really like him to stop. Maybe your grandmother constantly asks you why you’re going to school for music instead of medicine. Maybe certain family members get really drunk at your annual Christmas party and, this year, you’re not comfortable with them attending.

    By addressing these discomforts in a straightforward manner, you can give yourself the gift of prioritizing your own feelings and needs.

    But What If They Don’t Like My Boundaries?

    The question I get most often is, “Okay, so I set a boundary. But what if they don’t like it? What if they don’t do what I ask?”

    Your family members might not like your boundaries. Your boundaries may activate their deepest fears and insecurities, and they might wonder, “Does she still love me? Is he angry? What does this mean for our relationship?”

    Your family members may get angry or upset. They may need time to adjust. They may even use guilt in an attempt to make you change your mind.

    It’s important to enter these challenging conversations with realistic expectations for how your loved ones may react. Preparing for surprise, anger, or sadness will make it easier to hold firm to your boundary when faced with resistance.

    During the conversation, acknowledge that your boundary may be difficult to hear. This helps your loved one feel seen and included in the process.

    I also like to offer positive alternatives to the behaviors I’m trying to quelch. I want to make clear to my loved ones that I care about our relationship and I’m willing to work to find ways of interacting that feel good for both of us. For example:

    • “I will be staying at a hotel when I come home for Christmas this year. I would love to carve out a day to spend together, just the two of us.”
    • “Talking about this topic is difficult for me. Can we change the conversation? I’d love to hear how work’s been going for you.”
    • “It’s really important to me that I meet my need for alone time. That said, time with you is really important to me. Can we work together to find a balance that works for both of us?”

    Sometimes, no matter how firmly you hold to your boundary, others will be unwilling to change. Perhaps you express that your brother’s toxic behavior is no longer acceptable to you, but he carries on anyhow. Perhaps you explain that you’re no longer willing to host the annual holiday party, but nobody else steps up to volunteer.

    You cannot change other people. You only have control over your own reactions and behavior. Sometimes, you may have to choose between tolerating the unacceptable behavior or evacuating the environment (e.g., not attending the family’s holiday gathering, ceasing contact with a family member altogether, etc.)

    Though deeply challenging, making the bold decision to evacuate a toxic environment is a phenomenal act of self-care. Organizations like Stand Alone offer support and community to individuals who have had to make that difficult decision, and can be a wonderful resource this time of year.

    —

    Remember: you can simultaneously set boundaries and be loving, compassionate, and kind. You can sit with your loved one’s pain, hold space for their reaction, and reiterate how much they mean to you—all while making clear that your boundary is non-negotiable.

    It takes a great deal of courage to speak up and alter old ways of relating to others, especially in your family. Every time you set a boundary, you bring your outer world into alignment with your inner needs. It is a gift that only you can give yourself—and a gift unlike any other.

  • Family Does Not Mean…

    Family Does Not Mean…

  • Simple Truths About Toxic Mothers I Wish I Knew Growing Up

    Simple Truths About Toxic Mothers I Wish I Knew Growing Up

    “Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, and don’t put up with people that are reckless with yours.” ~Mary Schmich

    After Mom passed away two years ago, I returned home to take care of the remnants of her earthly life.

    Clothes and shoes, books with her notes in the margins, old cookware and medication leftovers. Tableware, sewing utensils, knitting needles and thread. And at the very end, the most private part of Mom’s life, something I’d been avoiding for as long as I could: photographs, letters, diaries, and notes. These deeply personal belongings took me on an emotional roller coaster ride a few months long.

    Sweet notes penned by my dad at age twenty-one to Mom at the hospital, where she was recovering after a complicated delivery of their only child … me. Written in his clumsy, dear handwriting, and Mom’s short replies underneath, her handwriting as neat as always.

    Letters from Mom’s ex-boyfriends, before my father’s time (why did I always assume that she didn’t have any?). And emotional messages from me, sent from a summer camp to the address I knew by heart since I was three. My letters to Mozambique, where my parents worked in the early 1980s, and postcards from my travels. A few envelopes from my son, whom Mom loved deeply, in a way she could never love me. Or so I thought.

    She kept them all.

    Seventy years of Mom’s memories written on paper she didn’t even remember she had. And even if she’d known, she wouldn’t be able to read them because of her illness.

    But the most profound emotional moment of all was still waiting to come: letters from Mom to a younger me. Letters she wrote but never sent—I will never know why. What was she afraid of?

    I read these letters with tears streaming down my cheeks like two spring creeks down the hill. The letters were imbued with love, like a forest glade with sunshine on a hot summer day. They were full of compassion I didn’t realize Mom possessed.

    She kept these letters because they were vital to her. And I know now that she loved me. Always.

    But for a significant part of my life, I wasn’t even sure that Mom wanted me. When I was little, she treated me like her property, as if she owned me—my body, my thoughts, and my feelings. When I grew older, we fought and struggled, hurting one another in an attempt to protect the scared and lonely little girl inside each of us.

    It took me decades to heal and forgive Mom. It took a debilitating illness for her to tear down the mighty walls she’d built around her soul and embrace the love that had always smouldered in her heart

    I’ve lived long enough to learn a great deal about human psychology; I even made it my profession. And I see that history repeats itself: Women like my mom pass on their family’s legacy of abuse. Why? Because they either don’t know how to change it, don’t dare to, or lack the necessary resources and support to break the pattern.

    As a result, new generations of kids grow up suffering, feeling unloved. And trauma celebrates its new victory on their account.

    But it doesn’t have to continue, because today we know so much more.

    We no longer stigmatize people with emotional problems and mental illnesses. We understand that children, too, suffer from anxiety and depression—something that in my “happy” childhood was unthinkable to suggest. We didn’t have psychologists in schools to help us make sense out of the distorted reality of our homes.

    We were alone with our pain.

    Sometimes I wish I could meet a younger me and tell her what I know today. To help her and other youth quietly suffering in their dysfunctional families to see the truth, relieve their pain, and encourage them to enjoy their lives more.

    What would I tell to a younger me if I could meet her today?

    Here it is:

    You are not alone.

    The worst memory of my childhood and young adulthood was feeling lonely. I was unable to tell anyone about my family life because mothers were believed to be made of pure gold. In fact, I even thought that my life was quite normal.

    I wish I’d known back then that not all mothers are good. Some are sick and fighting their own demons. Below the surface, they don’t love themselves, and they don’t know how to love their children. Children who suffer in silence, just like me … and just like you.

    There’s nothing wrong with you.

    For decades I felt confused when Mom told me I was the one with a problem. According to her, I couldn’t do anything right, not even remember things the way they really happened. She told me I had a “lively imagination” or even called me a “little liar” because what I remembered had never taken place. And I believed her—no wonder all of my all senses were disorganized.

    So let me tell you this: It’s not you with the problem, it’s your mother, and she’s unable to admit it. She gaslights you using toxic “amnesia” to confuse your senses and create doubt. No matter how much you try to be the best in school, cook dinner for the family, and be there to support your mom’s emotional needs, it’s not going to change her perception of you.

    Don’t bother trying to impress her. The only person you need to impress is you. Be yourself.

    You are good enough as you are.

    Do you desperately want to be loved and cherished by your mom? Do you long for her approval, like I did? Do you try your hardest, but no matter what you do, it’s never good enough?

    I have good and bad news. The bad news is that it probably will never change. And the good news is, you are good enough already, so stop working so hard trying to prove it to your mother. There’s no need.

    Protect yourself.

    I was vulnerable to Mom’s intermittent reinforcements for most of my adult life. As soon as she acted cordially, I would do anything for her. I believed she’d changed, only to be disappointed again and again.

    So when your mother suddenly becomes lovely and cheerful with you, and you feel like your life has finally turned around, remember that it hasn’t. Not for long, anyway.

    Don’t start immediately sharing your deepest secrets and feelings with her, because they will almost certainly be turned against you a few hours later. Enjoy the moment, but stay on guard.

    Don’t try to change your mom.

    I tried to reason with Mom and explain to her what her behavior was doing to me. But every time, she would feel wronged, react angrily, and start a fight. Eventually, she did change her behavior, but not until much later and at the most unexpected time ever.

    Will your mother ever change? Probably not, so don’t waste your life waiting for that. It’s your mother’s life and responsibility, not yours. Focus on improving your own behavior and live a joyful, fulfilling life of your own. This is the only chance that your mother might follow your lead.

    Worry less and appreciate your life.

    It’s okay to be happy, no matter what your mother tells you. Life isn’t meant to be 24/7 hard work and suffering in the process, as my mother sadly believed.

    There’s a place for fun and joy every day—always remember that.

    Here are my favorite activities to cope with worries and help to de-stress:

    • Keep busy doing what you love to do.
    • Stay physically active—go to the gym, take a walk or go hiking, play games outside, swim or run. Pick your favorite and start moving.
    • Play and sing a favorite song.
    • Play a musical instrument if you can.
    • Solve a puzzle.
    • Use the tapping technique, together with anti-stress and anti-worry affirmations.
    • Plan your next day.
    • Limit your presence on social media and the Internet.
    • Don’t watch the news.
    • Use your creative powers or enjoy the creations of others.

    Think for yourself.

    Growing up with difficult, critical mothers, we have trouble trusting ourselves. But trust can be learned.

    Remind yourself that you’re good enough the way you are—just as good (and as bad) as anyone else! Care less about what others might think or say. Love and trust yourself to make your own decisions. Don’t be afraid to be confident and appreciate your life.

    Have a goal and work hard to make it happen.

    Ask yourself, what do you want your life to be like five years from now? Do you want to work with animals, help people, or be a rocket scientist? Find out what you like, what makes you excited and gives you a sense of purpose.

    Then, get an education or find a job in that field, and don’t allow others to interfere with your plans. Start investing in your future.

    Distance yourself emotionally from your mother.

    Distancing yourself will protect you from feeling hurt and help you to learn more about your mom. You’ll begin to see that she projects her own insecurities, worries, and fears on you because she doesn’t know better. To be honest, she never really grew up. That little unloved, lonely girl inside her still steers her life.

    Distancing yourself helps you avoid enmeshing with your mom’s feelings and stops her from influencing yours.

    Learn to trust other people.

    Because if you don’t trust anyone, you will be lonely. Start inviting people into your life—there are many good men and women out there.

    That said, choose your friends (and partners) with care. Don’t strive to be part of the popular crowd but instead look for honesty and kindness in others. Look for someone who has the potential to genuinely care about you. A therapist may be one of these people.

    —

    Some people are lucky enough to have mature parents who know how to love their kids, and some are not. Some of us have better health, and some have more money than others. There are many things in life we can’t control or change. We have what we have, and it’s probably for a reason—after all, who would we be if we didn’t have challenges to overcome? If everything we wished for came served on a golden plate?

    We would never grow and develop as humans. We’d be living the lives of plankton forever, feeding and being eaten.

    So by definition, life is not easy or fair. And when the little girl inside me feels scared, I hug her and say, “Don’t worry so much, love. You will be alright, and your life will be full. You will turn challenges into adventures, weaknesses into strengths, and learn to find joy even in difficult times. You’re a great kid! Stay cheerful, curious and kind as you are. Take care of yourself.”

    What do you say to your inner child?

  • If You Didn’t Come from a Healthy Family

    If You Didn’t Come from a Healthy Family

  • What My Parents Did to Me and Why I Cut Them Out of My Life

    What My Parents Did to Me and Why I Cut Them Out of My Life

    I wrote this letter to my extended family years after I chose to become estranged from my parents because many of them cut me out of their lives instead of reaching out to hear my side of the story.

    It pains me that I have lost contact with some of them because they refuse to see the full picture, and at times I feel as though I have lost a part of myself. Yet, at the same time, I am free.

    The letter you are about to read comes from a place of acceptance and longing. I have chosen to share this letter publicly because I suspect I’m not alone in what I have been through, and I hope my experience can be helpful to others in some small way.

    —

    I never meant for you to get hurt or caught in the crossfire. I never meant to place you in a situation where you found yourself questioning your loyalties and what you thought was true.

    From the outside you saw a happy home. You saw a child receiving educational opportunities and the latest technology, fashion, and trips around the world, and having birthday parties with friends and family.

    You saw pictures of vacations and holidays where everyone was smiling and appeared to be happy. You read the Christmas cards and email updates describing family vacations, accomplishments, and happy memories.

    You read about my sister getting sick, and you believed the beautiful story of a family coming together to overcome this adversity.

    At a family gathering you watched as my parents presented me with a gift before I went away to university. They acted so proud, and you found yourself thinking “What kind and loving parents.”

    Then, without warning, you found out that I was not speaking to my parents and they were not even invited to my upcoming wedding.

    Maybe you thought about reaching out to me to hear my side of the story, but you didn’t. Instead, you contacted them and you believed their story.

    You began to think that I was nothing more than a rude, entitled, spoiled brat who had decided that she didn’t need her family anymore and didn’t want to help her sister with her ongoing health problems because she was marrying into a “better family.”

    If you did contact me, you tried to convince me to change my mind. You didn’t listen to me and you became frustrated. You declined my wedding invitation and sent me a pity gift out of duty, or you chose not to respond at all.

    The years passed, and when another family member mentioned my name, you either said nothing or asked if I had “grown up and started speaking to my parents again.” Or, you questioned why they would want to continue to have a relationship with me.

    What you don’t realize is that I tried. Behind the family gatherings you attended, the pictures you saw, and the stories you heard, a very different picture was being painted. I kept quiet about this picture, and I even helped to paint it out of fear and shame.

    At times, I desperately wanted to believe that this picture was true. I tried to convince myself that it was, but I have learned that you can only endure pain and abuse for so long before you either give into it, surrendering yourself in the process, or fight to break free.

    After I left for university, I began to change how I saw the picture and I began to accept it for what it was, not what I so desperately wanted it to be.

    I reached out to my parents many times, I invited them to come and visit me, and I suggested activities that we would all enjoy together. I came home for holidays and tried to connect with them. I bought them gifts and tried to fill my old role within the family.

    Each time I reached out I was rejected; they made excuses as to why they couldn’t come and why they didn’t have more time to spend with me over holidays, and they continued to find ways to tear me down. The pain of this rejection ate away and my sense of self-worth, and I started to question why anyone would love or take a genuine interest in me.

    I invited them to award ceremonies and concerts, and while they appeared to express pride over these accomplishments, the story they told me was the same as it had always been:

    “You will never amount to anything. You are going to come to a sad end. They only gave you that award out of pity. You only accomplished that by luck. If you had worked harder you could have gotten first place. You are never going to have a successful career—that’s just a pipe dream.”

    I never told you about these comments or how they tore apart my self-esteem, causing me to question everything I did and everything I knew to be true, because they told me that you would never believe me, and I didn’t want to cause more conflict.

    Out of a sense of compassion I let my parents keep their picture, all the while hoping that you would see mine and reach out to me and be part of my life again.

    I hope you understand that no one comes to a decision like this lightly. For most estranged children, this is one of the hardest choices we ever had to make. A choice that we have agonized over with our friends, other therapists, and in the silence of our own minds.

    Often it takes years of hurt and pain to accept that we will never have the adult relationship that we want with our parents.

    We are taught that relationships with family are the most important relationships we will ever have, and we are socialized to believe that we should continue to have these relationships no matter how they impact us physically and psychologically.

    Society has painted a picture of the estranged child as being the problem, the emotionally unstable one, the one who asked their parents for money so many times they bankrupted the family and had to be cut off.

    Rarely do you hear the voices of the other side, the voices of the children so desperate for love, validation, and approval that they feel empty and continue to try harder and harder until they break. The children that long for their parents to take a genuine interest in their lives, without judgment, and walk alongside them in support during every phase of life.

    But for some of us this picture will never be, and we can either be consumed by that longing or accept the picture that is. I know that this may seem harsh, but sometimes acceptance holds the key to a better life.

    Once I accepted the picture that is, I was free. I still saw parents helping their children buy supplies for university, but I no longer wished my parents would come and help me.

    I still watched the proud parents with the graduates at convocation and longed to be one of them, and I still found myself imagining what supportive parents might have said at my convocation and my wedding, and yes it still hurts. It might always hurt.

    At the same time, I am free from the hope that maybe this time they will come, maybe this time they will be proud of me, and maybe this time I will be enough. I can grieve the loss of what I had hoped for, accept what is, and move forward with my life.

    If we ever talk again, you might ask me, “Would you ever talk to your parents now, now that you have grown up and are living the life you want?”

    As I start to answer that question I find myself again imagining the relationship I had longed for and still long for, but I stop myself. Instead I will ask you a different question: “Can you please forgive me for the choice I had to make and be a part of my life again?”

    Grandma wisely said, “Every choice we make will hurt or impact someone, but sometimes you need to do what is right for you.”

    When I chose to stop speaking to my parents, I had to not only grieve the loss of them but you as well.

    I don’t feel I can call you and reminisce about that time you taught me how to parallel-park, my failed attempt at making grandma’s Christmas pudding, or the camper I saw that reminded me of the one that grandpa had that we used to play in.

    I have no one who has lived through those memories with me to reminisce with, and this only fills me with a greater sense of loss.

    If we ever talk again you might ask me: “Do you hate your parents?” The answer is no, I don’t hate them. The truth is I don’t feel anything for them anymore. In my heart I have forgiven them for the pain they caused me, but I don’t want to open the lines of communication to tell them that, not yet, maybe not ever.

    As I think back on the relationship, and those years of pain, I acknowledge this experience has made me who I am today.

    I strive to live a full life. I fill my days with activities and work that bring meaning to my life and the lives of others. I trust my instincts and I am aware of how people and situations affect my well-being, and I work to reduce the negative impact of these factors whenever possible.

    I’m opening up about this experience because I hope you will start to paint a new picture that allows me to be a part of your life again. But if you don’t, then let me use this experience to help others.

    I have learned that some people can only give us so much, and I am grateful for the only gift my parents could ever give me—my life, a life I will live to the fullest, and one I want you to be a part of it.

    —

    To anyone struggling with the choice to become estranged from their parents, let me ask you these questions:

    Have you tried many times and been rejected? Do you feel that nothing you can ever do or be will be enough? And finally, do you hear their voices inside your head and then question your ability, your instincts, and your self-worth?

    If so, you may need to let go. If you do decide that this is the right choice for you, you will grow in ways you never imagined, and with that growth will come a sense of peace and self-love. You will learn to trust yourself and to care for yourself physically, psychologically, and spiritually which will lead to improved happiness and health.

    Researchers have found that abused children do not stop loving their parents; they stop loving themselves. After I stopped speaking to my parents, I became more confident, I began taking risks, and I learned for the very first time to love myself and accept the journey I am on.

    I earned two bachelor’s degrees, a master’s, and I started my PhD. I taught at prestigious arts schools and wrote and had articles published. My point is not to brag, only to point out that had I not let go of the relationship with my parents, I never would have accomplished any of these things.

    Their stories of what they thought I was incapable of and what I couldn’t be would have held me back, because I would have believed them. My relationship with my parents would have been like a dark seal that I would never have broken through.

    If this is true for you as well, know that you likely will not be alone if you decide to cut ties with your parents; odds are, there will be people in your life that will support you and even take on part of the role a loving parent would have taken. These people might be friends, friends’ parents, neighbors, colleagues, or even extended family. Any number of people might step up once they understand your story.

    They will be grateful for what you bring to their lives and will love and support you unconditionally. It will not be the same, but you will cherish these relationships because they are positive.

    A part of you may always long for a supportive relationship with your parents, but don’t fight this feeling; acknowledge it as a part of your journey.

    You might even find yourself questioning this choice years later and wonder if time could have healed this relationship. Remember why you made this choice, remember the pain, and trust that you made the right decision.

    Also, realize that you didn’t make this decision alone, although it may feel like it. Your parents helped to make this choice with you through their attitudes, their actions, and their refusal to be a part of your life in the way you needed them to. Knowing this may help to ease your feelings of guilt.

    And know this: If you are estranged from your parents, you are strong because you have taken back the paintbrush and are now free to repaint your picture with those who love and support you.

    —

    UPDATE: In response to some of the reader comments questioning her decision, Jen has posted a video follow-up to her article on YouTube here.

  • When Expectations Hurt: How I’ve Forgiven My Absentee Father and Healed

    When Expectations Hurt: How I’ve Forgiven My Absentee Father and Healed

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

    I may have said a few words that hurt my father’s feelings, but…

    See, here’s the backstory.

    I’m thirty-four years old, and I started having a relationship with my biological father at age twenty-one. During my childhood years I would see him every now and then even though he lived less than three miles away from my home. I don’t have any memories of being with my dad for birthdays, holidays, family vacations, or even just hanging out watching TV at home.

    When I was twenty-one my father called and said, “Hey, I’m outside your house.”

    I went outside and he said, “Your mom told me you just had another baby.”

    I said, “Yes, I did.”

    By this time I rarely had any dealings with my father, and I had some negative feelings about him because he was not in my life in the way I felt he should have been.

    A part of me was upset and confused as to why he wasn’t around during my childhood when I needed him. I wanted his guidance and protection, and I felt that he hadn’t given that to me.

    We had a conversation, and he told me that I was welcome at his home anytime and that I should come around more often. Despite how I was feeling, I decided I would give it a try because a part of me wanted to be daddy’s girl.

    So, I did just that. I called him as often as I could and would go by his house for visits. I finally got comfortable enough that felt like I was in a good place with my dad. He has a wealth of knowledge, so we began having deep conversations about different things in life, and he would give me advice on things I was going through.

    I couldn’t help sometimes but wonder, what would my life be like if he’d been there from the beginning?

    I would look at him and his wife and the children they had together—they have so much joy and so many memories with my father. Why couldn’t I get that? Was it because of my mother? Was it because of his wife? What is wrong with me that I couldn’t get the same level of love and attention?

    Recently I saw a post on Facebook by one of my siblings. It read, “I have the world’s greatest DAD!”

    But that’s not who he is to me. I have no childhood bond with him. What we have shared these past thirteen years has been more of a great friendship. He’s not the world’s greatest dad, because if he were he would have been there for me! My emotions and feeling of neglect got the best of me, and I had to disagree with this statement.

    The little girl in me was crying. Why couldn’t my father love me the way he loves his other kids? I felt unworthy. I also felt guilty, like I maybe I had done something wrong. Maybe I wasn’t perfect enough. Maybe he didn’t want me. I asked myself over and over, why couldn’t I have that love? All I wanted was his attention and acknowledgment.

    If you have gone through this experience you know as you get older that little girl or boy is still hurting for the love they didn’t get. That pain often shows up as anger and resentment toward your parent(s).

    The feelings I felt as a child followed me into my adulthood. I was insecure as a person and followed the crowd. I had a hard time trusting people to show up for me; I couldn’t get my own father to be there for me, so why would anyone else?

    Since I felt unworthy of being loved by my father, I developed low self-esteem. Like a drop in the water, this caused a ripple effect. I ended up forming relationships with men who were just like the picture of my father; they would abandon me, and once again I’d feel unworthy of love.

    In order to stop this ripple effect from controlling my life, I had to acknowledge that little girl inside me. I had to let her know that I heard her, and I felt her pain. So I started journaling about my feelings. I took that energy out of my body and left it on the paper.

    I also had to have tough conversations with my parents. This was hard because it meant everyone needed to take accountability for their part in this situation—myself included. That meant releasing the expectations I’d placed on my father, which I’d never communicated to him. I recognized that I’d wanted him to be something he wasn’t, I wanted to change him, but I realized that I can’t control or change anyone but myself. 

    This is the part where I hurt my father’s feelings.

    I needed to have this conversation with my father and get these feelings off my chest. I knew there was a possibility he wouldn’t understand, because he may have felt justified in his absence. But I also knew the pain I was feeling was not my fault.

    I called him, and I stated, “Dad, I feel like we are really good friends, but I don’t feel like you are my dad. I have no childhood memories with you, but I know I can always call you for advice now.”

    I wasn’t trying to hurt his feelings. I wanted to explain my feelings, based on my experience and my perception. I didn’t really know why he wasn’t around during my childhood; I just knew I didn’t get my dad.

    He responded with, “It sounds like your saying I’m a failure.”

    I said, “No, I’m just sharing how I feel.”

    I took a few days to think about this conversation because it was tough for the both of us. I’d cried, and I could tell he felt disappointed. I realized then that just because people have children, that doesn’t mean they are ready to be parents.

    We think two people meet, fall in love, get married, plan to have kids, and plan out their career. Sometimes it happens that way. But often they really love and care about each other, and then they get pregnant, unexpectedly. Then things go south, and co-parenting goes with it. At least this was my reality with my parents. Neither was there to raise me in the way I thought parents should.

    I have no clue what specifically they were going through at that time. But whatever it was, it required me to live with my aunt till I was in third grade.

    My Ah ha! Moment

    A mother and father give you life, but that doesn’t mean they will be the ones who raise you. I have a mother and a father, but my aunt who stepped in and took me to live with her and her three children was my mother.

    My “dad,” who was my uncle, picked me up almost every weekend and promised to protect me from all danger.

    I had another “dad,” who just happened to be my grandfather; he provided for me like a father would.

    When I eventually went to live with my mother, her boyfriend at the time treated me like his own daughter.

    I realized then I’d been wrong when I told myself I didn’t have a dad, because I clearly did.

    Plenty of people had stepped in as father figures even though they had no obligation to do so. They created those birthdays, holidays, vacations, and just hanging out at the house type memories that I was looking for from my father.

    I was blinding myself to my blessings and holding my parents to an expectation that they were never going to be able to fulfill.

    As a child I wasn’t able to look at them for who they truly are or accept them with the good and bad. As an adult, I focused so much on what I was lacking in my relationships with them that I couldn’t see what I’d had in other people all along.

    I know now that I want to lead my life with love. That means accepting people for who they are and how they are, not what I would like them to be.

    Though the pain I felt when it came to my father was not my fault, my healing was my responsibility. As an adult, I’m now capable of taking responsibly for my life decisions in a way I wasn’t as a child. I had to take my power back and stop letting my pain control me.

    I told my father, “I’m not trying to hurt you. Things just are the way they are. It’s not good or bad; this is just our experience. Having you as a friend is better than having nothing at all.”

    I now call my dad often, because I know it’s difficult to find good friends. I’m happy to say that I have found one in my father.

    I think I’d just been caught up in the personal emotions and attachments to the people who gave birth to me and expected them to be X, Y, and Z. As a result, I caused myself a lot of unnecessary pain and suffering. I had to forgive both my parents and myself for holding on to these expectations.

    If we can let go of expectations and focus on appreciating the people who are there for us we can find healing in the painful truth. I think this is a key to finding peace with things that have hurt us. We have a picture in our minds that doesn’t match up with our reality. When this happens, we may feel disappointed and close ourselves off to other perspectives.

    Like me, you may not have had the relationship you wanted with your parents, but perhaps foster parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, or friends stepped into your life and become that dad or mom when they had no obligation to do so.

    To those people in my life I say thank you. It’s hard to see, at first, just how much you’ve done. As a child our pain can blind us from the love we are given. Because of your love, people like me can stop and say, “I did have mom or dad.”

    This insight doesn’t only apply to parents. Have you ever held someone to certain expectations, just because of who they are to you? Like a husband or wife, mother or father, brother or sister, aunt or uncle, grandparents, best friend, boss, co-worker, etc.

    At times we expect people to fill certain roles just because of their label. Some expectations are reasonable and healthy, but can you perhaps release some and replace them with gratitude?

    This is in no way, excuses anyone’s behavior or the pain they may have caused you. This is a step toward acceptance. Accepting people in their truth even when we don’t agree, this is taking back our power.

    I know I can’t change who my parents are or what they’ve done, but I can always change my perspective by looking for positive aspects in each of them. I receive more from being grateful than I do with expectations.

    I’ve stopped focusing so much on them and now focus more on myself, because I’ve realized the only person I can change is myself.

    Forgive yourself for hurting yourself or others with expectations. Know that the pain you feel is real, and that you can release that pain from your life at any moment you choose. And allow yourself to be grateful for all the good in your life instead of focusing solely on what’s hurt you.

    This is how I’ve healed some deeply rooted wounds that caused a great level of pain in my life. I hope by sharing my experience I’ve helped you take a step toward your own healing and understanding.

  • Love Them Today, Before Their Tomorrow’s Taken Away

    Love Them Today, Before Their Tomorrow’s Taken Away

    “Before someone’s tomorrow has been taken away, cherish those you love, appreciate them today.” ~Michelle C. Ustaszeski

    Last year, my grandfather passed away.

    He had gone to the hospital many times before. Sometimes he went for a minor sickness, sometimes for a severe condition. Unfortunately, the last time he went, we found out that he didn’t have much time left. He was diagnosed with last stage bladder cancer.

    It was a shock to our family. My grandfather had always been a survivor. He’d survived the war, the darkest moment of the country. We couldn’t imagine he would lose his life to something like this.

    I came home as soon as I could after hearing the news. And luckily, when I was home, he was conscious. He was a big man, but I remember seeing him in bed, looking small and fragile like a sick little cat under his too loose clothes. I was thankful for the chance to be with him for the last time, and happy he knew I was there.

    After that, I came to visit and check on him every day. On the last day I was home, I hugged him and told him to get well soon, and that I would come back to visit him when he got better.

    Before I even said it, I knew it would never happen. I made a promise that I knew I couldn’t keep.

    I returned to the city to work and a couple weeks later, I received the news that he had passed away.

    All my memories of him suddenly came flooding back. He was always there in my childhood. He watched me all day so that my mom could go to work, which meant he was basically a stand in parent.

    I remembered the time he gently wrapped a bandage around my head after I ran into a wall and my forehead started bleeding. And how he listened patiently to all my childhood problems, from complaints about a dress that was too old to my side of a fight with my sister. And how he often bought me snacks even though he didn’t have much money to spare.

    After I grew up, he was still there while I was studying and busy chasing success and promotions. Yet I only visited him a couple times a year, when I had free time.

    I was so used to his presence that I didn’t remember to cherish him while I had the chance.

    I remembered one time I came back to visit my old school and realized the tree I used to play under was still there, waiting for me to come back for almost twenty years. I felt like I’d treated my grandfather like that tree. I’d never thought much about how long he’d had to wait for me.

    I sobbed, tears running down my cheeks. I couldn’t breathe well. My head was heavy. That tree is now gone. Gone for good. My grandfather is no longer. Now every time I drive by his house, the gate will be locked, the door will be closed, and I’ll no longer see him sitting in his chair, drinking tea, and greeting me with a sparkle in his eyes.

    Same street, same house, but it will never be the same.

    I didn’t come back home for my grandfather’s funeral because I was pregnant, but many of his other grandchildren showed up. Many of them I hadn’t seen in years, even after hearing about his sickness. In fact, I’d forgotten about their existence. How could I remember? They were never there to talk to him, to be with him when he was conscious. Why did they even show up after he’d passed? What were they doing? Who were they trying to impress?

    But then it hit me.

    They were just like me. They’d treated him like an old tree whose shadow was always there for them to play under. And they only missed the tree when it was cut down and they were exposed to the sun.

    I can’t blame them. It makes sense. Life happens. We get busy. We need to work to pay the bills to buy the house to get the promotion. And we just forget. It’s not until we get burnt that we realize how much we needed that tree, and how much we wish we could feel its shade again.

    Maybe it’s time for all of us to slow down, look around, and make sure we spend time with the people who really matter to us.

    If you also need to get your priorities in check, like I did…

    Make plans to spend time with your loved ones.

    I’m sure you’re one of the busiest people in the world. We all are. Or at least that’s what we choose to believe. It’s tempting to spend all our time and energy trying to achieve our goals. When we achieve them, we think, then we’ll allow ourselves to take it easy and be with our loved ones.

    But what if when that time comes—if it ever comes at all—our loved ones are no longer there?

    Don’t wait till you get the time to prioritize the people you love. Make the time. Make a plan. It’s a choice. One you won’t regret.

    Put down your phone and stay present.

    How many times have you looked at your phone, read emails or the news, or scanned your notifications while talking to someone?

    Yes, you might be able to multitask. But did you really listen to the person in front of you?

    Put down your phone and look at your mom’s face when you talk to her. Do you notice the extra wrinkles and gray hair that weren’t there before?

    It hurts my heart every time I notice a difference in my mom’s face. It’s like standing still while watching her slowly slip away, knowing there is nothing I can do to stop it. We all have but a short time on this Earth. Don’t trick yourself into believing that there will always be a next time because someday, that conversation will be the last.

    After my grandfather died I swore to cherish every moment I have with my loved ones. I make eye contact; I listen to them and hold their hands. I hope all of these moments and memories will sustain me when it’s time for the final goodbye.

    Let them know how you feel.

    You won’t always feel love for the people you care about. Sometimes they’ll annoy you, or you’ll disagree. And that’s okay. No one, and no relationship, is perfect, and we’re all doing the best we can. The important thing is that you value them, even if your relationship has ups and downs, and let them know you care while you have the chance.

    Make sure you tell them how much you appreciate them. Send them random texts to tell them you love them. Bring them flowers and watch their eyes light up. These are the memories we’ll remember when we’re about to leave this world. We won’t think about the job, the house, or the promotions, but the little moments we shared with the people who made us feel loved.

    I wish I could still do these things for my grandfather. And I wish I did them more often when I had the chance. But I didn’t. All I can do now is take the lesson with me and show up fully for the people who are still here.

    Make the most of your time with your loved ones, because you never know when that time will run out.

  • Overcoming Intergenerational Trauma: We Can Break the Cycle of Abuse

    Overcoming Intergenerational Trauma: We Can Break the Cycle of Abuse

    “Our ancestors knew that healing comes in cycles and circles. One generation carries the pain so that the next can live and heal. One cannot live without the other, each is the other’s hope, meaning and strength.” ~Gemma B. Benton

    I thought I had no value, my opinion meaningless. My sense of self was decimated. Finally, I got angry and attacked.

    “You can’t imagine the pain you’ve put me through!” I yelled. “You don’t even know who I am. You can’t see it. You’re refusing to take responsibility for the way you raised me! Not thinking is not an excuse! You don’t even care to try to understand what you’ve done to me!”

    This was me to my retirement-age parents about a year ago. Those yelling sessions happened several times. They called the police on me once.

    None of it did an ounce of good. They can’t see it.

    The more I have experienced with depression, anxiety, and recovery, the more I am convinced that the events and circumstances of my past—and my parents’ past—have shaped me much more than my brain chemistry.

    I’m pretty confident that the problems I’ve suffered from are derived from generations of unhealthy behavior. I believe the effects of intergenerational trauma shape us much more than we might realize.

    I’m not a researcher, so I only have my own experiences to base this on; it very well could be different for someone else. But from what I’ve seen from my grandparents through my kids, this succession of trauma is difficult to break. It takes different forms, but it always rears its ugly head. In my grandparents, it was alcoholism; in my parents, physical abuse; me, emotional abuse.

    I don’t consider any of us to be bad people, but we have each passed horrible things on to our children.

    My mom’s dad was an alcoholic and very strict. Her mom didn’t actively do anything wrong, but she turned a blind eye to what her husband was doing. Mom won’t talk directly about it, but reading between the lines, I believe her brother abused her as well.

    My dad’s dad was killed in a car accident when my dad was five. That left my dad as the man of the house, with no father figure. His mom never remarried and worked full time to support the family, meaning my dad was mostly on his own.

    So then, this is how it all added up for me: Because of the abuse she suffered, my mom became a narcissist with no empathy. My dad became an absentee father who always blindly agreed with my mom. I was raised so that every good thing I did reflected well on my mother, and every mistake I made was my own fault.

    It took me forty-four years to unravel all this. I’m still trying to figure out who I really am. I know I crave attention and approval from women. I’m insecure and selfish. At times, sometimes for long stretches, I distance myself from my wife and kids. But I’m working on it.

    I’m also working on forgiving my parents. It’s not easy, but I know it’s necessary for me to keep progressing. They’re just flawed people, like me, after all. I’m mainly having trouble with my mom, a selfish, self-centered, and ignorant woman.

    If I forgive my parents, it will be for my own peace of mind. I will know then that I did everything in my power to make peace with them. That doesn’t mean, though, I want to keep them or my extended family in my life.

    Some people aren’t going to change, and we each have the right to decide whether we want that kind of person around us. I feel that most of my family is dysfunctional. It’s a really tough decision.

    My mom’s favorite excuses for her behavior, which she refuses to acknowledge, are “That’s the way I was raised” and “I never thought about it.” Must’ve been glorious to live a life and raise a child without responsibility.

    I know I need to do better. I need to take responsibility for creating change and break free from the intergenerational beliefs and behaviors I see as unhealthy. My family sees this as a rebuke.

    To find my hope, meaning, and strength, I may have to leave my entire family behind. That’s a heavy decision, but it’s one I will probably need to make.

    It will mean that I’ve learned the lessons of my parents and used them to bring power and strength to myself and my children. I can only hope that happiness and peace come along for the ride. That would be the greatest gift I could give to my kids.

    I can’t sit around waiting for the negativity and condescension to go away, or for them to make an effort to understand my problems. In order for me to get better and start living my own life, I need to be the one making the rules. I need to be positive and I need to take care of myself.

    In being raised as children and in raising our own children, we receive many messages. Some are helpful, some are hurtful. We need to be aware of those messages as adults, discarding the harmful ones and emphasizing the healthy ones. We need to be honest with ourselves and others, and willing to admit when we’re wrong. We need to constantly question everything.

    Some of the messages I received growing up were “You’re not as good as you should be,” “Conformity is good, being different is bad,” and “You don’t matter enough,” sprinkled in with healthy doses of guilt.

    My wife and I have tried to instill the opposite in our kids. Everyone matters. Your opinions and feelings are valid and important. Be yourself and follow your dreams.

    None of this is easy. It takes awareness, courage, and the determination to live a better life.

    Some will have bigger hills to climb. Some will look around and find the support they need has been around them all along. Others will be alone and will have to dig deep inside themselves to find the strength to live better.

    No matter our situation, we all deserve the happiness that comes with living our best lives. And the secret isn’t money or success; it’s filling our lives with love. This requires us to heal any childhood wounds that prevent us from giving and receiving love.

    Your present may be built on your past, but it doesn’t have to be controlled by it. In order to break the chains of intergenerational trauma, you will most certainly face some serious challenges. Here are some recommendations from my experiences that may help you.

    Have courage.

    If you look at your past with clear eyes, you’re likely to see a fair bit of unpleasantness. Pain, abuse, manipulation, deceit could all be there. And they could be coming from people you love.

    Facing all of that will take courage and energy. It’s difficult and emotionally exhausting to look at your life objectively. You have to keep reminding yourself to see what’s really there rather than what you’ve always thought or what you want to see.

    Going against the tide of several generations of family is a daunting prospect. You might alienate or offend people you love, but you are worthy of living your life your way.

    Things don’t have to be the way they’ve always been. You don’t need to suffer just because your family chose to suffer in the past. But, understand this is difficult work.

    Have confidence that doing this healthy work for yourself is worthwhile. Stay focused on self-care and keep your eyes on the bigger picture.

    Have a support group.

    A support group can be built of any mixture of people. Friends, relatives, co-workers, or even strangers. It can be formal or informal. The best support groups possess various experiences, perspectives, and personalities.

    What you are doing is huge, and it’s going to be a significant help to have at least one or two people you can lean on while you do this. If you have more, great. But don’t try to do this alone; find yourself a support system before you start.

    My support group is patched together from people who have read my articles and responded to them, people I know from online interest groups, and a few people from real life, too.

    My group has layers, an inner circle I hear from often, a group that checks in every couple of weeks, and a group that is just more encouraging when they hear what I’m up to.

    I’ve had the gift of actually growing my support group while I’m going through this. I’ve opened up to some people and found that we’ve been through similar circumstances. This can give you new ideas and solutions to your problems.

    And don’t forget, a doctor, clergy member, or a therapist can be part of this group for you. You can also consider trying organized local support groups if that appeals to you.

    The more love and support you can gather around yourself, the more strength and conviction you will find you have. This love and support feeds off itself. The more you give, the more you get back.

    Have motivation.

    Remember why you’re doing this. You’re setting out to build a better life for you and your children. The thought of overcoming this pain can be a liberating and positive force.

    Being aware of what put us where we are today will not only give us the motivation but also the direction we need to create positive change for ourselves and our children.

    Not all the changes we make will be successful, but if we keep going and correct our mistakes, we can still help ourselves and our kids learn healthier behaviors. We can stop perpetuating a lineage of abuse, domination, neglect, hurt, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

    There’s no finish line in overcoming intergenerational trauma. Keep being aware. Keep moving forward, and be the force that is constantly pushing toward healthy change in your family.

  • Family Is Not About Blood

    Family Is Not About Blood

  • Being Genetically Related Doesn’t Make You Family

    Being Genetically Related Doesn’t Make You Family

  • Family Is Anyone Who Loves You Unconditionally

    Family Is Anyone Who Loves You Unconditionally

  • You Don’t Owe Your Family Affection If They’re Treating You Poorly

    You Don’t Owe Your Family Affection If They’re Treating You Poorly

  • Family Is Anyone Who Loves You Unconditionally

    Family Is Anyone Who Loves You Unconditionally

  • East vs. West: Major Cultural Differences That Impact Our Happiness

    East vs. West: Major Cultural Differences That Impact Our Happiness

    “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” ~John Milton

    I’ve been living in Asia for over a year now, spending six months each in Nepal and Vietnam, with a bit of traveling around India and Sri Lanka in the middle. I wanted to put pen to paper on what strikes me as a few of the major cultural differences between the East and the West. I can see things that each side could do with a bit more of. But here I’m going to concentrate on what I’ve learned and what I’m going to take home with me.

    Beware: I am going to generalize a lot for the purpose of this blog, so please take everything I say with a pinch of salt and be aware of my potentially rose-tinted view of Asia!

    Family

    Family is important no matter where you live; this is simply human nature. But I cannot help but think that the family plays a more important role in everyday life out here.

    Where I live, in the UK, people are often encouraged to move out when they hit adulthood. We are propelled to either start focusing on our own future or go explore the world around us. Basically, when we hit eighteen, our parents are ready for a long-awaited break.

    In Asian countries, unless you take the increasingly popular choice to study abroad, chances are you will still live at home when you study. Family is life. Particularly in Nepal, they see the idea of living on your own as absurd; people are always around and that is the norm.

    There are many festivities throughout the year where feasts and family gatherings are the focus. When a woman gets married, she will go and live with the husband’s family, not like in the UK where you move out to your own house, just the two of you. The mother of the husband takes a big role in helping raise the kids.

    Care homes are for the elderly and are extremely hard to come by—what a cruel idea to turf out the people who bought you into this world when they start to become a burden—so houses are always full and bursting with young and old and everything in between. They are often big houses, which will be passed down through generations. This strong and unbreakable family unit breeds love, laughter, and security!

    So, if you’re anything like me, you might be thinking, “How is that possible that the families can all live under one roof happily, without killing each other?” As much as I love my family, we are all very different, and I think if we all lived together now, it would be a warzone waiting to happen. Now that we don’t all live under the same roof any longer, to be honest, we get along much better! So, what’s the difference here?

    Relationships

    I think a lot of it comes down to forgiveness. Being able to make a joke out of things and be light-hearted. Families will argue in every country; that’s pretty much a guarantee. But if your family lets that get the better of them, then they are probably from countries where it is more acceptable for families to breakdown.

    We have a culture of separation and divorce in the West—if it’s not working, we often throw the blame at our partner. We think “I can do better.”

    That being said, for whatever reason, sometimes partners aren’t a good fit. For example, if you are constantly arguing or your partner is abusive, you should probably not stay together.

    You need to listen to your head rather than your heart sometimes. Our hearts have a way of making us think we want someone more when we can’t have them, don’t have them, or when they treat us badly; it somehow keeps us wanting more. This isn’t true love; it’s just a very powerful illusion. In the East I think this is better understood. In the West our hearts and feelings are the ruler of our actions.

    How do our feelings rule in the West? When seeking a mate, we must first feel that feeling, and if we don’t feel anything instantly, then that person is not right for us, and we keep on searching. If this person doesn’t tick all of our high expectations, immediately, then maybe they are not right for us.

    As well as fancying them, they must also be funny, good looking, interested in the same things as us, hold the same political views as us, like the same films and music as us, wear the right clothes, have the same attitude toward things, and the list goes on and on. This is essentially writing off most people without giving them a chance.

    Our society is very individualistic by nature; we can be whoever we want to be, and the choice is endless. Our society is born from people asking the questions “What is special about me? Why am I unique and better?” It’s engrained in us from a very young age and is tied up in our economic culture. The result? A difficulty in finding someone who we are willing to commit our own special, unique life to.

    My grandma told me the most important thing in a relationship is chemistry. I was shocked because I assumed she was talking about sexual chemistry, being attracted to someone. It seems in the west our definitions and understandings of lust and love have been blurred. But after living in Asia, I realize chemistry is much deeper than being instantly attracted to someone.

    That excited, euphoric, and bloody great feeling we get when we first start a relationship with someone, is, sorry to break it to you, short-lived. The “chemistry” my grandma was referring to is clicking with somebody on a more personal level.

    Some people we click with and our interaction is just natural from the offset. This might be because we are actually quite similar to this person. With these people we are often able to be honest without feeling judged or wrong, and we are able to be completely our self. This is the foundation for a fruitful relationship, which is a lot like a strong friendship.

    In the West we dismiss this. To love someone, it must be a rollercoaster ride full of highs and lows. Once the honeymoon period is over, we assume we have fallen out of love with that person. We stop trying and resentment occurs.

    Real love is a choice, and it is available to all of us. If you aim to understand each other, there can always be forgiveness. This doesn’t happen naturally, though; you have to work for relationships. Make the jump, swallow your pride, see it from the other person’s viewpoint, and apologize. The great thing about wholeheartedly apologizing is it’s infectious, and will usually always end in the other person apologizing too.

    That is the one big difference for the relationships that endure in these Asian countries: People don’t have such a warped view of what relationships will give them.

    In the East, people don’t go on an endless quest to find “the one.” They recognize that relationships are born out of circumstances and chance, and you make a choice to commit to someone who is right for you.

    In the UK, and especially the younger generations, we search and search for the perfect relationship, the relationship that will make our life complete, the thing people talk about in songs and films.

    In the West, more often than not, we expect to find a love that will find us complete happiness, but we don’t realize that actually we need a lot of different things to be happy, and relationships are just a part of that.

    We should fulfill our needs by being proactive, taking joy from a range of things, and not expect our partner to miraculously be able to give us everything we want. A good, strong relationship is a place of love, happiness, stability, and possibility.

    Mentality

    People in Asia really know how to laugh. If something goes wrong, rather than seeing it as an awful disaster that is unfixable or highly stressful, people often have that magical gift of being able to see the funny side to it.

    This view transforms situations. Rather than seeing a job that you do as crucial to the world spinning on its axis, being able to think “Oh well” is actually a blessing in itself. Especially in Nepal, people are incredibly laid back and take their job less seriously.

    I am not saying this doesn’t come without its problems. Believe me, I’m aware that it’s important to value our jobs and understand their value. But I really think it’s something we would benefit from a little bit too.

    In Nepal, there is not such a need to rush, and people can go at a more leisurely pace, stopping to talk to each other and appreciate the most important thing around them—the people.

    I think in the West often we are so busy getting the job done that we forget we can make our days much brighter by offering a friendly smile or having a chat with the person next to us about some irrelevant news story or how good our sandwich is.

    When I’m back in the UK I want to allow myself to slow down some of the time, and maybe put the effort in to go and sit in someone’s office just for a chat. I want to actively go out of my way to make every day a little bit nicer and a little less busy or monotonous.

    Living away for a year has allowed me to look at my home from a different angle. I used to think my town was boring, and I couldn’t imagine living there long term. Other cities had better nightlife or had more culture.

    In the West, we live in a sort of runaway culture. When things get too much, we want to up and leave. We scroll through people’s vacation pictures and we think we will be happier in this place or that. We blame our unhappiness on things around us—the city, the house, the partner.

    We forget that if we want to be happy, it’s in our hands. We have to take practical step toward happiness—having a job that feels important and meaningful to us and having meaningful relationships whereby we feel understood. It sounds simple, and once you find it, you feel it.

    Now I’ll return home with fresh eyes. I know what is important now. It isn’t how beautiful my town is, because at the end of the day beauty always fades and novelty always subsides.

    It doesn’t matter where you are in the world. It’s ultimately the people that make it, starting with yourself and your willingness to appreciate what’s around you. The rest is just kind of like a backdrop. It’s all about perspective.

  • What Makes You Family

    What Makes You Family

  • Having a Home and a Family Is a Blessing

    Having a Home and a Family Is a Blessing

  • When Family Members Push Our Buttons: How This Helps Us Grow

    When Family Members Push Our Buttons: How This Helps Us Grow

    Humanoids Argue

    “If we learn to open our hearts, anyone, including the people who drive us crazy, can be our teacher.” ~Pema Chodron

    You love them most of the time. You can’t stand them some of the time. But in the end, family is family.

    I’ve never liked to admit it, but I am just like my dad. Close in birthday, same number 5 life path in numerology, both risk takers, very passionate and adventurous, fun-loving, and witty, and we lead by example. That’s positively speaking.

    However, it becomes a negative pattern to focus on the other side of the coin. We both have the ability to become angry, withdrawn, and addicted to drama, and we both try to please everyone then resent others for their own imbalance.

    Do you think it’s any surprise the family you were born into?

    I used to blame my snappy behavior on my dad, whether at work, with girlfriends, or in social environments. “It’s my conditioning,” was my excuse I told myself. That’s exactly what it is from my perspective—an excuse.

    On closer self-reflection, I found myself getting angrier and angrier that I was like my dad and becoming more like him.

    Even though he’s a great guy, whenever I had a frustrating moment or lost my temper, I would blame him. No accountability or responsibility for my beliefs and actions, or the decisions I had made that led me to my current state.

    What this did was further fuel my anger because I began to resent myself too.

    I didn’t love myself as a “whole,” warts and all. I only wanted to see the positive stuff, but that became harder to do when I didn’t acknowledge, understand, and process my shadow as a part of who I am. This neglect strangely disabled my ability to enjoy the more positive aspects of my nature.

    From my perspective, my dad was waking me up to own my anger and helping me see how it was also of benefit and service to me.

    This moment came to a head at a FedEx Office when an employee made a remark to me that made me feel stupid. Well, that’s how I interpreted it at the time anyway. I hadn’t read the signs on how to use the self-service computers, and the employee reminded me in a condescending tone to read the signs over to my left.

    That was enough for me to lose it. “What the hell did you just say to me?” I snapped.

    I went from zero to a thousand in an instant and kept shouting like a crazy person. I could feel my head boil. It was then that a friend called on my cell. I stepped away, while the employee looked stunned and embarrassed by my behavior, while the women in line clutched their pearls so to speak.

    I picked up the call and subconsciously said, “Don’t mind me, just having a moment here at Fed Ex. Snapped like my Dad.”

    There went the finger of blame. Once again, I refused to accept that I could behave that way. My easy-going nature was where I liked to focus my awareness.

    The idea that I could sting with my words in a heartbeat, I chose to neglect. It reminded me too much of my dad and how I didn’t like it when he cut me off from a sentence or adamantly refused to see things from my perspective. It was his fault that this was becoming an all too familiar occurrence was my excuse.

    Thankfully, my friend on the phone is also a mentor, so he reminded me it was time to take a closer look.

    “If your dad is the constant focus of your anger, what is he trying to wake you up to? Can you see he is subconsciously summoning you to investigate a part of yourself that desperately needs attention?” he asked.

    It’s hard looking at yourself in the mirror when you may see an aspect of yourself you deny. But in order for me to understand my anger, I needed to become familiar with it and take responsibility.

    By owning the positive side of my angry outbursts, I could stop judging myself and release blame directed at my dad.

    Sound a little weird? Stay with me.

    At home with a pen and paper, I wrote down every benefit I could think of, which told me how being angry was also of service to me. Some benefits included:

    • Anger helps me take action; the fire within motivates me to go after what I really want. It helps me create tunnel vision and to block out anything or anyone that I see as a distraction to my goals.
    • It adds to the emotion and depth of my writing, which can only add to its authenticity.
    • It gives me an opportunity to practice accepting my shadow side. I don’t need to fight my anger; I just need to understand it and become more mindful of how I use it. This becomes a practice of accepting myself as I am.

    By the time I had finished this exercise, which quickly became a page and a half, I felt a huge weight had lifted. The more self-aware I became, the less my anger bubbled to the surface.

    I believe that was because I let myself off the hook. I forgave myself for being angry and forgave my dad for how he was. That in of itself was a huge weight to lift off my chest. Understanding it made me calmer and accentuated my ability to enjoy the more “positive” aspects of my nature.

    This is, I believe, what my dad was waking me up to. I’ll say it again:

    Do you think it’s any surprise the family you were born into? Think about it. Considering the amount of time we spend with our families growing up, it comes as no surprise that certain family members seriously push our buttons.

    Why do they push our buttons? To help us discover what we’re meant to work through in this lifetime. Simply put, to help us grow. They are our teachers to help us wake up to parts of ourselves that need attention, understanding, and in some cases healing.

    When rubbed the wrong way, the idea is to be able to take a closer look at ourselves and grow. What are these button pushers trying to teach us? Why do we react the way we do? What pain point are they touching? Are we willing to admit this and address it? Are we willing to not take it all so personally?

    I believe that there are no accidents. I believe that our birth into our individual families is not random. Even if you don’t share this belief, you can still choose to see your challenging relationships as opportunities for growth, thereby empowering yourself instead of victimizing yourself.

    The invitation to grow can help us be more empathetic, compassionate, loving, self-aware, trusting, authentic, confident, and less self-absorbed, jealous, envious, uncooperative, angry, and impatient.

    You might be thinking, “Well, my brother bullies me,” or “My mother was abusive.” Sure, they might have been and probably were. But what do we know about hurt people? They hurt others.

    Put yourself in his or her shoes. Imagine how much he is hurting or what dis-ease she has in her body? You have no idea what it is like to walk in their shoes. And look, it doesn’t give them a “get out of jail free card,” but it does give you an opportunity to become stronger and more self-aware, and to tap into a deeper understanding of your authenticity.

    Maybe the bully of the family is summoning you to stand up for yourself, believe in yourself. Maybe your mother is calling for you to treat yourself with more kindness, so you can then teach others how to be kind.

    I could go into a billion examples in family relationships, but the point I’m making is that your family is designed to help you grow. The task at hand is to wake up and pay attention to what each one of them has to teach you.

  • If You Want to Change the World

    If You Want to Change the World

    If you want to change the world