Tiny Buddha

Tag: Fear

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

    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.

  • How to Move Through Your Fear by Retraining Your Brain

    How to Move Through Your Fear by Retraining Your Brain

    When you’re in fight-or-flight mode, everything you do or don’t do teaches the brain something about the perceived threat. When you avoid or flee the situation, your brain experiences a wave of relief. The amygdala learns that avoiding that situation is how you stay safe from that threat.

    This is exactly how you want the brain to respond if the threat is a grizzly bear. But what if the perceived threat is something less biologically adaptive, like a worry about being judged or teased?

    Let’s say you’re invited to a party full of new people, and you have thoughts of looking dumb, making a mistake, or being judged. The fear response is triggered, and you decide not to go to the party. Whew…relief! You don’t have to be judged!

    However, you’ve now taught the brain that parties are dangerous (even the ones without tequila), and avoiding them is how you stay safe. The next time you have to attend a party or event, the anxiety response is even stronger—the brain desperately tries to get you to flee, because that’s how you’ve stayed safe in the past.

    Anxiety gets worse and worse as you avoid it and can even start to generalize. A fear of parties can spread to all social events and then to brief interactions with baristas at the coffee shop. It can become debilitating, preventing you from doing things you really want to do.

    That’s what happens when you train your brain to sound the alarm when there’s no real danger—but it doesn’t have to be that way.

    Retrain Your Brain

    Let’s say you choose to behave differently when you’re anxious but not in real danger. You recognize your fear, accept it, and go to the party anyway. In fact, you go to a lot of parties, even though your fight-or-flight response kicks in.

    The brain is collecting data about what happens and soon realizes, Wait a minute, nothing bad is happening! Maybe this isn’t actually dangerous! Over time, you retrain your amygdala about what is safe, and the fear response becomes less intense or disappears.

    If you sit around waiting to feel comfortable, you’ll be waiting forever. Your brain won’t magically retrain itself. You have to act before it feels comfortable, before you feel ready.

    You can choose to do things that scare you—to feel the fear and act anyway. Avoiding your fears makes your world smaller; facing them expands it.

    Maybe you can’t relate to the party anxiety scenario, but I bet there is at least one area in your life where you are afraid to fail. It could be your work, your finances, your relationships, your body, your reputation, your legacy…there are many possibilities. We all have something we’re afraid to ruin, and that fear holds us back from taking that very thing to the next level.

    With the right training, though, your brain can unlearn its fear of virtually anything, even things you would think are unquestionable…like lions.

    Facing the Lions

    My best friend Joe and I were in Kenya visiting the Maasai community. It was the perfect chance to fulfill our dream of going on a safari, so one morning, we woke up before sunrise to hit the plains. It was a rugged outfit, riding around the Serengeti in doorless Land Cruisers trying to get close to elephants and big cats.

    And we did—a little too close, actually.

    It had been pouring rain through the night, and the ground had turned into a few feet of mud. We were attempting to get our tires unstuck when our guide said in a hushed but urgent tone, “DON’T. MOVE. BE. QUIET.”

    On the right side of the car, a giant lioness with the drooling jaw of a cold-blooded killer was walking directly toward me. There was nothing between us but three feet of air—not even a car door. In this much scarier version of The Lion King, Nala crouched, we locked eyes, and I felt her slink past my legs just as we were able to peel out from the mud.

    My life flashed before me as I pissed my pants and imagined my obituary reading, “In death, Bridget became what she loved most in life: a delicious meal.” Hakuna matata.

    Seek to Understand

    We thought the mega cat’s demon stare was the true embodiment of fear, but we hadn’t quite seen it all yet. Later that afternoon, we were inching through the tall grass, looking for signs of life, when we saw a figure coming toward us in the distance. It didn’t look like an animal, but there were no roads or villages in that direction for miles and miles.

    Twenty minutes later, a Maasai woman appeared, her traditional bright red and blue patterned Shuka standing out starkly against the endless brownish-green grass. We were stunned. It was 100 degrees with no water in sight, and we were in a vast, open valley.

    We expected to see giant cats in this area at any moment, and she was just waltzing through? And what was she carrying on her back? Wait… was that a baby?

    She walked up to us, and we chatted. I told her about our close encounter with the lion and said incredulously, “Aren’t you scared of the lions while you’re walking all by yourself?”

    She laughed at me and said, “No. I am only afraid of the hippos.”

    The Maasai know from experience that lions are lazy and unlikely to attack humans unless they feel threatened (they certainly could have fooled me). On the other hand, hippos (yes, the giant water pigs) are highly aggressive and kill more people each year than lions, elephants, leopards, buffalo, and rhinos combined. Hungry, hungry hippos indeed.

    So there you go—even the things that seem genuinely worth fearing might not be what they seem. More often than not, the more you understand something, the less scary it becomes. Of course, most of us aren’t going to encounter lions in the wild (or hippos, for that matter), but this holds true for everything you might fear, including other people.

    Don’t Fear the Other

    “Cow blood. Cow meat. And cow milk.”

    That’s what a Maasai warrior told me when I asked what they liked to eat. “Wait… that’s it?!” I exclaimed. “Yes—it’s very good, very simple,” he said with a laugh.

    As I admired his muscles glistening in the sun, I took a sip (not bad!) and briefly contemplated switching my diet before remembering the extremely low chances of the granola health stores back home in LA selling bulk cow blood.

    On the surface, the Maasai people could hardly be more different from me. Our attire, what we eat, our daily activities, our language, our surroundings, our communities—we seem to have nothing in common. But the more time I spent with them, the more I realized how untrue this was.

    This warrior welcomed us into his village with genuine hospitality. We found common ground in music, my first love and a huge part of their culture. They taught us their traditional songs and dances and told us that contemporary Tanzanian and Kenyan hip-hop artists often incorporated Maasai rhythms into their songs.

    The women of the tribe showed us how they make the gorgeous jewelry they sell to tourists. We made a fire together, had a jumping contest (I lost miserably), and listened to exciting tales of life in the bush. Yes, we are different on the surface, but when it comes to values, we share more than I ever expected.

    We love music, our community, and the outdoors. And a juicy steak, of course.

    Get Closer

    As human beings, it’s simply in our nature to draw a line between “us” and “them”—our people and other people. “Other” people are the ones we don’t understand or relate to, and we’re much more likely to perceive them as scary or threatening, whether they really are or not.

    We see this repeated endlessly throughout history, all over the world, and it continues today. The solution to this fear is simple: get closer. The better you know people, the harder it is to demonize them.

    Talk to enough people, and you’ll begin to see that everyone has their reasons for thinking and living the way they do. Most people aren’t crazy or evil—they’ve just arrived at a particular set of conclusions based on the experiences they’ve had and the information they’ve been given. When you recognize that most strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet, you can do away with the labels and fear and just listen to each other with empathy and open minds (hey, a girl can dream!).

    Everything You Want is On the Other Side of Fear

    To help you start to dissolve your own fears (whatever they may be), try the following exercise. First, think of one specific thing that fear is holding you back from going after. For example, here are some common ones:

    • Traveling to a new country
    • Taking a new job or trying a new career
    • Moving to a new city
    • Learning or using a new skill
    • Committing to a romantic relationship
    • Making new friends/socializing

    Now, focus on that one fear and answer the following questions:

    1. If you did what you’re afraid to do, what negative things might happen?
    2. What would be so bad about that? What would it mean about you if your fear came true?
    3. What does this tell you about what you believe about your safety, worth, competence, or lovability?
    4. Where did you learn to believe this about yourself?
    5. How does this belief keep you from pursuing your dreams?
    6. What would you do if you believed something different about yourself?

    Ultimately, when you master your own ego and stop worrying about the judgment of others and potential negative outcomes, fear can evaporate, and you’ll be surprised by how fast the voice of dissuasion disappears.

    Feeling the Fear… And Doing It Anyway

    Let me share an example of what I mean. Some time ago, I had the opportunity to speak alongside Sir Richard Branson. He was my idol; years prior, I had even listed getting beers with him as an experience I really wanted to have.

    This was my chance—but there was a problem. A huge one. I was petrified of public speaking.
    As I focused on that fear, though, I started to realize that what I was actually afraid of was something far deeper. Every time I thought about speaking in public, I was terrified I would be exposed as a fraud. I didn’t have an unshakeable belief in my own competence, and that had stopped me from pursuing my dreams of speaking on stages for my whole life.

    But what if, I asked myself, I let myself believe in my own innate worth? What if I pushed back against the fear that I would be exposed as a fraud? I knew that doing so would expand my world and give me the chance to meet my hero—so that’s what I decided to do.

    It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it, because after the talk, I got a chance to live my dream: Sir Richard and I shared a few beers. As we were talking, I mentioned how scared I had been to get up on stage, and then he said something that changed my life forever. He was terrified of public speaking, too.
    To hear that someone insanely accomplished felt that way gave me hope for myself. It wasn’t just beginners like me. I knew I could remember that the next time I felt nervous on stage—that we’re all human. And it would be okay.

    With that newfound revelation, I started working to overcome my lifelong phobia, and as I did, each step I took gave me the confidence to push past my fear. Now, just a few years later, speaking is my passion and livelihood. The cave I feared to enter held the treasure I was seeking.

  • Navigating Social Anxiety: 10 Powerful NLP Tools for Personal Growth

    Navigating Social Anxiety: 10 Powerful NLP Tools for Personal Growth

    “We need each other, deeper than anyone ever dares to admit even to themselves. I think it is a genetic imperative that we huddle together and hold on to each other.” ~Patch Adams

    A few years ago, I was invited to a work event. When I received the invitation a few months before, the idea seemed fun—a friendly gathering with colleagues, filled with vibrant conversations and laughter, enabling me to create human connections in the workplace.

    As the day approached, a familiar knot tightened in my stomach, I couldn’t breathe deeply, and an overwhelming sense of unease took hold. I was caught in the hand of social anxiety.

    Close to the event, the mere thought of attending sent my mind spiralling into millions of anxious thoughts and self-doubt. The fear of being judged, saying something embarrassing, or feeling awkward became all-consuming. Every scenario played out in my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. My mind went to “making up excuses” mode: from getting sick to imagining the event would be boring—anything to cancel.

    As the day of the event arrived, the intensity of my anxiety escalated. The butterflies in my stomach intensified, my heart raced, and I battled against the urge to retreat into the safety of my home and decline the invitation.

    During the event itself, I found myself on an emotional rollercoaster. Every interaction became a high-stakes performance. My mind raced, searching for the right words, the funny words, the smart words, analyzing every gesture and facial expression.

    My ability to express myself authentically was numbed by a fear of judgment and rejection. I felt like an outsider, trapped in a room filled with people who seemed to effortlessly navigate social situations, which felt utterly foreign to me. This masking left me mentally exhausted and emotionally drained.

    After the event, a wave of relief washed over me as I finally escaped the social arena. I retreated back home, alone, to my safe haven. Unfortunately, my mind was not done racing, as it replayed every conversation and interaction. Self-doubt and self-criticism crept back in, overshadowing any moments of genuine connection or enjoyment I may have experienced.

    Luckily, my story doesn’t end there. This is not me today. I’ve learned to regain control over my inner state and find genuine enjoyment in social interactions with others (even at work). I am also very clear on which social interactions I actually want to join and which are not for me, and I am connected enough to my body that I can choose to say no to fun events on days I need to rest.

    It was through my journey of self-discovery and exploration with the approaches I now coach with, teach, and live by—neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) techniques, yoga, and energy healing—that I began to accept, explore, and then transcend my social (and general) anxiety. Of course, there are still days I have to work harder on it, but overall, I feel in control of my state of being.

    A therapist once gave me this definition of anxiety, which I love and keep using in my life and coaching:

    Anxiety is your level of perceived stress or “danger” over your perceived ability to handle that situation.

    When you perceive a situation as dangerous or stressful and you don’t believe you can handle it, your anxiety will be high and your nervous system in fight-or-flight mode…. potentially chronically.

    Therefore, navigating social anxiety is about lowering your level of perceived stress and strengthening your confidence in your ability to handle life and social interactions, however nourishing or awkward they might be.

    Here are the most important insights I’ve formed, and some practical techniques rooted in NLP and mindfulness that have helped me navigate social anxiety.

    1. Practice self-awareness.

    The first step in overcoming social anxiety is developing self-awareness. Take time to reflect on the situations that trigger your anxiety. Is it speaking in public, meeting new people, or being at work or in general? Or being the center of attention? By clearly identifying these triggers and their contexts, you can begin to understand the underlying thought patterns and beliefs that contribute to your anxiety.

    Practice somatic awareness: Where do you feel those sensations in your body? What colors are they and what texture do they have, if any? Are they warm or cold, stuck or moving? Take a deep breath and allow those feelings to be felt and flow, without judging them.

    Be compassionate with yourself, with your emotions, with the different parts showing up in those moments. Overcoming social anxiety takes time, compassion, and the willingness to change!

    2. Get curious about your habitual thinking patterns and limiting beliefs.

    There are underlying beliefs and habitual thinking patterns underneath the fear of being around people. Ask yourself:

    • What about being around others makes you anxious? Is it a fear of judgment or rejection?
    • Are you imagining the worst that could happen?
    • What beliefs are creating this internal response?
    • What do you think it would it say about you if you could not form a good connection with others during interactions?
    • Do you trust others?
    • Do you trust yourself to be able to handle the situation and whatever comes up? If not, what limiting beliefs underly your mistrust?

    When you recognize that your fear stems from untrue beliefs, it reduces the perceived danger of the social interaction and increases your perceived ability to handle it.

    3. Reframe unhelpful self-talk.

    Unhelpful self-talk can be a relentless companion for individuals with social anxiety. NLP encourages us to challenge and reframe these negative thoughts and limiting beliefs into more empowering ones.

    For instance, instead of thinking, “Everyone will judge me,” reframe it as, “People are just people, looking for real connection just like me.”

    Instead of imagining the worst that could happen, see the interaction’s potential: an opportunity for fun, learning, and connection.

    Transcend your internal dialogue with outward curiosity: What am I interested in learning from this or that person?

    After a social interaction, instead of ruminating about the potential silliness of the things you said or did not say, and how people might have judged you, release the need to be validated by others. And celebrate that you put yourself out there and the moments when you were present and had fun. Replace your inner critic with your inner cheerleader, your inner best friend.

    The next suggestions are approaches to learn to master your state of being and therefore increase your perceived ability to handle the social interactions.

    4. Use mindful awareness and breathing techniques.

    During the social event or interaction, if you feel triggered or overwhelmed, stay tuned in to your body, your breath. If you need a short break, take the time to recharge alone for a few minutes (in an outdoor area, on a patio, maybe in the restroom…). Take a few deep breaths. Remember your reframes, set an intention for joy and connection, remember people are just people, and go back in there!

    5. Access and develop your self-confidence.

    NLP utilizes the concept of anchoring to associate a specific physical or mental state with confidence and calmness.

    Identify a moment when you felt truly confident and at ease. Relive that experience vividly in your mind and body, focusing on the positive emotions and sensations associated with it. Amplify that state by adding colors, sound, and smells to the movie you are creating in your mind. Then, create an anchor, such as touching your thumb and index finger together, to trigger those feelings whenever you need them before or during the social event.

    6. Try mental rehearsal visualization.

    This is a powerful tool in NLP that allows us to mentally rehearse social situations and build confidence. Imagine yourself engaging in a social event with ease, grace, and enjoyment. Visualize positive interactions, with you feeling relaxed and radiating confidence. By repeatedly practicing this visualization exercise, you can train your mind to associate social situations with positive outcomes.

    7. Adopt a powerful body language.

    Our body language communicates more than words ever can. In social situations, pay attention to your posture, breathing, and facial expressions. Stand tall, maintain relaxed breathing, and make eye contact. By adopting a powerful physiology, you not only project confidence to others but also influence your own state of mind.

    8. Gradually increase your exposure to social situations.

    While it may be tempting to avoid social situations altogether, facing your fears is crucial for overcoming social anxiety and living a full life. You want to allow yourself to enjoy the social interactions that you actually deeply want to be part of.

    Gradually expose yourself to increasingly challenging social scenarios. Start with small steps, such as striking up conversations with strangers or attending social gatherings with trusted friends. As you accumulate positive experiences, your confidence will naturally grow.

    9. Be mindful of your language patterns.

    NLP emphasizes the importance of using language patterns that establish rapport and foster positive connections. Practice active listening, ask open-ended questions, and show genuine interest in others. By focusing on the needs and perspectives of those around you, you shift your attention away from your own anxiety and create a supportive social environment.

    10. Nourish your nervous system.

    Remember that anxiety in the body is created by your thought patterns and beliefs, which are creating a chronic fight-and-flight mode within your nervous system. It is paramount that you regulate your nervous system with activities that nourish it on a daily basis: yoga, nature, walks, sleep, nourishing food… Make this a priority if it’s not already. This will make a huge difference in your life and how you manage your perceived stress and, therefore, your anxiety.

    —

    Even the most deeply introverted personalities need social interaction. We are humans. We need others; we need connection to live wholesomely. It is a basis for our well-being and happiness, so it’s important to learn to transcend your social anxiety and balance your need for solitude with social connection.

    This might be hard to do on your own, and that’s okay. You can always find a therapist or coach to support you in your journey to freedom from your limiting beliefs and mind patterns.

    Take a deep breath, implement these strategies, be kind to yourself, and get out there!

  • 6 Things to Remember When You Feel Anxious in Your Relationships

    6 Things to Remember When You Feel Anxious in Your Relationships

    “Our anxiety does not come from thinking about the future, but from wanting to control it.” ~Kahlil Gibran

    Relationships have always been anxiety-inducing for me, and I know it stems from my childhood.

    As a kid I would often silently mouth words I’d just said, hearing them in my mind and evaluating whether I’d said something stupid or wrong. I was always afraid of saying something that might make someone upset.

    Junior high was a particularly rough time in my life. I was insecure and had low self-esteem, and I was desperate for approval from other kids, which made me an easy target for bullying.

    To make matters worse, an authority figure in my life told me, “If I was your age, I wouldn’t be your friend.”

    I had always believed there was something wrong with me, but at that point I was certain that no one would like me, let alone love me, if they really knew me. But I also felt deeply lonely in my little bubble of self-loathing and envied the popular kids. The likable kids. The kids who didn’t seem so clingy and awkward, who seemed to easily fit in.

    Thus began an internal battle I’m guessing many of you know all too well: the deep desire to feel seen and secure juxtaposed with the feared being judged and rejected.

    As I got older, I found myself in all kinds of unhealthy relationships, making friends with other emotionally damaged, self-destructive women, thinking they’d be less likely to judge me, and dating emotionally unavailable men, whose behavior reinforced that I didn’t deserve love.

    I was always afraid they were mad at me. That I did something wrong. That they might realize I was too needy and eventually walk away.

    And it wasn’t just in my closest relationships that I felt insecure. I also felt a deep sense of unease around their friends—when we all went to a party or bar, for example. It all felt like a performance or a test, and I was afraid of failing.

    Constantly in fight-or-flight mode, I tried to numb my anxiety in social situations with alcohol. Far more times than I care to admit, I ended a night black-out drunk, only to wake up the next morning to mortifying stories of things I’d done that I didn’t recall.

    The irony is that this jeopardized my relationships—because people had to babysit and take care of me—when I was binge-drinking mainly because I was scared of being rejected.

    Maybe you can relate to the extreme anxiety I felt in relationships. Or maybe for you, it’s less debilitating, but you worry, nonetheless.

    Whatever your personal experience, perhaps it will help to read these six things—things I wish I understood sooner.

    1. Your anxiety is likely about more than just this one relationship.

    Even if the other person has said or done things that have left you feeling insecure, odds are, your anxiety stems from your past, as was true for me.

    We all form attachment styles as children; many of us become anxiously attached as a result of growing up with abusive, neglectful, or unreliable caregivers who aren’t responsive to our needs. If you often feel anxious in relationships, you might be stuck in a pattern you formed as a kid.

    2. If the other person is emotionally unavailable, it’s not your fault, and not within your power to change them.

    It’s tempting to think that your behavior is responsible for theirs, and if you do everything right, they’ll give you the love you crave. On the flipside, you might constantly blame yourself when they withdraw. You said something wrong. Or did something wrong. Or it’s just you being you—because you are wrong.

    But emotionally unavailable people have their own painful pasts that make them act the way they do. It started way before you, and it will likely continue when your relationship inevitably breaks under the strain of too much tension.

    Instead of trying to earn their love and prove you’re worthy, remind yourself that you deserve love you don’t have to work for. And that it’s worth the wait to find someone who is willing and able to give you their all.

    3. Things might not be as they seem.

    While some people truly are pulling away and looking for an easy exit, other times we just think they are.

    When we fear abandonment, we often read into little things and assume the worst. We over-analyze text messages, worry about a change in tone or facial expressions, and generally look for signs that we might have upset someone. But there’s a good chance that thing you’re worrying about has nothing to do with you.

    Maybe they’re not texting back right away because they’re afraid of writing the ‘wrong’ thing to you. Maybe they haven’t called recently because they’re going through something hard. Whatever you’re interpreting as proof of imminent rejection, consider that you might have it all wrong.

    4. Sometimes anxious behavior creates a self-fulfilling prophecy.

    When you’re feeling anxious, you might cling, act controlling, or argue over minor issues that make you feel neglected or rejected—all behaviors that can cause someone to withdraw. I can’t even count the number of times I caused unnecessary drama because I assumed that because I felt insecure, someone else had done something to make me feel that way.

    Everything changed when I recognized I could pause, recognize how I was feeling (and why), and then choose to respond from a place of calm awareness.

    If you can learn to recognize when you’re feeling triggered, you can practice regulating your own nervous system—through deep breathing, for example—instead of inadvertently pushing the other person away.

    5. Often, the best thing you can do is sit with your anxiety.

    This one has been hard for me. When I feel anxious, my instinct is often to seek reassurance from someone else to make it go away. But that means my peace is dependent on what someone else says or does.

    Ultimately, we need to believe that our relationships are strong enough to handle a little conflict if there truly is a problem–and that if our relationship isn’t strong enough to last, we’re strong enough to handle that.

    6. Sometimes when someone is pulling away, it’s actually in your best interest.

    People with an anxious attachment style will often try to do everything in their power to hold onto a relationship, even if someone isn’t good for them.

    In my twenties I spent many nights crying over emotionally abusive men, some of them friends with benefits who I hoped would eventually want more; others, men I was dating who thought even less of me than I thought of myself.

    The wrong men always left me because I didn’t see my worth and wasn’t strong enough to leave them first. And the pain was always unbearable because it reinforced that I wasn’t lovable—just as I’d feared all along.

    Though it can be agonizing when someone triggers an old abandonment wound, letting the wrong person walk away is the first step to believing you deserve more.

    —

    As someone with deep core wounds, I still struggle with relationship anxiety at times. I don’t know if it will ever go away completely. But I know I’ve come a long way and that I’m a lot stronger now.

    I also know that when I inevitably feel that familiar fear—the racing heart, the sense of dread, the triggered shame coursing through my trembling veins—I will love myself through it. I won’t judge myself or put myself down or tell myself I deserve to be hurt. I may fear that someone might abandon me, but no matter what happens, I won’t abandon myself.

  • How I’ve Navigated My Grief and Guilt Since Losing My Narcissistic Father

    How I’ve Navigated My Grief and Guilt Since Losing My Narcissistic Father

    “One of the greatest awakenings comes when you realize that not everybody changes.  Some people never change.  And that’s their journey.  It’s not yours to try and fix it for them.” ~Unknown

    In 2021 my father died. Cancer of… so many things.

    Most of the events during that time are a blur, but the emotions that came with them are vivid and unrelenting.

    I was the first in my family to find out.

    My mother and sister had gone on an off-grid week-long getaway up the West Coast of South Africa, where there’s nothing but sand, shore, and shrubs.

    I was living in China (where I continue to live today), and we were under Covid lockdown.

    He called me on WhatsApp (which was rare) from the Middle East, where he lived with his new wife. Asian and half his age.

    The cliche of the aging white man in a full-blown-late-midlife crisis. Gaudy bling and all.

    He looked gaunt and ashen-faced. That’s what people look like when they’re delivering bad news. He dropped the bomb.

    “I have cancer.”

    What I am about to admit haunts me to this day: I cared about him in the way one human cares for the well-being of any other human. But at the time, I never cared at the level that a son should care for a father. I had built a fortress around myself that protected me from him over the years.

    He’d never really been a parent to me. He wasn’t estranged physically, but emotionally, he’d never been there.

    He was emotionally absent. He always had been.

    I was the weird gay kid with piercings, tattoos, and performance art pieces.

    He was a military man. The rugby-watching, beer-drinking, logically minded man’s man.

    We were polar opposites—opposite sides of completely different currencies.

    I sat with the bomb that had just been delivered so hastily into my arms and ears. Information that I didn’t know what to do with. It felt empty. I didn’t know how to feel or how to respond. 

    Six years earlier, in 2015, I had flown back to South Africa to sit with my mother on her sofa for two weeks while she grappled with the complexity of the emotions of being recently divorced after forty-something years of marriage.

    My mother and I always had been close. She had spent her life dedicated to a narcissistic man who had cheated on her more than once, who was absent a lot of the time during our childhood because of his job in the Navy, and from whom she had shielded my sister and me.

    He had hurt her again. And I hated him for it.

    She had been devoted to him. Committed to their marriage. Gave him the freedom to work abroad while she kept the home fires burning. She’d faithfully maintained those home fires for over a decade already. She had planned their whole future together since she was sixteen years old and pregnant with my sister, who’s five years old than me.

    And this is how he repaid her.

    He’d taken it all away from her and left her alone in the house they’d built together before I was born.  Haunted by the shadows of future plans abandoned in the corners.

    She descended into a spiral of anxiety and depression, resulting in two weeks of inpatient care at a recovery clinic with a dual diagnosis of depression and addiction (alcoholism) that wasn’t entirely her fault.

    He caused that.

    I remember lying in bed when I was about six or seven years old; I was meant to be asleep, the room in deep blue darkness. Hearing my father in the living room say, “That boy has the brains of a gnat.”

    I assume I hadn’t grasped some primary math homework or forgotten to tidy something away. Things that I was prone to. Things that annoyed him to the point of frustrated outbursts and anger.

    “Ssh! He can hear you,” my mother replied. I still hear the remorseful tone of her voice.

    He was logical and mechanical. I am not.

    I don’t remember my crime that day, but I still suffer the penalty of negative self-talk, a lack of confidence, and a fear of being considered “less than” by others.

    It’s one of my earliest memories.

    And there, in 2021, I sat with the news of his diagnosis. I didn’t know what to feel.

    Guilty for not having the emotional response I knew I was meant to be having?

    Shouldn’t I be crying? Shouldn’t I be distraught?

    How do other people react to this kind of news?

    I’ve always been a highly sensitive person. It’s my superpower. The power of extreme empathy. But there I sat, empty.

    I felt trapped.

    I was in China in 2021, and we were under Covid lockdown. There were zero flights.

    I was emotionally and physically trapped.

    Gradually, more feelings started surfacing.

    At first, I felt compassion for a fellow human facing something utterly devastating.

    Then I started to feel fear for my mom, who had held onto the idea that maybe, one day, they’d get back together.

    I was terrified about how she would take this news when she returned from her holiday.

    Within a few weeks, a “family” Facebook group was set up—cousins, uncles, people I’d never met before, myself, my sister, and my mother.

    And the “other woman” and her kids from previous relationships, none of whom we’d ever met.

    Phrases like “no matter how far apart we are, family always sticks together” were pinging in the group chat.

    I didn’t know how to absorb those sentiments.

    Family always sticks together? Didn’t you tear our family apart? Where were you when I was lying in a hospital bed in 2011 with a massive abdominal tumor?  Family always sticks together? What a convenient idea in your hour of need.  

    More guilt. How could I be so jaded?

    A month later, in January 2021, he passed away.

    It happened so quickly, and for that, I am grateful. No human should ever suffer if there is no hope of survival.

    That’s when the floodgates of emotions opened.

    I cried for weeks.

    I cried for the misery and suffering he caused my family, my mother’s despair, and my sister’s loss. I shed tears for my grandfather, who had lost two of his three sons and wife. I wept for my uncle, who had lost another brother.

    I cried for the future my mom had planned but would never have.

    And I cried for the father I never had and the hope of a relationship that would never be.

    I sobbed from the guilt of not crying for him.

    Then I got angry. Really, really angry.

    I got angry with him for never being the father I needed. I got mad for the hurt he caused my mom. I blamed him for never accepting me for me. I was angry with him because I was the child, and he was the adult.

    Being accepted by him was never my responsibility.

    In the weeks and months that followed, the wounds got deeper. My mother’s drinking got worse, to the point of (a very emotional and ugly) intervention.

    We found out that my father had left his military pension (to the tune of millions) to his new, younger wife of less than a year and her four children from different men. 

    While I want to take the moral high ground and tell you it’s not about the money—it’s solely about the final message of not caring for his biological children in life or death—I’d be lying.

    My sister and I have been struggling financially for years, and that extra monthly money would’ve offered us peace of mind, good medical insurance, or just a sense that he did care about our well-being after all.

    But there’s no use ruminating on it.

    Accept the things you cannot change.

    It’s been two years since he passed away.

    I’ve bounced between grief, anger, and acceptance, like that little white ball rocketing chaotically around a pinball machine, piercing my emotions with soul-blinding lights and sound.

    The word “dad” never meant anything to me. To me, it was a verb, not a noun. It never translated into the tangible world.

    My mother once said, “Now I know you were a child who needed more hugs.”

    She hugged me often.

    But I also needed his hugs.

    I’ve found a way to accept that he would never have been the father I needed. I will never have a relationship with my father. Even if he were still alive, he would never have been capable of loving us the way we needed him to.

    You cannot give what you don’t have.

    He was a narcissist. Confirmed by a therapist in the weeks and months after their sudden divorce.

    He was never going to change. He didn’t know how to.

    Using NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) techniques, I’ve been able to reframe the childhood memories I have about my father.

    That fateful night all those years ago, lying in bed, hearing those words that have undermined my confidence and self-worth for thirty-four years: “That boy has the brains of a gnat.”

    Through visualization and mental imagery, I’ve found a pathway to healing.

    Through NLP, I became the observer in the room of that memory. I could give that little boy lying in bed, his head under the sheets, the comfort, protection, and acceptance he needed.

    I wrapped golden wings around that little boy and protected him.

    I became my own guardian angel.

    During the same session, my NLP coach gently encouraged me to look into the living room where my father sat that night.

    What I saw in my mind’s eye took my breath away.

    I saw a broken and withered man. His legs were drawn up close to his chest. I saw the pain inside him. I saw a man who didn’t know how to love or be loved.

    I saw a man who was scared, confused, and deprived.

    In that moment of being the observer, the guardian angel in the next room, a brilliant light forcefully rushed from me and coiled around him. A luminous cord of golden energy.

    I don’t know if the surge of energy wrapped around him was to heal or restrain him. Frankly, it doesn’t matter. It was pure love, compassion, and light. And it was coming from me: I was my own Guardian Angel.

    At that moment, all the past yearning for his love, acceptance, and approval dissipated. I didn’t need it from him; I needed to give it to him—filled with empathy and compassion. I needed to release him from the anger, hurt, and pain he had caused.

    I needed to do it for myself, but I also needed to do it for him.

    I’ve accepted him for who he was.

    It took a lot of journaling, visualization, mindfulness and meditation, listening to Buddhist teachings (Thich Nhat Hanh in particular), and sitting with the emotions.

    It took the desire to heal myself and him—to be happy and whole again.

    He was painfully human. But aren’t we all?

    He was a narcissist. He drank too much, cheated on his wife, never took the time to have any meaningful connection with his kids, and loved Sudoku.

    He caused my mother pain that still haunts her to this day.

    She still dreams about him.

    I like to think that if he had one more chance to reach out from The Great Beyond, he might say something along the lines of what Teresa Shanti once said:

    “To my children,  I’m sorry for the unhealed parts of me that in turn hurt you.  It was never my lack of love for you.  Only a lack of love for myself.”

    He was a deeply flawed man—but he was my father.

  • I Don’t Know Who I Am: How I’m Finding Myself Again After the Abuse

    I Don’t Know Who I Am: How I’m Finding Myself Again After the Abuse

    “When you turn the corner / And you run into yourself / Then you know that you have turned / All the corners that are left.” ~Langston Hughes

    Nearly two years ago I left a long-term controlling and abusive relationship.

    I didn’t know that I was in one. I just knew that I was desperate.

    Abusers take everything away from you. I don’t just mean your money or your home or your children, although they take those as well. I mean everything, including your sense of self.

    Toward the end of the relationship, I wrote in my journal: “I have nothing. Nothing. No future. No family. No home. Nothing. I don’t know what to do any more. There seems to be no hope.”

    When I first left I had nowhere to go. I stayed in a hotel for a while and then moved to a pay-by-the week residence. I genuinely could not see any future for myself at that time.

    When you read about leaving an abusive relationship, there is a lot of information about how hard it is to leave. It takes someone, on average, seven attempts.

    It also can be dangerous to leave. Abusers escalate their behavior when they fear that they are losing their control over you. These are important things to be aware of.

    What nobody seems to talk about, and perhaps there are good reasons why, is how hard it is to recover once all the dust has settled.

    I have spoken to the police and been to court and had some excellent support from a domestic abuse charity. I have been to support groups. I feel like I’ve processed a lot of the abuse and that I am now able to move on from that trauma.

    I have a truly amazing therapist, who recognized the situation I was in even when I was trying to hide it from myself. He helped me escape. I credit him with saving my life.

    I have my own flat now that feels safe. I live in a nice area. I’ve made new friends and I am starting to feel part of the local community.

    But two years on from this relationship, I still don’t know who I am.

    Someone recently asked me what I like to watch on TV. I have no idea. I surrendered all TV-watching decision-making to my ex-partner because he had a tantrum if I put something on that he didn’t like.

    I don’t know what I want to do for a job. Up until recently, I worked in my ex-partner’s field, even though it is a field I know little and care less about, because that’s what he wanted me to do. I don’t know what I care about.

    Why am I telling you this? Because I am certain that I am not alone, but sometimes I feel very alone. And if you out there reading this also feel this terrible confusion about who you are and what you want to do, and you also feel alone, I want to tell you something…

    You are not alone.

    This is normal. This is okay. Not okay in the sense that it’s enjoyable or good, but okay in the sense that it is an understandable consequence of your journey.

    You don’t have to feel like there is something especially wrong with you that you aren’t now skipping through the fields gleefully enjoying your freedom. Hooray! I can do whatever I want!

    This is, I think, what people expect a domestic abuse survivor to do once they’ve gotten away from their partner. It’s what I wanted to do. The idea of finally having the freedom to do what I wanted was so exciting.

    It fell down pretty quickly when I realized I didn’t know what I wanted.

    Other than pancakes. I love making and eating pancakes. Hot pancakes with fresh lemon juice and sugar.

    And therein lies an anchor that you can use to start rebuilding yourself and your life.

    Start with something small.

    When you are rebuilding yourself, it feels like this should be profound. You should find out what your values are. What your aspirations and dreams are.

    This is like running a marathon without having done any training. You can’t start with the massive things. Start with the small things.

    What do you like to eat for breakfast?

    Even that is a big question for me because my ex-partner controlled my eating. I wasn’t always allowed to have breakfast. He didn’t do mornings, and if I woke him up making breakfast, he’d start screaming and threatening suicide.

    One day I discovered by pure chance that I like pancakes. And I am sure of this. This is something small but something solid and real.

    I can use this with other things in my life, to find out whether I like them or not. Do I feel about this the way I feel about pancakes? It sounds ridiculous but it works for me.

    It’s okay to change your mind.

    This is a big one. When your life has been unstable because you’ve been constantly gaslit, and subject to the shifting and changing rules that a controlling person indulges in, you want stability.

    You want things to stay the same. And you think that who you are and what you want should stay the same.

    Pro tip: It doesn’t. Not even for “normal” people. And your mind has been infected with the thoughts and ideas of another person.

    When you ask yourself what you want, sometimes it’s not your voice that replies. You may not recognize this at first. Later, you think, wait, that doesn’t feel right anymore.

    You can change your mind. It’s okay. It’s normal.

    I desperately wanted a cat for months. I bored everyone to tears telling them how much I wanted a cat. I looked up pictures of cats and mooned over cats and planned out names for my cats.

    Now I don’t want a cat. Not that I don’t like cats, I just don’t feel ready to take on the commitment of a pet. And that’s okay.

    Try stuff out.

    Do you really like chocolate, or is it that your ex-partner liked chocolate? How do you know?

    Try it out.

    Do you like to sing? Try that out.

    Maybe you find that you love to sing and you hate chocolate. Great. You’ve learned something about yourself.

    I like pancakes, chocolate, and singing. I do not like marmalade.

    Give yourself time.

    I am eternally thankful that a lady in one of my support groups said, “It took me about six years to start feeling like myself again.” At that point I was about nine months out of the relationship and convinced I was a failure because I still felt completely unstable.

    At this two-year point I catch myself feeling frustrated with myself for not having made more progress. Come on, Lily. Why don’t you know what you want to do with your life yet?

    I don’t know because someone emptied out my mind and filled it with their ideas. And made the consequences for thinking differently from them completely catastrophic. I am still scared to hold the “wrong” opinion, even though these days nobody is going to throw heavy objects if I do.

    My brain was rewired over a long period of time and it’s going to take time for me to fix that. This is okay. It’s not fun. It’s hard work. But it’s okay.

    In the meantime, I am going to sing, make pancakes, and eat chocolate.

  • How I Claimed My Right to Belong While Dealing with Imposter Syndrome

    How I Claimed My Right to Belong While Dealing with Imposter Syndrome

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post briefly references sexual abuse.

    “Never hold yourself back from trying something new just because you’re afraid you won’t be good enough. You’ll never get the opportunity to do your best work if you’re not willing to first do your worst and then let yourself learn and grow.” ~Lori Deschene

    The year 2022 was the hardest of my life. And I survived a brain tumor before that.

    My thirtieth year started off innocently enough. I was living with my then-boyfriend in Long Beach and had a nice ring on my finger. The relationship had developed quickly, but it seemed like kismet. Unfortunately, we broke up around June. And that’s when the madness began.

    I believe it to be the extreme heat of the summer that somehow wrought this buried pain from underneath my pores to come up. Except the pain didn’t evaporate. It stayed stagnant, and I felt suffocated.

    There were excruciating memories of being sexually abused as a child. Feelings of intense helplessness came along. I had nightmares every night, and worse, a feeling of horrendous shame when I woke up. All of this made me suicidal.

    Before I knew it, every two weeks I was being hospitalized for powerful bouts of depression, PTSD, and the most severe anxiety that riddled my bones.

    This intense, almost trance-like experience of going in and out of hospitals seemed like the only way to cope with life. I felt broken, beyond repair. I gained a lot of weight and shaved my head and then regretted it. My self-esteem plummeted.

    I felt like I didn’t belong to society anymore. I’d had superficial thoughts like this before, growing up in the punk scene, but the experience of constantly being in and out of mental hospitals was beyond being “fringe.” I felt extremely alienated.

    With many hospitalizations in 2022, I was losing myself. Conservatorship was now on the table. I was terrified and angry at the circumstances fate had bestowed upon me.

    In my final hospitalization in December, I suffered tortuously. I was taken off most of the benzos I was on, and I was withdrawing terribly, alone in a room at the psych ward. My hands and feet were constantly glazed in a cold sweat.

    I was so on-edge that every sound outside my door jerked my head up. The girl next door would sob super loud, in real “boo-hoos,” and do so for hours on end. It eroded me. I would scream at her to stop, but she would then cry louder.

    If there was a hell on earth, this was it. I told myself, with gritted teeth, staring out the window, that this would be my last time in a psych ward. No matter how miserable I was, I would just cope with it. I didn’t want to deal with this anymore.

    So I made a commitment to myself to really try to get better. Hope was hatched by that intense amount of pain. I knew I had a long journey ahead to heal, but that there was no other way but up.

    After that final hospitalization, I joined a residential program that helped me form new habits. There was a sense of healing and community there. I felt a mentorship connection with one of the workers, who was a recovered drug addict.

    I was glad I was finally doing a little better. I realized I shouldn’t have gone to the hospital so much and perhaps should have plugged into one of the residential places first.

    This year has been easier as a result of sticking to treatment and addressing some of the issues that were plaguing me. I now have better coping mechanisms to deal with symptoms of PTSD, as well as some better grounding techniques.

    As a result, I’ve been able to go back to work, despite still dealing with intense anxiety. For the first time in a while, I feel hopeful for my life. But I can’t help but getting hit with a barrage of thoughts before I go to work.

    This whole thing I’m going through is commonly known as “imposter syndrome.” Basically, it feels like I don’t belong where I’m going in order to make the quality of my life better. I feel like a fake or a phony, afraid my coworkers will understand who I really am—someone who has struggled with PTSD and depression.

    As a result, some days are more difficult than others when it comes to showing up at work. I’ll have mini panic attacks in the restroom. There’s an overwhelming feeling of surrealness.

    Although I’m glad to have gotten out of the merry-go-round of doom, putting on a happy face and attempting to appear as a healthy, well-adjusted person is too much sometimes.

    And I know it’s not just in my situation that people experience imposter syndrome. Some people that were once extremely overweight feel out of place once they’ve lost their extra pounds. Others who are the minority in race or gender where they work can also feel like they don’t belong.

    I’ve come to realize this is a universal experience, the feeling of “not belonging.” It’s also a syndrome of lack of self-worth. I try to tackle this in baby steps every day.

    Here are some things I try to live by to feel more secure where I’m trying to thrive.

    I ask myself, “Why NOT me?”

    There’s a Buddhist quote that suggests, when you’re suffering, instead of asking, “Why me?”, you’re supposed to humble yourself by asking, “Why NOT me?” But I think this is also relevant to feelings of belonging.

    When you feel like you don’t belong, ask yourself, “Why NOT me?” Why wouldn’t you deserve to belong, when everyone else does, despite their varied challenges? This sort of thinking levels the playing field.

    I remind myself of my worth.

    I could spend hours thinking about why I’m not adequate or deserving. But I try to think about why I do have a right to be there. I deserve to get a paycheck like everyone else. I deserve to work, no matter what I’ve been through, and to value the sense of belonging offered through my coworkers.

    I try to power through my inner resistance.

    Many days this is more difficult than others, but I know if my greater goal is improving my life and feeling like I belong to society again, its worth challenging all the mental resistance I feel. I also know that my feelings will change over time if I keep pushing through them.

    Cherish the times of connection.

    There are times at work where I feel really connected to my coworkers, even though I doubt we have the same psychiatric history. I try to savor those times of connection because they keep me going. Since we are social beings, it is important to us to feel connected.

    Take comfort in knowing this will fade.

    Already, having just worked a few weeks at this job, my feelings of imposter syndrome are starting to fade. If I had known this would happen in the beginning, I wouldn’t have put so much anxiety on myself. If you’re going through this too in any capacity, just remember that the feelings are only temporary and will pass as you find your footing.

    Make peace with your past.

    Everyone has a past, some that may feel more shameful than others. But don’t conflate that with your right to belong and be a contributing member of society. Sure, some things are harder to rebound from than others, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t get past them. And that doesn’t mean you need to be defined or limited by your past challenges.

    Validate your feelings of struggle.

    Although it would be nice to just use denial to move forward, that’s not possible since you know the truth. You know what you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. I validate my experience in the struggle by going to support groups after work. That way I’m not gaslighting myself, pretending I’m fine. It’s just about knowing there’s a time and place for that unheard, marginalized part of yourself.

    —

    We all put on a brave face to be accepted, but we all deserve to belong, regardless of how we’ve struggled.

    Don’t let your struggles define you. Instead, validate the fact that they have given you the strength to get where you are now.

  • You’re Never Too Old To Feel Inspired, Excited, and Alive

    You’re Never Too Old To Feel Inspired, Excited, and Alive

    “I do not want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.” ~Diane Ackerman 

    I’m in the business of watching people take risks. I observe them tackling challenges, fear, and discomfort, and sometimes, “making firsts” in their life.

    I observe a lot as a flight attendant, and sometimes wonder if my official title should rather be “Human Observer,” or “Social Experimenter.” It feels more accurate, or at least it’s the part that I typically enjoy the most. I’m also what’s called a “Death Doula” and hospice volunteer, both of which I consider to be more of a passion rather than a kind of “job” or “position.”

    I not only enjoy observing and assisting people through their living process, but also through their dying process. That includes everything in between. My interest in humans isn’t just with the young (who the media unfortunately tells us are the only “relevant ones”), but I rather have a special spot in my heart for the old and the dying.

    I experienced a rather benign interaction a couple of weeks ago, walking to my gate in the Salt Lake City Airport at the beginning of my work trip. As I was passing the TSA security area, a hunched elderly woman, slightly ahead of me, dropped all of her belongings. Her belongings included a small rollaboard and a large tote purse. Her bags were ripping at the seams with the items I’m sure she diligently chose ahead of time.

    My husband, who also happens to be a “Human Observer” with the same Human Observing company, was walking with me. The timing aligned perfectly—she dropped her bags, resulting in several items spilling out, and we, following right behind her, were ready to help pick up the pieces.

    It was just the interaction I needed at that time.

    As with any job, position, or career, it’s easy to feel “burnt out,” rundown, or simply uninspired, given the right circumstances. No matter how exciting your job or life may seem to other people, it’s your “normal,” but likewise, it’s your individual responsibility to keep that flame of inspiration burning.

    A similar idea can be true for what may seem like a “boring” life or “boring” job: it may be your ultimate passion and inspiration. Either way, life and circumstances ebb and flow. Sometimes you just need to get out of your own head and stop thinking about the same day-in, day-out rudimentary topics of your life.

    At the time, I had been feeling fairly lackluster. I’d been working more than normal and had barely had time to myself to contemplate and be introspective (which I desperately need on a regular basis), let alone time to even be home. This interaction changed things for me in that moment and has stuck with me since.

    It was clear that she was traveling solo. I helped pick up her dropped rollaboard luggage as my husband started helping with her tote bag. I noticed that some of the items that dropped from her bags were French language and culture-related books. She was disorganized, no rhyme or reason for any items’ place, and you could tell she used every inch of space possible.

    “I’m going to Paris for a month, and I’ve never traveled before! This is everything I’m bringing!” She exclaimed, her smiling face closely looking up at me. I’ll never forget her look—that wrinkled, rough face with a peeling nose, disheveled short hair, and haphazardly put-together outfit. She was ecstatic, and it almost seemed as if she had been waiting to tell someone—anyone—about what adventures she was about to embark upon.

    As my husband worked on putting some items back in order, quietly talking to himself (“these will just fall out again if we don’t put them here”), I told her how excited I was for her and how amazing it is that she is doing this—going for it. Her excitement radiated onto me, and I couldn’t help but feel absolutely elated for her.

    We exchanged some additional niceties, and we helped her find her departure gate. For the next several minutes after parting ways, I had the biggest, dumbest smile stuck on my face.

    I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall (plane “wall” or otherwise) throughout her journey—to see her sense of wonder and curiosity with everyone and everything she was to encounter. I think about her now, conscious of the fact that she’s exactly halfway into her journey.

    This entire interaction then made me wonder, “What was it in her life that served as the catalyst for this decision of hers?” What made her decide, “Yep, this is the time. I’m just going to go for it. What have I got to lose?” She didn’t look like your stereotypical “adventurer.” She wasn’t trying to be anyone but herself.

    In a modern world where the young, adventurous ones are on Tik Tok, YouTube, or Instagram, it was refreshing to see a normal, mature person just going for it. I see and experience examples of this kind of thing on a regular basis, but I guess I just wish that perhaps someone from a younger generation who may be insecure about the direction of their life could experience these things with me.

    As much as I’ve experienced those who are brave and taking up hobbies or doing things that inspire them, I’ve also seen the opposite: those who are afraid of the new. It seems as if people get settled in their ways and end up saying to themselves, “Welp, this is it. This is my life now.”

    But why do we do that? It seems so counterintuitive to how life should be: full of exploration and wonder. I don’t think this is a particularly new or modern concept. I don’t think it’s because of social media that more mature folks aren’t taking risks or taking up hobbies they genuinely enjoy.

    This is not to say that I think everyone should get on a plane and go to Paris. Traveling isn’t inspiring for everyone. For some, perhaps the exhaustion or the stress outweigh any benefit. To each their own. Perhaps your version of exploring curiosity or wonder is creating a garden, deciding to read more, finally getting into stand-up comedy, going outside more, or digging into that sourdough bread kit.

    Deciding to lead a life full of exploration and wonder doesn’t need to fit a particular theme. It’s getting out there (or staying in there) and doing what inspires you. It’s doing it for you—no one else. And sometimes it may take a catalyst against your will to make something happen.

    I can’t assume that it was something perceived as “negative” that happened to our Parisian friend that made her, for the first time ever, embark on a month-long trip across the world. But I find it fun to explore the possibilities.

    Many may also say they have a fear of “failure,” but what are we defining as “failure?” Does “failure” even exist if you’re actively enjoying yourself and not doing it for anyone else? You’re never too old to find inspiration—whether it be through a hobby, an activity, or through others. Our lives and deaths are constantly in cycle. That cycle is always in motion. You’ve got to keep moving.

    I think Ms. Paris, who I admire so, knew this. We didn’t need to have this particular conversation for me to know that.

  • How I’m Overcoming Perfectionism and Why I’m No Longer Scared to Fail

    How I’m Overcoming Perfectionism and Why I’m No Longer Scared to Fail

    “Perfectionism is a self-destructive belief system. It’s a way of thinking that says: ‘If I look perfect, live perfect, and work perfect, I can avoid or minimize criticism and blame.’” ~Brené Brown

    I struggled with trying new things in my past. I learned growing up that failure was bad. I used to be a gifted child, slightly ahead of my peers. As I got older, everything went downhill.

    Whenever I tried out a new activity, I would quit if I wasn’t instantly perfect at it. If there was the slightest imperfection, I would get extremely frustrated and upset. I would obsess over the same mistakes in my past over and over.

    This made me procrastinate and avoid trying new things, fearing failure. I would simply tell my friends “I’m not interested” when they tried to get me to grow outside my comfort zone.

    I tried out various passion projects, solely focused on the results. Sketching was a fun hobby of mine, but I was slowly losing steam. “All the drawings I’m doing aren’t good enough! Argh!”

    I attempted public speaking competitions. “I didn’t get any prize? This is such a waste.”

    And even stopped having an interest in sports when I was dominated in a match by my friends.

    I didn’t know it at that time, but this was a clear case of unhealthy perfectionism.

    Growing up, I thought I was good at everything. I embodied this identity with pride. But when I did something that contradicted this identity, like failing at something, I did everything I could to not feel that pain again. Even if it meant I didn’t pursue my passions and feared failure my whole life.

    Now that I’ve grown internally more, I’ve realized that perfectionism is really about control—trying to control how people see you. Perfectionism is, at its core, about earning approval and acceptance.

    “Perfectionism isn’t striving to be our best or working towards excellence. Healthy striving is internally driven, perfectionism is externally driven with a simple, all-consuming question: ‘What will people think of me?’” ~Brené Brown

    Studies show that perfectionism actually hampers the path to success and leads to anxiety and depression. Achieving mastery is fueled by curiosity and viewing failures as opportunities for learning. Perfectionism kills curiosity.

    When I was struggling to reach my own high standards, I learned that it’s better to move on and figure out how to thoughtfully bridge the gap between where I was and where I wanted to be over time, rather than spinning my wheels and being stuck in place in an effort to get everything perfect today.

    Curing my unhealthy perfectionism and letting in authenticity, I believe, mainly came down to grace.

    I gave myself the acceptance and grace to be where I was that day, and to enjoy the process rather than the result. I allowed myself to make mistakes, be curious, and experiment. This was a major turning point in my life. I didn’t want to live with fear anymore, so I vowed to live authentically and be free.

    I stopped putting pressure on myself and let my childlike curiosity out. I became adventurous and started trying new things. Every time I did something outside my comfort zone (and a little scary), I wanted to jump with excitement. I felt truly alive and present.

    This is what it means to be successful—growing from failures and enjoying the journey instead of trying to do everything perfectly.

    I practiced mindfulness, self-love, and gratitude to further improve my mental state. I realized that I badly craved approval from the outside world, even though I used to deny it and have this “I don’t care what others think of me” attitude. I used to be wary of how others would judge me, so I focused on developing my relationship with myself and loving myself exactly as I was.

    But of course, the change wasn’t immediate, and it took me some time to fully cure my perfectionism. I started slowly changing my thought patterns by speaking kindly to myself, as if I was my younger self. I imagined myself as a young child who just needed love and acceptance. I forgave myself when I made mistakes, let go of the past, and moved on.

    I encouraged myself to keep improving and I continued to work on my passion projects—showing up every day. Now, it has led me here, where I can share my guidance and love with those who need it. I am more fulfilled and happier than ever.

    And I now know that failing doesn’t mean I’m a failure. It means I’m someone who’s brave enough to try new things, and that’s the identity I now embody with pride.

  • Two Things Not to Do After a Traumatic Event (Lessons from Being Robbed)

    Two Things Not to Do After a Traumatic Event (Lessons from Being Robbed)

    “True emotional healing happens by feeling. The only way out is through.” ~Jessica Moore

    Have you ever loved someone so much that you could no longer see who they really were? Or have you ever been young and naive to the danger that surrounds you?

    I’m the first to raise my hand and say I did that! I’m a person who trusts people until they give me a reason not to.

    Trust

    Trust can be broken in so many ways by those you least expect it from; those you love and thought loved you. In some cases, it may not be that they don’t love you, but just that they have had a temporary moment of madness that has hindered their ability to think clearly—who knows?

    But whatever the reason for their betrayal, it can cause so much pain that you feel it in every part of your body. You know the kind of pain I’m talking about, which is so intense that it feels like you’re being pricked with needles. It’s not a nice place to be.

    Story Time

    For me, that moment came on a quiet night in June 2009, which was the calm before the storm that shook my young life. The month before, I had just turned twenty and was looking forward to the summer holidays after finishing my first year at university.

    At the time, I was with someone, and we had been together for just over a year. I had told him about certain areas of my life that I didn’t like to talk about because I didn’t think anyone would be able to understand or relate to them.

    That’s how much I trusted this person, so when he asked me for my house key, I agreed, although I was hesitant to give it initially. I thought we were cool. I know, before you look at me askance, I was young and stupid. I had been living on my own for about a year and ten months at that point, after moving out of foster care.

    On that horrible day, I remember my friend coming to see me during the day and leaving in the early evening. I then remember that shortly after she left, the guy I was with came into the house and stared at me for quite a while. I asked him why he was staring at me like that. He said it was nothing, I just looked different. I said yes, my hair was straight (I usually wore my hair with a natural afro).

    But I could tell something was wrong, so I asked him if he was okay. He said yes and walked out. I thought it would be like any other night and just lazed around the flat.

    Around 10 p.m. I was lying on my sofa playing my favorite game on the Nintendo DS (Ace Attorney) with my legs up and no trousers on. I heard the key unlock my door, but thinking it was my boyfriend, I didn’t flinch… until the door to my living room opened and I saw a boy with a bandana on his face.

    I jumped up quickly to cover myself, and while one of the boys held me at knifepoint, I watched as several other boys with hoods and covered faces took my things. The last thing they took was my wallet, but one of the boys had to ask me where it was.

    Due to the shock of what was happening, my brain couldn’t think, so I answered with “I don’t know,” which of course the boys didn’t like at all, as you can imagine. I ended up getting smacked in the face to jog my memory.

    It Was Not Over

    When they were gone, I quickly got up and ran to the door to put the chain on so they wouldn’t come back in. Lo and behold, one of them came back to get the remote control for the TV. To his surprise, of course, he couldn’t get in, and that made him angry. So he ordered me through the crack to get him the remote and threatened that he’d break down the door and kill me if I didn’t.

    Can you imagine being killed over a remote control?

    I got the remote and pushed it through the crack. Then he asked me for the password to my laptop, and I didn’t hesitate to tell him. Then he said, “If it’s wrong, I’ll come back.”

    During this exchange, I had the police on the phone in the bathroom. When the boys had left, I checked and found that they had taken my house phone, but I still had a spare phone in the cupboard, which I used to call 999.

    Just a few minutes after I finished talking to the suspect, the police knocked on my door. He had been arrested not far from my door and the police were able to recover some of my belongings (which were now evidence), including my front door key. The other boys managed to escape, but the arrested boy was later charged and convicted.

    That was a tough night for me, but the toughest pill I had to swallow was the realization that those boys wouldn’t have gotten my key without my ex-boyfriend’s consent.

    It seemed too premeditated because only he knew how much some of the stolen things cost.

    It was the biggest betrayal I’d ever experienced. I thought hearts could only be ripped out in vampire shows until it happened to me in real life that night (at least that’s how it felt).

    After the incident, I stayed with friends for the summer, which helped me cope better with the aftermath because I was out of the area for a while. But I also think it took me longer to heal because I was in denial for the first few months.

    I couldn’t fully process what had happened. I was finding it hard to get my head around it, and I didn’t talk about it because I couldn’t formulate the right words to express how I felt. I also felt embarrassed that it was partly my own fault for giving him my key.

    After the summer I moved to another area in time for my second year of university, and I never saw or spoke to my ex again.

    A Little Encouragement

    I’d like to say to all those who experience betrayal or survive traumatic crimes that the memory may never completely go away, but the healing will come with time and effort.

    This means feeling, processing, and accepting your emotions, reflecting on the situation and thinking about lessons learned, and forgiving and letting go so you can continue living.

    The two things I’d advise you not to do:

    1. Don’t suffer in silence.

    2. Don’t suppress your feelings and pretend nothing has happened.

    I did both for many years. It was only when I started talking about what had happened and allowed myself to feel all the different emotions that came with it that my healing journey really began.

    My emotions ranged from confusion, disgust, fear, shame, anger, and rage to sadness. They would be up and down on any given day. Sometimes it could be because something had triggered me, and other times just because I was thinking about what happened.

    Sometimes the event replays in your mind repeatedly like a broken record. Let it, because you’ll eventually come to a place of acceptance and slowly begin to let go of the pain.

    I also found it very hard to trust people after that, especially men. But I realized that the more pain I clung to, the more it prevented me from moving forward.

    Not trusting meant I would keep people at arm’s length. I wouldn’t allow them to get too close to me. I appeared cold and detached and thus had very few friends and no romantic relationship for over five years. So I started to forgive.

    I learned that forgiveness was more for me than for the other person, so I forgave myself first for not listening to my intuition when I was resistant to give him my key in the first place.

    Forgiving my ex without ever getting an explanation or apology wasn’t easy, but it allowed me to trust again. I chose to forgive him firstly for my own inner peace and secondly because I refused to believe that he was that coldhearted; instead, I reasoned that something must have happened to trigger the incident.

    Whatever you’re going through, it’ll get better, I promise. Hang in there and remember that this is just part of your story, not your whole story. If you do the work to heal and allow yourself to grow through the experience, it can only serve to make you better, not bitter.

  • 8 Things Not to Say to Someone Who’s Struggling with Anxiety

    8 Things Not to Say to Someone Who’s Struggling with Anxiety

    Anxiety

    “Sometimes just being there is enough.” ~Unknown

    It felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like someone was holding me by the neck, against a wall, and the floor might drop beneath us at any moment.

    I’m describing a panic attack, but this has actually happened to me before—being held by the neck against a wall, that is, not the other part. Growing up I experienced many moments like that, moments when I felt unsafe, physically and emotionally.

    There were countless experiences that reinforced to me, over the years, that I couldn’t let my guard down, because at any moment I could be hurt.

    So I learned to be constantly anxious, eternally on guard, ever ready for a threat. I learned to be tightly wound, my fight-or-flight response permanently triggered.

    And I learned to see minor threats as major problems, because that’s another thing I learned as a kid: Sometimes seemingly small things could make other people snap.

    Unsurprisingly, I grew into an adult who snapped over small things all the time.

    Got bleach on my interview outfit? No one will ever hire me now!

    She doesn’t want to be my friend? Why doesn’t anyone love me?

    Found a suspicious lump? I’m going to die!

    Okay, so that last one isn’t actually a “small thing,” but the point is I was constantly scared. Life was a string of lions to tame, and I lived in a land without chairs.

    I believe my early experiences, being mistreated in varied environments, led to my years of depression and anxiety. For you or your loved one, there may be other causes.

    Some people are genetically predisposed to anxiety, some struggle because of stressful circumstances, and for some, physical conditions play a role.

    But this isn’t a post about what causes anxiety. This is a post about what not to say when someone’s panicking.

    Anxiety can completely overwhelm your mind and body, and we often exacerbate our pain by being cruel to ourselves in our head.

    “Get it together!” we scream at ourselves. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you such a mess?”

    But none of these thoughts are helpful. Though the people who love us are generally not as cruel, they sometimes say less than helpful things, as well, solely because they don’t know any better.

    Even as someone who has experienced anxiety, I have said some of the things below to others because it feels powerless to see someone struggling. And when you feel powerless, it’s hard to think straight.

    All you know is that you want to fix it for them. You want to have answers. But sometimes when we’re in fix-it mode, despite our best intentions, we inadvertently add fuel to the fire.

    So, as someone who’s been on both sides of the coin, I’d like to share some phrases to avoid when someone is dealing with anxiety, and offer a little insight into what actually helps.

    Things Not to Say to Someone Who’s Struggling with Anxiety

    1. What you’re stressing about won’t even matter in a year.

    In many cases, this is true. If someone’s worrying about a minor car accident, it’s entirely likely what they’re stressing about won’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. But this isn’t a universally true statement.

    A minor accident could lead to major car trouble, which could lead to missing work, which could lead to lost pay, which could lead to getting evicted. And that could very well matter in a year. Is this chain of events likely? No, but it’s still possible.

    It’s not reassuring to tell someone the worst-case scenario won’t happen because sometimes, it does. But more importantly, in that moment when someone is in the midst of anxiety, it feels catastrophic, and you can’t rationalize those feelings away—at least not immediately.

    When someone is panicking, they don’t need logic; they need validation. They need validation that yes, life is uncertain and “bad” things do happen, and validation that it’s okay to feel scared.

    They also need a reminder that in this moment, they are safe. And that’s all they need to think about right now: breathing and grounding themselves in this moment in time.

    2. Life’s too short to worry. 

    All this does is create more anxiety, because in addition to whatever that person was initially stressing about, they now have to worry that they’re missing out on life because of an emotional response that feels beyond their control.

    Yes, life is short. And we all naturally want to make the most of it. But you wouldn’t tell a diabetic “Life is too short to have too much sugar in your blood.” Sure, you’d encourage them to make healthy food choices, but you’d realize this phrasing would vastly oversimplify the effort required from them to manage their condition and maintain healthy habits.

    The same is true of anxiety. Anyone who’s struggled with it understands there are far better ways to live, and this knowledge pains them. What they may not know is how to help themselves.

    3. Calm down.

    “Calm down” is the goal, not the action step. It’s what we all want to do when we’re panicking. It’s the shore in the distance, and it can feel miles away as we gasp for air in the undertow of emotion and struggle to stay afloat.

    If you know any good methods that help you calm yourself—deep breathing exercises, for example—by all means, share them. But it’s probably best not to get into much detail in the moment when someone is panicking.

    Imagine someone hanging off a cliff, about to fall into a pit full of tigers. That’s what anxiety can feel like.

    If you were to stand at the edge and scream, “COME TO YOGA WITH ME TOMORROW! DID YOU KNOW THAT YOGA CAN HELP YOU…” that person would likely be too consumed by their terror to hear you your convincing argument.

    What they need to hear in that moment is “Take my hand!” And the same is true of anxiety. Hold their hand. Help them breathe. Help them come back into the moment. Then, when they feel safe, that’s a good time to tell them what’s helped you.

    That’s another important thing to remember: We all want to hear what’s helped other people deal, not what someone who’s never experienced our struggles has read about. Share your experience, not your expertise. None of us need a guru; we need friends who aren’t afraid to be vulnerable.

    4. It’s no big deal. 

    This comes back to the first point: In that moment, it feels like a big deal. A very big deal. It feels like the biggest, scariest, worst thing that could happen, and you can’t turn that fear off like a switch.

    When someone says, “It’s not a big deal,” the anxious mind translates this as “You’re overreacting—which is further proof that you’re broken.”

    Instead, try, “I know it’s hard. And scary. But you’re not alone. I’m here to help you get through this.”

    It’s amazing how much it helps when someone reinforces that it’s okay to be scared—it’s human, even—but we don’t have to face it alone.

    5. It’s all in your head. 

    Yes, thoughts and fears all originate in our head, but that doesn’t make our feelings any less real. The anxious mind translates “It’s all in your head” as “Your head is defective,” because knowing that thoughts fuel anxiety doesn’t make it any easier to stop thinking anxious thoughts.

    When we’re thinking anxious thoughts, what we need is a reminder that they often arise naturally—for all of us. We don’t need to worry about changing them. We just need to practice accepting them when they arise and disengaging from them.

    So try this instead: “I can understand why you’re thinking those thoughts. I’d probably think some of the same things if I were in your shoes. If you want, you can tell me all your anxious thoughts. They’re trying to protect you in their own way, so maybe they just need to be heard and then they’ll quiet a bit.”

    6. Let it go.

    I have, over the years, written many posts with advice on letting go. I believe it’s healthy to strive to let go of anger, resentment, fears, the past, and anything else that compromises our ability to be happy and loving in the present.

    I think, though, letting go is something we may need to do repeatedly. It’s a practice, not a one-time decision, and certainly not something we’re well equipped to do in a moment when we’re gripped by fear.

    Jon Kabat-Zinn wrote, “It’s not a matter of letting go—you would if you could. Instead of ‘Let it go’ we should probably say ‘Let it be’.”

    That’s what we need in the moment when we’re panicking: We need to give those feelings permission to exist. We need to give ourselves permissions to be a human being experiencing those feelings. And we need to know the people around us love us enough to accept us as we are—even if it might make them feel more comfortable if we were better able to just “let it go.”

    7. Things could be so much worse.

    Yes, things could always be worse, we all know this. Like many statements on this list, this phrase does little other than evoke guilt. And for the anxious mind, guilt can lead to more anxiety.

    Now, on top of their initial fears, they’re worrying that they’re not a good person because they can’t rationalize their anxiety away with gratitude.

    I’m not suggesting that it never helps to put things in perspective, but coming from someone else, this almost always sounds condescending. Condescension leads most of us to feel inferior, and it’s even worse when we’re already feeling ashamed because of our struggle, as many of us do.

    8. Be positive. 

    Anxiety isn’t just about negativity. For many of us, like me, it’s a learned response from a traumatic past in which we felt persistently unsafe. You can train your brain to be more optimistic, and in doing so, minimize anxious thoughts. But this involves far more time, effort, and support than the phrase “be positive” conveys.

    Also, “be positive” suggests that “positive” is something one can become—permanently—which ignores the reality that lows are inevitable in life. No one is positive all the time, and often the people who seem to be are actually being passive-aggressive.

    Phrases like “Look on the bright side” and “See the glass as half full” can seem incredibly patronizing when you’re hurting. They minimize just how hard it can be to see the world optimistically, especially when you’ve experienced trauma.

    So instead, show them what it looks like to be positive. Be loving and open and calm and accepting and supportive and present. This probably won’t heal them of their struggle or banish their anxiety in the moment when they’re panicking, but it’s amazing how you can affect someone for the better by being a healthy mirror.

    —

    After reading this list, you might think I’m suggesting there is no way to heal from anxiety; we just need to help people accept it and get through it. But that’s not actually my point.

    There are tools out there to help people. You can find some of them here. (I personally recommend therapy, yoga, and meditation, as these three tools combined have helped me learn to better regulate my emotions.)

    My point is that even when someone is making the efforts to help themselves, it takes time, they may still struggle, and in those moments, they simply need love, acceptance, and, support.

    We all do—even you, loved one who tries your best and has only the best intentions.

    If you’ve said some of these things in the past, know that we recognize you’re imperfect, just like us, but we still appreciate all that you do. We also appreciate that you read articles like this to better understand and support us.

    The world can be a scary place, but knowing that people, like you, care enough to help us makes it feel a whole lot safer.

  • How I Stopped Feeling Embarrassed and Ashamed of Being Single

    How I Stopped Feeling Embarrassed and Ashamed of Being Single

    “Be proud of who you are, not ashamed of how someone else sees you.” ~Unknown

    “When was your last relationship?” my hairdresser asked as she twisted the curling wand into my freshly blow-dried hair.

    “Erm, around two years ago.” I lied.

    “Why did you break up?” she asked.

    “Oh, he had a lot of issues. It wasn’t really working out.” I lied again.

    I had gotten quite good at this, lying to hide my shame over being in my early thirties and never having been in a serious relationship. I had learned to think on my feet; that way, no one would ever call me out. The last thing I needed was people’s pity and judgment.

    I sat in my chair thinking about what she might say. Should I have told her that I have never been in a serious relationship? Would she be compassionate or judgmental? Would she feel sorry for me and think there was something wrong with me? That was a risk I was not willing to take.

    I felt so much shame and embarrassment around my relationship status that I would avoid discussions about it at all costs. Or I’d lie or get defensive with family and friends who would bring it up, to the point that they noticed it was a sore subject and would avoid asking about my love life.

    I learned to recognize how shame manifested in my physical body—the anxiety I felt when someone would ignorantly ask when I would be having children, the rapid heartbeat when asked if I would be bringing a plus-one to gatherings, and the knots in my stomach when I would be invited places that would consist of mainly couples.

    The shame I felt around my relationship status had always prevented me from speaking my truth because I was afraid I would be judged harshly.

    I felt like someone with an addiction who was in denial. I was so ashamed that I couldn’t bring myself to say the words “I’ve never had a serious relationship” to anyone, not even my closest friends and family, despite them knowing deep down.

    The Quest to Find Love

    I felt aggrieved that I had gotten to my early thirties without ever being in a serious relationship. The creator didn’t love me; it had forgotten about me. I desperately wanted a loving relationship, as I was tired of being alone, and I wanted to experience true love.

    I had a warped belief that being in love meant that I would feel happier, content, and life would genuinely be easier. After all, this is what we are told in fairy tales—the princess gets her knight in shining armor and they live happily ever after!

    Over the years, I delved into the dating scene, trying dating apps, and keeping an active social life so I could meet people. Time went by, and I dated multiple unavailable men who ran when they sensed I wanted something serious.

    This eventually got tiresome, and it took a toll on my self-esteem and confidence. I felt undesirable and not good enough.

    I couldn’t understand what I was doing wrong! Was I being punished? I was well-educated, with a good career and prospects, and I wasn’t bad looking at all. And more importantly, I was considered kind, outgoing, and friendly by those who knew me.

    Enough Is Enough

    I was exhausted and frustrated and had no more energy left in me to keep looking for a good match.

    I was so fed up with being met with disappointment and feeling bad about myself that I slowly began to give up on love.

    I convinced myself that I would never find the right partner, that I wouldn’t experience the over-glamorized idea of love I had conjured up in my head from early childhood.

    This only heightened my feelings of shame. It told me that not only was I not good enough to have a partner, I wasn’t capable of seeing something through until the end, and I didn’t possess the courage to ‘tough it out.’ Shame told me I was a bad person, unworthy of love.

    Sulking into my pillow on a Sunday afternoon, I had a sudden thought: Maybe it’s not them, maybe it’s you. I got angry at this thought. How could I possibly be to blame? I’ve done nothing wrong. The only thing I am guilty of is wanting to be loved.

    Another thought came: Maybe you can do something to change your experiences. This thought didn’t get me as angry, and after reflecting on it for a day or two, I concluded that I had to take some responsibility for the kind of men I was attracting.

    I took a step back from finding ‘the one’ and put my energy and focus on working on myself. I concluded that most of the qualities I wanted in a man I didn’t even have in myself—for example, confidence and assertiveness.

    Compassion Over Everything

    I learned that shame can be ‘killed’ when it’s met with compassion, so I started being kinder and less critical of myself. I made a conscious effort to avoid negative thoughts, praised myself as often as I could, and tried not to be too hard on myself.

    I confided in my close friends about the shame I felt around my single status, despite it taking much courage to do so. The more I admitted to people that I had never been in a serious relationship, the better I felt and the more I began to accept it.

    Being vulnerable with those I loved was like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. What’s even better was that I wasn’t judged harshly or pitied as I anticipated, and instead, I was shown love and compassion.

    I remember telling a new colleague that I hadn’t been in a serious relationship, and she said, “Me too.” My fear of how she would react quickly turned to relief that there were people just like me, that I had nothing to be ashamed of.

    I was, however, choosy about whom I told my story to, as not everyone is deserving of seeing me at my most vulnerable. I knew I had to be careful because if I was not met with compassion and was judged and ridiculed, this could have exacerbated the shame I already felt.

    Love is Love, No Matter Where It Comes From

    I began to realize that love is love, and regardless of my relationship status, I had plenty of it. I didn’t need a partner to feel loved, and love isn’t less valuable because it doesn’t come from a relationship.

    We can be shown love by our friends, family, colleagues, ourselves, and even strangers. This love is just as special and meaningful as the love you experience in a relationship.

    With this in mind, I began to cultivate more self-love in order to boost my confidence and self-esteem. After all, the best relationship I’ll ever have is the one I have with myself.

    I started being kind to myself and saying nice things about myself through daily affirmations. I also accepted compliments when I was given them, took time out for self-care, and put boundaries in place where needed.

    As a result, my confidence and self-esteem grew, and I started to understand my worth and value.

    Letting Go of the Need to Find Love

    Over time, I began to let go of the need to find love. I hadn’t noticed that it had completely taken over every part of my being. I wasn’t closed off to finding love; in fact, I was very open about finding a potential partner. Only this time, I was okay with it if it didn’t happen.

    I let go of the idea that someone would be coming to rescue me, and I concluded that I could be my own hero and best friend.

    I let go of the idea that I needed to be in a relationship to be happy and made a conscious decision to be happy at that very moment. As a result, I began to feel free, liberated, and completely content with where I was in life.

    When I let go, I noticed that the shame I felt around my relationship status had stemmed from fear. I was scared of what people would think of me because I wasn’t meeting the status quo. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to start a family.

    Where I Am Now

    I still haven’t met ‘the one,’ and I’m okay with this. I am now at peace, joyful, and enjoying my life as it is in this present moment.

    I no longer feel the shame I once felt around my relationship status or the fear that I have been left behind. I understand that I don’t have to be ashamed, as there are plenty of others just like me.

    I choose to see my single status as my superpower. I get to use this time to learn and grow. I embrace and appreciate every moment of being single, as I know that when I do get into a relationship (which I will), I will miss moments of being single and having no one to answer to.

    There are, of course, times when negative thoughts and behaviors try to rear their ugly head, but I simply remember who I am and ask myself, “Does this thought or behavior align with what I want or who I want to be?” If it doesn’t, I simply let it go.

    For anyone reading this who’s experiencing feelings of shame and fear because they do not have a partner, remember you’re still worthy single, and you deserve your own compassion and love. Once you give these things to yourself, you set yourself free.

  • Why I Didn’t Trust Myself to Make Decisions (and What If It’s All Okay?)

    Why I Didn’t Trust Myself to Make Decisions (and What If It’s All Okay?)

    “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” ~Mary Oliver

    Lately, I’ve been taking time to think about what I actually want. Not what I “should” want or what other people want for me.

    One thing I have learned is that mistakes happen when you choose not to follow your inner guidance system. The problem is that, for many years, I chose not to listen to mine.

    Whenever it screamed and pulled at me, desperate to get my attention (“Don’t purchase a car from that shady car dealership! Don’t go out with that person who makes you feel very uneasy! Don’t spend thousands of dollars on a degree that doesn’t make you happy!”), I would simply override it. I would tune out everything my gut was telling me, and instead, justify in my head why doing xyz would be a perfectly fine idea.

    After enough of these experiences piled up, rather than arriving at the realization that I willfully chose to ignore my intuition and that’s what got me into trouble… I arrived at a somewhat different conclusion. I decided that I simply wasn’t good at making decisions.

    So I stopped trusting myself. Before making an important decision about anything, I’d always have another person “validate” it. You know, just in case. My justification was, if I end up making a totally messed up decision, well, I don’t need to feel too badly about it since it was backed by another human being. Evading personal responsibility at its best.

    Now, short term, this sort of worked.

    The people offering guidance and helping me with my decisions were sound-of-mind individuals who cared about me. In fact, some of their guidance was largely beneficial to me, and I’m glad I listened.

    The thing is, while listening to others can be very helpful, it should not be used as a crutch. If someone gently encourages you to make a decision that you know, deep down, is good for you, that is perfectly fine. However, if you are relying solely on input from others because you’re afraid to make the “wrong decision,” that needs to be examined.

    Three problems started to slowly arise for me.

    One, I started to lose my own voice. I started to forget my own taste and what I liked, disliked, agreed with, or disagreed with. I convinced myself that I honestly didn’t know. But oh, I knew. I just was terrified of admitting it to others, much less myself.

    Two, there were occasionally moments where someone’s advice did not resonate with what I wanted. Wait, disagreeing with someone?! Feeling like I might have a separate, completely valid opinion that is different than another human’s?? TOO MUCH TO HANDLE.

    And three, chaos ensued when multiple people had multiple opinions about how I should live my life. And every single person expected me to honor their advice and guidance. And oh my god, what do I even do now?

    After years of dealing with the anxiety caused by trying to do everything everyone wanted, as well as the deep depression that arose as I realized I had become a former shell of who I was, unsure of who I was or what I wanted, I knew that something needed to change. I was lost and slipping away.

    I started making small decisions. It felt terrifying.

    I would like to buy this shirt. I would like to eat sushi for lunch. I would like to stay in this evening, rather than go out.

    Little wins for self-advocacy!

    Then I started making bigger decisions.

    I would like a new job. I would like to stop “hustling” during my non-work hours and just do things that make me happy. I’d like to take more abstract, nature photos than cookie-cutter family photos.

    With each little decision I made, I also made sure to pay close attention to how I was feeling.

    If I felt a tightness in my chest and a feeling of uneasiness, I would pay attention to that. I’d think to myself, “You know what, brain… I know you might object to this for various reasons, but the heart is telling me to steer clear of this decision.”

    I slowly started becoming much more aware of everything my body was feeling at any given moment.

    I also started to realize something else. Maybe there truly are no “shoulds.”

    No matter what decision you make, there will be someone who is all for it and someone who disagrees completely. There are thousands of choices that a person can make in a day. It’s impossible to guarantee that everyone will like or approve of all of these little choices. From the decision to order a cinnamon dulce latte at Starbucks (yes, I see all you Dunkin’ Donuts diehards out there cringing), to the decision to dye your hair purple.

    What about the even bigger decisions? Such as the choice to work a certain job, have a family or not have a family, follow a certain political party, etc.

    What if the whole point is to simply live in accordance with our values, and honor other peoples’ desire to do the same?

    What if it is literally all okay?

    To plant down roots. To fly with wings.

    To be financially abundant and have more than you could need. To have just enough to live happily and comfortably.

    To be tall, short, skinny, fat, lean, muscular, and everything in between.

    To live on your own or to live with others. To be in a relationship or to be single. To work sixty hours a week or five hours a week. To have a job you adore or a job that pays the bills.

    To be a work in progress. To be sure. To be unsure.

    To still be learning. To still be searching. To be saved. To not believe. To be straight, gay, bi, or none of the above. To love men. To love women. To love animals. To simply love.

    What if it is okay to have hard ambition and dreams that are larger than life?

    What if it is okay to have soft ambition and dreams that are just right, which make us happy and honor our capacity?

    What if it is okay to not have any “ambitions,” per se, and to simply focus on cultivating habits rather than reaching goals?

    To experience satisfaction on our own terms without needing to prove anything to anyone, ever.

    What if being enough isn’t about trying to be everything to everyone? Rather, it is about being who you want to be, unstoppably, and nothing more?

  • How I Stopped Worrying About Running Out of Time to Achieve My Goals

    How I Stopped Worrying About Running Out of Time to Achieve My Goals

    “The only thing that is ultimately real about your journey is the step that you are taking at this moment. That’s all there ever is.” ~Alan Watts

    One thing that is promised to each one of us in life is death. No one will avoid dying or feeling the pain of losing others. From a young age I remember being aware of this fact, and it scared me.

    As I got older, I began to feel a sense of pressure that I was running out of time and loss was imminent. The thought of losing my loved ones and the uncertainty of what may happen worried me. I wanted to avoid the feelings of loss and limitation, so I unconsciously began to move faster.

    There was a deep fear that if things didn’t happen fast, they would not happen at all and that I wouldn’t have enough time.

    Faster became better, and I started the hamster race of working hard to achieve my dreams. Whether that was finishing school, starting a career, being in a healthy relationship, starting a family, being fit… even my spiritual journey became a race to happiness that only existed in the future!

    I realized later in life that this mindset was born out of fear—the fear of loss, the fear of the unknown—and protection from these fears was a quick accomplishment. It created an immense amount of stress and suffering because all goals and dreams take time to build.

    I believed sooner was better, and if it wasn’t fast then it wasn’t happening at all. I began to find reasons for why it wasn’t happening—that I was not good enough, life was unfair and hard, and it was not possible for me. Each time I repeated these limiting beliefs, I took one step away from my dreams and developed more anxiety.

    This led to a cycle of starting, quitting, and then searching for something different. I would garner the courage to start something new only to fall flat on my face when it didn’t happen. The cycle of shame would repeat, impacting my mental health and my ability to move forward.

    I wanted to see proof that I was achieving my goals and searched for tangible evidence to feel good while simultaneously ignoring all the wonderful things that were right before my eyes. Like living near the ocean, spending time with my loved ones, talking walks along the coast, having meaningful conversations with friends, and enjoying moments of quiet with my favorite cup of coffee. These mean so much to me now.

    I wanted the degree, the paycheck, the happy photo of me surrounded by friends, rather than the silence of uncertainty and the impatience I felt in the present. My fear of time took away the only real time that existed, the now.

    When I slowed down and paused, I realized that I had experienced so much growth and expansion in all the years I’d thought I was wasting time. Every roadblock had challenged me to change. In fact, my anxiety, fear, and disappointment around my slow progress led me inward to heal my relationship with time.

    Though many of my dreams did come true, I was only able to recognize them when I slowed down and let go of the “when.”

    I was able to achieve this by practicing meditation, breathwork, and awareness. With time and consistency, the present moment became filled with color, and its beauty swept me away from the ticking time bomb of the future. I began to enjoy each step of my journey, whether it was the beginning or end.

    With the gift of hindsight, I can see that it is not about the “when” but about the “what.” What I’m doing right now in the present. The number of negative and limiting beliefs I placed upon myself and the shame I felt were due to an emphasis on always “thinking forward,” and a lack of being with myself in the present.

    The truth is when we let go of our misconceptions of time and follow our dreams patiently, we see that time is not against us; the process is a necessary part of our journey.

    The time it takes to reach our goals is not empty; it is filled with learning and unlearning so that we find ourselves. In the end it is not the achievement that leads to freedom, but the wisdom that comes from living life.

    If we make the present moment our friend rather than our foe, we can experience and appreciate our present journey rather than focusing on our arrival.

  • How to Make Things Better When It Seems Like Everything Is Going Wrong

    How to Make Things Better When It Seems Like Everything Is Going Wrong

    “You can never be happy if you’re trapped in the past and fearful of the future. Living in the present is the only way to be happy.” ~Unknown

    Have you found that the local and world events of the last couple of years have taken their toll on you and your family and friends? With fires, floods, shortages of food, fuel, and medicine, illnesses, job losses, and more, all occurring in a short space of time, it can be hard to find anyone who has not been affected in some way.

    Many people are experiencing feelings of hopelessness and living in constant fear about the future. And unfortunately, if not managed, over time these feelings can lead to depression, anxiety, and numerous other health conditions.

    We’ve all heard that a build-up of stress hormones in our body contributes to illness, but how can we possibly improve our health when we are living in survival mode and feel like the situation is hopeless?

    I lived this way for most of my life, wishing I could clone myself a million times so I could get on with changing the world, but feeling sad and frustrated knowing that I could not, no matter how hard I tried.

    I was also in my own little bubble of survival, working way too many hours to prove to myself I could be a mum and have a career and save the world, all while my health was deteriorating.

    From time to time I found myself thinking, why is it that no matter how hard I try to make things better for myself and my family, something else always comes along and makes everything worse? I was always striving, not even for perfection, but to make things better.

    I really wanted a different way, to live a life without the stress, struggle, fear, and health issues.

    Fortunately, a friend introduced me to the benefits of guided meditation and how to shift your mindset, and once I understood how powerful these practices could be in helping me to improve my quality of life, I didn’t look back.

    Even though it was a struggle for a while, as I made the changes I needed to make—which included restructuring my business, moving three times in twelve months, managing my chronic health issues, and working through the trauma—I have now found a place where I can notice and find joy in the small things, and I have hope for the future.

    I learned that, if we can keep a positive outlook and focus on ourselves and how we respond in any situation, we can change how we feel about everything. But how can we do this when we are feeling stuck?

    The first thing to realize is that you can’t change others. You can only change yourself and the way that you respond or react.

    You can only alter the choices you make in your life and how you can make the world a better place. And the good news is you don’t need to do anything big to do that.

    What if you can find small ways to improve:

    • Your relationships with family and friends. (For example, by being more present and listening to their interests and needs.)
    • Your kindness and care in relating to people you meet. (For example, by questioning your judgements rather than reacting immediately.)
    • The way you feel about yourself. (For example, by expressing gratitude for everything you’re doing right.)

    What if you can change the way that you look after your environment in your home and community?

    What if doing these things has a flow-on effect to everyone else you meet?

    What if you say or do something, even a seemingly small thing, that makes others feel more love and joy?

    What if they then go on to change something about themselves that gives them more joy and happiness in their lives?

    What if each person pays it forward a little more?

    We are so much more powerful than we think. Just by changing our perceptions and our actions we have an exponential effect on the people around us.

    Did you know that your thoughts and memories are just perceptions of your reality, based on your own life experiences, with some unconscious conditioning thrown in? Every single person in this world experiences life in a different way based on their past, as well as patterns of behavior that developed from a need to feel loved, nurtured, or a sense of belonging as a young child.

    Studies have even shown that people who witness an event, e.g., a crime, will always have a different interpretation of what happened compared with anyone else, because we all have our own biases. Often, our memories, when compared with actual video footage of the crime, will be completely inaccurate.

    How does this relate to you and lowering your stress and anxiety?

    It means that in any given moment you can choose how to perceive the events going in your life, in the community, and world around you.

    You can choose to wallow in fear and frustration about things that are outside of your control, or you can choose to empower yourself by focusing on the good and all the things within your control. Like the things that make you feel better. Because when you feel better, you do better, for everyone and everything around you.

    Ask yourself, what do I need to do to feel more joy and happiness and hope?

    Be consciously aware of your thoughts and notice what comes to you. What do you want to keep and what does not serve your own happiness and joy?

    For me, I decided to stop spending as much time looking at news feeds and social media. Most of it is not positive or just made me feel like I was inadequate, so I cut it right back.

    I actively sought to change conversations with family and friends that were fear-driven, by changing the subject. Unless the person really wanted help or advice that was going to support them in moving forward.

    I also made the decision to stop working so hard and enjoy whatever time I have left on this earth. I decided to focus on things that bring me health and happiness.

    Here are some of the things I like to do to feel happier, healthier, and more hopeful. Feel free to take what works for you and leave the rest. If none of these resonate, then take some time to sit and ask yourself, what can you do differently? What makes you feel good?

    • Take a bath.
    • Call a friend.
    • Play a musical instrument or create some art.
    • Listen to music.
    • Find a space on your own, even for just a few minutes, and use some gentle background music to soothe your mind and help you gather your thoughts. Doing this can often help us release the tension, even just a little, and give us some space to work out what is important to us.
    • Spend some time creating a dream board, a bucket list, or even a list of things you’d love to have or do in your life. Even though it might seem like some of those things are impossible to achieve, writing down our dreams and desires can lift our mood and gives us hope and something to look forward to.
    • Plan a treat for yourself or your family—go out for ice cream and sit by a river, lake, or beach; find a recipe that you and your family would love and work together to make it; or take a bike ride.
    • Find a spot to sit outside and observe nature and the world around you. Notice something you’ve never looked at properly before. Observe and appreciate its beauty. Look at it like a child might, with wonder and curiosity.
    • Don’t be afraid to ask someone to support you or to help out, whether it’s for a chat or some physical assistance. Most often, people are more than willing and enjoy helping. You just need to ask.

    Choose just one thing that you can do differently to improve your mood and outlook and commit to making it happen. Trust the ripple effect will happen and be proud that you are making a difference for yourself and others.

  • All the Wrong Reasons I Slept with Men Before and Why I’m Changing Now

    All the Wrong Reasons I Slept with Men Before and Why I’m Changing Now

    “We think we want sex, but it’s not always about sex. It’s intimacy we want. To be touched. Looked at. Admired. Smiled at. Laugh with someone. Feel safe. Feel like someone’s really got you. That’s what we crave.” ~Anonymous

    I have not had sex in years. I was meditating one day, and my mind was silent (an extremely rare event), then I heard “Do not have sex until you are married.” Something I heard often growing up as a southern Baptist.

    I started breathing fast, and my thoughts immediately started racing. I am pretty sure I cried, if not in that moment, later on. I felt I had been given clear instructions on what to do to take my life to another level.

    The problem was that marriage was not on my to-do list. I do like the idea of monogamy, but I don’t like the idea of being legally bonded to someone for life. Then, if for whatever reason that does not work out, I have to go through the legal system for my breakup.

    I also thought that would mean I would never have sex again, so my mind was all over the place. Fear had taken over. But then I actually listened to that message.

    The first thing I became clear about was how, on a subconscious level, I was having sex with men before I was ready because I lacked the confidence to say no. I had a fear that if I did not have sex with them, they would not like me or stick around. 

    I also learned that I was using sex to get my needs met. Sometimes I was just lonely and wanted to cuddle or be held, but I would not communicate that. I felt that no one would give me that, so ultimately, I would end up knocking boots with someone.

    I learned that I had a belief that my value was tied to my sexuality. I also learned that when I have sex with someone, I develop a strong attachment to them. I was not able to think clearly. It no longer became about growth or love but about ego. Are they going to call me? Do they like me? I never asked myself if I liked them.

    Although I have no clue as to when I will be sexually active again, I do know this: I have redefined my definition of marriage to one of a spiritual partnership. A union, not legally bound but soulfully bound for whatever time period it flows. And that’s what I’m waiting for now.

    To me, this non-legal marriage is about growth. It is a safe space to evaluate whether or not the relationship should continue. Maybe with a weekly or monthly check in. If it feels right, you keep going forward; if someone decides it’s not working for whatever reason, you move on. People grow and change. Sometimes you grow together, sometimes you grow apart. There is not this underlining pressure to stay bonded to someone your twenty-year-old self attracted.

    A spiritual partnership is a place where it is safe for us to be our authentic selves. We encourage each other, support one another. Explore our sexuality. There is a comfort in telling the other person what feels good and what does not. It is safe to say and share what we think and feel. I think we may find this type of spiritual partnership ends up lasting much longer than most marriages.

    Another lesson I have learned since I received the message about not having sex is that I always thought sex was something that you had to do. I didn’t think a person could function without it. Turns out you can. I have become more familiar with my body and what I like and what feels good to me. I have become more confident and learned that my worth and value is not at all related to my sexuality.

    I have also learned patience, trust, and surrender. We have a tendency to settle because of fear. This is something I want to challenge.

    I want to see what it is like to wait. To be patient and trust that I will form a meaningful relationship in time if I don’t jump on anyone who shows interest in me because I’m afraid of being alone. I have a feeling it will be much more rewarding than I can imagine. 

    I have learned that my body is sacred, that I want to share this with one person and give this to them as gift. I want to wait to have sex until I am in a spiritual partnership not because someone told me to but because that feels right for me. Not having sex helped me learn to love my self, develop my own set of beliefs outside the religion I was raised in, and flourish into someone that I like and respect.

    If you find yourself having thoughts like “Men are always taking advantage of me” or “There are no good men out there” or maybe “I feel like I am being used,” I highly recommend getting quiet with yourself and asking yourself: What role am I playing in this? What am I doing to create this reality for myself? What can I do differently to get different results?

  • My Dying Friend’s Woke Wake and Why We Need to Talk About Death

    My Dying Friend’s Woke Wake and Why We Need to Talk About Death

    “Death smiles at us all; all we can do is smile back.” ~Marcus Aurelius

    Recently, on a beautiful blue-sky Saturday, I attended my first “woke wake.”

    My dear friend has welcomed in the love and care of hospice, and she and her family wanted to host a celebration.

    The meaning of “woke” signals an awareness of social action, with a focus on racism and bias in our culture. She also wanted to be “awoke” to the experience of her wake. More importantly, her party was an honest expression that she will die soon. Her acknowledgement was courageous.

    We share so openly about birth, and yes, there is deep sorrow with death, but doesn’t it deserve as much open acknowledgement? Silence only makes the journey that much more difficult. 

    In her rose-rimmed glasses, moving about the party with such grace, she held her truth with pride. Her heart is full yet has become so weak.

    There were plates of delicacies with brie decorating beets, fall fruit bowls adorned with persimmons and pomegranate, plates of pumpkin brownies and breads, chips finding dips, laughter finding tears.

    She preferred we didn’t clink cups and share stories. Instead, it was both a “Bon Voyage” and “Welcome Home” celebration. The voyage is universal for all of us. Home becomes the outstretched arms of loving community and, as Ram Dass wrote, “We are all just walking each other home.”

    The morning my father passed away just shy of ninety-five, I spoke with him by phone as he lay in his hospital bed. The last thing he said in his forever strong but raspy voice, before hanging up the phone, was “Well, gotta go honey.”

    We all “gotta go,” but the privilege some of us have to plan for how we go is a gift. Many do not have that luxury due to economic, social, and possible cultural differences.

    But for many, there are concrete plans we can make as we compose our wills, designating our medical power of attorney, our financial executor, DNR, and life support decisions. We can designate who will inherit our wares and heirlooms. We can decide specifics in regard to a traditional burial, cremation, or even body composting, which is a process that transforms the body into soil to be then returned to the earth.

    Getting our affairs in order in concrete ways seems easier than having a conversation about our own death or that of our friends, family, and aging parents.

    Melanie Klein, a well-known British psychologist, believes the fear of death is the crux of anxiety. Whether one believes in this premise or not isn’t that important. But the truth is that often our feelings about death are kept deep inside. Yet discussion can ease our anxiety as we face the existential concerns about our mortality.

    I’m in an intimate group with six other women where we discuss aging, living, and dying. Sometimes we discuss the book we are reading, but more often than not, we share our hopes, dreams, and fears about the future. As our skin softens with age, our “thin skin” makes us more sensitive to issues around death.

    Often, there are concerns about being dependent and a wish to not burden those who care for us. And who will care for us? Will we be okay financially? How will our bodies and minds hold up in the years to come? We also discuss worry about those we’ll leave behind. How will children cope?

    These are difficult topics. But being in community while voicing our feelings and asking these questions can make us feel less alone. If possible, opening up the discussion with loved ones is important. And the hope is that when our time comes, we will all be better prepared and have had some of our questions answered.

    Those who die before us often become our teachers. As we attend memorials and wakes, we face that we will continue to say farewell to loved ones and inevitably ourselves. How those before us handle the farewell often educates us as to how we would like to end our journey in both similar and dissimilar ways. But this takes conversation, something too often avoided.

    My friend has taught me so much and especially about her devotion to and her honesty with her grown children. I will want my children to know they are going to be just fine in the world no matter the twists and turns in their life. And that I promise I will never be far away.

    It is said that accepting the inevitability of death helps us accept we are all just visiting for a short while. That recognition reminds us to appreciate life and make it a good visit.

    I hugged my friend goodbye and thanked her for hosting a lovely celebration. It was a good visit with a table of bounty. Maybe that is what we can all hope for as the party ends and the lights go out.

  • How Embodiment Can Make You Feel More Alive (and 5 Ways to Do It)

    How Embodiment Can Make You Feel More Alive (and 5 Ways to Do It)

    “Embodiment is living within, being present within the internal space of the body.” ~Judith Blackstone

    When I was a little boy, I would dance whenever I heard a catchy pop song on the radio. There are photos of me throwing down dance moves, exuding joy and vitality. At some point, though, I lost my ability to dance.

    If I were to guess what happened, I would say that I stopped dancing when I became self-conscious. I was no longer just being; suddenly, I became aware of being someone with a body.

    So a long and complicated relationship with my body began. As a teenager, friends and family teased me for being unusually tall and gangly. As a young man struggling with my queer identity, I objectified my body; I felt ashamed of how ‘it’ strayed so far from the perceived masculine ideal. To make matters worse, one day my lungs spontaneously collapsed.

    Over the course of two years or so, I was in and out of hospitals as doctors struggled to fix my leaky lungs. Undergoing multiple painful surgical procedures, I experienced my body as a source of great emotional and physical pain.

    Life presented other challenges. In time, I concluded that being in a body in this world is inherently painful. I thought that in order to find peace, I had to become free of pain. To achieve this, my mind had to separate itself from bodily experience.

    Seeking a Way Out

    In my early twenties, I was already weary of life. Feeling alienated, I retreated into my inner world of ideas and concepts, where I could indulge in fantasy and philosophy through reading. Most of the time, I was just a head in front of a screen, browsing the internet—there was little sense of having a body.

    I also tried many things to minimize my exposure to pain and fear. Evading social interactions to evade the possibility of experiencing shame was a common strategy of mine. I was deathly afraid of feeling difficult emotions. Being a highly sensitive person, powerful emotions like shame would shut me down, leaving me incapacitated.

    Later, I embarked on a spiritual journey and became drawn to teachings that promised an end to suffering. I poured myself into meditation and became somewhat relieved by a growing sense of detachment. I thought it was a mark of progress, but actually, I was becoming more apathetic. Increasingly, I had difficulty engaging with life and other people.

    Recovering Authenticity and Aliveness

    Living inside my head, I became an observer of life—like an armchair anthropologist. Sure, I participated in the activities that society expected of me, but I always did so at a distance.

    We all come into this world as embodied consciousness. With our body we experience ourselves and contact our environment: we move, communicate, relate, and create worlds. We experience the world’s colors, melodies, temperatures, pulsations, and textures. And it is through our body that we feel joy, sadness, anger, fear, comfort, and love. Through tasting this smorgasbord of sensations, we also discover and bring out our unique expression into the world.

    Life with limited sensation and feeling is like experiencing the world in one dimension only. So, the work I had to do to find myself again involved coming home to my body.

    In a world that sometimes tries to erase or suppress our embodied, authentic expression, coming home to ourselves requires courage and a lot of support. By reclaiming our body, we can rediscover a sense of belonging in ourselves and in this world.

    5 Ways to Begin Coming Home to Your Body

    There are many approaches that can help us come home to our body and feel more alive. If you’ve experienced deep trauma, please find a trained somatic practitioner who can work with you. Here, I’ll just share a few simple things you can try doing more of to become a little more embodied. Make sure to listen to your body in order to discern whether these activities feel right for you.

    1. Breathe deeply.

    Proper breathing is essential to becoming more embodied.

    I learned from a bodyworker that I wasn’t breathing fully most of the time. My Zen practice taught me to breathe into my belly, but now, I wasn’t breathing into my chest much.

    To breathe more fully, breathe in deeply, filling the space in your abdomen as if you were pouring water into a jug. The air rises up to the chest as water rises up a jug. Breathing out, the air releases from the chest and from the belly.

    2. Touch the earth.

    Recently, my painting teacher offered to teach me how to garden. There’s something very healing about touching the soil with my hands. When we touch the earth, we connect with our larger body, which helps us recognize our individual small body.

    Today, so many of us, including myself, spend our days sitting in front of a computer. So I think it’s important to find activities where we can touch the earth. I remember the first time I walked on a beach with my bare feet, I thought to myself, “Wow! I can really feel my legs and feet… I feel so alive.”

    3. Nourish with quality food.

    One of the healers I worked with taught me that what we eat has enormous effects on our psychosomatic system on multiple levels. I’m not a specialist in this area, but from my experience, switching to a healthier diet was a game changer.

    It’s not just what we eat, but how we eat, too. By expressing gratitude for what I am eating and savoring the delicious sensations on my tongue, I celebrate the experience of being embodied.

    4. Move freely.

    Through practice, I’m becoming more aware of how I inhabit my body based on the way I respond to my environment. I may prop myself up to gain respect or walk briskly to keep up with the hustle. Giving ourselves space during our day to move more freely, in an uncontrived manner, can help us discover an authenticity that seems to flow with nature.

    5. Make art.

    When I reflect on the moments where I felt most alive, many of those moments involved expressing myself through art.

    Whether through painting, sculpting, playing an instrument, or dancing, we engage the whole of our being in the art-making process. It is not merely an intellectual exercise but a visceral engagement of our soul with the physical world. In artmaking, we allow our body to express its wisdom, a wisdom that moves us by touching the beauty that lies within.

    —

    Learning to become more embodied is a beautiful process of self-discovery. There never was any separation between mind and body—they are one. By reclaiming the space in my body, and reestablishing myself inside the temple of my soul, I’m learning to dance with life again.

  • The One Thought That Killed My Crippling Fear of Other People’s Opinions

    The One Thought That Killed My Crippling Fear of Other People’s Opinions

    “Don’t worry if someone does not like you. Most people are struggling to like themselves.” ~Unknown

    For as long as I can remember, I have been deathly afraid of what other people thought of me.

    I remember looking at all the other girls in third grade and wondering why I didn’t have a flat stomach like them. I was ashamed of my body and didn’t want other people to look at me. This is not a thought that a ten-year-old girl should have, but unfortunately, it’s all too common.

    Every single woman I know has voiced this same struggle. That other people’s opinions have too much weight in their lives and are something to be feared. For most of us women, there is nothing worse than someone else judging our appearance.

    After that fear first came to me in third grade, I carried it with me every day throughout high school, college, and into my twenties. This led me to trying every diet imaginable and going through cycles of restricting and binging. I just wanted to lose those pesky fifteen pounds so I could finally feel better about myself and not be scared of attention.

    There was no better feeling than getting a new diet book in the mail and vowing that I would start the next day. Following every rule perfectly and never straying from the list of acceptable foods. I stopped going to restaurants and having meals with friends because I wouldn’t know the exact calorie count.

    All this chasing new diets and strict workouts was because of one simple thought that I carried for years. I just assumed everyone was judging my body and would like me more if I lost weight. I was constantly comparing my body to every other woman around me.

    This fear of what other people thought also led me to have a complicated relationship with alcohol in my late teens and early twenties. At my core I am naturally sensitive, observant, even-keeled, and sometimes quiet. But I didn’t like this about me; I wanted to be the outgoing party girl that was the center of attention.

    The first time I got drunk in high school I realized that this could be my one-way ticket to achieve my desired personality. With alcohol I was carefree, funny, and spontaneous, and I loved that I could get endless attention. I was finally the life of the party, and no one could take it away from me.

    I wanted everyone to think that party-girl me was the real me, not the sensitive and loving person that I was desperately trying to hide. Classmates were actually quite shocked if they saw me at a party because I was so different than how I appeared in school. It was exciting to unveil this persona to every new person I met.

    But the thing with diets and alcohol was that this feeling of freedom was only temporary. When the alcohol wore off or the new-diet excitement faded, I was back to the same feelings. In fact, I found that I was even more concerned about what people thought of me if the diet didn’t work or the alcohol wasn’t as strong. I feared that they would discover the real me.

    The irony was that whenever I drank, I felt worse about myself after the alcohol left my system. I felt physically and emotionally ill from the poison I was putting into my body. I would often be embarrassed about not remembering the night before or fearing that I said something I shouldn’t have. It was a nightmare of a rollercoaster that I no longer wanted to be a part of.

    I decided in my mid-twenties that alcohol would no longer have power over me. That I wouldn’t rely on it to feel confident and instead work on loving the real me. I decided to break up with alcohol and put it on the back burner. I was moving to a new city where I didn’t know anyone, so I figured this would be a good time to start fresh.

    Once I moved and started my new life, those same familiar fears and pangs of shame started to show up again. If I wasn’t the loud party girl, who would I be? What would people think of me if I wanted to stay in and read instead of partying? I wasn’t confident in my authentic self yet, and I was desperately looking for a new personality to adopt. That’s when I turned back to a familiar friend for help: dieting.

    In the span of five years, I tried every major diet out there: paleo, keto, vegetarian, vegan, counting macros and calories, you name it. I dedicated all my free time to absorbing all the information I could so I could perfect my diet even more. At one point I was eating chicken, broccoli, and sweet potatoes for every single meal. My body was screaming at me for nutrients, but I continued to ignore it.

    Then one day I hit that illustrious number on the scale and finally felt happy. Well, I assumed I would feel happy, but I was far from it. I felt like absolute crap. My hair was falling out, I had trouble sleeping for the first time in my life, my digestion was ruined, and I had crippling fatigue. I finally lost the fifteen pounds, but my health was the worst it had ever been.

    I felt betrayed. The scale was where I wanted it, but I wasn’t happy. I was more self-conscious of my body than ever before. I didn’t want people to look at me and notice my weight loss. That little girl that cared about what people thought was still ruling my life. I had to make a change, and I had to start loving the girl in the mirror no matter what I looked like. My life depended on it.

    It was during one of those nights where I felt so confused and lost that I stumbled into the world of self-development. I bought my very first journal and the first sentence I wrote was: “Self-love, what does it mean and how do I find it?” I vowed to myself that I would turn inward and get to know the real me for the first time in my life. 

    This new journey felt uncomfortable and scary and pushed me completely outside my comfort zone. I couldn’t just hide behind external sources anymore like I did with alcohol and strict diets. I had to get to know authentic Annie and show the world who she was.

    It was in this journey that I found my love of writing and inspiring people. I decided to follow my dreams and get certified as a life coach and finally make my writing public. But when I went to hit publish on my first post, that same fear reared its ugly head.

    This time I was deathly afraid of what my coworkers and friends would think. They would see the real me, the sensitive soul that had deep feelings and wanted to inspire other people. This fear caused me to deny who I was for far too long, again.

    I hesitated for years to share my writing because this fear stopped me. But this time I wasn’t going to let it have control over me anymore. One day this thought popped into my head and stopped me dead in my tracks. It was an enormous epiphany and one I couldn’t ignore. The thought was:

    When I am eighty years old and looking back on my life, what do I want to remember? That I followed the same path as everyone else or I followed my heart?

    As soon as that thought came to me it was like I was hit over the head. For the first time in my life, I understood it. I realized that if I kept living my life in fear of other people’s opinions, I wasn’t really living my own life.

    Every human is here to be unique and serve out their own purpose, not to just follow the crowds blindly. I couldn’t live out my purpose if I wanted to hide away.

    Self-acceptance and self-love come from knowing and respecting all parts of myself. It comes from acknowledging my shadow sides and still putting myself out there regardless of opinions. It comes from going after big and scary goals and having fun along the way. Because the absolute truth is this: other people’s opinions are not going to matter in one year. They won’t even matter five minutes from now.

    So now I want you to ask yourself the same question: What do you want to remember most about your life when you are at the end of it?

  • 10 Ways to Calm Anxious Thoughts and Soothe Your Nervous System

    10 Ways to Calm Anxious Thoughts and Soothe Your Nervous System

    “Everything you want is on the other side of fear.” ~Jack Canfield

    Freezing in fear is something I have done since I was a child.

    My first home was an unsafe one, living with my alcoholic granddad. Once upon a time, I didn’t know life without fear.

    I learned young to scan for danger. How were everyone’s moods? Were the adults okay today? I would freeze and be still and quiet in an attempt to keep myself safe and control an eruption.

    Unknown to me, between the ages of conception and seven years old, my nervous system was being programmed. The house I grew up in was shaping how safe I felt in my body.

    Living in a house with domestic abuse and alcoholism and losing my beautiful grandmother, who cared for me at five, was enough to make that foundation within me shaky.

    I learned to be on high alert, scanning for danger always, and became incredibly hypervigilant and super sensitive to the moods of others.

    Sometimes this superpower of mine kept me safe as a child. My dad wouldn’t always lose his temper if I was quiet enough. My mum would be available to me if I sensed her mood and provided her with comfort.

    As I grew, this superpower of mine caused me issues.

    I would worry all of the time about the thousand different ways something could go wrong.

    I couldn’t enjoy the moment and what I had right now, as my brain would be scanning for the next problem.

    I couldn’t sleep.

    My anxiety was like this monster in my mind, consumed by all the what-if scenarios, and as a result, I just couldn’t move forward.

    Life didn’t feel safe. Even though I no longer lived in an unsafe environment, my body and my brain were still there.

    This anxiety stopped me from applying for new jobs, challenging myself, dating, healing from the past, changing, and growing.

    I would be frozen by the fear of all that could go wrong. I felt stuck, frustrated with myself, and full of self-hate for living a life that made me miserable.

    The penny dropped one day. I finally realized that this fear was all in my head—99% of the things I worried about didn’t manifest into reality. My anxious thoughts didn’t make anything any better, but they were ruining what I had right now.

    Here are the ten steps that have helped reduce anxiety, fear, and overwhelm and help foster a life of happiness.

    1. Give that anxious, worrying voice in your head a name.

    This creates separation between you and the voice. You are not your thoughts. This is a voice from your ego concerned with survival, and you have the choice to listen or choose a more empowering thought. However, this voice could be sensing real danger, so listen to see if it is a risk to you right now or a potential risk that could happen.

    If real, then of course take action after some deep breaths. Otherwise, continue with the steps.

    2. The minute you hear the voice, recognize it is a sign that your nervous system is dysregulated and moving into fight-or-flight mode.

    Then choose to pause and take a few deep breaths. Coherent breathing can help calm down this response. This means take deep breaths in through your nose, inflating your belly for five seconds, and exhale while deflating your belly for five.

    3. Create a list of tools you can use when your mind and body are about to go down the what-if train.

    This might mean lying on the grass, dancing to your favorite song, EFT (emotional freedom technique) tapping, doing a yoga pose, or journaling to discharge fear. The minute you notice the voice, do something off the list.

    4. Repeat a mantra to calm your nervous system.

    Find a statement that helps calm you down and repeat it when the anxiety voice is back. My favorite is “If X happens, then I will deal with it.”

    5. Get in the present moment.

    What can you hear? What can you see? What can you smell? What can you feel? I like to get outside when I do this. Feel my feet on the grass and take in the moment.

    6. Place your hand on your heart and remind yourself you are safe.

    It probably doesn’t feel that way. But feelings aren’t facts, and your thoughts can only hurt you if you let them.

    7. Notice if you have moved into a freeze state.

    When we first start to worry, our nervous systems go into fight-or-flight mode, and adrenaline and stress hormones pump into our bodies. Then when it all feels too much, we freeze. We’re literally not able to do anything and go into despair.

    You can find the tools that work for you to move from freeze and slowly back up to fight or flight and then up to your calm state. It is a ladder with freeze at the bottom and calm at the top. (It’s called the polyvagal ladder.)

    You can split the list in point three into what helps you through freeze and what helps you out of fight/flight. A great way out of freezing is movement. Even five minutes of jumping jacks will get those stress hormones pumping. Then do something to calm you down, like deep breathing.

    8. Choose to trash the thought.

    Is this something that is a worry for another day? Imagine putting it in a trash bin. Or you can even write it down and put it in the bin physically.

    9. Start to notice your mental state throughout the day.

    Are you calm or triggered by worry? Are you frozen? Or is your heart pumping so your stress response is turned on and you are in fight-or-flight mode? What tool can bring you back to calm or move you up the ladder?

    10. Write what you are grateful for in this moment.

    Noticing what’s going well right now can disarm fear.

    Slowly, these steps can help you to regulate, discharge fear, and allow your nervous system to heal. You may not have been safe as a child, but you have the power to feel safe now.

    You have the power to change your circumstances and remove triggers that are recreating that feeling of unsafety.

    Your fear in your body could be very real and giving you information that maybe a particular relationship, job, or environment is not safe for you. Take notice and make baby steps to create a life that makes you feel safe, as this is the foundation for happiness. Give yourself what you longed for as a child.

    Yes, hypervigilance may be something that got programmed into your nervous system young to help you survive, but you don’t have to let it hold you back now.

    Changing, growing, and healing can feel scary and unsafe, but as you take those baby steps to create a healthier you, your confidence and self-esteem will grow. Your brain will get new evidence that you are safe, and those worrying thoughts will slowly disappear. A new worry may come, but then you can just repeat the process.

    These steps helped me stop living life small and in fear and allowed me to go after my big dreams—finding love, progressing in my career, and even buying a house.

    Anxious thoughts no longer hold me back. I just watch them with curiosity and know the steps I need to take to move through them. I took back the power I lost as a child, and I know you can too!