Tag: friend
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How to Tell When Someone Needs a Friend
“Don’t wait for people to be friendly. Show them how.” ~Unknown
When I was in high school I was shy, to say the least. I guess a more accurate description would be to say that I was insecure. Painfully insecure.
Looking back, I don’t know why I cared so much. But I did. I was too insecure to ever say hi to anyone in any of my classes, or to try to sit with anyone new at lunch.
There were even some days when I went through the entire school day without speaking a word. I felt utterly alone and certainly friendless.
One day, though, for no discernible reason whatsoever, a kid on my school bus started talking to me. He lived a few houses down the road from me, and his sister went to the same elementary school where mine did.
We didn’t really talk about anything all that significant, but he seemed to actually be listening to what I had to say, and I felt like someone really cared about what I had to talk about—even if it was nothing at all.
I’ve tried to model myself after this guy since then. To be a genuinely good listener and to go out of my way to help someone who looks like he or she is having a bad day. It’s a great feeling—feeling like someone wants to hear your thoughts.
But it can be pretty easy to get caught up in the on-goings of our daily lives. So much so, that we may not notice when others around us need someone to talk to.
Being able to recognize the signs of someone in need of a friend is important. It’s important to that person because loneliness not only makes you feel bad, but it has also been linked to health problems like higher stress, a negative life outlook, and a less-healthy immune system.
However, being able to recognize when someone is in need of a friend can be important for you, too.
The more people you reach out to and form meaningful relationships with, the more friends you will have. This helps fulfill your biological need to be social and can give you extended support systems and greater life happiness.
So often, though, we don’t want to reach out to others in need of a friend because we’re “too busy” with what we’re doing at the moment or because we simply don’t notice the signs that they need someone to talk to.
But we need to notice, and we need to care enough to do something about it when we notice.
More than 800,000 people worldwide commit suicide each year, according to the World Health Organization. And while my purpose in writing this is not to focus on suicide and its prevention, I think it is worth mentioning that having a friend to talk to could do a lot for a potentially suicidal person. It can do a lot for any person.
Here are some subtle signs that someone might be in need of a friend. Take a few minutes of your day to ask them how they’re doing, offer a smile, or just shoot the breeze with them.
They often do things by themselves.
This could just be shyness, or it could be a sign that someone is uncomfortable reaching out to others.
If you know someone who tends to stay removed from groups and conversations, they might simply need someone else to take the initiative. Many people want to talk to their coworkers and peers more—they just don’t know how to start.
They try really hard to make small talk.
Pay attention to acquaintances who regularly ask what you’re doing for the evening, what you think of the weather, and if you saw the latest episode of whatever show you both watch.
True, sometimes such small talk is just polite conversation made to ease an awkward silence, but it can also be a sign that someone needs a little human interaction. Try to ask them a few questions about their plans now and then, too.
Their hobbies are their entire lives.
A 2011 study published in the Journal of Consumer Research suggests that lonely people sometimes form attachments with their possessions or hobbies because they don’t have enough social connections to feel fulfilled.
So yeah, you may find it kind of odd that your coworker collects and names various kinds of plants, but that person might just need a friend to offer their company instead. Take the initiative to ask the person about their hobbies and establish some things you have in common with them.
They spend way too much time on social media.
To some extent, we all spend a little more time on Pinterest and Facebook than we should. But if you know someone who is not only on social media all the time, but is also talking about it all the time, that person may simply not have enough real life friends to put their social friends in perspective.
They ruminate on negative things.
According to research published in the journal Current Directions in Psychological Science, lonely people tend to spend more time focusing on stressful experiences. People who tend to dwell on their negative experiences—even the seemingly small ones—are likely spending too much time alone.
That driver who cut your coworker off in traffic last week? Still an issue. However, it might only be an issue because that person isn’t getting the external social stimuli he or she needs.
While one of these signs could warrant taking a few minutes out of your day to ask how someone is doing, someone who displays several of these behaviors might really need a friend to hang out with. Make yourself available for a movie and some drinks, or suggest getting together over the weekend to check out that hiking trail you’ve been eyeing up.
Granted, you won’t be able to help everyone. People suffering from a serious medical condition like depression or a bipolar disorder may be less receptive to your “Hey, man, how’s it going?” But that’s no reason not to try.
And as far as that kid on my school bus who spoke to me way back when, I still remember him and think about him often. Granted, I did end up marrying him, but that’s another story for another day.
Friends talking image via Shutterstock
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How Meditation Can Help You Find the Perfect Friend
“When you love someone, the best thing you can offer is your presence. How can you love if you are not there?” ~Thich Nhat Hanh
I meet with a lot of people who say things like, “Oh, I’ve tried meditation before but I’m just not good at it.” When asked to explain, the most common answer is, “I just can’t make my mind get quiet.”
I’ve heard responses like this so often that I’ve come to realize that this is the single greatest misunderstanding about meditation. In truth, meditation is not about calming our mind or achieving a state free from mental noise and cognitive clutter. Far from it, actually.
I have many decades worth of experience practicing meditation. Still, when I sit cross-legged, my mind floats and roams through shifting states like a cloud-adorned sky filled with hundreds of colorful kites.
Thoughts of my wife and children mix with those of household chores, distant goals, past memories, judgments about a fly that lands on my ear, or the sound of a neighbor’s lawnmower I wish was not there.
And, sure, there are times when my consciousness—my sense of an individual self—dissolves into a state of vacuous bliss and timelessness, but this just happens sometimes, and that’s okay. Whenever it does happen, that’s successful meditation. Whenever it doesn’t, that’s successful meditation too.
During meditation, no matter how busied and chaotic the inner activity of your mind may be, you’re successfully meditating, because meditation isn’t about calming your mind. It’s about spending quality time with the most important person in your life: you!
This is the true method (and goal) of meditation. We sit, pausing to pay attention to what’s really going on inside ourselves.
We enter our home and witness what’s happening there, whatever this may be. In so doing, we discover ourselves, who and how we really are, something we only fully notice when we allow ourselves to take a brief hiatus from the daily hustle of life on planet Earth.
It’s like taking a moment to sit down with someone over a cup of coffee or tea, except that, in this case, this someone is you.
And once you’re face-to-face with this person, you can really start to build an extraordinary relationship with him or her.
You can genuinely connect with yourself in a way that is rarely possible while the “two of you” are preoccupied with picking up the dry cleaning, taking the kids to school, answering emails, or a thousands other activities that so quickly seem to crowd each day.
Really, this is such an important relationship! But how often do we set aside time to connect with ourselves in such a simple yet beautiful way, to truly meet and spend time with ourselves?
That’s all that meditation is. It’s an opportunity for us to build a peaceful, harmonious friendship with this essential person in our life, just like we would with anyone else.
Our favorite people in the world are those who we know judge us the least. These are the people who we know like us for who and how we are exactly. They don’t criticize or scold us or demand us to be different. Around such people, we know we can be most fully ourselves, without walking on eggshells or fearing reprimand. This is the very definition of true friendship.
Meditation provides us with a chance to build such a relationship with ourselves. I call this internal friendship and it’s cultivated just like any other friendship, by sparing this person from judgment about right or wrong, good or bad.
When you like this person that is yourself for who he or she is exactly, demanding nothing, then a true internal friendship develops from this (not that it’s always easy).
When I was living at one monastery, we’d meditate each morning and night for an hour and half each sitting.
I didn’t have a ton of experience at the time, so this was supremely tortuous for me. I remember often angrily glaring at the master—a docile, elderly Sri Lankan monk—psychically trying to get him to ring the bell that would conclude our session. I adamantly blamed my discomfort and anguish on him.
When my resentful stares failed, I’d have no choice but to turn inward again, facing all my thoughts about how “I can’t do this,” “This sucks,” “Why am I so much more pathetic than everyone else meditating around me?” “I’m not cut out for this.”
Then one day, it dawned on me. All I was doing was fighting with myself and, instead, I chose to let go, to embrace myself for being just as I was.
If I was in physical pain, I let myself just feel it. If I felt angry or frustrated, I gently reminded myself that this was okay. If my mind bounced around all over the place instead of resting in stillness, I allowed it. I stopped criticizing myself.
“This is me right now and there’s nothing wrong with that. This is me and that’s okay.” And, from this, I began to befriend myself, to genuinely like me for me.
Unexpectedly, as I did this, meditation suddenly became enjoyable for me. I’d sit, focus on my breathing, and just experience myself as is.
The internal chatter faded away and I’d become fully present, not only to myself, but to all around me, to each bird singing in the trees outside, each creak in the shifting walls of the temple, each whisper of breath from those around me.
By befriending myself in this way, a friendship to all existence developed. I finally experienced the calm I had chased for so long.
It is relatively easy for us to experience harmony, peacefulness, and calm within our relationships to our best and closest friends. As our internal friendship grows through meditation (just sitting with ourselves as we are without complaint), the calm that exists within our mental and emotional interior grows right along with it. See how this works?
Meditation builds friendship; friendship builds calm. This is so important that it bears repeating. Meditation builds friendship; friendship builds calm.
As we aim for greater calm in our lives, we cannot skip this important middle step of building friendship and still expect to reap great rewards.
The stillness that slowly emerges from a continued practice of meditation comes not from forcing ourselves to think less; it comes from allowing ourselves to be exactly as we are.
It comes from liking ourselves enough to spend some quality, unfettered time with ourselves, to just sit alone together for a bit, experiencing all that it means to be us in the moment amidst the limitless vastness of time and space.
As we sit with ourselves without judgment, friendship grows. We experience the joys of being liked and the joys of liking, both simultaneously. And when this all-important relationship blossoms as a result, a bounty of benefits emerge.
We begin to experience greater mental clarity, insight, awareness, and stillness. Meanwhile, we enjoy the emotional rewards of this internal harmony—more compassion, patience, calm, and feelings of loving-kindness.
As we cultivate friendship within ourselves, our overall ability to live in a spirit of friendship unfolds. Everything around us appears worthy of friendship. All of life, including its greatest difficulties and challenges, its ugliest scars and hardest woes, invites a graceful smile upon our hearts. We become capable of embracing everything with friendship.
This is what meditation is truly about, not creating an emptier mind, but building a true spirit of friendship, starting with the internal friendship we have with ourselves.
So, the next time this important person in your life asks you to sit down with him or her for a while, accept the invitation and see what happens.
Enjoy a little time together. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than this and, best of all, there’s nothing you can do to mess it up. Every moment of meditation is successful meditation.
Meditating image via Shutterstock
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3 Things to Do When a Friendship Starts to Fade
“When we can no longer change a situation, we must change ourselves.” ~Victor Frankl
There are a million reasons why a friendship may change over time. You grow older, relocate for a job, have a fight, or start having kids.
It is an inevitable fact that life takes people in new directions; growing apart from old friends becomes a part of our lives. But, somehow I thought that I was immune, that this was someone else’s story.
My friends would be there with me forever.
We celebrated every single New Year’s together. We survived college, breakups—you name it. Our bond was unbreakable, and we had loads of photo albums to prove it.
But after all these years I found myself feeling disconnected, and discovering that my best girlfriends did not really know me at all.
As we made summer plans and played catch up during our routine get-togethers, I had run out of things to share. I was irritated by the same old conversations. I felt like we couldn’t relate.
A few years earlier, I relocated for a job in a city away from home and found a new rhythm for myself. With a fresh interest in yoga and spiritual practice, I was the best version of myself, but I spent my time on hobbies and in places that were unfamiliar for them. Our passions were no longer the same.
I waited it out for a while. “Maybe it’s just me,” I thought. I needed to try harder, call more often, and be more available.
It was on a vacation to the Grand Canyon that I knew I wouldn’t shake this feeling. Amidst the giant open landscapes in front of me, I felt a deep loneliness and sense of obligation about these important relationships.
My best girlfriends, the ones who had known me deeply and longer than anyone else, couldn’t relate to me anymore. Our lives were too different. We had grown apart and I felt incredibly sad.
It was hard for me to accept that we might move forward, planning our weddings and living our lives without the bond we had as teenagers. It kept me up at night with anxiety, and I did not want to let go so easily. I found it difficult to understand how I had let this happen to my friendships.
This was not our first road bump. Of course, there had been fights and disagreements along the way, but we’d always hugged, made up, and moved on. I worked hard to find a solution. I contemplated talking it out over wine or writing long letters.
I found it hard to move on for months. I thought about my old friendships with a great sense of loss, and spent a lot of time consulting family and friends. I could not just forget about all we had shared for the decades before, could I?
My mind was heavy with anxiety. One evening after a busy week at work, I turned to my yoga practice for some much needed clarity.
During the class my instructor repeated a phrase she had said often, but it hit me with a deep profoundness, providing me with a completely new perspective on my situation.
“Take what you need, give what you can, and forgive the rest.” For the first time in six months, I realized that our friendship was not over. I didn’t have to feel a loss at all.
I loved my friends and all we had shared. I could take something from those memories and forgive the natural ebbs and flows of life that had moved us apart. Foremost, I could forgive myself.
There was a new view that I could adopt in order to make sense of the changes and loss I experienced in seeing my old friendships fade.
I realized that there were three basic understandings that could guide me toward acceptance and happiness for all my relationships.
1. Take what people have to offer and forgive the rest.
Sometimes we expect individuals to be all things to us at once or know exactly how we feel. Each of us faces challenges, all of which are not apparent, even to the best of friends.
I learned to see each friendship for the unique quality it offered me. Some friends were great for deep conversations, some were great for a night on the town, and others offered a funny banter.
My situation taught me to value what people had to give, even when it wasn’t all encompassing, and seek out anything else I needed in other places. We have to forgive one another and seek fullness from within.
2. Give only what you can.
If a friendship starts to feel like an obligation, or if you feel guilt, you may be trying to give too much. We all need to be realistic about the ways we can engage with others and remember that friendships are best when they’re mutually beneficial.
You have amazing things to give, and your best friends should want what you are able to share, and not expect more.
3. Keep the memories close.
The good times you shared with a friend don’t have to fade if your connection does. Think of your friend often, laugh about old times, and share great stories.
Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting all of the meaningful ways you and your friend connected in the past. You can continue to love your friend and experience your friendship long beyond the times of late night phone calls and regular get-togethers.
This new perspective offered me a whole new way of looking at all my relationships. I discovered that I could find a deeper fullness and quality in others by putting things into this view.
People come into our lives for particular reasons, and things are likely to change.
If we can give to those around us, and take from them only what we’re able, then we have a much better chance of looking back fondly, and with gratitude.
Photo by Yarns
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6 Helpful Things to Consider If You’re In an Unhealthy Friendship
“Letting go gives us freedom and freedom is the only condition for happiness.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh
For much of my life, I lived for approval and acceptance from family members, friends, and co-workers. I can’t recall not considering what people thought about my actions or what I had said, wondering if I could have done them better. I was always thinking of others and their feelings toward me.
It was a constant battle in my head, and it was starting to drain me of my peace.
No matter what they had done to me in the past, no matter how much pain they’d caused me, I thought it was only right that I give it another try. After all, friendships take a lot work.
You see, for me, gaining a sense of acceptance from the people I cared about was a life source that I sought after, again and again, because it meant I was important, that I mattered.
But at what cost?
When the relationships we’ve worked hard to build for many years aren’t giving us the joy they once did or a sense of community and energy anymore, what do we do? What if, in fact, it feels downright toxic and negative to be around them?
This happened to me. All the signs were there, but I didn’t see it for what it was. I thought maybe I was just too sensitive. I would often tell myself, “Get over it, you’re thinking too much again.”
Then one dreary day I got a call from my mom. My dad was in a horrific accident and he passed an hour later. My family was grieving from loss and shock, and the one person I thought would be there by my side suddenly disappeared.
This person was my cousin, and a good friend I had known my entire life. I looked up to her as a young girl, and even thought of her as a big sister I never had.
My cousin proceeded to go on with her life as if nothing had happened. Not one single word was exchanged between us. It was as if I were a stranger to her.
It hurt me deeply, and I was utterly pained by her actions.
Looking back, I understand why she made the choice to stay away. Facing death and pain isn’t easy; in fact, it takes great courage to face it head on and ride the storm.
While I had been hurt and resentful about how she avoided me during the most painful time of my life, I had the gift of time to reflect and to reevaluate my relationships, and the other issues that made this particular one unhealthy.
As painful as it is, there comes a time when we need to “break up” with a friend in order to live authentically and to be free.
Life is short, and we deserve to be happy. Sometimes we have to consciously make the choice to not tolerate emotional abuse and to recognize when a relationship simply isn’t working.
We break up with our significant others when we’ve exhausted every avenue and know in our hearts the relationship isn’t working and it’s time to let go. Just because we are not in a romantic relationship that does not mean we have to tolerate negative behaviors or what isn’t working.
You don’t have to wait for a life tragedy and loss to realize this. Take the time to reflect on what kind of people you want to bring into your life and what you deserve to have—a friend who is honest, who will cry and laugh with you so you can grow together.
Here are seven things to consider if you feel you are in a similar situation:
1. What does friendship mean to you?
Your definition of what makes a good friend may be different from your friend’s. This may sound silly, but this is the platform on which you build a relationship that may one day flourish.
The relationship I desperately wanted to have with my cousin was but a mirage. I had deluded myself into thinking that we had a strong bond. Reflecting back, it wasn’t a very healthy relationship.
Be honest. Tell your friend what you need. Your friend may see things differently and it may solve any misunderstanding between the two of you. But if your friend chooses not to reciprocate, you’ll be able to gauge if this is a relationship you want to keep.
2. Is the friendship just too exhausting and negative most of the time?
I used to wonder why it was so hard being around her. It drained me of my energy and left me feeling very negative about who I was as a person.
I resented that I couldn’t express my authentic self to her. Often she would reply to me with, “You think too much,” as if my feeling, values, and beliefs were not valid.
A friend who cares about your well-being will discuss any concerns you may have and not dismiss them as trivial. If you don’t communicate your feelings, resentment can build, and you may harbor negative feelings toward this person.
3. Is the relationship balanced?
To me, a friendship is like a seesaw. It takes two people, and each needs to give and take a little to balance out the ride.
Like any close relationship, both parties need to make the effort and choose to grow together as friends, or it can be a very painful process.
Thinking back, our relationship was very one sided. I always felt I was the second choice, a person to call when she needed company, or to vent. I don’t recall her ever asking me how I was doing, especially after my dad was killed. There was no depth in our relationship.
4. It’s okay to let go.
Relationships are complicated, and it’s never an easy choice to let go of a friendship. It was painful for me to accept that our friendship was over, but in order to live authentically and to be free, I had to let it go.
It didn’t happen overnight. As our relationship deteriorated, we saw less and less of each other. When she called to invite me over, I deliberately chose to decline the invitation. I knew that I would regret going, and that it would leave me feeling of resentful, with old, painful memories haunting me.
It can be a long, emotional, and unpleasant process when we are deciding whether we should continue on with a friendship or to let it go. All these feelings are normal. Any transition in life comes with some form of discomfort. It means we are growing and evolving.
5. It’s nobody’s fault.
Sometimes relationships end, despite every effort to make it work. Just because we have made the choice to let go of the friendship, that doesn’t mean it has to end it a negative way. We can say farewell with well wishes and make the choice to remember the happier times in our hearts.
I think every relationship is unique and the way you choose the end the relationship depends on the situation you are in. Listen to your inner voice and honor it.
You may choose to tell your friend that you need some space. Or you may choose to write a personal letter to express your feelings and concerns if you think it will be too confrontational. At times I still miss the friendship I had once shared with my friend, but I keep the good memories with me in my heart.
6. When one door closes, another opens.
Stay open to new friendships and to your present moment. Staying open allows for new opportunities and new relationships to come into your life when you are ready.
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Emotionally Overloaded: Are You Taking on Too Much of Other People’s Pain?
“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.” ~Havelock Ellis
I would have done anything for my friends, until one of them nearly broke my heart and spirit. He was my best friend. We felt like platonic soul mates.
We had a standing lunch date every week, called each other terms of endearment, cried together, laughed together—the standard best friend things.
Then, tragedy struck him. Over and over.
His long-time partner left him. Then he lost his executive-level job. Next, he had a string of major medical issues that put him in the hospital.
He needed ongoing weekly treatments to stay alive. His restricted schedule and constant pain made him unable to find work. He ran out of money.
One day he cried all through our lunch, and then asked for a loan so he could pay his bills that month. I gave him more than he asked for and plenty of time to pay it back.
He needed an organ transplant ASAP, so I got tested to be a living donor.
I listened and was there even when my mood and physical energy were drained because of his tears and constant complaints about his life being “a mess.” How could I not be there? He was going through hell.
But so was I. But I felt like my problems were nothing compared to his, and he needed me because he had very few other true friends and a completely estranged family. We were best friends. It was my job to keep him company and to try to help him in any way possible.
And then, one day he never confirmed our lunch like usual. He never showed up at all, and would not return my calls and texts. I got ahold of his other friends and family, and the following two weeks were possibly the worst of my life.
He had turned to drugs to cope with the pain. It turns out he had been putting on an act in a lot of ways. The money I loaned him was probably to buy meth. I felt betrayed, confused, but mostly scared and panicked. I couldn’t lose him.
I did everything in my power over those two weeks to help him. I got in touch with his family and landlord.
My phone was constantly buzzing with calls and texts, alerting me to his increasingly bizarre behavior—passing out in his hallway, urinating off the fire escape, casing the hotel next to his apartment for money and food, throwing all of his possessions into the dumpster and putting items out on the sidewalk to be taken away.
He was trying to end his life. Numerous calls to police and wellness checks resulted in no benefit; he would appear of “sound health and mind.”
He was smart, and had been involuntarily committed to the psych ward months earlier after a friend thought he was a danger to himself. He knew the right answers to give, and blamed his physical condition on his disease.
He’s an adult, I was told. No one could force him to get help. But I kept trying every trick in the book to make him see the light and keep fighting for his life.
Then, he cut me out. He stopped communicating entirely. I received a cashier’s check, no note, in the mail for the remainder of the loan. After years of almost daily contact, he was gone.
And then, he died.
The stages of grief hit me hard and fast. But one emotion hit me hardest of all: guilt. I felt I had missed something that would have saved him, like I had not done enough. But mostly I felt guilty because part of me felt relieved I could finally stop worrying about him. I could refocus on myself and healthier friendships.
I had begun dreading many of our lunch dates. Would he be “a mess” again, crying in public, full of pessimism, unable to hope for a better tomorrow? I started taking on these emotions. Friends pointed out to me that my mood plummeted after time spent with him.
Being his friend had simply become way too heavy a burden than I was able to carry. He was beyond help, because he chose not to help himself. He taught me three valuable lessons that have transformed the way I approach relationships.
1. Trying your best to help someone is more than enough.
Make a genuine but practical, self-caring effort. Sometimes you can’t do anything to help.
2. If you start suffering ongoing, negative consequences from a relationship, it’s time to reassess.
Maybe you need to be open about how the relationship is affecting you. Maybe you need to step back a bit and treat the relationship more casually. Or maybe you need to walk away.
3. Everyone’s struggles are valid and important—especially your own.
Don’t think that your issues aren’t serious or worthy of your attention just because someone you care about it going through “bigger” things. You can’t take care of anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself.
If you have someone in your life who needs help, it’s okay to help carry part of their load temporarily, but you need to unload if it starts weighing you down too much. A best friend is their own best friend first.
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How to Recognize and Help When Someone Needs Support
“When we get too caught up in the busyness of the world, we lose connection with one another-and ourselves.” ~Jack Kornfield
After planning the next three months of my life in my head, trying to focus on my breath and recounting the plans for tomorrow, I decided my battle with insomnia was going to win. I got up, careful not to wake my husband, and decided to start reading.
Nestling into the lines of my latest library book well after midnight, my phone began to beep.
Even in the most quiet of the night, are we ever really alone?
I thought to myself, who else could be awake at this hour? It was my twin sister all the way across the country, struggling with insomnia herself. Ready to share my latest updates with her, something in me encouraged me to ask how she was doing and why she was still awake.
It was in the stillness of the evening that I slowed down to think of someone other than myself.
I wondered, if the sun was brightly shining and I was carrying on with my own busyness, would I have answered her text message? If I were rushing through the day, would I have noticed her hint of sadness?
She recounted the daily stressors and recent disagreement with a friend. In her written words, I sensed an echo of loneliness, a tinge of yearning for connection.
So often in the busyness of our own self-absorbed lives we fail to notice when others are in need of connection. If we are in need, can’t we recognize that others are too?
So many of us feel alone in our day-to-day trials, but as I remember learning as a young girl, when we focus our love on others, it betters our own hearts too.
How to take a few minutes out of your busy day for others:
1. Do not hesitate to make the call.
My sister-in-law started a movement within our family. Nonchalantly one night, she mentioned on my voicemail, “I decided if I’m thinking of someone to call right in that moment—and so I’m calling you,” she said.
It does not take too much time just to say hi. Even if you cannot talk long, the gesture of your voice might be the song someone needs to hear.
2. Write it out the old fashioned way.
I’m a lover of stationary and stickers—the Internet’s nemeses. Nowadays, our mailboxes overflow with countless bills, excessive ads, and unwanted insurance offers.
Be daring and surprise someone with a note, even if it’s just a few short sentences. You’ll only spend a few cents on postage, but your thought and care will be that bright treasure amongst the gloomy pile of trash.
3. Imagine if it were you.
When we hear about others’ problems, often times our objectivity offers a healthy perspective. Other times, however, it distances us from the emotional heartache and pain of those in need.
When you hear the weakened voice of a loved one or look into fading eyes, try to open yourself wider and truly see the situation from their perspective. Genuinely saying, “I hear you” creates understanding and connection.
4. Listen.
I’m a talker and a fixer. When I hear someone’s problems, halfway through the story I want to rattle off my suggestions. But sometimes, we just need to vent. We need the ear of another to soak up the words of our wounds.
I am learning this more and more each time I need to cry out and am not heard. We all have so much to say so often, so many times silence and a gentle nod of acceptance is what we really need.
5. Think of your mother.
What did we need when we were younger? Our mothers. No matter how diverse or painful our relationships were with our mothers or if they are no longer with us, we can all become that wise-feminine soul to stabilize the masculine vigor of our modern world.
While action, goal setting, and swiftness are much needed, so are vulnerability, softness, and nurturing elements.
6. Become a comedian.
We hear about the positive biological impact of laughter. Be an advocate yourself. If you have offered time and encouragement, lighten the setting with a little laughter. Be sure to gauge your joke as not to offend but rather soothe.
As my sister and I completed our novel length texts back and forth, she appreciated the words we shared and I saw our conversation as a compliment of her trust in me.
We may not all have those two o’clock in the morning bonding opportunities with our siblings as the rest of the world dreams, but we all have twenty-four hours to seek out a wounded soul in need of our light.
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Create Purpose and Happiness by Being Useful to People
“What is the meaning of life? To be happy and useful.” ~the Dalai Lama
One of the beautiful things about being an intuitive reader is that people are willing to go very deep very quickly. Vulnerability, shame, fear, and hope are all active players at a table set with Tarot cards. Often people start out their first session with me warning that “You might get bored, this is just another love drama.”
Of course I never do get bored—everyone has a unique and precious story and I feel honored to share in them, period.
Besides, underneath every question that’s related to the future, or an attempt to figure out our relationships or heart hurts is the most fundamental question of all: “Why am I here? To what end and for what purpose? What am I supposed to be doing right now?”
This is why in my work I always focus on where we are, right here and right now, because that is the most important thing to understand, and oddly, sometimes the thing that’s easiest to lose sight of—our here and our now.
I see it again and again with others and I know that it is true with myself: we ask questions about the future not because we want to control it, but because we are trying to figure out how we can live our best lives in this single, grace-filled, present moment.
Talk about pressure.
As a little girl and a young woman growing up in traditional South Central Texas, I was taught early and often that I could never expect a man to make me happy; I would have to provide that (and everything else) for myself.
Solid, safe, and sensible advice for sure, especially in a time when the women in my family watched mothers, sisters, and friends get trapped into loveless relationships and marriages.
Self-reliance was smarter and safer; after all, if the only person I really relied on was myself, how great were the chances that I would get hurt? Of course, college and my early twenties were a crash course in how a self-reliant life strategy, while helpful in some ways, is no guardian against pain and emotional difficulties.
And now that I have been with the same man for ten years and a mom to the most amazing little boy for two, I have had the limitations of the “find happiness within yourself” driven home.
It continues to be a safe and sensible approach, at least on one level, but I’m not sure how solid it is, and I’m pretty sure that safe and sensible are not the keys that open doors of greater understanding, wisdom, and joy.
Perhaps we are ultimately responsible for our own joy, but happiness is found and purpose derived from being in relationship to others—being in relationship with all the messiness, drama, kindness, frustration, and delight that any good relationship entails.
This is one reason why, whenever we feel that a relationship is going badly or may be on the brink of ending we panic: because we recognize that the joy in our lives is found through connecting with and being kind to others.
This is something we can do whether we’re in a romantic relationship or not.
We can be of service to others, not by just noting what we can do for someone else but by actually doing it. To put it another way, as the Dalai Lama so wisely said, being useful.
So often we think of “being useful,” especially when the Dalai Lama says it, as feeding thousands, healing hundreds, and compassionately embracing our enemies.
I firmly believe that these great and lofty acts are built on a daily practice of awareness, noticing what might have gone unnoticed—the older woman fumbling with her purse in front of you at the check out line when you are in a hurry, the quiet kid in the corner, the fact that your friends know when you are not really listening, and are hurt by that knowledge—and acting upon it.
Relate. Connect. Be useful. Be happy.
Our first acts of usefulness are usually close to home—calling your grandmother not for a special occasion but just to say, “Hi. I remember you and I love you.”
Really seeing and bearing witness to your child: being present with them, not on the computer, not on your smart phone—with them. Forgiving your dad…for whatever. Holding your beloved in an embrace that lasts longer than it has to because you have the time and it feels so good.
The interesting thing about being useful is that it cannot come into being by itself. We are useful when we are in relationship to honor someone else. In fact, I think of usefulness as the devotion of being in relationship.
We know ourselves in a deeper and truer way through serving, loving, and being present with others. We are not rocks, not islands—we are connection, kindness, and underneath it all joy.
You want purpose? Go be a blessing in the world and joy will be fast on your heels.
Photo by Steve Evans
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Don’t Control Anger, Control Yourself
“Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.” ~Ambrose Bierce
I once had a much-cherished friend who meant the world to me. The problem was that we were both short-tempered individuals and the word patience was fictional to both of us.
There is a thin line separates right from wrong and when one is blinded by anger; it can be near impossible to see this line.
Invariably, my friend and I kept crossing it and ended up destroying what was one of the most beautiful bonds anybody could ever have.
One day in a fit of anger we said some mean things to each other in front of a lot of people, and that was the end of our relationship. From days of completing each other’s sentences, crying on each other’s shoulders, and growing together as best friends, we are strangers who walk this planet today.
Much has been said about anger, an emotion that most of us experience often. We read about anger, we learn anger management tips, and we know that it is an emotion with the power to destroy, and yet when it comes to our own lives, it’s an altogether different story.
When I replay the way I “reacted” to the whole incident instead of “responding” to it, I think of a hundred different things that I could have done right. I still wonder why I said those things, and in front of so many people.
When we were little kids we used to write with pencils. It was a sign that told us that our mistakes could be corrected. As we grew older we received permanent markers to paint with on the canvas called life. This is because we were expected to take the responsibility of not making irreversible mistakes.
How we manage our anger will decide if there are ugly marks on this canvas.
Anger may be an emotion that we cannot evade, but the truth is that life is much more beautiful when we learn not to succumb to it.
I have always been a short-tempered person. I’ve tried various things to control this, in vain. After having ruined many relationships because of this, I decided it was time to do something about my anger.
I’ve been asking myself “Is it possible to be someone who never gets angry?”
There was once a saint who felt like having a bottle of beer. He asked his disciples to get him one. When the shocked disciples did as they were told, the saint simply folded his hands and stared at the bottle.
Later, he asked his disciples to take it away. When one of them asked him, “What was it that you did?” the saint told him something that we all need to understand. He said, “I cannot control the feelings, the emotions, or the temptations but I can definitely control my actions.”
As long as I keep my hands folded, there is no way I can grab this bottle of beer, and even though I cannot control my temptations I can control my actions.
While anger is something we cannot control, what we do when we are angry is something that we definitely can control.
Imagine you are working on a beautiful painting and suddenly there is a power outage and it’s pitch dark. Would you continue to make strokes on the painting, hoping that it miraculously became a masterpiece?
In the same way, when you are angry the best thing to do would be nothing at all. Anger is like a power outage for the thinking part of your brain.
These days, when I get really upset I choose not to say anything. I retire to my room for a couple of minutes, listen to some music, or distract myself. I let myself feel the emotion, but I don’t let myself react.
Like the saint, I hold my hands and control my tongue, because if I cannot control anger, I will control myself at least.
The Buddha said, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.”
When I look back at the incident with my friend, I feel like a lot could have been different had I not succumbed to my emotions. In the process I have hurt myself more than I have hurt my friend.
So I ask you, the next time you get angry, don’t try to control the anger; instead try to control yourself. With a little practice, it becomes a part of your life and you become a person who never lets anger ruin a valued relationship.
Photo by Scarleth White
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Releasing Resentment: Who You’re Really Angry With and Why
“Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” ~Malachy McCourt
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
I didn’t particularly want to kiss him, but it had been a benign first date, and I didn’t know how to say no without hurting his feelings.
We were standing by my car in broad daylight, and what could be the harm, right? So I rather unenthusiastically nodded my head.
He, on the other hand, was quite enthusiastic, more than I was prepared for.
As he leaned in, I closed my eyes and endured the kiss, which most definitely did not tingle my toes. And it went on longer than I wanted, because, again, I didn’t know how to end it without hurting his feelings.
So I waited. And after enduring a second, even longer, more enthusiastic and less-desired-on-my-part kiss, I finally managed to extricate myself, thank him for lunch, slip into my car, and drive away.
I was relieved to be done with that date, and I was quite honestly annoyed. No, strike that—I was resentful.
This perfectly inoffensive man had now acquired a downright unpleasant aura in my mind. Couldn’t he read that I wasn’t interested? Why did he have to pull me into a second kiss? Oh, how I resented him!
As I navigated the waters of online dating in search of a compatible life partner, scenarios similar to this one played themselves out over and over.
After (I kid you not) fifty-seven first dates in a two-and-a-half year period, I’m of the opinion that there may be no greater route to self-growth than dating, if you go about it with the amount of self-examination that I did.
One of the great gifts I got from my quest for a life partner was the realization that I needed to get clear in my own head where my limits were, before leaving my house for the date.
In fact, I needed to learn to set limits in a lot of areas of my life, and it was dating that taught me how. Before I gained this clarity, though, I got very familiar with the emotion of resentment.
I remember one moment, as I stewed with resentment toward a thoughtful, considerate, perfectly wonderful man, that I had an epiphany.
I’d allowed him to go just a tad further than I really wanted, but when I thought about it, the guy had done absolutely nothing wrong. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and would no doubt be horrified if he’d known his advances had been unwanted.
His good intentions and obvious respect for me forced me to question what was really going on here. Why was I resentful at him, I wondered?
The only one who really deserved the brunt of my anger, I realized, was myself. The guy was just following my hazy lead, and would have backed off in a heartbeat, if I’d simply asked.
That was when the light bulb clicked on over my head.
That was the moment it became clear to me that resentment isn’t anger with someone else at all; resentment is anger with oneself, misdirected at someone else through the lens of victimhood.
Everything changed in that moment.
When you’re trained to be a people-pleaser, like I was, setting clear limits is hard. It was easier to just go with the flow, and then get resentful and blame my dates when my true wishes weren’t magically honored.
It was easier to play the victim.
But playing the victim doesn’t lead to happiness or empowerment. And once I acknowledged to myself that this is what I’d been doing—playing the victim—I resolved to take responsibility.
When I realized that my resentment wasn’t serving any useful purpose, and that it was really me I was angry with for not setting clearer, stronger limits, I could release the resentment and work on making the changes I needed to myself.
The more I took responsibility for my desires—or lack thereof—and set clear boundaries with my dates, the less victimized I felt. And the fewer unwanted kisses I had to tolerate!
And of course, taking responsibility for yourself extends to every area of your life, not just first dates! Learning to set boundaries and communicate them is an essential tool for anyone looking for a happy life.
Resentment is anger with oneself, misdirected at someone else through the lens of victimhood.
This simple statement was like a magic formula for me. It became my mantra for a while, helping me chart a less turbulent course through my dating days.
Time for a Recharge
Knowing something and always integrating it in your life are two different things, however. I recently discovered that I needed to remind myself of my resentment epiphany.
That thoughtful, considerate, perfectly wonderful man I mentioned above? He’s been my life partner for over three years now, and he’s still perfectly wonderful.
He does not, however, have any interest in physical exercise.
I, on the other hand, am rather more concerned with my fitness than your average Joe. But even so, I don’t always reach my goal of daily exercise.
I want to be fit, but I don’t always want to pull myself away from other things and get to the gym.
In a psychology class I was taking, I learned that low physical fitness is actually “contagious.”
Studies have shown that people are more likely to become sedentary and/or obese when people in their close social network are sedentary and/or obese, and I latched onto this data just the other week, as I was frustrated with myself for letting work get in the way of my exercise commitments.
It would be so much easier to go to the gym if my partner had any interest in being my workout buddy! And it was so much easier to resent him for not having such an interest, than to take responsibility for my own failings.
Thankfully, before I got too deep in the poisonous pool of resentment, I remembered my epiphany from years ago: Resentment is anger with oneself, misdirected at someone else through the lens of victimhood.
Yes, it would be easier to get to the gym if my partner were gung-ho to get there himself, but he’s not to blame for my lack of exercise, I am.
I was the one who chose to keep pounding away at the computer instead of going to the gym. The responsibility was mine alone, and any anger directed elsewhere was a pointless waste of energy.
Whew! I felt like I’d escaped a close call. Instead of stewing in resentment toward my sweetie, I was filled with gratitude for the lessons I learned during my dating days!
It was a good reminder. Now my antennae are back up again, watching for the niggling feeling of resentment so I can nip it in the bud before it blooms.
Whether it’s unwanted kisses or a visit to the gym, when you take 100% responsibility and realize your anger is really toward yourself, resentment melts away and makes space for greater happiness.
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Dramatically Improve your Relationships by Becoming a Team
“We may have all come in different ships, but we’re in the same boat now.” ~Martin Luther King Jr.
I once had a totally commonplace, uneventful thought that transformed the way I viewed relationships.
I’m not sure that it was mine; it certainly wasn’t anything groundbreaking or unique. I may have read it somewhere, I can’t remember now.
It was the notion that when two people in a relationship think of themselves as on the same team, things get much easier. Positive feelings grow freely. Score-keeping and resentment are nonexistent.
Insights are very personal—a simple phrase that turns my world upside down might do absolutely nothing for you, and vice versa. Perhaps this notion was so life-changing for me because I grew up surrounded by people who seemed self-focused, always looking for where they had been wronged.
They weren’t selfish or egotistical people. They were insecure people.
My father had insecurities that led him to make everything about himself—if you didn’t say the right thing at the right time, trouble was sure to follow. I spent years walking on eggshells, trying to anticipate my next misstep. It was exhausting.
And I remember women who constantly, endlessly talked about what was wrong with the “deadbeat men” who never seemed to treat them the way they deserved to be treated.
As a kid, it seemed as if adults everywhere put everyone else on the hook for their own happiness. In my childhood innocence and natural wisdom I wondered, why they didn’t take care of their own happiness?
Being on the hook for someone else’s happiness not only felt like enormous pressure, it was an impossible task.
No matter how much my dad approved of something I did one day, he might disapprove of the very same thing the next day. No matter how nice a man was to a woman, he’d inevitably forget to compliment her dress and she’d have him back in the doghouse.
All of this look-what-you’re-doing-to-me, you-should-be-treating-me-better business is not born out of independent, empowered women (or men) simply refusing to put up with less than what they deserve. That’s often how they like to view themselves, but that’s not it at all.
Scavenger hunting for all the ways you aren’t being treated fairly is not an act of self-love. It’s an act of insecurity.
It’s born out of fear and looking to someone else to be your savior. It’s born out of the belief that your happiness comes from what others do, which manifests as manipulation, guilt trips, and passive aggressive behavior aimed at changing them so that you can feel better.
“Us” Not “Me”
When you’re focused on yourself, keeping score, and making sure you’re being treated properly, you’re not actually in relationship with another person—you’re in relationship with your thoughts about the other person.
You’re focusing on yourself, what you can get, and where your partner is falling short.
Thinking of the two of you as a team shifts your focus. Suddenly it’s not “me versus you”; it’s “us.”
It’s no longer “I did the laundry every day this week, what did you do?” It’s “We’re a team. I do the laundry more than you at times, and you do a million other things for me at times.”
It’s not “If you cared about me you’d call twice a day”; it’s “I’d love to talk to you more.”
The you-and-me-together way of looking at things is exactly what was missing for all of those disgruntled women complaining about their deadbeat men. The extreme look-out-for-myself-first approach is what made my relationship with my dad defensive and inauthentic.
Teammates
A couple weeks ago, I was talking with a friend about her marriage when she confessed that she was once a score-keeper. She used to keep a mental tally of what she had done and what her husband hadn’t, and she gave a whole lot of meaning to that score.
When I asked how she came to leave the score keeping behind, she told me that her husband said something one day that completely turned it around for her.
In the midst of one of her score reports, her husband said the reason he never thought that way was because he saw them as a team. She gives more in some ways and he gives more in other ways, but why keep track when they are always working together, in the end?
She instantly knew that was true. He did give more than her in many ways, but her rigid, defensive outlook hadn’t allowed her to even notice what he did for her.
Although insights are personal, she had the same game-changing one I did. She never looked at her relationship in quite the same way again. When she found herself feeling wronged, she remembered that she and her husband were teammates, not adversaries.
Being on the same team takes the frailty out of a relationship. My relationship with my father always felt fragile and temporary, like I was one wrong look away from being disowned. In fact, I was.
Don’t you see this in romantic relationships—especially new ones—all the time? One or both people are afraid to fully be themselves in fear of what the other might make of their honesty.
I can clearly remember the wave of relief that washed over my now-husband’s face when we had a disagreement about six months into our courtship. He sat me down to assess the damage and I assured him that we were past the point of breaking up over a petty dissimilarity.
He says he knew in that moment that we were an “us.” It wasn’t “me” evaluating and judging him,” or “him” deciding whether “I” was right or wrong.
We were a team, and teams are infinitely more resilient than individual identities trying to coexist.
I wonder what this shift in perspective might do for you. Even if you aren’t a score keeper always looking for where you were wronged, taking on the team viewpoint can bring a new sense of closeness to your relationships.
Can you imagine what might happen if we extended this beyond personal relationships—if we saw entire families, communities, or all of humanity as part of the same team?
Imagine how we’d treat each other.
Here’s to spreading the insight to our teammates everywhere.
Photo by ClickFlashPhotos
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A Lesson About Love Learned from Both Joy and Tragedy
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ~Albert Einstein
A couple of months ago, I had one of the best and worst weekends in a very long time.
My best friend for the last 15 years was getting married, and I was in the wedding party. We spent most of the weekend eating, drinking, laughing, and reminiscing, and above all celebrating a beautiful love story of two very wonderful people.
It was particularly special to me, as earlier this year my boyfriend and I moved a thousand miles away, to Austin, Texas. Since 2010 I’d lived a three-hour drive from my Chicago area childhood home, but now I felt exceptionally far from most of the people I love.
Emotions were high on the day of my friend’s wedding, and beyond the obvious excitement, we all felt a little nervous for her, as she’d expressed anxiety about walking down the aisle in front of so many people.
Based on her smiles and laughter, the day went by without a hitch, until ten minutes before the ceremony was set to start. My friend’s mother was holding up her veil and fanning her; she was feeling lightheaded. It seemed to be a combination of nerves and the fact that she’d forgotten to eat anything that day.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen (all 18 of us!) alternated between doting on her and giving her more space. We kept anxiously glancing at each other, silently asking, “What should we do?”
Then her mother started to sing. “Goooing to the chapel, and we’re gonna get maaaarried.” We all joined in.
We sang 60’s Motown, 90’s boy bands, every Disney song we could think of. When we couldn’t remember the words to a song, someone would shout out the beginning of a new one.
My friend got up and danced with her soon-to-be husband, and by the end of it all, she was smiling. I choked back tears, feeling the love fill the room. When the wedding planner told us it was time to line up, the bride was ready to go.
After the ceremony, I enjoyed the company of some old friends I hadn’t seen in years, danced and danced for hours, and shed a few more tears at some of the speeches in my friend’s honor. The next morning I woke up with a lost voice and leg cramps from dancing that didn’t go away for two days. (more…)
