Tiny Buddha

Tag: Happiness

  • Yes, I Am Afraid to Fly, But I Won’t Let My Fear Control Me

    Yes, I Am Afraid to Fly, But I Won’t Let My Fear Control Me

    “Feel the fear and do it anyway.” ~Susan Jeffers

    Let’s do a thought exercise together.

    I have flown, I don’t know two or four times a year since I was eighteen and a few times before that, and I am now almost thirty-seven. On the low end that puts me around forty times. On the high ends that is, what seventy-five times in my life? Let’s split the difference and say I have flown fifty-five times because I have never kept track of things like that.

    Also, I have jumped out of planes before. Yep, it was beautiful, and seriously it is only the first step that is the hardest, because after that you are totally involved. So, if that is something you want to do, just close your eyes and step out. But I digress.

    Recently (over the last two years), I have become terrified to fly. I blame it on a trip where I had a bit of what I would consider severe turbulence. Really, though, it has just been a growing fear. With each flight, with each significant life event I have been ill prepared to handle, with each death I had to fly home for, the fear and anxiety has quietly and sometimes loudly and harshly grown.

    Most flights I have not enjoyed. However, there was a time I do remember when I loved to fly. The spooling of the engines, the way you are pushed back into your seat at take-off, that moment of lightness you feel right at the top of the take-off.

    I loved watching out the little window as the people, trees, and buildings would get smaller and smaller as you climbed to altitude. I even loved when we would fly over different farm areas and see the different colored plots of ground.

    Then there is the opportunity to watch the sun rise and set from 30,000 feet in the air. Morning flights are so great for this. It’s just darkness with little color lights below, but as you watch out into the darkness, the nothingness, slowly the darkness begins to turn into these beautiful, rich, and warm reds, yellows, and oranges. They pull across the sky and stretch into memories and dreams almost.

    And the clouds, I love the fluffy ones, the heavy, wintry ones that are filled with a mixture of snow and rain, and the long, airy ones. These are my favorite; they stretch and dance across the sky like little fairy wisps.

    When I think about it now, safely on the ground, it feels beautiful and calm. Picturesque as I travel to some place beautiful that is full of opportunity to explore.

    Flying offers me a mixture of beauty and fear. The last time I flew was the worst I have ever had. The flight itself was merciful and calm. However, I have never had a panic attack that severe before.

    I knew I had to fly. I didn’t want to. With every fearful bone in my body, every muscle tensing at just the idea of leaving my house, I really didn’t want to. But I had to. I tried to figure out how long it would take to drive, if there was a way to cancel, if I could just say no.

    Those weren’t options. I had to fly.

    So, I did my preparations. I have been a long believer in cognitive based therapy and the thought records my therapist has used to help me.

    I did as much research as I could on statistics of flying, specific airlines, the best time of the day to fly; I watched turbulence maps, checked weather forecasts as well as historical weather maps. I read safety numbers and statistics galore from reputable and not-so-reputable places on the internet.

    I found calming techniques like writing with your non-dominant hand over and over again, listening to quiet and calming music (I chose loud and high-based EDM), and coloring. I even got prescribed medicines from my primary care physician to take the edge off.

    I did as much preparation that I thought I could. But I was still afraid. My body ached and pulled from all of the adrenaline. I was terrified in a way that I have never been before, and even with the medication my doctor gave me to calm my nerves, the thought record in hand, and coping mechanisms in place, it was still incredibly hard to get on the plane.

    I almost didn’t do it, and if I didn’t need to get there by a certain time that day, I would have driven the fourteen hours to my destination.

    It is amazing how fear can control us, can take us to that lizard brain level and win. That’s a hard and harsh reality for me because there are so many places I want to go. So many things I want to see and experience.

    Not everyone wants to travel. Not everyone has a calling to their soul that says, “But what’s over there?” What have you not seen, felt, or experienced that could be just on the other side of that mountain? But I do. I am a traveler at heart.

    There are so many places across this world that are filled with cultures and history I have not seen or experienced in the very real sense of just being present in it. Where you can taste the excitement, feel it in the air and in the music that has its own unique song for those who listen close enough.

    I love going new places, meeting strangers, breathing in the experiences with every breath. I crave that. I dream about it. And of course, I save pictures and research these exquisite places and daydreams to my Pinterest boards because I am unsure I can break the fear enough to go.

    That is until recently. I had a moment of pause the other day. A moment of realization that struck a chord so much that I am writing to you.

    I have this pain in my leg. It has been here for months and when I called the doctor to schedule they immediately thought it was a blood clot and sent me directly to the emergency room.

    After many tests, they determined it wasn’t a blood clot in my big important veins and sent me home. I still have no idea what it is or why it causes me so much pain, but I know it isn’t a blood clot.

    However, a few days ago it was aching noticeably again and a moment of “oh gosh” hit me. Being an anxious person, the immediate question of “could it be cancer?” came to my mind.

    For many people, I am sure that question probably doesn’t pop up. But my mother got cancer at thirty-eight, and my thirty-seventh birthday is less than a month away. It was breast cancer and she’s fine now. But my stepdad died of cancer two and a half years ago. Watching his experience of slowly getting sicker and sicker and the cancer spreading across his body still haunts my thoughts.

    For the record, his was also not cancer in the leg. But sometimes your mind just starts with an idea and attaches to it immediately and starts going with the what-ifs.

    At that moment, though, I didn’t play out what-ifs; I didn’t think about the medical procedures and things I would have to do if it really did turn out to be cancer. My thoughts did not do the dizzying spiral they normally do. I had only one thought at that moment.

    I went immediately to the looming fear of flying and my desperate, aching desire to see more of the world and asked myself if this was really cancer, if there was a sickness that was about to affect my entire life, would I no longer be petrified of flying?

    I realized at that moment I have a 100% chance of dying. Absolutely, unequivocally, I am eventually going to die. And it very much could come from this random pain in my leg, from cancer, or even from a plane crash (although statistically I have a much greater chance of the cancer than the crash).

    But I realized something I had never before, and that is I could die today. Now don’t get me wrong, I have had many days and thoughts of dying over the years. Through weird and not even logical ways of dying. But this moment was real, was higher than my lizard brain fears, was calm.

    And I had to decide, am I going to do the things I fear so I can see the things I dream of?

    I realized it’s okay that I am still afraid, it’s okay that I need medicine from my doctor, strong coping mechanisms, and research, but I have to go. If exploring is important to me the way I feel it is, then I am going to have to explore and accept that anxiety and fear might be traveling companions, but they do not have to be roadblocks. Not anymore.

    So, I am writing to you, people I don’t know, who may experience similar things, who may be terrified of flying too, to offer you this simple yet real realization.

    I am still very much afraid today, but I am going to book my next flight and leave room for my anxiety and fear to come along. Maybe one day they won’t accompany me on my trips, but I know I am going to ensure they do not stop me in the meantime.

  • Trust Your Intuition: If It Feels Like a No, It’s a No

    Trust Your Intuition: If It Feels Like a No, It’s a No

    “You will never follow your own inner voice until you clear up the doubts in your mind.” ~Roy T. Bennett

    One evening my husband and I decided that we, along with our daughter, would go together to a neighboring town about thirty minutes away the following morning. He had an errand to run, and I was going to take our daughter to a nearby playground.

    The morning arrived, and as I thought about it, I had a wave of feeling/thought that said, “I don’t really want to go,” or maybe it was more like, “I’d rather just stay around here because that would be more fun.” All I can say is that there was an inner nudge that told me not going would lead to a happier outcome.

    Instead of going with my gut, though, I asked my daughter if she wanted to go to the playground, and when she said yes, I let that change my mind. (She’s four! Of course she wants to go to the playground!)

    We piled into the car and headed to the highway. Before you get any ideas about this being a horror story about a car accident or other life-altering incident, let me assure you that nothing terrible happened. Just something that showed me I need to keep up my practice of listening to that inner voice we all have.

    We dropped my husband off and went to the playground. It was fine, I guess, but sort of frustrating: My daughter played for maybe five minutes before asking to go to the bathroom. After that, she said she was ready to leave the playground and have a snack in the car. It had been all of fifteen minutes.

    We got back in the car and drove to the spot where my husband was. After fifteen or twenty minutes of us waiting for him in the car, he came out, kind of a in a grumpy mood, and we debated who would drive back home.

    I have a story about not wanting to drive when my husband is in the car. I tell myself he makes me self-conscious and I’d rather just have him drive. I was already in the driver’s seat, though, and he didn’t seem to care either way, so I stayed where I was.

    As soon as I started backing out of the parking lot he told me to watch out. He was worried about me hitting someone. I got annoyed, but kept going.

    When we got to the road, I had to make a tricky left turn. It’s a spot where people are coming from all directions, and there happened to be a police officer waiting to pull out across the way from us.

    I was about to go, but a car came quickly around the bend. I felt like I was out too far and started to back up a little, then my husband said, “What are you doing!?” That did not go over well with me.

    I got a little hysterical, feeling trapped. I couldn’t make the turn, I couldn’t back up, and my husband refused to switch places with me because he thought the police officer across the way would be suspicious.

    I ended up yelling and freaking out, even dropping an f-bomb, which is so not the way I want to act, ever, but especially not in front of my kid.

    I finally made the turn, then got off the next exit and asked my husband to drive. Sitting in the passenger seat it hit me: My inner voice said I’d probably have more fun staying close to home, and I realized it was almost certainly right.

    The trip to the playground was a bust, my daughter and I had to spend a bunch of time in the car (half an hour both ways plus the time waiting for my husband) to do basically nothing, and my husband and I ended up having a bit of a blowout.

    I couldn’t have predicted how the day would go, but I knew in the morning I felt like taking it easy, and instead, I put myself in situations that had the potential to be stressful.

    It’s not that anything awful or life-altering happened; it was just a clear example of how going against what felt right, what felt like the most fun, ended up being not the best choice for me. And I was particularly annoyed because I’ve been dedicating time and attention lately to listening to my intuition.

    Overall, though, I have been getting better at tuning in and heeding the advice of my inner guidance. Here’s what I’ve done over the years to get better at it.

    I regularly check in with my body.

    My body is so much smarter than I am. She knows when she’s had enough to eat and she knows when a situation isn’t the right one for me. Experiences that don’t align with my innermost desires result in me having a tight feeling in my chest or a churning feeling in my stomach, and if things go on long enough, I’ve been known to manifest physical symptoms that send me to the doctor.

    I once ignored my intuition about taking a job. I only lasted there a year, and I was sick constantly. It’s rare for me to get sick at all, so this was just a confirmation of what I’d worried about from the beginning. The body knows, even when the mind isn’t willing to acknowledge it yet.

    I started looking at what made me feel light and happy.

    Like the body, emotions are an incredible guide for showing us where to turn next. If something makes you feel alive and excited, then go in that direction! If something makes you feel low-energy and sad, it’s time to change course.

    I look for the next right step instead of trying to figure out a thirty-year plan.

    Our minds want to have all of the answers right now, period. If you feel excited about a new and completely different career path but your mind can’t figure out how it can earn you a living, you may shut it down completely, ignoring your intuition and probably squelching your happiness.

    These days, I just try to figure out the next right step, the one for this moment, rather than trying to see how it will play out when I’m eighty. Sometimes the next right step is for me to go to sleep instead of thinking about it anymore!

    If I’m frazzled and worrying about a million things that are work or business related, I slow myself down and ask what has to be done right now. The answer is usually something simple, like answer this email or take a break for lunch and come back when I feel refreshed. If you take it moment by moment, it truly slows things down and simplifies them.

    I do the thing that makes me feel good whenever possible.

    It might seem counterintuitive, but it’s often much easier to get done what you need to when you follow the path of what feels best. For instance, one evening I needed to write a blog post, but I just wasn’t feeling it.

    Instead of forcing myself to do it, I made some art and watched some TV. After maybe an hour I felt jazzed up and good, and it was incredibly easy (and fast!) to write the blog post.

    I ask questions with the intention of getting an answer.

    Instead of walking around all day thinking “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do,” I now make a point of asking, either in writing or in my head, “What’s the best thing for me?” It takes practice, but you’ll get answers, even if they’re subtle.

    I can hear you wondering, “What am I supposed to do when I have to do something, but my intuition says it’s a no-go?”

    I’m the mom of a young kiddo, and even though I don’t always feel like getting up with her at the crack of dawn, or peeling the skin off her apple, or watching that episode of a cheesy cartoon with her one more time, I usually still do it.

    Time with her at this age (and in general) is fleeting, and to combat the feeling of obligation I remind myself that I chose this life. I also check in to see what I can do in any given moment to make sure I’m getting some feel-good time for myself. I think it’s important for her to see me enjoying my life and making choices that support my well-being.

    I know there are lots and lots of obligations we feel tied to, but I believe if your intuition is telling you over and over again that this is not right for you, you must start to listen and let it go.

    Perhaps you feel you can’t give up this obligation right this second, but how can you move away from it? How can you take on more of what feels joyful and right for you and less of what feels burdensome and heavy? Just do it a little at a time, if that’s what feels best.

    I’m really passionate about this subject, and it’s because I have seen how much my life has improved by going with my gut. I’ve also seen what happens when I don’t, even if it’s minor like the incident I described.

    When I see and hear other people struggling with decisions or doing something big (like getting married!) even when it doesn’t feel quite right, I want to reach out and hug them and tell them that going with their intuition will always pay off in the end, even if it doesn’t seem to make sense in the moment.

    You already know the answer; you just have to listen.

  • Freeing Your Truest Self When You’re Anxious to Please

    Freeing Your Truest Self When You’re Anxious to Please

    “Stress, depression, and anxiety are caused when we are living to please others.” ~Paulo Coehlo

    I came from a broken and very poor family. My father left the house during my teenage years, and it was just my mother, little brother, and I remaining.

    Like most single parents going through the hardships of singlehandedly caring for two children, my mother was often anxious about my well-being. And she overcompensated for her anxiety by being overbearing.

    I unfortunately inherited this anxiety.

    For the longest time, it was a daily battle for me.

    You know the feeling.

    Your muscles tense up, you feel an overwhelming sense of fear, and your heart begins to race.

    It’s the uncomfortable worries that surface as you play out worst-case scenarios in your head.

    Though we can feel anxiety about debt, work pressures, or any number of challenges, for me, it was mostly triggered by the fear of not being good enough and disappointing other people.

    My struggle with anxiety was one of the most crippling experiences, and as a result, I never grew.

    So, is it really possible to overcome anxiety?

    I realized the answer is yes, but first I needed to understand where my anxiety was coming from.

    Anxiety is Your Brain Trying to Protect You

    There’s a small, almond-sized part of your brain known as the amygdala whose main job is to look out for your survival. For example, if a mountain lion were chasing you, your amygdala would trigger fear so that it would activate your body to run for your life or grab a weapon to fight.

    Your amygdala doesn’t only watch out for your physical survival. You feel the same kind of fear when you are nervous about giving a public speech or going on a first date.

    When you experience anxiety in these situations, it’s your brain’s way of trying to help you survive emotionally.

    Unfortunately, your amygdala is not the greatest at accurately gauging how dangerous a situation might be. It often blows things way out of proportion.

    I remember what it felt like when I was a kid and wouldn’t see my mother the whole day because she was always working late. I’d wait for her to talk about something I was excited about only to have her turn the conversation toward things about myself that I should be improving.

    Even though this was her way of trying to make sure I survive in the world, because we were barely getting by, the constant requests to do things better made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.

    It felt like no matter what I did, I could never fully please her. If I accomplished something she requested of me, I’d get a quick “thank you,” then she’d move on to talk about what else I should do.

    I found it most hurtful when she would talk about how great someone else was. She’d update me about some amazing thing that one of her client’s children had accomplished and suggest that I should try to follow in that person’s footsteps.

    All that did was make me think that something was wrong with me.

    I ended up with low self-esteem, and because I thought I was worthless, nothing was scarier than the thought of making mistakes and failing, because that would confirm that I was not good enough.

    This was why I never took too many risks and searched only for options that seemed to have a guarantee for success.

    My anxiety made me develop a behavior of perfectionism, and it was ruining my life. The more I let it make my decisions for me, or lack of decisions for that matter, the further I felt from who I wanted to become.

    Ironically, becoming a perfectionist was my brain’s solution to helping me feel good enough.

    “Perfectionism is the belief that if we live perfect, look perfect, and act perfect, we can minimize or avoid the pain of blame, judgement, and shame. It’s a shield.” ~Brené Brown

    This toxic behavior put me in an endless cycle of working hard to achieve all sorts of cool things so that one day, I might feel good about myself. In reality, every accomplishment felt anti-climactic. I was always dissatisfied and constantly looking for the next big accomplishment to chase.

    No matter how much I succeeded, it was never enough for me, just like I never felt like I was enough for other people.

    It wasn’t until I met someone who could see the real me that I finally figured out how to overcome my anxiety.

    The Power of a Safe Space

    When I was a teenager, a man named Anthony saved my life. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve gone down a much more self-destructive path.

    He never questioned the mistakes I’d made unless I wanted to talk about them. And when I didn’t want to talk about them, he’d openly share his own horrible mistakes.

    I never once felt judged by him, nor did I feel like he had a set of expectations for me.

    Anthony helped me feel safe.

    I realized for the first time that for most of my life, I didn’t feel safe to be who I was.

    I was almost always in survival mode, shielding myself emotionally. All my behavior was in reaction to the anxiety of not feeling good enough for other people.

    Being in a safe space finally helped me put my guard down and look at myself objectively. It was in these moments that I became deeply aware that being a perfectionist wasn’t the answer to my anxiety, and that I was heading down a path toward depression.

    I didn’t come to this realization sooner because the pre-frontal cortex, the thinking part of the brain, is turned off when the brain’s in survival mode. This pre-frontal cortex is what’s capable of rational behavior, critical thinking, and emotional regulation.

    The only way to calm down the survival mode of your brain is to place yourself in environments where you feel safe.

    The thinking part of your brain will help you understand where your anxiety comes from and figure out an effective way to handle it.

    It was in this safe space that I finally realized that I had the power and responsibility to stay true to myself.

    How I Overcame My Anxiety

    Deep down, I hated myself for constantly giving in to other people’s expectations of me and for letting their standards determine my self-worth.

    But the reality is that I let this happen.

    And here’s the even harsher truth.

    I let it happen because it’s much easier to live a life that someone else wants you to live.

    The scariest part is that once you take ownership of the one life you have, you have no one to blame if things go wrong. At least following someone else’s path gave me the right to blame him or her.

    My brain would rather me let others’ standards dictate my life and sacrifice my mental health than do anything that might make me experience the emotional pain of looking like a failure and falling short of someone’s standards.

    Now that I knew all my anxiety was coming from my brain being in survival mode, I needed to figure out a way to regularly calm it down.

    This was when I discovered meditation. 

    I learned that brain scans in studies have revealed that meditation calms the amygdala and activates the thinking part of your brain.

    I started using the free version of an app called Headspace, and I learned how effective it can be to simply be present and enter a state of awareness.

    For most of my life, I’d been tossed left and right by my circumstances and was a slave to my emotional reactions. Meditation helped me become more aware of why I was behaving the way I did, especially in these reactive moments.

    I finally saw that almost all my anxiety led to irrational thoughts and behaviors.

    For example, I remember when I decided to start my business, it was hard to build my audience. Nobody was reading any of my articles, and I wasn’t getting any traffic on my website.

    I’ve given up on other ventures plenty of times before, and I was ready to give up on this one too. I took it personally and started telling myself the familiar narrative that I didn’t have what it takes. I just wasn’t good enough. Then I recognized that I was reacting to my anxiety as I’d always done, and I could choose a different way.

    I was able to be aware and think to myself, “I’m feeling anxious right now because this moment feels similar to a couple of painful experiences I had in the past.”

    The moment I became aware of this I gave myself the power to make a choice rather than to habitually react.

    So I told myself, “The old you would put yourself down and give up, but the new you can try to assess the situation objectively and see what is really setting you back.”

    After doing this, I was finally able to grasp that I didn’t have business challenges because of my character, but most likely because of the strategies and tactics I was using to market myself. Once I used different strategies, I got different results.

    Your Best Life Starting Now

    In order to live our best life, we have to calm our anxiety about disappointing other people and not being good enough and find the courage to be true to ourselves.

    It is one of the hardest decisions you will ever make, but it will also be one of the best.

    The first step to changing my life for the better was having awareness. The next key step was focus.

    What you focus on is usually what you will gravitate toward.

    The key to living your best life is not to run away from who you were, but to run toward who you want to become.

    As I meditated, my anxiety calmed down and I started to have such a clear idea of the person I wanted to be.

    I no longer wanted to be the anxious person who thought he was worthless. I wanted to become a great husband, father, and leader. Rather than worrying about not being able to meet these expectations, I started to engage the thinking part of my brain to figure out what needed to be done.

    I didn’t have all the answers, but I knew I could only make this life I wanted a reality if I started making changes and learned as I went.

    I wanted to learn what it took to become a better husband, so I started going to marriage counseling.

    I wanted to become a better parent, so I researched how children are wired and how to best communicate with them.

    I wanted to be a better leader, so I invested in credible leadership and coaching courses.

    And I did these things not because I wanted to prove something to myself, but more because it mattered to me deeply and I knew it was a part of who I truly was.

    I’ve spent too much time running away from opportunities for growth because I was afraid I might not be good enough. The problem, though, was that I was running away without knowing where I wanted to go. I ended up in destinations where I felt more lost than ever, and my anxiety kept catching up to me in the end.

    Now, whenever I experience anxiety, I tell myself, “This is anxiety.” I thank my brain for looking out for me and then I ask myself, “What do I need to focus on in this moment, and how can I get it?”

    Then, surprisingly, the anxiety calms down and the thinking part of my brain activates to try and figure out the best way to go about things.

    This is what changed everything for me.

    And I know it can for you too.

    While people might have expectations for you, the world desperately needs the power that comes from you living your most authentic life.

    If you are battling anxiety about not being good enough or pleasing other people, take a moment to slow down and acknowledge what you are experiencing. Then, identify what you need to feel safe so you can turn on the thinking part of your brain and start uncovering the answers you most need. That might mean meditating, talking to a close friend, or even just getting out in nature for a walk.

    It’s time to take a deep breath, be compassionate with yourself, and decide who it is you want to be.

    Stay aware and focused and you’ll be there sooner than you think.

  • When You Keep Giving Up on New Habits That Are Good for You

    When You Keep Giving Up on New Habits That Are Good for You

    “If you have a bad day, remember that tomorrow is a wonderful gift and a new chance to try again.” ~Bryant McGill

    As I crawled back into bed after hitting the snooze button, my eyes heavy with sleep, I told myself, “You gave up once more” and rolled over back to sleep, annoyed with myself.

    Two months earlier, inspired by the book The Miracle Morning, by Hal Erold, I had taken the habit of getting up early (around 5am) every day to meditate for fifteen minutes, write for thirty minutes, and exercise for thirty minutes.

    When I started the new habit, it felt amazing. I was so proud of myself—I was doing it! On top of the satisfaction of achieving goals that I had set for myself, I really felt the benefit of being productive before everyone wakes up. It had a positive knock on effect on the rest of my life; I was upbeat, motivated, and I was going to work with a spring in my step.

    Then, about two months in, normal life happened: I had been to bed later the previous nights—drinks with colleagues, watching a movie—and tiredness, coupled with maybe the weariness of the new habits, quickly took over. That morning, I did not jump out of bed and I was longing to roll over instead of starting my “miracle morning.”

    If you are a human being like me, I am sure you are very familiar with taking up new habits, only to give them up two or three weeks or months later. The most notorious one is New Year’s resolutions. Who hasn’t promised themselves they’d go to the gym three times a week, they’d stop eating junk food, or they’d stop drinking alcohol altogether?

    We take up new habits, only to let them die away after few weeks.

    Have you noticed how different the feeling is between when you start and when you give up?

    When we start on January 1st, we cannot imagine there will be one more day in our life when we will not jump out of bed to go to the gym. We wonder, “How could I ever not have the motivation? It’s so exciting! And how did I not do it before?”

    Yet somehow, it happens and procrastination becomes the new habit. With procrastination comes guilt, and low self-esteem starts creeping in.

    There’s indeed a very negative effect on your life if there’s constantly a little voice in your head reminding you that you have failed this or that. My aim here is to help you feel good about yourself, even with the fallibility of being human and not being able to sustain new habits.

    You don’t have to beat yourself up for giving up new healthy habits. You’re not the only one out there; we’re all doing it (or not doing it).

    I used to be very annoyed with myself when I stopped a new routine, as it gave the feeling that my goal had not been achieved. However, unless you are in a life-threatening situation and seriously need to change your lifestyle, I think that we need to take a different perspective on things.

    Yes it could be better, but you cannot deny that you have, for whatever small amount of time it happened, spent your life doing something else that was better for yourself.

    Have you given up smoking, only to start again three months later? Think of it this way: for three months, your body was healthier and you’ve probably earned back few minutes of your life. Would it not be better stopping smoking for three months every year rather than not at all? If I told you now that your target is to stop smoking for three months, every year, would that not make it easier to handle?

    There are few ways that we can make these new habits easier to handle. I think we should focus more on the fact that even if we haven’t sustained it, we’ve done something good for ourselves. Here are three main elements you should consider:

    1. Set a limit in time for your new habit.

    If you suspect you will sooner or later give up on it anyway, why not set the end date when you start? This may sound simple, but the big difference is that you are in control of when you stop. This will also make it easier to digest, and you might be more likely to sustain the habit longer than if you hadn’t set yourself an end date.

    I’ve tried the experiment myself. On June 7th, I started a new healthy habit: wake up early, meditate, write, read news. I was of course excited about this new habit, but I thought I’d end up giving up anyway, as I had with all other healthy habits outside of my comfort zone.

    Then I had this idea: What if I tell myself that it’s labeled “summer healthy habits” and that I only have to sustain it until August 7th? Would that not make it easier? You can reduce it to one week if you tend to give up after few days.

    2. Reflect on what you have learned or gained, even if the habit has stopped.

    Stopping doesn’t mean you haven’t done anything productive. For three months, you did something different, and surely your brain or body benefited from it.

    You should also not only consider the direct effects of this new habit, but the fact that you have learned something different and probably raised your self-awareness. Let’s say you decided to stop drinking alcohol altogether. Even if the new habit only lasts a month, you will have learned something about yourself.

    I recently decided to test not drinking any alcohol at all on Friday nights with the colleagues at the pub. Surprisingly, I was as upbeat and enthusiastic as the night wore on, same as when I was drinking on a typical Friday night.

    This was a revelation to me! When I thought that my enthusiasm was related to my alcohol intake, it actually wasn’t; I was “drunk with social interaction.” This is exactly my point: I only did this two Fridays in a row, but I learned something about myself that I can take away for the future.

    3. Step back and reconsider.

    Working at intervals is a healthy process in a lot of disciplines. As a runner, it’s scientifically proven that I’ll be better off alternating fast and slow intervals during a run, and alternating workouts and rest over the course of a training plan, rather than always running at the same pace or running without ever recovering.

    It’s the same for the learning process: When you study for your final exam, it’s well known that taking breaks or moving on to another activity for a while is beneficial for the brain.

    We could even take a broader perspective: Living a healthy life is all about balance. Why not alternate the healthy new habits? Some examples: Stop eating bread for one month, then go back to your usual levels of consumption. Go without alcohol on Friday nights for one month, then stop. Life is also about experimenting different things.

    —

    As I am writing this article today, I’m at the start of a new habit streak. I’ve decided that I will take thirty minutes every day before breakfast to write on my blog. Disruptions in my routine (for example, holidays) are often the breaking point of my new habits, so I’ve decided that I will only keep this new habit for a couple months, until my next planned trip.

    Thinking about stopping this habit that I enjoy so much (mind you, it’s day two!) makes me sad, but after all if I want to keep it going, I can. But at least if I do stop on my planned end date, I won’t feel guilty and unaccomplished, because that was part of the plan. I will feel that I have achieved my goal, even if the habit only lasted a month. Then hopefully I can be excited to take it up again when I come back home.

    It’s great that you are trying to change your life for the better, but it should not have the consequence of making you feel bad about yourself for not sustaining it. If it does, it will create stress and be counterproductive.

    Take small steps toward a healthier lifestyle, enjoy the process, and take time to reflect on what you have learned about yourself. That’s the best way for your body and your mind to benefit from the change.

  • Why Social Media and My Addictive Personality Don’t Mesh

    Why Social Media and My Addictive Personality Don’t Mesh

    Twitter didn’t give me the flu or bronchitis, but it made me sick. Unhealthy. Ill-feeling. And it could have been any social media platform that did it, I just happened to have chosen Twitter.

    For years I avoided creating any sort of social media account. I complained to companies the old-fashioned way: calling or emailing customer service. I didn’t need to know what people I wasn’t in touch with in real life were doing.

    As someone who was married and not dating, there simply wasn’t the requirement to be on any kind of social media. With two kids, I spent my (little) free time watching TV or texting with a few friends. I would proudly state, “I don’t even have Facebook” when people discussed it.

    Then in January 2018, I decided to open a Twitter account, mostly to rant about things, as I had done a few years prior on a blog. Not big-issue political rants or anything, more “Why isn’t the first car on an advanced green turning?? YOU HAVE A RESPONSIBILITY, MAN” type stuff.

    I had conveniently blocked from memory the reason I had stopped blogging about all my anger-inducing experiences: I had felt like it was poisoning me. To always be posting something negative, it builds over time. As much as I liked expressing my anger, I didn’t like the feeling it created.

    Fast forward to the beginning of 2018 and I have a Twitter account. All fine and dandy for a bit: I build a little network of like-minded parent Twitter accounts, we follow the same accounts, and it’s fun to see people living the same type of kid-related dramz as I was.

    Then I realize that with Twitter, I have access to breaking news way faster than say, my husband (a complete non-social media user). So that’s fun. Then I realize I have easy access to celebrities—wow! Now I can communicate directly with them! And businesses! To celebrate or chastise them! Fun! Then I’m excited when I gain followers. Cool! But some are random accounts who I don’t ever see post anything, or weird corporations. Okay… still fun?

    Then I interact a few times with some celebrities. That goes to my head quickly—now I assume every tweet I send will result in some retweet or like by them. But no, it doesn’t. “Well, that’s crappy,” I think on more than one occasion, when I obsessively check my account to see if they liked what I wrote.

    I see parenting-related tweets by other users who gain hundreds or thousands of likes for some inane comment, and I think “But that’s not even funny or very observant.” I develop a never-ending circle of thought in my head, consumed by potential tweets.

    I start to feel what many people before me have felt: the highs and lows of social media. When it’s good, it’s good—your self-esteem is high, you’re feeling well liked, and well received. And when it’s low, it sucks.

    “Why didn’t anyone agree with what I said?” I would question. “How come my tweets don’t garner that much attention?” It started to become too much. I was turning into someone I had never thought I would be: feeling validated by the number of likes I got.

    Soon, it became obsessive. I was checking when I woke up (my phone having never been beside me at night), considering checking in the middle of the night when I woke up, checking while driving (something I had shamed people for doing previously), being logged in all day while at work. It was all day every day. I had become consumed.

    And it wasn’t lucrative; I had 200-ish followers and maybe 20 I actually interacted with. It had quickly turned from something “neat” into something destructive. Everything I was living I was thinking could be a potential tweet. Which meant in turn, while I was physically there, I wasn’t really present in my actual life.

    Along with parenting woes, I used Twitter to talk about my sobriety. I found it to be an awesome support network for the ups and downs and also to help others.

    Over the past year of sobriety, I, like many others in the same situation, have connected much more with myself, learning who I am more in the past year than ever in my whole life. I recognize when I am feeling sad, toxic, anger, jealous. I feel everything now. And so when I started to feel weird with Twitter, I didn’t ignore it. I looked at what was happening.

    And I realized it: as I now know, I have an addictive personality. I had become addicted and consumed by Twitter. It was now controlling my day. From wake up, to work, to driving, to watching TV, I was one tap away from seeing “what’s happening.” With strangers. And not actually paying attention to what I was living.

    Instead of living what was happening, I was typing it, sharing it, obsessing over who saw it and interacted with me. Instead of alcohol, I was now consumed by Twitter.

    So last week, I promised myself I would stop tweeting, stop checking it, and back away. Unfortunately you can’t hide your account. Either you have it and you just don’t use it, or you deactivate.

    This weekend I looked at it here and there to see if I had any likes or DMs. To get a sense of what I was missing. I had a few likes from some tweets posted last week, oddly enough a number of new followers (even after doing nothing for days, which is so bizarre)—nothing earth shattering. I didn’t scroll through at all, and I didn’t engage with anyone.

    And I realized: Nothing in my life actually changes if I am “connected.” In fact, I realized that being “connected” actually made me feel more isolated than ever. I was relying on something very independent to feel part of something. When in reality, it was very secluded.

    I found it serves as a distraction and delivers information that just makes me angry or depressed. And there’s already enough of that in life. I am quite happy to go back to using reality TV to unwind and let my sister being my sounding board for my road rage.

    I will give it another day or so and I will deactivate it completely. And luckily, goodbyes are not necessary. A nice clean break. I will miss some elements of it, but I know myself enough to know I cannot keep it. Like trying to moderate alcohol, it’s too much of a slippery slope.

  • How Failure Holds the Key to a Meaningful, Successful Life

    How Failure Holds the Key to a Meaningful, Successful Life

    “Perfectionism doesn’t believe in practice shots.” ~Julia Cameron

    Within each of us lurks a perfectionist. And perfectionists set themselves up for a lot of pain in life.

    How so? I’ll come to that.

    First let me describe how our first child took her first step. She was less than ten months old. A very bright girl, who wanted nothing less than my approval at all times.

    On one occasion, a few months previous to that, she was crawling on the carpet and picked up some small thing. As she started to put it in her mouth, I called out loudly “No!”

    That was the first time she experienced any negative or critical words from me. Otherwise, I had been steadily adoring. What was her response?

    She fell flat on the floor and remained perfectly still. It was as if she had been laid flat by a sledgehammer blow.

    That’s how much she had come to rely on my approval.

    So, what happened when one day she could finally stand up? I decided, as a very proud parent, to teach her how to walk right away.

    Now, walking is easy for someone who’s already confident with standing up. It’s more challenging for someone who’s just learned how to stay on their feet unsupported. I was too young and foolish and overeager to think through all that.

    In my excitement, I stood by her and urged, “You can walk. Just do this. Look at me. Just lift a foot like this and put it forward.”

    In retrospect, I was too hasty and cruel. I’ve grown to recognize that everything happens in its own good time.

    Anyhow, I was young and foolish then. So, allow me to tell you the rest of the story.

    Our baby looked very doubtful. I demonstrated a step once again. She remained hesitant.

    After some more cajoling from me, she decided to do something.

    She took the oddest first step you can imagine.

    Did she lift one foot as I kept urging? No.

    She simply hopped forward, keeping both feet on the ground. Like a baby kangaroo. That was only minutes after she had first stood up without support.

    Of course, not long after that she was walking very confidently, and then running, and has gone on to do amazing things with her life.

    Imagine if we were all so afraid of failure that we always kept both feet on the ground for safety. How much would that interfere with a full and meaningful life? How would that affect our ability to do whatever we considered to be good and important?

    We can see this quite clearly in babies. In order to be able to lift their head, they need to accept that they’ll sometimes flop.

    In order to learn how to crawl, they need to accept that they’ll sometimes fall flat on their face.

    In order to learn how to stand, they need to accept that they’ll sometimes fall in a heap.

    In order to learn how to walk, they need to accept that they’ll sometimes tumble.

    In order to learn how to cycle, they need to accept that they’ll sometimes fall off and get bruised.

    In order to learn how to swim, they need to accept that they’ll sometimes need rescuing.

    In order to learn how to read and write, they need to accept that they’ll get many things hilariously wrong.

    In order to learn to love wholeheartedly, they need to accept that some people will betray their trust.

    Whenever they want to do something that’s good and important in their lives, they need to accept the possibility of failure.

    It’s easy to acknowledge such facts, but it’s more difficult to live by them.

    Why is it that we often struggle with failure? Why do we so often consider it as a full stop rather than a necessary comma in our life story? Why does it seem more like a trap than a springboard?

    It may have something to do with our need for approval.

    Our daughter didn’t want to hear the word “No!” from her beloved parent. It crushed her the first time she encountered it from me.

    Only after I picked her up and comforted her did she loosen up and smile again. She was learning that she could get things wrong and still remain completely lovable to me.

    People can be good to us. They can build us up. They can teach us that it’s okay to fall and fail, because we’ll still be completely lovable.

    However, we’re all human beings. We don’t always do what we set out to do. We don’t stick to doing what we know to be good and important.

    As a result, we often wound others and are too often wounded by them.

    That tends to suck us into the rat race. Not content with being intrinsically and unshakably lovable, we tend to look for reassurance. And too often we seek it by trying to be one up on others.

    We sometimes pounce on the mistakes or flaws of others because it allows us to feel superior despite our own mistakes or shortcomings. We sometimes become overly reliant on praise because we’re terrified that criticism confirms how worthless we are under the surface. 

    All this tends to make life a bit like walking on thin ice. Even when it looks as if we’re winning, we’re on edge because we fear that the ice might give way at any moment. I know, because I’ve struggled with these things myself.

    Imagine a different way of living. A calm and courageous way of reaching for whatever we consider to be good and important in our lives, with full acceptance of whatever failures come our way.

    Paradoxically, the perfectionist is more likely to fail because they’re too afraid to bring out the best in themselves. They’re so hungry for approval, and so afraid of failure, that they often don’t do what they know to be good and important.

    They keep the safety wheels on their bicycles even though it slows them down. That’s because they’re convinced that failure will confirm their worthlessness.

    Imagine a different way. Imagine having a deep, unshakable anchor within yourself. An anchor of self-acceptance. No storms in life can then blow you out of the safe harbor of being intrinsically lovable.

    The baby who’s uncertain of being lovable might be too afraid to attempt anything worthwhile. It’s the same with us adults.

    Our perfectionism goes hand in hand with fear of failure. It’s like a prison. However, we have the key, or we can find it.

    This may be the most important lesson life has taught me, and I’m going to share it.

    You can get the key to calm, courageous living by letting others know that they are unshakably lovable despite their failures and mistakes and flaws.

    When you give this gift to others, you begin to believe it yourself. Not as a sterile principle. But as a reality that you feel deep in your being.

    Once you have this key, perfectionism loses its stranglehold over you. You recognize that you are intrinsically worthy and lovable, just like every other human being.

    Life becomes really good and inviting, failure can no longer terrorize, and you get more good and important things done.

    Once you’re prepared to fall flat on your face, life starts to sparkle.

  • Why “Focus on the Bright Side” Isn’t Helpful Advice

    Why “Focus on the Bright Side” Isn’t Helpful Advice

    There are so many memes and quotes out there that say, “Be positive, not negative. Focus on the bright side.” I’ve never been very good at ignoring the negatives and focusing on the positives.

    Call me a critical, over-analytical over-thinker if you want, but at no point in my journey of self-love and self-discovery have I learned to ignore all my flaws, all my mistakes, all my regrets. At no point in my journey of compassion have I learned to ignore all the times that someone has hurt me or all the destruction caused by abuse. That never felt right to me. And you know something? It hasn’t actually been necessary.

    Rewind to six years ago when I was staring at my makeupless face in the mirror. My thoughts said, “Ugly. Horrible. Pale. Look at those blemishes. Look at those hairs. Disgusting. Revolting. Put a bag over your head and hide.” But I kept looking.

    I couldn’t unsee those blemishes. There they were. I couldn’t unsee those hairs. There they were too. Plain as day. I also couldn’t stop myself from thinking that these were disgusting and revolting. Those thoughts were certainly there too! And no amount of positive self-talk was going to make them go away.

    What happened next was fascinating. In addition to observing those hairs, those blemishes, and those thoughts, I saw something else. I saw my face as pure visual information—the way I’d perceive the colors and shapes in an abstract painting. I was giving my face meaning, and I was seeing it as something meaningless.

    Those moments revolutionized my relationship with myself. I didn’t erase my negative self-image. I just added a new perspective. That new perspective balanced my view of myself.

    I think balance is a key word. What bothers me about the whole “be positive, ignore the negatives” idea is that I was abused by some very mentally unstable people in my childhood who did that very thing. They refused to see how they hurt others. They focused only on their good intentions.

    A certain amount of self-criticism, self-judgment, and self-doubt is absolutely essential. It’s what makes us apologize for hurting someone. It’s what makes us improve the areas of our lives that are lacking. It’s what makes us question idealistic, romanticized notions of the world and see things clearly. The so-called “dark side” is essential. It isn’t bad at all.

    A few years ago, my partner and I were in an argument. He was very angry, and the way he was expressing his anger to me was extremely triggering. I felt victimized, oppressed, disgusted. I thought, “I would never do this to you.”

    But then, something happened. Beneath his unhelpful delivery, I saw something. I saw him trying to communicate something about my behavior toward him. Something that hurt me to see. A huge blow to my ego. And he was trying to tell me about it. He was trying to say, “I don’t do this to you.”

    Sure, he wasn’t communicating about it well. But he was communicating something important. We ended the conversation temporarily and went to our separate corners.

    Alone, shame and self-hatred suddenly returned to me, like old friends who don’t bother to knock. My thoughts said, you’re a horrible human being. Look what you’ve done to your boyfriend. Look at how patient he’s been all this time with your intolerable actions, and look at how you treated him for trying to tell you about it.

    Extreme. It was all so extreme. And I couldn’t delete the extremism! I couldn’t remove my self-judgment, and I couldn’t remove my resentment for his angry words. All I could do was find balance.

    I told myself that just because I had made mistakes doesn’t mean I’m a horrible person. I told myself that I could acknowledge that I had room to grow and also respect myself as a human being. I could do both.

    As for him, I could admit that he had something valuable to say and that his communication needed some work. I could see our argument as something that contained pain alongside valuable feedback. It wasn’t good or bad. It was both. It was neither. It just was.

    These moments pop up for me all the time. Last month, when I was travelling, I had something stolen. I felt betrayed, angry, lost. I didn’t try to stop all those feelings, but I also didn’t stop with feeling them. I continued to explore my experience until I found new perspectives on the situation. So being robbed turned into an amazing learning experience! Not because I ignored the pain but because I balanced that pain with lessons.

    Life is paradoxical. Where there’s joy, there’s sadness. Where there is control, there is surrender. Where there is speech, there is silence. Where there’s destruction, there is growth. We do not need to ignore the so-called dark side. It’s an essential part of the way things are. We only need to add an awareness of the other side: what we call the “light.”

    I think this is especially important in these times of political and social unrest. When we try to replace darkness with light, red with blue, wrong with right, we create war. Because what we call dark and wrong exists for a reason. Sometimes, it exists because it is meant to serve us in some way. Sometimes, it exists because it’s a symptom of some bigger issue.

    No matter how much we try to triumph over and defeat our enemies (including our inner enemies), if we do not understand where they come from, they will keep returning in different forms. We need to wage peace, not war, and peace comes from understanding.

    My perfectionism, which destroyed me for many years, was not a malignant tumor to cut out of my experience. It is a helpful pattern. Sure, it doesn’t help when I’m looking at my face or my mistakes. But as I’ve learned to embrace the art of continuously perfecting something (without ever expecting it to be perfect), I’ve become a better writer and a better editor.

    My self-judgment, which almost brought me to an early death, was not a disease. It was overgrown, but it wasn’t unnecessary. My ability to look critically at things helps me expand my perspectives, open my mind, and understand people better. My ability to look critically at myself helps me work on myself, admit my mistakes, and constantly improve.

    My bouts of intense, debilitating self-loathing weren’t useless either. They always had a message. Sometimes, I hadn’t taken a break in months. Sometimes, I was ignoring my own needs while codependently following the desires of the people around me. Sometimes, I had allowed my anxiety to spiral endlessly for weeks and weeks, and my mind had just become tired. I realize now that, in my suicidal moments, I didn’t really want to die. I just wanted to rest. I wanted a break from it all.

    I’ve learned that there is no good or bad. There is only what is most helpful and useful at the time. The answers, as they say, are all within you. They are. And this also means that, in any given situation, some of your inner answers will be more appropriate than others. Everything has its time and place. Everything is a valuable part of your experience.

    This doesn’t mean we should condone rape, murder, or violence. But this attitude can help us understand these tragic occurrences more than judgment can. Why do some people feel like the right answer is to hurt someone else? I think this line of questioning will bring us to a more helpful place than calling those people heartless monsters. It can actually help us work toward solving those social issues.

    And learning to look at ourselves and, instead of asking, “How can I get rid of this horrible part of me? How can I stop doing this unhelpful thing?” We can instead ask, “What could this mean? Which needs might I be meeting with my actions, and how could I meet those needs in a way that serves me more?” We can focus on holistically understanding why something has happened and allowing ourselves to explore different, new solutions to the puzzles of our existence.

    I suppose what I’ve learned over the past six years has been more than self-love. I’ve learned balance. I’ve learned that real happiness is being unafraid of my emotions. I can be sad, angry, happy. I can feel it all, whenever it comes, and know that I won’t get stuck on it. I will let myself experience all the available emotions, and then I will come to peace.

    Instead of trying to focus on the bright side, my task is to let myself see all the sides, remove my judgment about what they mean, and try to appreciate the complexity of my experiences.

    That is the power we have as human beings. We can let ourselves be curious instead of always fearful. We can choose to work on understanding who we are instead of always trying to be who we think we should be. We can let ourselves see what is there and not only what we are used to seeing. We can choose to understand better. We can choose to be aware.

  • Why No One Else Can Make Me Feel Insignificant

    Why No One Else Can Make Me Feel Insignificant

    “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt

    Significance.

    A phenomenon most of us only notice once we lose it.

    If you’re like me, you’ve had (and could still have) a love/hate relationship with significance. Simply because it often seemed so elusive. Just out of reach.

    Our journey together started as far back as I can remember.

    As the youngest of three siblings, I often felt unheard. Overlooked. Ignored. Insignificant.

    I thought it was normal. Didn’t all little sisters bear the same cross? Apparently not…

    As a young adult, I looked to my friends to fill my “significance” gap. Sometimes they did, sometimes they didn’t. Teenage years are notoriously dramatic, and mine were no exception.

    Those were roller-coaster years, as I constantly yearned for a sense of significance. Always relying on others to fill my proverbial cup.

    Moving into adulthood proper, I simply handed the responsibility over to my various romantic partners. Looking back, those poor guys had no clue as to the immensity of the challenge they were taking on.

    Back then, my particular belief system firmly stated that any partner of mine was responsible for how I felt. End of story!

    It was his duty to pander to my emotional needs.

    It was his duty to make me feel good!

    I know, I roll my eyes in disbelief too.

    But what exactly is this significance we all desire?

    This sense of significance that we so readily measure our worth by?

    Think about it. How would you describe your sense of significance?

    Is it something you measure by another person’s judgment of you (e.g.: I’m popular, therefore I’m significant)?

    Or are you able to feel significant despite another’s opinion (e.g.: I feel significant even when I’m alone)?

    I had an incident a while back where, in a moment of desperation, I reached out to a close family member for support. And was deftly turned away.

    It was unexpected. Entirely. And it rocked my little world.

    This person was my support system. My fallback guy. My innermost circle.

    My feelings of insignificance exploded back into my reality. Briefly. But in that moment, they ran deep.

    Significance is often one of the ways in which we define ourselves within a relationship. Whether it be in work, family, friend, or romantic relationships. In other words, in these instances, we seek our sense of significance from someone else. Through their opinion of us, or in their attention to us.

    We believe that what they think matters. A lot.

    And when things are peachy and everyone’s on the same page, it’s awesome! We lift each other. We sing each other’s praises. Feelings of significance and worthiness abound!

    Yet, when the peachiness turns bitter and we stand facing each other, with differing perspectives, the opposite is often true.

    That familiar strength, support, and safety simply evaporates.

    Leaving us raw. Naked. Feeling insignificant.

    Now, before we all reach for the tissues, let me just say: There is value in this.

    It’s only in the nakedness, the rawness, and the full feelings of insignificance that we can actually begin to make a shift. Toward who we really are.

    Because here’s the thing: If we truly lean into those feelings of insignificance without fear, we realize that insignificance doesn’t feel like anything.

    In fact, insignificance doesn’t really exist. At all!

    You can’t see it. Touch it. Or taste it.

    It’s simply a concept.

    Born of the story we’re currently telling ourselves.

    And, as with any story, it’s all made up!

    I’ll venture one step further and suggest that it’s the fear of feeling insignificant that’s scarier for us mortals. And we’ll often do anything to avoid it. Mask it. Or stuff it down.

    When I stood in the face of my own perceived insignificance a few weeks ago, I was initially rattled. I felt small. Rejected. And very alone.

    But only for a bit.

    Because as I faced it down and let the essence of it flow through me, I noticed something astounding.

    Nothing. Had. Changed.

    Nope, I was the same person. I looked the same, smelled the same, and sounded the same.

    Even more importantly, the world didn’t end. Nor did the sky fall in.

    I was okay.

    So, here’s where I got to:

    I get to choose whether I’m significant. Or not.

    Nobody else is qualified to.

    Only my opinion of me matters. Ever.

    There is nothing that anyone (no matter who they are) can say that means anything about me.

    Any sense of insignificance that I feel is simply my own perception.

    Not real.

    A story.

    And if it’s all simply a story, then why not tell myself a good one?

    One where I am important. Worthy. And enough.

  • Why Introverts Feel Drained in Groups and How I Preserve My Energy

    Why Introverts Feel Drained in Groups and How I Preserve My Energy

    “In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you.” ~Deepak Chopra

    When I was younger, I was always referred to as “the quiet one.” I didn’t mind it; I knew I was much quieter than most people I met. Not speaking and spending time on my own was natural for me.

    Friends and workmates recognized this but would still often ask me if I wanted to join them when they were going out, even though they knew I would usually say no. They understood me as quiet, but they didn’t really understand just how much I disliked the whole socializing thing and how much it would drain me.

    I’d always loved time on my own. Even if I was somewhere amongst people, as long as I didn’t have to speak or engage with others, I was fairly content. In both situations I could retreat to my own inner world.

    My thoughts and imagination were never boring; there were always observations to make about myself, the world, and other people. There was a sense of coming home whenever I became quiet. There was a familiar comfort in my inner world.

    For the first half of my life I was a very shy introvert. While I’m not so shy anymore, I’m still introverted.

    From Quiet on the Outside to Quiet on the Inside

    In 2001 I discovered meditation at the recommendation of my brother, and one of the first things that became extremely obvious for me was just how active my mind was.

    There was a very clear realization—that just because I was “the quiet one” did not mean I had a quiet mind. This might sound obvious, but before I started meditating, I didn’t realize how busy my mind was.

    My inner world was full of noise. Thoughts triggering emotions and emotions amplifying thoughts in a vicious, neverending cycle . It was comfortable and familiar, but when I paid attention I realized it wasn’t peaceful.

    Prior to this realization, I’d very much identified with the noise in my mind. The constant stream of thoughts, emotions, and stories created a certain sense of self. The flavor of how I knew myself.

    How does a fish objectify water when it has lived in it for its entire life? Contrast. It needs to experience what it feels like outside of water.

    For me there was a similar experience happening through meditation. I started having experiences of an inner quiet. In the beginning it was only moments, but it was like being taken outside of my usual sense of self, allowing me to objectify the inner environment I usually resided in.

    It was uncomfortable because I was used to the comfort of my usual inner monologue, stories, and moods, but a part of me that realized I am not the thoughts, emotions, dramas that made up my usual sense of self.

    Although there was a comfort that came with the familiar, it was far more peaceful outside of it, since my mental environment had become polluted. Still, my active mind did not want to let go easily. It took time. I could have given up when I felt discomfort and resistance to seeing the reality of my mind; however, there were two things that helped motivate me to keep going.

    The first was the relief I was starting to feel. Just like the peace that would usually come when I had time on my own after being with people, or when I’d spend time in the quiet of nature after being in the noise of the city, this relief came from letting go of my thoughts. It was more than a craving for quiet. It was a longing for depth… inside myself.

    The second motivator, which I believe should pique the interest of any introvert, was that I was starting to feel less drained in group situations or events. I was still an introvert—I still preferred time on my own—but the negative side effects of being around people were shifting.

    Understanding the Main Difference Between Introverts and Extrovert

    I always knew I was an introvert, but I never really understood what it meant in greater detail until last year when I heard Faris Khalifeh from Quiet Leadership in Vancouver speak.

    I’d understood introversion very basically as someone who tends to be quiet and prefers time on their own. As I learned from Faris, a major distinguishing trait between introverts and extroverts is that introverts gain energy by being alone and tend to get drained in groups. Vice versa for extroverts.

    I believe one of the reasons introverts get so drained among groups of people is because they are not quiet on the inside. Much like stress is an internal reaction to a stimulus (external or internal), for an introvert there is an internal reaction to our natural sensitivity when in groups of people, creating a certain stress that drains our energy. Quietening our mind changes our reactions.

    For me, the combination of my naturally active mind and sensitivity created an internal environment that made group events draining. In group events there was so much stimulation happening around me that even if I was only connecting with one or two people I would eventually become drained.

    For clarity, there’s no more stimulation happening around an introvert than an extrovert; it’s that the introvert is usually far more sensitive to it.

    I remember a work dinner many years ago. There were about eight of us, but we’d gone to a pub, so there were a lot more people in the space. I was chatting with a work friend, but the ambient noise from all the conversations happening around me was pulling my awareness in all directions. Sensory overload. Too much information at the same time. It was very difficult to relax, and I was more distracted than present.

    It was like being immersed in a soup of chaotic ambient noise. I wished I could just leave! This outer noise added to my own inner noise, amplifying my thoughts and inner monologue:

    “That couple over there is having an argument. When will this evening be over? The man behind me is drunk; I hope they ask him to leave. There’s an awkward tension between those two workmates sitting together; they don’t like each other. I’m running out of things to talk about. Who actually enjoys this atmosphere? Maybe there’s something wrong with me?” And on and on.

    All of this created a general sense of stress and agitation in both my body and mind. Over a couple of hours, I was gradually drained.

    I often wondered if I was the only one who found social events unpleasant.

    The problem was, I had nothing solid to rest on. The constant stream of thoughts and emotions that run through our mind give us a familiar sense of self, but for me, a familiar sense of self based on my active mind was not a very stable place when I was so sensitive.

    Sensitivity was not the problem; a lack of stability was. Sensitivity is an amazing gift, but without some stability it feels like chaos.

    The Antidote

    The antidote that was emerging for me was stillness.

    Stillness created a stability and grounding. It was extremely nurturing and recharging by itself, and the more I cultivated a relationship to it the more it was there where ever I went.

    Even though I was still sensitive to the ambient noise at group events, I had a stable center, an inner quiet that created a separation between me and the noise. Without the separation, I was the noise, and it drained me. With stillness, I was stable and free, and my energy was preserved.

    Introverts tend to accept that having their energy drained in groups is an inherent trait of their personality type. While this is true in the usual introvert categorization, I believe it doesn’t have to be like this. I was not looking for a solution to being drained at group events; I’d simply accepted this is how I was. But I was wrong. The solution presented itself as a side effect of my meditation.

    I’m not suggesting you will transform into an extrovert and gain energy by being in groups. I’m still an introvert and I still love time by myself, but being at group events does not drain me like it used to.

    As introverts, at some point we have to engage with people and attend extroverted events. I share my experience with you because these situations do not have to be a point of stress or anxiety. Stillness provides a stable resting place that can change our relationship to group situations.

    Stillness is your superpower!

    Though meditation is one of the best paths to stillness, it can also help to use the exercise below, which I call “Finding stillness amidst the chaos.” I would not call it a meditation in the truest sense, but I would call it a training for your mind.

    Finding Stillness Amidst the Chaos

    1. Go to a crowded place, preferably where there is a lot of noise. A busy food court at lunchtime is a good one. Perhaps before a conference or event when everyone around you is talking. The more people, the better.

    2. Remain quiet and start listening peripherally to all the people talking. Don’t listen to individual conversations or voices. Listen to them all at once. The peripheral noise.

    3. If thoughts come into your mind, just let them go and return to the peripheral noise. Don’t judge your thoughts.

    4. As you listen peripherally to the noise for a couple of minutes, start to notice there is the chaos of the noise all around you, but you are not the noise. This is important! There is a separation between you and the noise. It’s like the noise is a tornado and you are in the eye. Notice the stillness in the center. It’s the place from where you perceive the noise.

    5. The key here is that the noise and chaos are in the periphery and stillness is in the center. Thoughts will come and go, but keep your awareness with the peripheral noise and center of stillness.

    6. Pay attention to how you feel more stable when you can do this. You can still be aware of the noise, but you are not affected by it, because you are not the noise.

    It may take some time to get the hang of this, but like anything else, with practice you will see progress. You may even find this fun. Don’t worry, you’re not becoming an extrovert—you’re just cultivating your stillness superpower!

  • Loving Yourself When You’ve Become Addicted to Self-Improvement

    Loving Yourself When You’ve Become Addicted to Self-Improvement

    “Whatever purifies you is the right path.” ~Rumi  

    I’m tired of being good. It’s time to be deliciously free.

    How I wish I could say that without rushing in to assure you that I promise I’ll still be good.

    The truth is, I worry. Less than I used to, but still, I do.

    I’ve probably had every kind of worry you could imagine. There’s the kind about things that haven’t happened yet, things that didn’t but very nearly could have, things that are highly unlikely if not impossible, things that are commonplace; I’ve worried about the things I want and the things I don’t, the purpose and the impermanence of life.

    Underneath, they all seem to stem from the same big fear that I am not good enough.

    This worry manifests itself as indecision, overthinking, holding grudges, and comparison. My expectations and criticisms originate there.

    Peek inside my head in my most afraid moments and you’re sure to find a motivational poster gone horribly wrong:

    We all have the same twenty-four hours, so what’s your excuse? Hustle! No pain, no gain! Stop playing small. Take massive action, go all-in. They’re crushing it, why aren’t you? The steps to success are quick, easy, and proven. Do whatever it takes. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. The universe loves speed. #YOLO. 

    I’ve spent a lot of time and mental energy on what I thought was self-improvement. Now, I’m seeing it for what it really was: self-medicating. The pressure to always be moving, always be achieving, faster, faster, hurry up and keep up was an addiction.

    This addiction was a symptom of losing trust in my own worth.

    I’d wear the way I treated myself like a badge of honor as if it somehow made me more worthwhile. Yet, I criticized myself about it, too. “Don’t be so rigid,” I’d command myself, followed up quickly by, “But be more disciplined.”

    I thought for a while that my worries were about control, but now I’m seeing that control was never the problem. I thought maybe it was perfection I sought. That wasn’t it, either.

    This was never really about success or approval, and certainly not improvement. What I’ve been seeking all along is freedom, and that’s what scared me the most.

    My indecision wasn’t about the decision itself, it was about doubting my ability to decide freely. Staying in relationships even though they hurt me wasn’t about the love or the loss, it was about doubting my right to choose myself, freely.

    Underneath every fear, every worry, every grudge and comparison was doubt in who I am, what I’m worth, and what right I had to take up the time and space to figure this out.  

    And now that I see things more clearly, I am clear about what I truly want. I want liberation.

    I want to free myself from the ghosts of the past and fears of the future. I long to be free from shame and the barriers I’ve built against my own peace. I want to use my voice freely and heal my steadfast heart. I want to freely and lovingly inhabit this body that’s stood by me no matter how much I’ve abused it.

    I want to rise up, thank the day, and carry on. Freely.

    Even as I’m writing these words to you, I’m learning what I need to do to stop the cycle.

    I need to practice making different choices and voicing different beliefs: Time is not money, it’s medicine. I need not be so disciplined but discerning. Not productive but perceptive.

    I’m learning the difference between moving quickly and moving honestly, and I’m replacing “should” with “I can if I so desire.”

    Oh, and I feel the resistance to this. The resistance is withdrawal, and it’s a natural part of the recovery process.

    But even with this insight, the fear of the unknown and the craving of familiarity are still there.

    Who will I become if I were truly free?  
    What value will I have?
    What if I fail?
    What if I disappoint? 

    Each time I set myself free, I will fly back to my cage until I trust the process of healing and love myself unconditionally.

    This is the painful part about finding and expressing yourself that no one really talks about. Loving yourself and trusting fully in your inherent worth is risky.

    You will surely fail at your previous rules and fall short of your old expectations as you explore new, more open ways of being. Someone is bound to be disappointed when you start existing as yourself, for yourself. The people who thought they knew you when you were only a fraction of yourself will say you’ve changed. They may not know what to do with you anymore.

    There may be judgment and misunderstanding. There may be rejection. You may feel lost. You may get less done, things may take longer, your work may be less popular or less profitable.

    And there will be the trappings of who you said you were everywhere. I still have a drawer full of makeup and hair products, perfume, and high heels that I will never use again. Maybe it’s time to let that version of me go.

    As you move closer to freedom, the ghost of who you tried to be will linger, haunting you. It will show up as a craving for likes and shares, for affirmation from someone else of your worth.

    Little by little, as you shed the security blankets put down over the years, you will move away from the conditions of your worth. Through forgiveness, setting and enforcing boundaries, more authentic yes’s and no’s, and growing more clear in what you want and where your true priorities lie, you will find new depths of freedom and space. It will be empowering and terrifying.

    What I’m discovering now is that you need to meet these challenges with grace and compassion.

    Letting go gives you space, but it needs space, too. Space brings solace and allows expansion. If you need to, stabilize. There’s no need to feel like a complete stranger in your own skin. Seek comfort and familiarity, but do it consciously. If you fall into old patterns, treat yourself with kindness, not judgment.  And then carry on, consciously.

    Have the courage to ride the cravings out. Resist the habit of proving your worth and earning your freedom. The doubts will try to convince you that they’re making you better, more worthy. Remember that it never worked that way before.

    I’m seeing now that what I do or don’t do, how far I do or don’t go, what I do or don’t achieve has never been the question. The question is, what frees me?

    I may not know what my freedom holds, and I may still face that uncertainty with some degree of fear, but I’m learning to trust that the pins and needles of waking up are the cure to what’s really ailing me.

    The greatest opportunities are not found in safety or certainty. Just as in facing any fear, the old beliefs about your worth need to be threatened in order to be changed.

    Each time we practice asking ourselves what will set us free, we’ll learn to speak the language of our intuition that much more fluently.

    Each time we practice validating our own perspective, we’ll learn to distinguish between wisdom and sound bites that much more naturally.

    One layer at a time, we will build a foundation of trust in ourselves and our inherent worth, and I have to believe that this will set us free.

  • Maybe It’s Not All Good or All Bad

    Maybe It’s Not All Good or All Bad

    “You are the sky. Everything else—it’s just the weather.” ~Pema Chödrön

    A farmer has a horse for many years; it helps him earn his livelihood and raise his son. One day, the horse runs away. His neighbor says sympathetically, “Such bad luck.”

    The farmer replies, “Maybe. Who knows?”

    The next day, the horse makes its way back home bringing with it another horse. The neighbor says with a smile, “Such good luck.”

    The farmer replies, “Maybe. Who knows?”

    The following day, the farmer’s son rides the new horse and seeks to tame it. In the process, he breaks his leg. The neighbor says sympathetically, “Such bad luck.”

    The farmer replies, “Maybe. Who knows?”

    The last day of the story, the military comes to the village to draft all able-bodied young men to fight in a war. The son is exempt from the draft due to his broken leg. You can guess what the neighbor said, and how the farmer replied.

    This Zen Buddhist parable illustrates that we never really know exactly why things are unfolding the way that they are, and that labeling them as “good” or “bad” is useless. It only gets us wrapped up in the ups and downs.

    Riding the car of this dichotomy only takes us on a roller coaster ride while our emotions are following whatever storyline is in front of us.

    Because I’m a human, I do this all of the time. I think that something fits neatly into either category, and I place it there then try to not look back. Usually that ends with those contents spilling out all over the place. Like when I try to make certain foods “good” or “bad.” Food has no morality, and categorizing it in this way just brings me shame.

    David Allen explained that the Taoists have their own way of interpreting the complication: the yin and yang symbol. “Good” flows into “bad” and the two are even contained in one another. They can’t really be separated.

    How I’ve Found the “Good” in the “Bad”

    Not too far out of college I had a cushy tech job that I absolutely adored. I relished in the fact that I was doing what I loved, and that I had been promoted to that position after working really hard.

    The perks were great. We had flexible hours, leaving room for naps on my work-from-home days. My favorite perk was a giant snack room, full of all kinds of goodies. We were swimming in startup benefits, and by all measures, I was happy. However, I didn’t realize I was overworking myself until I collapsed.

    The long hours had taken a toll on me, emotionally and physically. My romantic relationships had also gotten me down. I’d been causing myself a lot of pain by continuously going after emotionally unavailable people. I had also been neglecting self-care, sleeping much less than my body required. My mental health deteriorated to the point where I no longer felt safe in my own skin.

    I’d struggled with my mental health throughout my life, but I thought I’d gotten to a good place. Turns out I was wrong. My mind had been slowly building up to a bipolar explosion that mixed mania and depression.

    My mania manifested itself in staying up too late, having impulsive sex, and taking on way too many responsibilities at once. My depression took the form of feeling worthless and losing interest in things I loved, and my hunger was either through the roof or absent. Suicidal ideation was a big part of the mix. This was the scariest part—the fact that I’d lost the will to live.

    As a result of all of this, I had a breakdown. I could often be found writhing in emotional pain, my brain wanting me dead. How quickly this “good” turned to “bad.” 

    Because I was deemed unsafe, I was taken by ambulance to a locked ward. Turns out when you show up to the hospital telling them you’re suicidal, they cart you away to a locked facility of some sort.

    Everyday things like my laptop cord and makeup mirrors were taken from me, lest I harm myself. I slept in a hallway of sixteen girls, and a nurse opened our doors every fifteen minutes at night to check to see if we were still breathing. The food was subpar at best.

    I wanted to die. I had a total mental health collapse and realized I had been running myself ragged at this job. I had to quit it because I knew that this hospital stay wasn’t going to be a quick fix. I had seven more hospitalizations that year, and I thought that my life was over.

    While reflecting on what had brought me to this point, I realized that not only was the job overly demanding on my time, the office had terrible boundaries, with lots of people dating one another (including myself at one point). Most harmful, though, was the unlimited stash of anytime booze. I’m a recovering alcoholic, and though I was able to stay sober, this wasn’t a healthy environment for me.

    Later, reflecting on the time I spent hospitalized, I realized my experiences weren’t all “bad.” 

    My time in and out of psych wards has reminded me how strong I am—the strength it took to get help instead of killing myself was something I didn’t know I had. I thought I’d stay on the path to destruction for much longer, but my will to live came through.

    Also, I was shown, despite my skepticism, that I’m indeed never alone; my loved ones showered me with support. People regularly visited me in the hospital, and their presence helped me heal.

    My friends showed up without judgment, holding space for all of my big feelings. They brought nothing but love (and some snacks). It was vulnerable to be seen in the condition I was in, but my friends proved they could be trusted to be with me in this state. Many of them had been in my shoes before, so they held compassion for what I was going through.

    Most of the friends that visited were AA companions. They were people trying to stay sober, just like me, and we were living many of the same values like acceptance and taking life one day at a time. With their support, I continued on the path of healing both inside and outside of the hospital.

    I’ve even managed to find the “good” in alcoholism. In fact, I now believe it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. My recovery has brought me beautiful friendships, immense personal growth, and ridiculous amounts of resilience. I’ve learned to be there for another person without constantly putting myself first, and I’ve grown to be a better partner.

    It took eighteen months of rest before I was ready to go back to work. I struggled with feeling inadequate and useless during this time. I was so accustomed to working like a maniac that rest felt foreign to me. But I’m now finally well enough to work, though I’ve gotten a job that pays much less than my last one and it isn’t even close to as prestigious. I’m calling it my “get-well job.”

    I’m still working through some shame around it, wanting to call this “bad,” even though I know it’s a mix of things. Instead of calling it “bad,” I do my best to return to “maybe” with a shrug.

    I’m not saying that I’m able to be perfectly non-judgmental and unattached, living without worry at my job and feeling perfectly confident when talking about it. But some days I can just let things be what they are. I can notice that voice inside that’s yelling at me and I can soothe it. I can create a new script and I can practice radical acceptance by not fighting against what’s going on in my mind.

    Looking back, I called my job “good” and the psych wards “bad,” though there were no clear categories. Good is great, but it doesn’t last forever. Bad can hurt, but it doesn’t last forever either. There was a bit of a mix of everything. Much of life is this way.

    I don’t know why things happen the way that they do, and I never know what’s going to happen next. Perhaps this job will benefit my life in ways I could never predict. Maybe it’ll keep me where I’m at, or make things worse; I just don’t know.

    The thing is, though, once I start to move past outcomes I can be more present to and flexible with what’s happening.

    I can just enjoy learning to use the espresso machine at my new job rather than worrying about what people think of my new job choice. I can practice gentleness around my mental health, remaining non-judgmental when I have a difficult day. I can do this instead of thrashing against what is, letting my mind carry me to dreams of what could be and feeling angry about how things are.

    I can work with whatever emotions come up, knowing that it’s all the path. I can’t prevent life from happening and I can’t always force what I want to happen. What I do have control of is l how I react to everything, and today I’m trying to have a “maybe” attitude.

    No matter what happens, I know I can handle it. Being knocked down by my job and mental health reminded me that the human spirit is wildly resilient. I got back up; I did it very slowly, but I did it.

  • How to Be Less Anxious About Things You Can’t Change

    How to Be Less Anxious About Things You Can’t Change

    “One of the happiest moments is when you find the courage to let go of what you can’t change.” ~Unknown

    Over the last few years, I’ve had to deal with a frustrating problem.

    It’s something that’s not uncommon, but it can be debilitating, and it has affected me every day. Some days have been incredibly tough, and they’ve tested my tolerance and my patience.

    The problem is chronic back pain.

    Every day I get up, knowing that throughout the day I’m going to have a discomfort that could oscillate between a mild annoyance and an intense burning. At some point, it’s going to distract me. Either while I work, while I eat, while I meditate, while I exercise, and sometimes while I sleep.

    You’d think by now I would’ve gotten used to it, that it would’ve become the unwelcomed friend that I’d learned to live with. Unfortunately, that’s only the case sometimes.

    But I am (slowly but surely) learning firsthand the value of something incredibly profound that the meditation teacher Shinzen Young once said:

    “Suffering = Pain x Resistance.”

    When it comes to the suffering we experience when dealing with physical pain, it’s not always easy to know exactly what is pain and what is resistance to that pain.

    In my own situation, every now and then, when the pain is very uncomfortable, I’ll start to ruminate. My mind will begin to make up stories about how severe the pain is, how much worse it’s going to get, what I could’ve done to prevent it, and anything else to resist the experience.

    But there are certain things you can’t know and certain things you can’t change. I’m doing the best I can to try and prevent the pain—I’ve seen a number of specialists, all with varying opinions.

    My focus now is, how can I reduce the resistance and alleviate the suffering?

    This is broadly related to another important existential issue and something that I want to explore with you in a little bit of detail.

    We all have to deal with situations that we have no control over; illness, death, and loss are inevitable. I’m going to share with you how I’ve faced this, in the context of my back pain, but it’s highly likely that you’re going through something comparable in your life right now. It might be something less obvious, like a part of your job that you’re not entirely comfortable with, or it may be a lot more serious, like the terminal illness of someone you love.

    Either way, we’re facing the same question: How can I be less anxious about the things I can’t change?

    Here are four things I’ve done to manage this anxiety.

    1. Keep track of the stories my mind is telling me about any situation.

    One thing that you realize by paying attention to your pain is that the mind is a master storyteller. The natural response to any uncomfortable situation is to create a mental novella equipped with a list of assumptions, a worldview, and a timeline about the past and future.

    Your job, however, is to tease out fact from fiction. If I have pain when I’m working, my mind might start to tell me the story of how I’m going to be late to the project I’m working on, or that I’ll never figure out how to overcome the pain, or any number of things that one, aren’t either true or knowable and two, aren’t the least bit relevant to the situation at hand.

    If you write down a list of the ideas you have about the thing you can’t change, you’ll start to see recurring themes and you can see the movie that’s playing in your mind without getting absorbed in it.

    2. Meditate on the pain and resistance and figure out which is which.

    Remember the Shinzen Young quote I shared earlier: “Suffering = Pain x Resistance.” Well, understanding when resistance to the situation is making up the bulk of your suffering is an incredibly useful skill to learn.

    You can do this in meditation by inquiring into your thoughts and feelings. I may ask myself “If I could accept this pain completely, just for a few moments, what would the pain feel like?”

    If the pain decreases significantly, it’s clear that the experience was dominated by resistance. If, however, there is little change, then it’s the physical pain itself that is the problem. More often than not I’ve found that resistance is worse than the pain itself!

    3. Highlight the positive aspects of the thing I can’t change.

    This is pretty much good old-fashioned re-framing. Focus your attention on what’s positive about the thing you can’t change, and very importantly, celebrate the little wins.

    For example, I try to tell myself, “My back hurts today, but at least it’s not stopping me from going to the gym.” And if I have a day where the pain is less serious than other days, I’ll make a mental note of it, and try to express it in some form, e.g.: “My day was good. I got a lot of work down and it was relatively pain-free.”

    4. Practice the art of letting go.

    This practice is something that comes hand in hand with noticing resistance. We don’t often think of letting go as a skill, but it is. In the same way we can become adept at holding onto something, we can learn how to do the opposite.

    There are two aspects of letting go that you can practice. Firstly, the depth of letting go; that is, how completely can you consciously let go of something that is bothering you.

    If I have a pain in my back and I exhale deeply, telling myself it’s okay, but five seconds later I’m thinking about how frustrated I am about the pain—well, I have a lot of practice to do.

    The second aspect is how appropriately you can do so in the moment, i.e.: how good your timing is.

    For example, if you spend all day worrying, but then you get home and right before falling asleep you let go, then your timing needs some work. If, however, you catch your mind telling you a story in the moment, and you can objectively see that it’s just a story, you’re on the right track! Meditation is one way to help you see things as they come up in real time.

    Learning to become less anxious about things you can’t change is an incredibly valuable life-long skill. It’s unfortunate that typically we have to come to learn this through real challenges and discomfort, but making the best of tough times is one of the beautiful things about being a human being!

    When have you learned to be less anxious about things you can’t control? Let us know in the comments; we’d love to hear from you!

  • Why I Won’t Let the Fear of Failure Hold Me Back

    Why I Won’t Let the Fear of Failure Hold Me Back

    “Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.” ~Winston Churchill

    I am scared of sharks. Often when I’m floating in the ocean on my surfboard, amazed at the vastness before me and my relative smallness in the world, my mind drifts toward what may be lurking below.

    I know that I am more likely to get injured during the car ride to the beach or get struck by lightning when I get there than be attacked by a shark. I also know that, according to the US Consumer Product Safety Commission and the International Shark Attack File, there are more injuries every year from unfortunate encounters with buckets and toilets than sharks (no lie).

    Although at times, I can feel the fear run through my entire body, I have never let that fear drive me from the water. Logically, I know it’s an unfounded fear caused by dark tales, media sensationalism, and the movie Jaws (thanks a lot, Mr. Spielberg). If only it were that easy to talk myself down from my worst fear: failure.

    Sharks I can handle. Failure? Well, that’s something entirely different.

    Fear of failure keeps me up at night and causes anxiety that can lead to chronic pain and depression. I once had a “lump” in my throat for a year. I went to the doctor convinced that I had some sort of mass growing, but no. It turns out it was an anxiety symptom (and a rather common one at that) brought on by my attempts to grow my abstract painting and essay writing business.

    That doctor’s visit was a huge wake up call for me. I mean, working on my art was supposed to be liberating and elating. Instead, I found myself bound up internally, unable to maneuver freely through this new life that I was creating for myself. I was jumpy, irritable, and terrified.

    At first, it was hard for me to identify where all this fear was coming from. I spent months writing about my anxiety and little by little, came to the conclusion that failure is my monster hiding under my bed.

    Self-Induced Pressure is My Worst Enemy

    I put a lot of pressure on myself to be a good mom, a caring and supportive wife, to contribute financially to our household, to be a “success.” I have always felt that I don’t do enough.

    Even though I would wake up early to paint or write, go to my day job, pick up my daughter from school afterward and take her to her extracurricular activities, go home and bake cookies for little league bake sales, cook a nutritious dinner for my family, read to my kiddo before bed time and spend time with my husband after she’s all tucked in… I never felt that I was doing enough.

    When I began focusing on my business full-time, I would get up to write and submit articles and press releases to various media outlets. I would paint daily and document the process for my social media feeds. I applied and was accepted to various art shows. I took online marketing and PR courses. I maintained a blog, built a website, created an art pop up shop, and developed various revenue streams.

    Guess what happened? Not much financially, but I totally exhausted myself, felt like I was getting nowhere, and wondered why I fail at everything I do.

    I realized that the anxiety that I have felt the majority of my life had nothing to do with my circumstances. I’ve struggled with anxiety because I’ve always chased “success” without defining specific goals, and without specified goals, there was no way to measure successes. No matter what I did, it was never good enough.

    I would make a beautiful meal and apologize if it was overcooked just a little. I would sell a painting but be irritated that I didn’t sell three. I would attempt a new painting technique and would determine that it was no good because 200 people didn’t like the photo on social media.

    It became clear to me that no matter what I did, I was going to struggle with this fear of failure, so I knew I had some redefining to do.

    There was absolutely no reason to pursue my art and writing if it was going to turn me into even a larger stress case than I already was. Working for other people was stressful enough, but at least it came with a steady paycheck. So, I made a decision: I had to let go of this incessant thought that nothing I do is ever good enough.

    Learning to Have Faith That I Am Doing the Right Thing

    In the past I’ve questioned whether I’m doing the right things, and this has only fueled my anxiety and fear of failure—because failing would just prove that I should have been doing something else.

    Now, I choose to believe that I am doing what I what I was put on earth to do. That I was given the gift of art and creativity, and it would be irresponsible for me to not pursue it.

    For one thing, I wouldn’t be happy, and I believe that being happy is our first priority as humans. Without happiness, I would likely live a frustrated, unfulfilled life, and that would have a negative effect not only on me but also on the people around me.

    I may not meet my own high standards through my current path, but I must have faith that by paying attention to my gifts and attempting to learn more about them every day, I am always making progress.

    If I am consistently working on the very thing that I was created to do, then there is no failure. In fact, the only way I can fail is to ignore my gift. In becoming an adventurer and diving deeper into myself and my creative life, I have already succeeded. Really, the only way I can fail is if I abandon my creativity.

    Failure Is Part of the Path to Success

    It’s tempting to avoid any decision that might result in failure. But the only way to ascertain what works is to try different things. That means facing uncertainty and risking that things might pay off and they might not.

    You know the saying “When in doubt, don’t”? This may be applicable when thinking about paddling out into fifteen-foot waves or buying a $300 pair of boots, but not in implementing a new marketing tactic or trying a new painting technique. I might fail when I try new things, but if I don’t take chances, I’ll definitely never succeed.

    “Failure” Is Just Another Word for “Learning”

    Earlier, I mentioned that I had created a pop up shop on my website. I thought that if I repurposed my art for throw pillows, tote bags, and canvas prints I would create a brand-new revenue stream, at affordable prices, therefore making my art accessible to more people. Sounds like a good idea, right?

    Well, not only did it not make money, it took valuable time away from my painting and writing, and I learned that creating new manufactured goods is not in alignment with my vision of bringing awareness to ocean cleanups and coastal environmental health.

    At first I was completely bummed. My new idea had failed. But did it really? By creating the shop, I actually learned a lot.

    For one, I learned that my love for the ocean and my care for the environment trump my desire to manufacture products. That’s huge! Sure, I felt embarrassed for all of the live videos that I had posted trying to sell my goods. But whatever! I learned an important lesson about what I don’t want to do with my art.

    I have realized that by even attempting to make a living from my art, I am taking a chance. I may have to get another day job in the future, but I also just may rent out the house and use that income to get in the surf van and take my “artventure” on the road. There are no right or wrong decisions here except the one where I’m constantly beating myself up. I’m getting off that crazy train right here, right now.

    We all have moments where we are paralyzed by the possibility of failure. But by choosing to look at failure as just another way to see deeper into ourselves, we can diffuse that fear.

    My fear of failure will always have one hand on my shoulder, trying to pull me back from the cliff’s edge, telling me that there is no possible way I can leap that far. But the truth is, unless the cliff in front of you is a literal cliff with a fifty-foot drop, falling might not be the worst thing in the world. In fact, the only way to truly fail sometimes is to not take the leap at all.

    I don’t let the unreasonable fear of that great white shark encounter keep me out the water, so why should I let failure keep me from doing what I love to do?

    From this point on, I choose to thank my fear of failure for looking out for me in the past and trying to protect me from the sharks. However, it’s time for me to dive into the unknown with awareness that there will be some stumbling and most likely some falling. But in this infinite journey of art and growth, failure is just a scary shadow lurking beneath me that might turn out to be nothing at all.

    Lighting, buckets, and toilets? Well, that’s another story…

  • How Micro Habits Can Help You Reach Big Goals

    How Micro Habits Can Help You Reach Big Goals

    “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” ~Lao Tzu

    Many of us have big, grand goals for our lives.

    These goals can be tied to our work, or maybe starting a family, or ideals for a new home with that family, or travel to an exotic location we’ve long dreamed about, or pretty much anything else. Oftentimes these goals can seem a very long way from where we are presently in our lives. In fact, sometimes they can seem so far away that they appear to be totally out of reach.

    As a consequence, too many of us give up even trying to make these things happen. And that’s a real shame, because sometimes all that is required to make them so is putting one foot in front of the other in their general direction.

    The Pressure of Big Steps and Overnight Success

    Part of the reason we give up is that we put ourselves under pressure to make things happen quickly. We try to make grand, sweeping changes in our lives and expect overnight change. If this doesn’t happen, we can quickly become discouraged and quit. We lose sight of any and all progress we may be making toward our goals.

    Perhaps we try to uproot and change all our habits at once, and it doesn’t happen. These habits may have been part of us for a very long time, yet we expect to change them swiftly.

    This cycle can repeat again and again. It can be really disheartening. We try so hard but get nowhere fast.

    What I’ve found, in making significant positive changes stick in my own life, is that often the small steps and habits that underpin them do not get enough attention. In fact, I believe there is an untapped magic in these seemingly small habits. They can support even the largest of goals.

    From a Writer Who Didn’t Write to One Who Writes Lots

    While writing doesn’t pay all my bills, I am most definitely a writer. I think a part of me always has been on some level. It’s something I am incredibly passionate about. It’s something I spend much time and energy on.

    I meet lots of writers and want-to-be writers in my travels who talk of writing their first book or starting their own blogs. Truth be told, I think most of us think there’s a book in us that we will write someday.

    When I dig a little deeper, it never ceases to amaze me how many of these same people haven’t yet developed a regular writing habit. It’s like wanting to run a marathon with their only preparation being walking 800 yards to the shops on a daily basis. The odds of it happening are slim, very slim.

    That’s a shame, as writing a first book, or starting a blog, is a pretty amazing milestone for anyone who has a passion for the written word and sharing their ideas.

    I shouldn’t be surprised this is the case, though. You see, I was one of these people for too many years. I promised to write more than I actually wrote. I thought about the books I was going to write without writing a word. I thought about ideas for articles without committing a single word to the page.

    Thankfully, this has changed in the last several years. In fact, it’s changed to the tune of seven books and counting and hundreds of articles written for my own blog and other blogs. I’ve even been lucky enough to share several articles here with the wonderful Tiny Buddha community (thank you, Lori!).  My words have now been read across the planet in many countries. My books have been purchased from most corners of the world.

    I share this not to brag but to let you know that I have skin in this writing game, and any ideas that follow have been hard won and tested. Most importantly, none of this would have been possible if I had continued to stay in the self-imposed blocks I had put myself in.

    Breaking the Big Goal Down into Smaller Steps (Write One Line)

    When I was starting my writing journey, almost everything I read in terms of advice for the writer included some form of “write so many (500, 1000, etc.) words a day.” Well, this never really worked well for me. I tried it, and I failed regularly.

    With full-time commitments elsewhere (an unrelated job, friends, hobbies, a relationship), the pressure of trying to hit a certain word count just did not fit for me. So, after many failed attempts to force it, I finally gave myself permission to try another route. I broke this down into an even tinier habit. I decided to commit to writing just one line a day.

    Some days that one line turned into many pages of ideas, sometimes it was just one line. That’s okay; the habit and practice proved to be the important part of this process. It was something that worked for me, and I could stick with. It was something that pulled me out of my writing inertia and got me moving in a positive direction.

    Why This Works

    If we make the entry point low enough, we avoid the excuses not to do something. However, if we also make the entry point meaningful, we ingrain a habit that supports regular practical steps to get to done.

    Five hundred words a day may be a more meaningful target for other writers, and it’s a target that is often shared by writers of note. Some writers commit to “two crappy pages a day.” Personally, I like to make the point of entry even lower at one line.

    What I’ve found is that, more often than not, one line turns into many, and just getting started creates momentum. It also allows me to be liberal with how I use my time. I don’t feel pressure to have one big writing block per day; I can find time for multiple opportunities to write instead (a little and often approach sprinkled through the day). For those of us that also have external responsibilities and unrelated jobs, this approach can be especially useful.

    One line is also a low enough entry point that I don’t feel bad if I miss a day completely. And sometimes I do have days where I won’t write a word. Not the trendy advice of the day perhaps, but it works just fine for me. I feel no guilt about missing a day but often find I’m twice as productive the day after a day missed and will get lots of ideas down.

    A seemingly small habit has been the catalyst for much positive change in terms of my writing.

    How We Can Apply This to Other Goals

    My example includes my writing because this is something I’m passionate about. Writing may not be your thing, but the good news is, it doesn’t have to be. This approach travels and works for all sorts of goals. I know because I utilize it regularly for lots of personal goals.

    What I’ve also found is that what appears to be a small habit change and new behavior can start to have a compound effect. We create positive momentum. We set ourselves up for success.

    Tiny steps in the direction of a goal are still steps in that direction. There is a real magic to be found in linking steps together consistently. Big goals are fine as a guiding star, but they need to be supported with smaller steps. Developing these tiny, positive habits can support even the largest of goals. Wishful thinking will not.

    Want to write a book? Get started by developing a regular writing habit. Maybe try my example of one line a day to get that done or try something else that will work for you.

    Want to run a marathon? Commit to packing your kit for the morning as one micro habit. Then link this with other micro habits that support your goal, like committing to increasing your mileage gradually week by week. Don’t expect to run that marathon tomorrow unless you’ve already put lots of work in to get there.

    Whatever your goal is, develop a regular practice to help get you closer to it. Set up simple habits that support this happening and that keep you accountable, while still being achievable. Commit to this, and amazing things can happen.

    Micro Habits—Simple, Not Easy

    This micro habit approach is incredibly simple, and that’s exactly where the power of it is. There are no tricks, hacks, or ninja secrets to concern ourselves with. No sales copy or complex points of entry to worry about. We can set our own rules or have no rules. It’s so simple it can, and will, work for us if we commit to it.

    Simple doesn’t mean easy; this approach still takes work. And that’s a good thing, as our goals will be all the sweeter if we’ve applied ourselves along the way.

    The larger the goal, the longer this process may take and the more habits we may need to stack together. We can, however, commit to embracing the process and journey for its own end, rather than being focused purely on the destination (the where we want to get to).

    Give the micro habits approach a try in earnest. You may be surprised by where it takes you.

  • The Shy Person’s Guide to Making Your Dreams a Reality

    The Shy Person’s Guide to Making Your Dreams a Reality

    “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” ~Marianne Williamson

    Light poured into the studio. We sat in a circle on the hardwood floor. We did some deep breathing and then the facilitator asked us to think about what we really wanted and didn’t have yet. She instructed us to speak it out loud in the present tense, as if it were already happening.

    I was at a co-working space in downtown Toronto, and this was the daily opening where we set our intentions for the day and sometimes did reflective exercises like this one.

    She started, “I own a yoga studio on the beach in Hawaii.” The next woman went. And then it was my turn.

    As I saw my turn was coming, my breath got short. Anxiety coursed through my body. I didn’t feel ready. “Ummmm…. this is really scary,” I said. “I don’t know what to say.”

    For a long time I’ve had difficulty saying what I want. When I was a teenager, I wouldn’t tell anyone when I had a crush on someone. I remember my younger sister would tell anyone who would listen that she had a crush on the boy in the McDonald’s commercial, and I was jealous of her boldness, but still wouldn’t tell a soul about my crushes.

    My best friend in elementary school always had a boyfriend, and I never did. I didn’t date in high school either. I felt ashamed. I thought there was something wrong with me and that nobody liked me.

    I thought that if I told my friends about my crush and then the person didn’t like me back, I would be seen as a failure. So it was better to keep my mouth shut.

    And now, fifteen years later, I’m still scared to ask for what I want.

    I’m thirty-one years old. And this was an incredibly safe space. I was surrounded by sensitive and supportive women, but I was terrified.

    I put my face in my hands and made some high-pitched noise that I’m not even sure how to describe.

    I sat up and looked at everyone. “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to try to say one sentence about what I want.” The butterflies in my stomach started going nuts.

    “Why is this so hard??”

    “Okay, breathe,” I said, then took a deep breath. “I want to have a big life.” I took another breath. “I want to impact a lot of people.”

    The facilitator gently coaxed me, “Can you rephrase that to the present?”

    “I have a big life. I’m impacting a lot of people,” I said, “I’m a healer.” And then I really felt like I was going to vomit.

    Even in a circle of kind quiet women like me, it was incredibly difficult for me to claim my truth.

    When I was growing up I was sensitive and shy, and to be totally honest I still am. When I was twenty-three years old, I landed my dream job working with marginalized youth. And when I was twenty-four, I burnt out from that job.

    I understand what it feels like to want to make the world a better place but to get totally exhausted trying to do it. I want to help other sensitive souls realize it’s okay to rest, and to support them to heal, find their voices, and share their gifts.

    But I had no idea that talking about what I wanted would be so hard. I’ve done a lot of work on myself: years of therapy and I’ve even spoken at conferences in front of large groups of people. And yet, somehow, saying these three sentences in front of six other kind, sensitive women seemed more difficult than everything else.

    And honestly, if the question had been about my darkness, my cruelty, the part of me that hates, I would have no problem going into it. I can speak about my darkness with relative ease.

    But my light? My gifts? Please bring me a trashcan to throw up in first.

    Best selling author and spiritual teacher Marianne Williamson really hit the nail on the head with her quote “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

    This is me, 110%.

    And although it’s difficult, I also know how incredibly effective it is to claim what you really want. It wasn’t until I went very public about what kind of qualities I wanted in a partner that I met the sweet and passionate guy I’m dating now.

    I was sick of online dating so I actually made an entire webpage about the qualities I wanted in a partner. I posted it on Facebook and asked my friends to help me find the right person—and it took some time but eventually it worked.

    I now know that if I’m not able to speak openly about my goals in life, I’ll never be able to fully go for them. And the same is true for you.

    The good news is, if you’re shy like me and are having a hard time asking for what you really want, there are small steps you can take to start to go for it.

    Here’s the Shy Person’s Guide to Making Your Dreams a Reality:

    1. Notice who you envy, and why.

    Sometimes when we’re shy we don’t even know what we want, because we may have felt too insecure to establish and set goals for ourselves. So the first step to going for what you want is figuring out exactly what that is.

    And, surprisingly, envy can actually be really helpful for this.

    Which famous people do you envy? Which of your friends? Is it your sister? A colleague? A cousin?

    Once you have a list of a few people, ask yourself what you admire about their lives. Is it where they live? Their partner? Their job? Their confidence?

    Now, it’s important to remember that just because you envy someone’s life, that doesn’t mean you want exactly what they have.

    You might envy your friend who works online because she’s her own boss, but if you’re someone who’s happiest being surrounded by people, that lifestyle might not make sense for you. Perhaps in that case what you really envy is freedom—so the question you’d need to answer for yourself is: How can I create more freedom for myself? What choice would best align with my personality and values?

    It’s also important to look beyond the surface when identifying people you envy. Sometimes we envy people who seem to garner a lot of respect and admiration—celebrities, for example. But as Kate Spade’s recent suicide showed, fame and success don’t guarantee happiness.

    The point is to get clear on what might fulfill you, and why. So make notes and start to notice the common themes in those people you envy. As you do this, you’ll start to see the kind of life you really want.

    2. Allow yourself to daydream.

    Now that you have some clues about what you want, allow yourself to dream about it. If you have a journal, write about it. If you’re more visual, make a collage or do a drawing. Or, alternatively, go for a walk and let your mind daydream about it.

    This might sounds totally silly, but I actually made a PowerPoint about what I wanted my business to look like years ago. It wasn’t a public presentation and I only shared it with two or three close friends. But I stumbled upon it the other day and was amazed by how much of what I envisioned had come through.

    So use whatever medium works best for you to envision your dream life!

    3. Talk about your dreams.

    Once you’ve gotten clearer about what they are, tell a good friend or your partner about your dreams. I like to start these kinds of conversations by saying something like, “I’m nervous to tell you about this, and I’m not ready to have any feedback on it yet, but what I really want is…”

    Start small. Just tell one tiny part of your dream. See how it feels. See how your friend reacts. If it feels good, tell them a little bit more.

    The last thing you want when you’re nurturing a new dream is for someone to stomp all over it. So if the friend doesn’t react in a supportive way, don’t say anything else. Find someone else who will be gentle and supportive of your dream.

    Once you’ve practiced talking about it and got some support from friends or family members, it’s time to take it to the next level. Start to bring it up more often.

    I know for us shy-types this can be really difficult, but take it one step, one person, one conversation at a time. And remember, there’s nothing more inspiring at a lunch with friends or family event than to hear about what someone’s really passionate about.

    As you begin to talk about these things more, it will help you to take small steps toward making your dream a reality. You’ll begin to build your confidence and you might even make connections that’ll help you to get there.

    4. Talk about your strengths.

    What are you really good at? What do people always ask you for help with? If you’re anything like me, it’s easy to talk about your darkness, your procrastination, your bad habits, but it’s probably hard for you to talk about what you’re good at.

    So start by journaling about this and then practice telling close friends or family members.

    Does it make you want to vomit? Don’t worry, you’re not alone.

    I’ve started doing this recently, and one thing that really helps me is to tell the person that I’m practicing talking about my strengths. I start by saying something like, “I’m really good at talking about my challenges and have realized that I’m really bad at talking about my strengths. I want to practice, so I’m going to practice saying one good thing about me. Are you okay with that?”

    Once I have my friend’s support, it becomes much easier to say something. And even if I fumble with my words—which, believe me, I do—they’re usually really supportive because they know I’m doing something that’s difficult for me.

    And I promise it’ll get easier with practice. So start by saying one strength to one friend and build from there.

    5. Don’t just talk—take action!

    As you tell people about your goals and strengths, they might introduce you to people who can help you, offer their support, or share helpful resources.

    And even if they don’t, there are small actions you can begin to take. If your dream is to be a painter, buy some paints and do your first painting. If your dream is to live by the beach, book a weekend getaway to one of the beach towns you’re considering and check it out.

    Whatever your dream is, you can take a baby step toward making it a reality, and those steps will lead you to where you want to go.

    And yes, it’ll sometimes be terrifying. I know that it’s not easy to do. So take one small risk at a time and slowly, step-by-step, you’ll move in a new direction.

    The more you’re able to share about your dreams and strengths, the easier it’s going to be for you to get what you want. And even if you don’t get exactly what you think you want, you’ll probably be far more fulfilled just by being on a path that excites you.

    Even as a shy person, you deserve to have a full and beautiful life. So start taking small steps today to get you there.

  • When You Reframe Your Breakup as an Opportunity, Everything Changes

    When You Reframe Your Breakup as an Opportunity, Everything Changes

    “Sometimes the most uncomfortable learning is the most powerful.” ~Brené Brown

    Seems impossible, doesn’t it?

    How can you look at your breakup as an opportunity when it feels like someone cut your right arm off and ripped out your heart?

    Breakups can be rough. When you open yourself up to another person, love them unconditionally, and compromise your own needs for the “betterment of the relationship,” you put yourself all-in. It’s no surprise that you feel lost, confused, and unwilling to move on when that connection is torn away from you. You gave everything to your relationship and now it’s gone. Forever.

    Breakups have taught me something that I never learned in school: I’ve learned that losing love is hard. Brutally hard. I experienced more pain after the toughest breakup of my life than completing an engineering degree, doing standup comedy for the first time, and walking 400 kilometers in two weeks with 50 pounds on my back. When I lost my soul mate, I didn’t know how I was going to move on.

    At first, I didn’t. I did everything I could do to escape, suppress, and avoid my feelings. I wasn’t nice to my body. I cried in the shower. I hid in the park close to my apartment since I was still living with my ex for a month after the breakup.

    It was my “grieving period.” We all need one after a breakup. But although we all need different lengths of time to grieve, it’s important to put a time limit on it. Since I knew I was going to be living with my ex until we got our arrangements sorted out, I decided that I was going to give myself that month to grieve. And grieve, I did! I was a drunk, unproductive puddle of sadness.

    Eventually I said goodbye to my ex, my cat, and my apartment. I cried on the metro on the way to my buddy’s condo. That first night away from the place I’d called home for years was brutal. But I knew my grieving period was over in the morning. And the next day, I got to work.

    The road to recovery wasn’t easy. There were many ups and downs. But I stayed focused on letting go and moving on in the healthiest way I could.

    That was two years ago, and I’m proud to say that I did let go and move on from the toughest breakup of my life. I’m a better version of myself today than I’ve ever been and I’m still a work in progress. We all are.

    When I was recovering from my breakup, I did a lot of “reframing.” I tried looking at things through new perspectives so I could develop more understanding and empathy, for my ex and for myself. Today, with the advantage of hindsight, I can put my finger on an idea, or reframe, that helped me start moving on faster:

    Breakups are an end, but they are also an opportunity for a fresh start.

    First, a breakup is the end. Accept it. If you’re reading this and thinking, “Maybe I can still get my ex back if I just do this…” then you’re reading the wrong article. Because if your mind is set on getting your ex back, this is not your new beginning. At best it’s a rerun of the same show that’s been playing for too long.

    Because guess what? When a breakup happens and people get back together, usually they break up again. And again. And again. The chances that you’ll get back with your ex and everything will improve and they’ll change into the perfect partner is as likely as me playing first base for the Yankees.

    But just because you accept this as the end of your relationship doesn’t make it a negative experience. Most things come to an end in our lives—jobs, friendships, lives, your favorite Netflix series, the tub of cookie dough ice cream in your freezer (okay, in my freezer).

    When one door closes another opens. You just have to have the guts to lock the old door behind you and walk through the new one.

    I realized that my breakup was my opportunity to:

    • Do things I’d wanted to do for a long time but hadn’t because I had a partner to consider in every decision I made.
    • Peel back the layers and look within myself to see where I was going wrong in my romantic relationships, and most importantly, how I could improve so that I would be better in my next relationship.
    • Reconnect with friends and family who had been relegated to the sidelines for five years because my relationship consumed a lot of time and energy.
    • Meet new people and get excited about a fresh chance at love.
    • Inspire other people to get over their breakups without the typical clichés and bad advice.

    Let’s face it, you’re here on Tiny Buddha because you’re interested in self-improvement and self-growth. You’re on a journey toward becoming a better version of yourself. That’s why if you’re struggling to let go and move on after a breakup, you need to reframe it right now so you can continue on your journey.

    You need to tell yourself this is your opportunity to become better. This is your chance to fix things that went wrong in your past relationship so next time you don’t end up with a partner who isn’t right for you.

    Remember, relationships end for a reason.

    You and your ex had your problems. Sure, you had love and a deep connection, but did you also have rock-solid communication, clear boundaries, and unwavering honesty? Did you share the same core values?

    I’ll say it again: relationships end for a reason. And when it happens, it’s okay. Your ex wasn’t the only person on the planet who is capable of loving you. On the contrary, if you use your breakup as an opportunity to improve things about yourself, you will attract a partner with whom you’ll find so much more love and connection that you’ll wonder how you lasted as long as you did in your past relationship.

    That’s what life is all about. None of us get things right on the first go. Finding a soul mate is no different than learning a new language or getting in shape. You have to practice. Look at your ex and breakup as a practice round. Because of that relationship, you’re stronger, smarter, and more prepared for the next one.

    This is your time. It’s your opportunity to sort through your past relationship issues and figure out how to be better.

    Because no matter what, we all play a role in our breakups. Even if you were lied to, cheated on, duped, or betrayed, you still played a role. That might be hard to hear, but it’s true. My mom always said, “It takes two to tango.” And my mom ain’t no fool.

    I had to get comfortable with my role in my breakup, too. I was no angel.

    I had to accept that I hadn’t been true to my core values. I wanted children, my ex didn’t. Still, I put that to the side because we were in love. I also realized I had a lingering fear of commitment. I was still battling with jealousy and insecurity issues even though I thought I’d left them behind in an earlier long-term relationship. It wasn’t easy accepting those things about myself, but when I did I knew exactly where the nuts and bolts needed to be tightened. And I got to work.

    For you, perhaps there were co-dependency issues or a need for validation. Maybe you stayed for the sake of the children, the dog, or the mortgage. Who knows. But I do know that you played a role and you need to accept that before you can move on.

    Looking in the mirror and accepting the not-so-good things about ourselves is difficult. People resist peeling back the layers of their personality because it means leaving themselves vulnerable and exposed.

    But you’re different. You understand the importance and power of vulnerability. And your breakup is the best chance you might ever have to rebuild yourself in the image that makes you feel like the confident champion you dream of being.

    I know your breakup sucks. I know you miss your ex and still have love for them. I know it’s hard looking to the future and wondering if you’ll ever meet your true soul mate.

    Remember: the greatest opportunities for growth in our lives come when we’re the most uncomfortable. And a tough breakup takes us way outside our comfort zones.

    That discomfort is your opportunity. Accept it, embrace it, and cherish it. Big breakups don’t come around often. This is an exciting time! You’ve proven to yourself that you’re brave enough to take a risk on love. Just because the relationship is over doesn’t take away that bravery. Now it’s time to be courageous in the face of adversity.

    And guess what? If you can shake off your breakup in a productive, healthy way, it’ll build new skills and resilience for the next time a difficult, unexpected life event happens. Jobs will be lost. Friends will drift away. People will die. Change is inevitable in your life. Now is your opportunity to prepare yourself for those times that will come whether you like it or not.

    A breakup is your opportunity to show everyone around you—friends, family, colleagues—how gritty you can be. It’s going to be hard work. It’s never easy coming to terms with our limiting beliefs, fears, and ghost in our closets.

    You have an important choice to make:

    You can choose to sit in your basement waiting for “time to heal” and hoping that by some miracle you’ll get better.

    Or you can choose to look at your breakup as an opportunity to improve the way you show up in your relationships so you can attract the right type of person into your life.

    You will let go and you will move on. But you have to start, today. The last thing you want is to look back on this moment and realize you waited too long to accept this as your opportunity. Time is too precious to waste feeling stuck.

  • What to Do If You Feel Trapped by Your Circumstances

    What to Do If You Feel Trapped by Your Circumstances

    “As long as we know we’re trapped, we still have a chance to escape.” ~Sara Grant

    Talking to someone last week who had to ‘volunteer’ to return to their country of birth, a country defined by the United Nations as one of the least developed in the world in terms of its economic conditions, was humbling.

    While I often find myself feeling trapped by the longevity, monotony, and intensity involved in child rearing, I wasn’t sure what I could say that might help someone who had been the victim of identity theft and, through lack of resources, had no option but to leave their family and the country they considered home.

    Hearing how anxious, depressed, and lonely she felt, I wondered what I could say that might make a difference. Then, as I relaxed, I realized that our situations might not be entirely different after all.

    I won’t deny that my quality of life in terms of living conditions and freedom to move around is fabulous. And I cannot deny, having lived this way, to have that taken away would feel dreadful. But I knew my sympathy would do nothing to change her circumstances.

    Instead, I took a different approach and, after the conversation that followed, I realized that what was being said applied as much to me as it did to her, and pretty much universally to anyone feeling trapped. While one person’s circumstances could be judged harsher than another’s, and there would likely be little debate about that, everything is relative, and we can all feel pain and entrapment in equal measure.

    The question is what to do about it that is helpful right now?

    Well, the overall aim is to feel your inner power, rather than a sense of hopelessness—no one can be free when they feel they are in chains. Regardless of our circumstances, how we think and feel about them is always within our control and our best hope of changing them.

    Here are the aspects we talked through:

    Surrender

    It’s our struggle with ‘what is’ that causes pain. The longer we try to resist the pain, the more it persists. Yet the worst has already happened; our circumstances are what they are.

    On an emotional level perhaps you’ve sunk to the depths of despair, which sits in a pit of hopelessness. Understand that depression is healthier than despair, and anger and frustration are healthier still. So when you are feeling emotions like anger, you have begun to take back your power, to acknowledge your right to have your freedom of choice, and you are going in the right direction.

    Do everything you feel inspired to do from a practical perspective to move in the direction you want to go. It’s also a good idea to sense check this with someone who can be objective about your situation and perhaps even offer other suggestions.

    The key here, though, is inspiration. If something you are doing, or others suggest, feels like a lead weight around your heart, that is your intuition shouting “other way.” In that case, keep to the bare minimum of what you feel duty bound to in this moment.

    I can remember back to trying to conceive and, after four failed pregnancies (my children are pregnancies five and six), there were a number of years when I couldn’t even get pregnant again. The well meaning advice was always “forget about it and it will just happen.”

    That kind of advice infuriated me. I’d think, “How am I supposed to forget something that dispatches a monthly reminder?” My partner and I did everything we could think of that felt right and, in the end, had to leave it to fate. It was at that point I became pregnant with our first child.

    Once you have done everything you feel inspired to do, let it go.

    While we ultimately all want to experience joy and love, as that is our natural state, ease and neutrality are a good goal at this point.

    I remember a scene in Nashville, one of my favorite TV dramas, where one character literally takes another who is wallowing in grief and anger and drops him in the middle of the woods. He was furious. It was actually a beautiful sunny day, but his only choice was to walk for miles. As he walked you could see him physically become unbound and relax more.

    Meditation and getting out into nature are great ways to bring ourselves back into balance, especially if we can do them regularly. This advice should never be underestimated. Our natural world is an amazing companion in the face of feeling trapped.

    Change the Narrative

    In order to feel our power and create change in our lives, we need to stop seeing ourselves as victims. You are in fact the hero of your story, and it’s likely the best parts have yet to unfold.

    You have to stop saying (even to yourself), “I don’t want to be here” because you are making yourself feel worse. That doesn’t mean you can or should start to think, “I love being here,” because you know that is not your truth. It is more about trying to focus on anything and everything that makes you feel better about being where you are.

    For me that’s easy, as child-rearing is fairly paradoxical and, as energy-sapping as it can be at times, it’s just about the most inspiring, enlightening, and fulfilling thing I’ve ever done. For that person I was talking to, while she is currently trapped in a third world country, it is one of the most beautiful countries in our world and there is an abundance of opportunities to help others.

    Take Your Power Back

    Rather than worrying about how to break out of this hole, bring light into it and life will, in its right timing, show you the way.

    In the meantime, look for other ways to find power and be purposeful. I have a friend who was feeling trapped by the need to make money, yet yearned for more meaning in her life. She took a job helping children with special needs, which—while not her calling—holds purpose for her, and she feels like she’s making a difference.

    You must look for ways in which you can be free/ Your thoughts are key, as how you view your situation can make all the difference.

    A powerful way to change your perspective is to consider that, while you may feel trapped right now, life-changing events can happen at any time—but you have to be open to notice them. If you look back on the amazing things that have happened in your life, you’ll start to see the importance of little unpredictable moments: chance meetings, something you happened to read or watch, or something someone said.

    If you can imagine that the new circumstances you dream of require some of these serendipities to line up, and you have an important contribution to make or an important lesson to learn in the process, it may help you feel better about your present circumstances. Think of it as a journey paved with stones that you can only see when you are looking for the best in where you are right now, and then jump from one to the next as inspiration arises; these are your lifeline.

    As you get used to feeling your freedom and power again in the smallest of ways, life will start to respond.

    Fill Your Cup

    To get there we have to focus on anything other than those aspects of our circumstances causing us to suffer. Do things, big or small, that distract you and make you feel better. Read, watch, and listen to whatever fills your cup.

    Again, make it a priority to get out among nature. It sounds cliché, but our natural world is like a strong, steady heartbeat, and it really helps you to gain perspective while holding you in a nurturing space.

    Write down all the things you are thankful for. I used to write out “I am grateful for…” but found it more personal and powerful to say “Thank you for…”

    If you struggle to get started on this, start with things that mostly everyone takes for granted, like the sun coming up each day. Despite our circumstances, there are usually people, places, knowledge, experiences, and other things—aspects of our selves—we are thankful to have had or currently have in our life.

    Reach out and help others in ways that are meaningful to you. Your experiences can help people, which will help you to reconnect with the love within you. It is harder to be lonely when you allow this broader part of you to take its place in the light.

    Trust

    Circumstances change; this is not forever. You have to trust that, in time, solutions will present themselves and you will be inspired to act in ways that lead you where you want to go.

    Here is a practice I learned from Anthony William to rebuild trust. Each evening as the sun is setting, take time just to notice it. This small act, done regularly, helps us to reconnect at a primordial level with the rhythm of life. Just as we can trust that the sun will rise and set each day, as we reengage with that our basic trust in life to support us also restores.

    I believe there are no accidents in this life. This means there is something about your situation that will help you (and likely others) in the long run. While you might not feel it right now, you are powerful, and you are here to make a difference. Do not give up on yourself, this world needs you.

    I also believe you’ve been called to this point for a reason, and you are not ever given anything you can’t handle. You can get through this and even find the best parts of it.

    In the meantime, be strong, be kind to yourself, and know that you are enough and you are worthy.

  • What If You Were Suddenly Forgiven?

    What If You Were Suddenly Forgiven?

    “Forgiveness is not always easy. At times, it feels more painful than the wound we suffered, to forgive the one that inflicted it. And yet, there is no peace without forgiveness.” ~Marianne Williamson

    Twenty-seven years ago I made a terrible mistake that led to losing the friendship of someone important to me. I was twelve and I very vividly remember that I was at her front door, asking for her forgiveness and she was telling me she couldn’t do this.

    Friendship is one of those areas of my life that I have always felt I need to work on. I used to believe I had to do work in this area because I was uprooted every six months to three years in my childhood. I believed that my trust in friendships was shaky because my history suggested to me that eventually one of us would leave.

    And then the unimaginable happened.

    I was faced with the truth, my unforgivable moment. The girl, who is now a woman, showed up at an impromptu reunion and I sat across from the mistake I had made twenty-seven years ago.

    She and I were best friends. We spent the night at each other’s houses and shaved our legs for the first time together. She taught me all the big vocabulary words, I taught her all the swear words. We were inseparable.

    And then her mom got sick. Shortly thereafter, she died.

    I grew up in an unconventional family where my parents were married at nineteen and had kids by twenty-one. They were boundless young adults with children and stalwart opinions, lacking in education. My dad’s dad had also died when he was young, and instead of creating empathy and compassion in him, my dad was left with the notion that when you die, you’re just dead—get over it.

    My friend’s mom was the first person most of us kids actually knew to have died. I felt the tears and remember the sadness, but like any twelve-year-old, I was ready for our friendship to resume as normal seconds after her mom passed away. Naturally, that was not the case. Thus occurred the twelve-year-old “fight” over the conditions of our friendship.

    My parents told me she was just using her mom’s death as a reason to be difficult and that she just needed to get over it. I remember my mom hissing those heartless words at my best friend. And I remember echoing a similar sentiment myself, without conviction or the wisdom of experience, thus destroying our friendship forever.

    Over the years after that, I would try to regain access to her, to our friendship, with apologies and attempts at conversation. All efforts were met with a firm “No,” or “I’m not ready.” The words not only marred and destroyed our friendship but rippled through all of our mutual friends, ending many other friendships for me. I was devastated, alone, and unforgiven. I was twelve.

    Now imagine you are forgiven twenty-seven years later.

    As I was meditating this morning, I was brought to tears thinking of my daughter and how careful I have been to express and teach empathy to her, how I have given her the pieces that I was lacking.

    And as I meditated, I realized this is where my fear in friendship lives. This is where it all stemmed from. The moving and uprooting didn’t help my trust levels. But imagine you were never forgiven for a mistake you didn’t understand, for words that weren’t yours, in a time of grief you didn’t understand. Imagine you were left behind by all you had loved and trusted because you regurgitated your parents’ problematic view of grief and death to your friend.

    Never in a million years would I ever do anything to intentionally hurt anyone, let alone my best friend. And knowing what I know today, I cannot even fathom how badly she hurt from the loss of her mother. Her mom! The one person who is meant to care for us and help us with our periods, talk to us about dating, and hold us when we cry. Her mom died. And I said the unthinkable. The unforgivable.

    Last week I woke up thinking, “What if the unforgivable thing that has played a role in all of my relationships was forgiven? What if I was forgiven? How does that fit in? How does it transform itself in my life, in my body?”

    I would breathe in a room of strangers, trust a little deeper in the friendships I currently host. I would be able to unwrap and unbutton my tightly wound guard that has protected me all these years. I could stop worrying about whether or not people would like me if they knew who I really was, and instead trust that I am worthy of love and simply good enough… finally.

    We all have an un-forgiveness story buried deep inside. We don’t have to wait years for the relief of receiving someone else’s forgiveness, if it ever comes at all. We can choose to forgive ourselves now, whether they do or not, and free ourselves from the weight of our shame and self-judgment. Take these three steps to do just that:

    1. Think about the day your un-forgiveness was born. Relax and allow yourself to repeat it one last time.

    Close and eyes and remember: What was the context in which the story happened? Who was with you? What have you done? What happened after that?

    2. Now imagine if you forgave yourself, and if there is another person(s) in the party, feel their forgiveness as well.

    How would that feel in your body? How would that transform the beliefs you formed about friendships, partnerships, business, and life? What would you do differently if you knew you were forgiven and released the shame of your experience?

    3. Give yourself and the others involved forgiveness, as we all do our best with the information and understanding we have based on our upbringing and out time in the world.

    And as Maya Angelou wrote, once we know better, we can do better. We always have the opportunity to get wiser. Forgiveness is compassion and wisdom.

    Forgiveness in ourselves and others is one of life’s great lessons. We are often held hostage by our inability to forgive and therefore so is our potential to achieve our life’s purpose.

    A big powerful thank you to my friend who forgave me after twenty-seven years. I am honored and working to spread the love you showed me.

  • The Importance of Finding and Standing in Our Truth

    The Importance of Finding and Standing in Our Truth

    “What I know for sure is that you feel real joy in direct proportion to how connected you are to living your truth.” ~Oprah Winfrey

    If we cannot live in and from our truth, then we cannot be authentic. The process of self- actualization is not striving to become the person we are supposed to be. It is removing what is not true for or about us so that we can be the person that we already are.

    The hardest part of living in my truth was coming to understand and accept that it didn’t matter how anyone else experienced my childhood and my life but myself. That includes my father, mother, and three siblings. It also didn’t matter how others were affected or not. For our recovery only our truth matters

    Why is standing in our truth so important? It is impossible to build a solid life on a foundation of untruths, lies, denial, fabrications, and misinterpretations.

    Many of us have built our lives according to what we were taught and what we gleaned from a childhood spent in dysfunctional homes. We were asked to play a role that served our dysfunctional family system and not ourselves. We learned not to question the status quo, to follow unwritten rules, to live in denial and fantasy.

    Growing up I thought my family was fine; everyone else was messed up. I thought everyone’s mother drank themselves into a stupor on a daily basis and everyone’s father had become a ghost. Neither of my parents was available for support or counsel.

    I was no good, according to my father’s constant criticism, and would never amount to anything. I was a good football player and I would come off the field feeling I’d played a good game. That was until I reached my father and all he wanted to do was to talk about the block I missed or the tackle I didn’t make.

    Slowly, I stopped to try to impress my father, and eventually I stopped trying anything at all. Then I found drugs and alcohol during the summer between ninth and tenth grade. 

    I fell in love with partying and cared little for anything else. I quit football immediately and later quit school altogether. I was a sixteen-year-old boy making life decisions by himself due to his parents’ dysfunction.

    Little did I know that no one looks favorably at partying skills, and they get you nowhere in life. It took me thirteen years to figure that out, after which I went to rehab and have been clean ever since.

    I don’t think that I lost myself; it’s more like I never had myself. I was just pieces of those around me. I had tried so hard to be who everyone wanted me to be that I left myself behind.

    “…human beings universally abandon themselves for five major reasons: for someone’s love, for someone’s acceptance and approval, to keep the peace, to maintain balance, or to stay in the state of harmony. When we abandon ourselves for someone’s love, pretending to be other than who we are in order to get someone’s love, acceptance, or approval, it is a form of self-abandonment.”  Angeles Arrien Ph.D., The Four-Fold Way 

    I had spent my life being who others wanted me to be—who I had to be to get by, to be safe, to fit in, to not make waves. I no longer knew who I was, who I wanted to be, what I liked, and what I believed. I had been a chameleon for so long and had shape-shifted so many times that I didn’t know who I was.

    This never hit me as hard as when I was a new member of an Adult Child of an Alcoholic therapy group. One of the older members confronted me during our check-ins. He said, “I don’t care what your sponsor or father thinks or what anyone else thinks; I want to know what you think.”

    In working with that statement I came to realize that I didn’t have many original thoughts or beliefs. That I had let other people and events decide who I was for me.

    “What you live with you learn, what you learn you practice, what you practice you become, and what you become has consequences.” ~Earnie Larson, a pioneer in the field of recovery from addictive behaviors 

    It is devastating when you realize that you are inauthentic. That in some ways who you are and what you present to the people and the world around you is a lie. On the other hand, this awareness is also a blessing, because without awareness there can be no change.

    I realized that I would not be able to find my truth while being subjected to the influence of my family. That I had to spend time away from them to do the work needed. That doesn’t mean that I had nothing to do with them. I just kept my time with family members short and superficial.

    I also began to spend time with myself contemplating and writing in my journal. I began to question my beliefs, understandings, and positions.

    John Bradshaw talks about coming to realize that the thoughts we are thinking aren’t our own. That it is someone else’s voice in our head and we need to determine whose. For me, I came to realize that so much of the self-critical thoughts were actually criticisms my father had of me that I had chosen to own.

    In recovery, we say that “everything that we know is up for revision, especially what we know to be true.” In my own search I was so confused and uncertain of my truth that I had to start with discarding what I knew was not true—the things my father had told me, for example. The things that I was unsure of, I had to try on and drive around the block for a while.

    Today I am aware that my search for the truth is a spiritual endeavor, which includes prayer, meditation, and contemplation. My hope and prayers are that all who read this will strive to find and live in and from their truth.

  • Everyone’s Doing The Best That They Can

    Everyone’s Doing The Best That They Can

    “All I know is that my life is better when I assume that people are doing their best. It keeps me out of judgment and lets me focus on what is, and not what should or could be.” ~Brené Brown

    My favorite principle is this simple truth: Everyone is doing the best that they can with the resources they have. Adopting this belief has radically changed my relationship to myself and to others.

    This idea has been explored by a constellation of religious, spiritual, and wellness practitioners. As Deepak Chopra said, “People are doing the best that they can from their own level of consciousness.”

    At first, it’s a hard concept for us to swallow. In a culture that constantly urges us to do more, to be better, and to excel,  “I’m doing the best that I can” sounds like complacency—like an excuse. But what if we took a step back from our culture’s infinite growth paradigm and considered, “What if, right now, there is a limit to what I can achieve? Can I be okay with that?”

    I first stumbled across this principle a few weeks after I quit drinking in 2016. It was a challenging time for me. In the absence of alcohol, I watched my anxiety soar.

    I stayed away from bars and clubs to avoid temptation, but then felt guilty and “boring” for spending Saturday nights at home. When I met up with friends who’d previously been drinking buddies, our interactions felt stilted. I knew sobriety was the healthiest choice for me, but I couldn’t accept the way it impacted my ability to be social. I felt like I wasn’t trying hard enough.

    I spent weeks in a frustrated mind space until I stumbled across that precious idea: “I’m doing the best I can with the resources at my disposal.”

    At first, I recoiled. The high achiever in me—the climber, the pusher—scoffed at the suggestion that I was doing my best. “But other people have healthy relationships with alcohol. Other people maintain active, thriving social lives.”

    But in that moment, I realized that my negative self-talk was an exercise in futility. It never boosted my inspiration or activated me toward progress. It just sparked a shame spiral that sunk me deeper into inaction and guilt.

    So over time, I began to internalize this idea as my own. And as I did, I felt like a blanket of comfort had been draped over me. For the first time in weeks, I could sit back on my couch and watch Vampire Diaries without hating myself. It enabled me to find peace in the present moment and accept—not even accept, but celebrate—that I was doing the absolute best that I could.

    I’ve found that this principle has been easiest for me to internalize when I’ve been going through deep stuff.

    After a painful breakup last August, it took all of my energy to drag myself from bed in the morning. My intense emotions were riding shotgun, which sometimes meant canceling plans last minute, postponing work calls, or calling a friend to cry it out.

    Because I was so obviously using all of my inner resources to get through each day, it was easy for me to accept that I was doing the best that I could. Throughout those months, I gave myself total permission not to do more, not to be “better.” For that very reason, those painful months were also some of the most peaceful months of my life.

    Here’s the thing, though: We don’t have to hit rock bottom in order to show ourselves compassion.

    We don’t need to be heartbroken, shattered, or at wit’s end. Maybe we’re just having a rough day. Maybe we’re feeling anxious. See, our abilities in any given moment depend entirely on our inner resources, and our inner resources are constantly in a state of flux depending on our emotions (pain, stress, anxiety, fear), our physicality (sickness, ailments, how much sleep we got), our histories (the habits we’ve adopted, the trauma we’ve experienced, the socialization we’ve internalized), and so much more.

    When we consider everything that affects our capacity to show up as we’d like to be, we realize how narrow-minded our negative self-talk is. We also begin to understand that everyone comes from a wildly complex, diverse array of experiences, and that comparisons among us are useless.

    Consider how this idea can be applied in some more challenging situations:

    The Friend Who Is Stuck In A Cycle of Stagnancy

    This goes for anyone who complains about a monotonous cycle in their life but can’t seem to break it: the friend who hates their job but doesn’t leave it, or the friend who complains about their partner but won’t end their relationship.

    Those of us on the receiving end of our friend’s complaints may get tired of hearing the same story every day. But our advice to “just leave your job” or “just break up” will fall on deaf ears because it’s not that simple. They are doing the best that they can in that moment because their current need for familiarity and security outweighs their desire for exploration.

    They are experiencing a tension within their desires, but don’t yet have the ability to act on that tension. The limitations of their emotional (or sometimes, financial) resources make it difficult for them to move on.

    By accepting that we’re doing the best we can, we give ourselves the gift of self-acceptance and self-love. Only from this place can positive, sustainable changes to actions or behaviors be made

    The Parents Who Hurt Us When We Were Kids

    It can be especially challenging to apply this principle to those who have wounded us most deeply. But oftentimes, those are the folks most deserving of our compassion.

    Parents have a responsibility to their children, and parents who hurt, neglect, shame, or otherwise harm their children are not doing their job as parents. But sometimes, our parents can’t do their jobs well because they don’t have the resources at their disposal. And even then, they are doing the best that they can.

    More than likely, our parents didn’t learn the necessary parenting skills from their own parents. Maybe they never got therapy to heal old wounds or never developed the coping skills necessary to handle intense emotions. This principle can be very challenging, yet very healing, when applied to parents and other family members.

    The Binge Eater (Or Other Addict)

    This used to be me, and it took me years to accept that even when I was in the thick of my eating disorders, I was doing the best that I could.

    From the outside, the solution seems simple: “Put down the cake.” “Don’t have a third serving.” But for folks with addiction issues—food, alcohol, sex, drugs, you name it—the anxiety or emptiness of not engaging with the addiction can be insurmountable.

    Resisting the impulse to fill an inner void requires extensive resources, including self-love, self-empowerment, and oftentimes, a web of support from friends and family. Folks in the throes of addiction are caught in a painful cycle of indulgence, shame, and self-judgment, which makes it all the more difficult to develop the emotional resources necessary to resist the tug of the addiction.

    But by accepting that they’re doing the best they can, they give themselves the gift of self-acceptance and self-love. Only from this place can we make positive, sustainable changes to our actions or behaviors.

    It’s worth noting: Our actions have consequences, and when we harm others, we should be held accountable. But simultaneously, we can acknowledge that we are doing the best that we can, even when we “fall short” in others’ eyes. Forgiving ourselves (and others) is an emotional experience that transcends logic or justice. We can make the conscious choice not to hold ourselves to a constant standard of absolute perfection.

    Believing that we are all doing the best that we can opens our hearts to kindness and compassion. It allows us to see one another as humans, flaws and all. Next time you feel frustrated with yourself, stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, you’re doing the best that you can.

    Sit down with a piece of paper and divide it in half. On one side, write down the voices of your inner gremlins. What exactly are they saying? Are they calling you lazy, selfish, mean? On the second side, consider what inner and external factors affected your actions or decisions. Consider the emotional, physical, historical, and financial obstacles you face.

    As you review your list of obstacles in contrast with your negative self-talk, summon compassion and kindness for your inner self. If she is struggling, you can ease her burden by quieting the self-judgment and replacing those negative messages with an honest truth: That you’re doing the best you can with the resources at your disposal.