Tiny Buddha

Tag: Happiness

  • Made a Big Mistake? What to Do Instead of Beating Yourself Up

    Made a Big Mistake? What to Do Instead of Beating Yourself Up

    “Note to self: Beating yourself up for your flaws and mistakes won’t make you perfect, and you don’t have to be. Learn, forgive yourself, and remember: We all struggle; it’s just part of being human.” ~Lori Deschene

    When I was in twelfth grade I took a World Issues class and learned about colonization, child soldiers, and how some children, by no fault of their own, had a much more challenging life than I’d had. After that, I wanted to help but wasn’t sure how.

    Then, at age twenty-three, I was hired at a non-profit organization where I had the opportunity to work with teenage girls in prison. Finally, I had a real opportunity to help and I wanted to be perfect.

    It was my dream job. I was excited. But then I made a big mistake.

    I walked into the prison and filled out the visitor’s sign in sheet. I waited until Sharon, the classroom teacher, came to meet me.

    She was rushing, as she often was, trying to accommodate me and keep teaching her class.

    “A couple of girls tried to knock themselves off last night, including Kate,” she said quickly, “so they’re not in class today. But it’s fine to go ahead with the interview.”

    “Attempted suicide?” I stammered.

    “Yeah,” said Sharon, “They’re just trying to get attention. Don’t worry too much about it.”

    I cringed. My breath got short and my stomach tightened. I couldn’t imagine that it was only about getting attention, and something felt off about going ahead with the interview.

    Before I really had time to process what had happened Sharon opened a door with her key card and held it open. “Kate’s in here with one of the staff, go ahead. She’s fine,” she said. I stepped through. She let go of the door and walked off quickly to get back to her class.

    I was interviewing Kate that day for a blog post. My organization wanted to profile her to show the breadth of work that we do. I had a list of questions I’d prepared and a recording device.

    I’d been working with her class for a couple of months. I was running a workshop on advocacy, so I went in once a week. I’d brought in guest speakers to inspire the girls, and now they were working on their own advocacy project—telling their stories through a short film.

    I liked Kate. She wasn’t afraid to share her opinion and was a bit of a class clown. She was seventeen and had had a difficult life but was tough and resilient. I could tell her sense of humor helped all the girls through the hard days.

    She seemed fine. We joked around and then got into my prepared questions. I turned on the voice recorder and started asking her about her childhood and her life.

    Half an hour passed quickly and then I packed up my voice recorder and said goodbye. A staff member took me through a series of magnetic lock doors and I left.

    When I got back to my office there was a message from the manager of the prison on my voicemail. She’d heard I’d asked Kate how she ended up in prison. Kate hadn’t answered, but since youth in Canada have special privacy rights when they’re involved with the law, the manager was very upset.

    She was also upset that that I’d interviewed Kate when she was in a vulnerable state and said that never should have happened.

    I felt terrible. My face got hot and breath shallow. I’d wanted so desperately to help and now I felt like I was making things worse.

    “What’s wrong with me?” I asked, “Why didn’t I follow my instincts and postpone the interview? Am I really making things better or am I just making things worse?”

    These thoughts ran through my head for weeks following the event and I began to seriously question if I could do this job.

    And I was scared of messing up again, so I became a perfectionist with everything I did. I would spend weeks editing a single email to make sure there wasn’t something inappropriate in it.

    And eventually it got to be too much. It was my dream job but it was too hard. The girls’ stories were too sad. I couldn’t do as good of a job as I wanted to.

    I could barely get up in the mornings. I was too tired, too depressed. I was burning out.

    So I quit.

    I knew I couldn’t look for another job; I’d just be looking for something similar. I’d landed my dream job but couldn’t do it. I needed to press the reset button on my life.

    So I moved to a yoga and retreat center in the Canadian mountains and spent two years learning to meditate, learning what was within my control, how I could help, and what was not my responsibility.

    And eventually, I learned how to forgive myself for the mistake I made with that young woman. I realized that my intentions were good, that I hadn’t meant to hurt her, and that I’d made a mistake but it wasn’t quite as big as I’d thought.

    And after two years of studying yoga, I went back to the same job. Working with youth with similar stories, I learned to do it better. I still made mistakes but was better at forgiving myself. And I could see that the positive impact I was making outweighed these errors.

    If you’ve made a big mistake (or even a small mistake!) you can forgive yourself too.

    Here’s how:

    1. Tell someone you trust.

    The best thing I did after making the mistake with Kate was call my boyfriend. He listened to the situation and then said, “Bryn, honestly, if I was in a rough place and had attempted suicide, you’re exactly who I would want to talk to the morning after. I’m sure your kindness helped.”

    My boyfriend wasn’t the type to give compliments, so I believed him and it started the process of forgiving myself.

    It might be hard to be vulnerable and share your mistake, especially if you’re feeling deeply ashamed and afraid of being judged. But odds are someone who loves you will view your mistake from a different perspective and help you see the positive intention behind the misguided action.

    2. Be radically kind.

    If you’re anything like me, your instinct after you make a big mistake will be to punish yourself for it. You’ll think, “I have to work harder to make up for it.” You might tell yourself, “I don’t deserve to take a bath or go for a walk in the woods.”

    So try your very best to be radically kind to yourself. Take that bath. Go to bed early and get enough sleep. Get outside or take a yoga class.

    We’re more prone to make mistakes when we’re tired or stressed. So if you take care of yourself, you’re less likely to make future mistakes.

    3. Realize you were doing the best you could with the resources you had.

    Maya Angelou said, “When you know better, you do better.”

    You probably were doing the best you could when you made the mistake. Maybe you were overwhelmed or exhausted which both make errors more likely.

    And now that you’ve made the mistake, you can learn from it and ensure you don’t make it again.

    4. See that beating yourself up isn’t helping anyone.

    Beating yourself up doesn’t take back the mistake and probably is just making you tired and maybe even depressed.

    According to shame researcher Dr. Brene Brown, when you tell yourself, “I am a mistake” it sends you into a shame cycle that is correlated with depression, addiction, eating disorders.

    The good news is when you tell yourself, “I made a mistake” you can learn from it and this is correlated negatively with depression, addiction, eating disorders.

    I learned a lot from my mistake. I blamed myself for hurting Kate when she was already having a terrible day. And, yes, if I could go back I would do things differently. But I eventually realized my mistake wasn’t as big as it originally seemed and my intentions were good, so I could forgive myself.

    I also realized it wasn’t just my mistake I felt bad about; it was also that Kate and the other girls had such difficult lives. I needed to learn that I can’t save people, and that’s okay. I can still make a positive impact, no matter how small, even if I’m not perfect.

    —

    If you’ve made a big mistake, I get it. It can be very difficult to overcome. But taking one step at a time, you can learn to forgive yourself and ultimately this will free up your energy to do more good in the world.

  • What Really Makes Us Feel Successful

    What Really Makes Us Feel Successful

    “Congratulations on becoming successful and best wishes on becoming happy.” ~John Mayer

    I was living the life of my dreams.

    Or so I thought.

    I’ve been very fortunate to have had some very awesome opportunities all over the world.

    I’ve worked to help victims of human trafficking in the shady streets of Thailand, I’ve helped build a positive community with drug traffickers in the extremely violent favelas of Brazil, and I’ve cared for terminally ill patients who were picked up from the streets die with dignity at Mother Theresa’s famous House of the Dying in India.

    I also got involved with the non-profit filmmaking group the Jubilee Project, where I had the opportunity to create films for a good cause. We’ve made films with various celebrities and professional actors, and our work together has received millions of views on YouTube.

    Before all of this, I graduated from pharmacy school in New York City and got a six-figure salary right out of college. I got the nice car, lived in the nice apartment, and went on the fancy vacations.

    I somehow accomplished a big majority of the things I thought I’d always wanted to do, but I still felt miserable.

    And this feeling followed me everywhere.

    It took a lot of these cool trips and achievements to realize I still didn’t have much fulfillment in my life. So I kept on trying to find the next big accomplishment to put under my belt.

    It was a horrible addiction.

    Then one day, I was reading about the famous tennis player Andre Agassi, and I finally came to an eye-opening realization.

    Agassi was arguably one of the best tennis players of all time and he worked his tail off to get there, but there was one huge problem. He hated tennis.

    He candidly shared this in his autobiography, Open: “I play tennis for a living even though I hate tennis, hate it with a dark and secret passion and always have.”

    The reason for this was because he never wanted to play tennis. It was his father who wanted him to. Since an early age, his father pushed him to train for endless hours to continually improve so he could get to the skill level he was at.

    Even when Agassi won his first Grand Slam title at Wimbledon, he called his dad to tell him the great news only to get the discouraging reply, “You had no business losing that fourth set.”

    I saw similar parenting methods to Agassi’s father in the Korean culture I’m from.

    Tiger moms were a real thing.

    Children were pushed to work hard toward a certain path that the parents already had in mind for them. It was usually to become “prestigious” people such as a doctor or a lawyer. These children had to spend much of their leisure time studying so that one day the parents could brag about how “successful” their children were.

    This cultural standard indirectly influenced my life and defined my beliefs of what success looked like. It was very achievement oriented.

    Then the truth finally dawned on me.

    All of my life, I’ve been chasing after other people’s definition of success.

    I tried to become rich, I tried to become respected, and I tried to achieve fame.

    When I dug even deeper in to my own life story, I realized these weren’t the things that mattered to me most to begin with and that’s why no matter what I did to achieve these things, I never felt successful.

    The Truth About Achieving Success

    Simon Sinek, author of Start With Why once shared a very enlightening story.

    “I went to an event for high-performing entrepreneurs and the question was asked of the room, ‘How many of you have achieved your financial goals?’ Amazingly, 80% of the room raised their hand. Then the question was asked, ‘How many of you feel successful?’ and 80% of the hands went down. This example alone shows that there is little to no connection between the standard measurement of success and the feeling of success.”

    When I became a filmmaker and got into screenwriting, I learned that your main character always must have an external goal, but what’s most important is to show clearly what the worthy internal goal is. This is the key element that turns a good story into a great one.

    For example, you may see a hero who wants to save the world, but the movie doesn’t turn as interesting until you learn that maybe he’s trying to save the world in order to find redemption for his past mistakes where many people died.

    If the external goal is something that doesn’t actually help the character achieve his internal goal, then you don’t have a story.

    For most people, there is a severe disconnect between their external goals and their internal goals.

    It took me almost all my life to realize maybe my definition of success was wrong to begin with. Whether it was my parents, my friends, or society, I let others set the standards for me.

    It was never my own goals I was trying to achieve. It was someone else’s, and this was the biggest reason for my unhappiness.

    “’Success’ can only truly occur internally, because it is based on emotion. At the most basic level, success is your relationship with yourself. Most people are living a lie. They purposefully ignore and distract themselves from what they deep down want for themselves.” ~Benjamin P. Hardy

    You can never achieve success, you can only feel it.

    But feelings are hard to tangibly measure, so people tie success to things like money and fame. And these are the types of things people tell you to chase after to solve all your problems.

    Why We Tend to Chase After The Wrong Goals

    I grew up very poor and my father wasn’t the most financially responsible person.

    He once gambled my college savings away. He also threw himself into a ton of debt after multiple business start-up failures. Then when no one would loan him money anymore because of his horrible credit, he started opening up new credit card accounts under my mother’s name. Eventually, he ruined her credit as well.

    This was what led my mother to separate from him.

    I didn’t know it until later, but I realized since a very young age that all I thought about was making money because of these circumstances.

    I remember looking at my fifth grade yearbook and my answer to the question “Fifteen years from now I will be…”

    So I worked a ton growing up. I worked my first job illegally when I was fourteen at the Manhattan mall folding clothes for five dollars an hour. During college, I was juggling my studies and three other jobs.

    I was naive and thought a lack of money was causing the pain that actually came from my parents not getting along.

    When I finally achieved my external goal of making a lot of money, I still had trust issues. I still had the pain from the broken relationships in my life. Things didn’t feel any better.

    I was still hurting from never having a safe space to be myself growing up, and this was when I realized the truth.

    We try to avoid our hurt and pain, and as a result, we often make misguided decisions on what to pursue in order to actually feel successful.

    For example, if you grew up with a father who was mentally abusive and often told you that you wouldn’t amount to anything, your anger might lead you to chase after a well paying job to prove him wrong.

    The unfortunate part is that proving him wrong won’t necessarily make you feel any more successful because what you’re really craving is a supportive father.

    This is why it is so important to be able to develop the skills to be able to accurately assess what is needed to help you truly succeed.

    Ensure That Your External Goals Align With Your Internal Goals

    According to Harvard Professor Daniel Gilbert, known as the happiness expert, data shows one of the biggest reasons for people’s unhappiness is their inability to predict what types of things will make them truly happy.

    He advises us to simply do our research in advance so we can better predict if what we are chasing will make us feel successful or not.

    “If I wanted to know what a certain future would feel like to me I would find someone who is already living that future. If I wonder what it’s like to become a lawyer or marry a busy executive or eat at a particular restaurant my best bet is to find people who have actually done these things and see how happy they are. What we know from studies is not only will this increase the accuracy of your prediction, but nobody wants to do it.” ~Daniel Gilbert, The Truth About Happiness May Surprise You

    My real desire was to have a safe space to be myself and have more authentic connection in my life, but everything I was doing was making the opposite happen.

    Then I started studying and having conversations with people who had what I wanted. I realized the people I’ve met who have great relationships all were continually vulnerable with each other, and when they felt stuck and needed help, they reached out to the right people.

    So to try and build the relationships in my life I so desperately wanted, I started changing my external goals.

    I set a goal to have the courage to be vulnerable when I’m feeling shame.

    I changed my goal for my wife and I to go see a marriage counselor.

    I changed my goal to learning to be more honest with my wife when she hurts me instead of shutting her out and temporarily shunning her.

    These changes made all the difference and I finally started to feel successful.

    I had a skewed perspective on the things I thought would help me succeed. The parable of the Mexican fisherman is a great reminder that we need to define success for ourselves, based on what makes us feel successful, rather than letting someone else define it for us.

    Maybe you don’t feel successful yet because, like me, you’ve been chasing after the wrong things based on what others have told you.

    Take a moment to think about what types of actions will help you attain your internal goals. What might your new success measurements be?

  • Stop Talking So You Can Start Feeling

    Stop Talking So You Can Start Feeling

    “Don’t hide from your feelings. Press into them. Learn from them. Grow from them.” ~Unknown

    There have been times in my life when you could look at my cell phone call log and see back-to-back conversations for hours. I am blessed to have a large support system of loving friends and family, and there have been many times when that has saved me from facing my pain.

    If you know anything about attachments styles or are one of millions who suffer from anxiety, you will relate when I tell you that I spent most of my life incredibly anxious. Most of my anxiety had to do with me dealing with people: going to parties where I didn’t know people, knowing someone was unhappy with me, feeling like my needs weren’t being met in relationships, etc.

    I work with many sensitive people and, in more recent years, I have come to accept that I, too, am very sensitive. We are affected by words, punctuation, tone, and demeanor. We know that words say a lot and words combined with punctuation say even more and that we communicate in more ways than is accepted as normal.

    If I had to cancel on a friend and she responded, “That’s fine,” I would start to get worried that she was mad at me. The response that would have appeased my anxiety would have looked more like this: “I totally understand! Look forward to seeing you another time!”

    For many years I thought I had found the perfect solution to this situation: talk to my wise friends who would make me feel better. Client who was not thrilled with me? Ex-boyfriend who posted something insensitive on social media? Friend who was giving me attitude? I picked up the phone for that.

    Because my community of friends was fairly vast, I was able to avoid overusing anyone (though my mom might tell you otherwise). I’d hurriedly vent my frustrations and wait to receive the compassion and wisdom from my loved ones.

    I had the process down: feel hurt, pick up the phone, vent, talk about the problem a lot, hang up, and then call someone else if the wound hadn’t been totally clogged.

    Analytical processing can be useful at times, but more often than not we use it as a crutch so we don’t have to feel our pain. Talking about how I was feeling made me feel productive, but it prevented me from really feeling what was under the anxiety.

    Anxiety was showing me that there were some much bigger feelings underneath the surface that needed my attention, but they would be very uncomfortable to move through.

    A couple years ago I went through an incredibly devastating breakup. I lost everything that mattered: my will for life, a few pounds I didn’t have to spare, and myself. Once the natural grieving process had commenced, I realized nothing had changed. I was not getting better, so I panicked and began my calling sprees again.

    One morning, with tears pouring from my eyes and a deep hole in my chest, I called my mom and asked her to please fly across the country to stay with me. She was heartbroken, but wise enough to know that what I really needed was to get to the place inside myself that wanted to live. She knew she would leave, and I would not be any better off.

    I hung up the phone with her that day and realized I had been using other people to avoid feeling. These feelings were so deep and dark that they felt terrifying to face, but only I could face what was living within me.

    The next time the pain surfaced, instead of picking up the phone, I turned inward. I lay down to do breathwork and faced the painful emotions and fears that were keeping me stuck. Through this long and grueling process I began to transform.

    I didn’t move on from this breakup like I had other times. In fact, this wasn’t even about the breakup—it was a reckoning with my soul. I used this opportunity to really get to know myself. I learned about the human condition, and I came out a different person with more wisdom and compassion.

    I realized that every time I felt a twinge of pain from someone’s words or actions, I had an opportunity to investigate what that meant to me. My habit was to talk it through with people, but the talking always kept me out of really feeling and getting to know the wound it pointed to.

    Through healing, I was able to accept and love the parts of myself that were wounded when others responded to me in ways that triggered pain. I was able to feel it, see where it was coming from, and love myself through it.

    When I stopped talking about my “problems” so much and started to heal the unprocessed emotions causing them, they diminished. I’m able to let things slide off me more easily. When I am triggered, I can look inward to feel where it’s coming from and honor myself through it.

    Instead of running from my pain by picking up the phone, I have found the strength to face my own demons so they no longer control me. Now there is more space in my relationships for interesting and uplifting conversations.

    If you’re struggling with chronic anxiety and spend a lot of time talking about your problems, you can use this breathwork meditation to learn how to heal yourself. This is a practice you can use continuously and also in the moments you feel yourself wanting to avoid your pain by talking about it.

    How To Breathe

    This is a specific two-part inhale that moves stuck emotion from the lower chakras into the heart. Most of our repressed emotions are stored in this energetic center in our bodies. You’re going to be breathing in and out of the mouth, which connects you more deeply to your body and your emotions.

    Most of us have years, if not lifetimes, of unprocessed emotions. This breathwork technique is designed to open up the energetic channels of your body and help the emotions release.

    You’ll first breathe into your low belly, then you’ll take a second inhale into your heart, and you’ll exhale. This inhale and exhale are all done through the mouth. This will connect you to your body and help the energy flow. You do not need to force your exhale. Let it naturally fall out of your body like a sigh of relief.

    1. Get in a quiet space where you won’t be disturbed.
    2. Lay somewhere comfortable on your back.
    3. Put on a playlist with three of your favorite songs.
    4. Close your eyes (you can use an eye mask if you have one) and breathe as per the instructions above to the first two songs. This might feel like work, but just stick with it and focus on the breath. Feel your belly and chest rise. Feel the breath move in and out of the body.
    5. Pay attention to what your body is experiencing. After a few minutes you might feel your body tingling. That’s normal.
    6. If you feel tightness or tension place your awareness there and breathe into it. There is probably some emotion that wants to release.
    7. Once the third song begins release the breath and begin to breathe in and out of the nose. Let your body vibrate here for as long as you like.

    Oftentimes people feel immediate relief after a breathwork practice, but it can also stir up some uncomfortable, deep emotions. This is a meditation you can work with daily to continue the healing process.

    Many of us live in cultures that promote fast payoffs. Healing is a long-term game. If you’re willing to put in the work and be patient, you will begin to notice yourself changing. Sometimes you’ll notice it after one session and sometimes after several. Pay close attention and be very gentle with yourself post session, no matter how you’re feeling.

  • How I’ve Learned to Free Myself from Depression When It Hits

    How I’ve Learned to Free Myself from Depression When It Hits

    “No feeling is final.” ~Rainer Maria Rilke

    I’ve battled depression for most of my life. In my younger years, it gripped me pretty frequently. I was first hit with suicidal thoughts at the age of fifteen, and it scared the bejesus out of me. I was young and dumb and had no idea what was happening.

    When I was twenty-five it hit again. This time, however, I understood the cause. I was getting divorced, and my entire life was in turmoil.

    It was at this time that I decided that I was going to do something about it. So, I dove into the world of personal development. I read every book I could get my hands on.

    The following are some realizations I’ve had about depression and what’s helped me break free from it. This may not work for everyone, but perhaps there’s something here that can help you.

    Depression is like a Chinese finger trap: the more you try to get free, the more trapped you become.

    When I was younger, I would try to fight my feelings. I believed in facing my challenges head on. As any young man would do, I would see myself as the hero of my own story and depression as the villain.

    The last time it hit me, however, I wasn’t nearly as brazen. I laid in my bed and the feeling washed over me like a flood. One minute I was okay, and the next I was going haywire.

    All I could think about was killing myself. And the crazy part of that is that I had a great life, and that I didn’t want to actually do it. I just wanted the intensity to end. I wanted to be free from the feelings that penetrated everything I did.

    Depression is like a Chinese finger trap. The more you fight it, the more it gets you in its grasp. And the only way to get out is to do the very thing that you intuitively feel is wrong.

    You only get free from depression when you lean into it.

    I know that goes against every piece of self-help advice that exists. But depression is a different animal. You can’t positive-think your way out of depression because this kind of mental battle is a big part of what causes depression in the first place. Obsessing over your thoughts keeps you stuck in your head.

    It’s a trap of the most frustrating form because your attempts at defeating depression often serve to keep it firmly in place. In other words, your resistance to depression causes it to strengthen its grip on you.

    There is a concept in psychology and cognitive behavior therapy (CBT) called “exposure therapy.” The idea is that the more you expose yourself to the thing you fear, the less intimidating and fearful that thing becomes.

    I was able to get over my fear of snakes in this manner. One summer I made the goal to hike a certain trail near my house. However, the trail constantly had snakes on it, and I was deathly afraid of them.

    I didn’t want to give up on my hiking goals, so I forced myself to walk past the snakes. Eventually I realized that they are relatively harmless and won’t bother you unless you bother them.

    Do you fear your depression? I know I did, especially when it became so bad that suicidal thoughts would creep in. I would spend many a night in bed just lying like a brick, afraid to move because I was scared that I would do something to hurt myself.

    When you lean into your feelings, they dissipate.

    And thus is the wisdom of the Chinese finger trap. The only way out is to lean in. To stop fearing what you feel and start facing what you feel.

    When I started thinking about the things that may have been causing my depression instead of the things I thought could cure it, I got a better understanding of what my depression was.

    I saw that things like negative core beliefs and unhappiness with my career and finances were contributing to my depression, and that I needed to deal with those things. Depression, then, was more of a symptom of the real problem rather than the source.

    You don’t beat this enemy by fighting him. You beat him by standing in front of him and telling him that you are not afraid. And then you deal with the things that make him strong.

    I liken depression to a storm. It will hit you all at once, but it won’t stay around forever. If you wait long enough, the feelings will pass. And what is left after the feelings pass is in your hands.

    You can choose to let the storm of depression keep you in a depressed state even when the actual feelings aren’t there. Or you can pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and keep moving forward.

    Leaning into your feelings releases their power over you, but you still need to wiggle yourself free after you release your feelings.

    This is probably the most important part of dealing with depression.

    It’s not enough to just face your feelings and lean into them. If you’ve ever played with a Chinese finger trap, you eventually realized that to release its grip on your fingers, you had to push them further into the trap. However, to truly get your fingers free, you had to wiggle them back out slowly.

    This is exactly what depression is like. You may not have control over when depression strikes. You may even need medication to deal with it. But you can control what you do when you’re depressed, and you can break free. I am proof of that. I’ve battled this feeling, this inexplicable feeling, for most of my life. But I now know what true joy and true happiness is.

    You can know joy too. You can get past depression when it hits. You don’t have to let it define you any longer.

    How do you wiggle free? I use a process of deep introspection, mindfulness, and work toward a powerful purpose in my life.

    At the root of my depression were the most insecure and sensitive things I thought about myself. This is true for many of us. These beliefs run under the surface of our psyche like a motor. Pay attention to the things that make you emotional and look for the beliefs you have about yourself that are behind them.

    For example, I used to feel shame whenever someone would single me out in front of others. While this is a common feeling for people, I looked for the belief that may have been fueling that. I discovered that underneath it all was an old belief from childhood: “I am bad.”

    Now, when I recognize that this belief is surfacing, I remind myself that it’s human to make mistakes sometimes, and that doesn’t make me a bad person. This prevents me from spiraling into a shame cycle, which can easily lead to a depressed state.

    You have negative beliefs about yourself as well, and, while it’s an extremely emotional process facing them, it’s also cathartic. Find someone you trust and talk to them about these thoughts and feelings. Or journal about them to understand why you formed them and how you can let them go.

    Another powerful tactic for wiggling free from depression is mindfulness. I like to solve puzzles or do something creative to take my mind away from the thoughts that depression causes me to have.

    Note that this isn’t meant as a way to avoid your problems. Depressed thoughts are like a tape that plays automatically in the back of your mind. When you immerse yourself in an activity, you interrupt that tape and break the negative cycle so that you’re no longer fixated on negative thoughts (which is akin to pushing your finger deeper into the trap).

    It’s also helped me to fix my finances. They say that money can’t buy happiness, but that’s not the entire truth. According to this study, our income can actually increase our happiness up to a certain amount, since it’s easier to be happy when we’re not struggling to survive.

    To fix my finances, I stopped wasting money on things that weren’t bringing me joy (such as a cable subscription) and focused on ways to increase my income. I learned pretty quickly that, although being rich doesn’t make you happy, I feel a lot more at ease when I’m not living paycheck to paycheck.

    Lastly, I’ve focused on finding meaningful work. One of the biggest culprits of depression is a feeling of hopelessness and despair. So, finding meaningful work or a deeply personal life purpose will do wonders. For more information on finding meaning, check out Viktor Frankl’s book A Man’s Search for Meaning.

    In my case, I found that the career I was in was making me more depressed. I was an engineer, but the long days sitting in a cubicle were driving me mad. I wanted a career where I felt like I was doing something that mattered.

    So, I went back to school and became certified to teach. I ramped up my writing career and started freelance writing. I did more of the work that I loved to do. When you do more of the work that you love to do, you become more of the person you want to be, which makes you a lot happier with yourself and your life.

    And that leads me to the final point…

    You are not your depression. You are the person who is feeling depressed.

    Until I realized this, I was seeing myself as a depressed person, and I was allowing it to define me.

    You are not your feelings. Stand in front of a mirror and shout that to yourself. Scream it to the world. You are more than that.

    You are whatever you choose to be. See the possibilities of who you can be and move toward those things. Don’t let depression beat you up and keep you trapped. The door is open. All you have to do is walk through it.

    *Disclaimer: Depression can have many different causes, and different people may need to take different approaches to healing. Don’t be afraid to seek professional help if nothing else has worked for you. There’s no shame in needing or accepting support!

  • How I Healed My Strained Relationship with My Mother

    How I Healed My Strained Relationship with My Mother

    “Give without remembering. Receive without forgetting.” ~Unknown

    It was Sunday, April 12, 2015. I had just finished my grocery shopping and was about to leave the parking lot when I noticed a call from my dad.

    I called him back so we could talk for a few minutes. He said, “Troy died.” I thought of his friend Troy, who I’d met a couple years prior, and said I was sorry to hear his friend had passed. My dad realized I had not heard him correctly. He said “Troy, your stepdad, he died this morning.”

    I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. How could this be? He was only fifty-eight years old and no one had said he was ill. I spent the rest of the day feeling out of sorts, like I was walking around in a fog. I had not talked to him in seventeen months, mainly because I was angry with my mom. So his death left me with a big heap of regret and guilt.

    My mom and stepdad married when I was about fifteen years old. He had been part of my family for the better part of twenty years. He was a good guy and had a caring heart. Our family had its ups and downs, but he did a good job hanging in there.

    At the time of his death, Mom and I had not talked for seventeen months, as I’d reached an intense level of frustration with her. She had left me with some painful emotional wounds during my life.

    Looking back, she had suffered trauma during her childhood and it was likely playing a part in how she interacted with me. We never could see eye to eye. A phone call one evening resulted in her hanging up on me, so I decided to stop talking to her.

    So when my stepdad died, I felt uncomfortable about reaching out to her. Why should I reach out to a woman who left me with emotional scars? I felt serious panic about this whole situation and resolved to leave mom in the hands of my stepsiblings and brother; they could handle caring for her.

    Despite this, I went ahead and called Mom. As the phone rang I hoped she would not answer, but she did. I had not heard her voice in seventeen months. As expected, she was in shock and crying.

    I asked her what happened, and she told me how he was not feeling well that morning. She had tried to help him dress so they could go to the hospital. He suddenly fell to the floor and died right in front of her. She called 9-1-1 and emergency vehicles arrived shortly, but there was nothing anyone could do; he was gone.

    Mom said she had several people there with her; they were helping her navigate the next steps. It sounded like she had supports, so I let myself believe my presence was not necessary. She had always surrounded herself with people and left me feeling like I did not belong. It was easier to just go on not talking to her and enjoying the new life I was building for myself.

    One of my sisters-in-law reached out to me via text message the following day: “I know you’ve had your differences with your mom, but if you could find it in your heart to set those aside for a few days and be here for her, she really needs you right now. We are all here for her, but I know nothing would mean more to her than having you here too.”

    I suddenly felt obligated to make the hour drive to Mom’s house and see what was happening. Although I have excellent crisis management skills, I felt a little irritated at being the one who had to “fix everything” in my family. As I got closer, I felt like my stomach was going to turn inside out.

    I arrived at their house, a place I had never previously been to; they had moved there during the time we were not communicating. I went inside to find a sea of people milling about and panicked. My mind said “I can’t do this!!! I am leaving!”

    I saw my brother as I began to head for the front door. He told me our mom would be back in a few minutes. I still went to my car and prepared to drive away. She had not seen me, so I felt a quick escape was reasonable.

    Just as I was about to leave, Mom pulled in the driveway. I sat in my car watching in the rearview mirror. Someone had told her I was there and she was headed for my car. “Oh God, what should I do!” my brain screamed.

    Next thing I knew, as if under a hypnotic trance, I was getting out of the car and hugging her. She cried, I cried, we hugged and hugged and hugged. She said she was so glad to see me and we went inside the house. I spent the rest of the day on the back porch sitting next her and holding her hand.

    After my stepdad’s memorial service, family and friends began to disperse and left mom alone and feeling confused on how to proceed. For many the funeral is the final event and people go back to their homes and lives, but what happens to the person impacted by their partners death? They find themselves alone and unsure how to proceed.

    To me, it looked like being thrown out of a boat into the deepest, darkest water you ever encountered, and YOU CAN’T SWIM! Every. Single. Morning.

    For the next two years or so every day started with a phone call to Mom. I would check in on her and provide encouragement for the day ahead. We spent a great deal of time on the phone and doing things together. I never asked for anything of her and purely offered my time, no strings attached.

    It was not an easy journey to take, and it hurt to see her so pained and lost in the beginning. As time passed, it felt good to see her begin to engage in life again. I knew if we could survive the first year, it would be a huge milestone in the recovery process. Then the second year came and went, she was growing stronger and didn’t need me as much, but we still remained close, still having those morning calls and getting together to do fun things.

    During it all, we grew closer and had a better understanding of each other. The scars in my heart began to soften and fade. This experience had an outcome that no one could have predicted. By filling space with Mom, we had both benefitted and were healing the emptiness we had felt inside.

    We had never had this type of relationship before. Simply being there for her had opened the door. We did not have to drag up our painful past into the light of day and do battle over it. No screaming or arguing was necessary. I made a conscious effort to not bring up the past and put my emotional grief on her; she had enough on her plate.

    When we talked about the past, we tried to talk about happy memories—things that made us smile or laugh. The healing was occurring by simply being together and focusing on taking one day at a time.

    About ten months ago, mom retired from her job and moved out of state. She had rekindled a friendship with a high school acquaintance. They seem to be happy and are building a life together. She is also closer to some family she had been missing. I frequently miss her and wish we could do things together, like we used to do, but I also am glad she has found a joyful place in this world.

    Through this experience I realized that broken people often lash out at others in an attempt to lessen their own suffering; ever hear the saying “misery loves company”?

    I also began to understand that I had the power to put my anger aside for the greater good, because adding more darkness to our situation wouldn’t help. The goal was not to torture Mom; she was already defeated and did not need someone to kick her while down.

    I extended the love, kindness, and attention I had always wanted to her, and it began to have a profound healing effect on us both. I truly believe not dragging up the past helped us move forward; discussing it had no benefit in this situation. I think if we had started down that path, it would have pushed us further apart.

    I will forever treasure the time we embraced the darkness together, survived it, and emerged stronger women.

  • I’ve Learned That I Deserve…

    I’ve Learned That I Deserve…

    When I was growing up, my parents never spoke to me about what I “deserved.” They spoke to me a lot about what was “expected.” They were very clear about that.

    They expected me to be tough, hard-working, well-read, and smart. They expected me to help others, especially those struggling on the margins. They sent me to work in impoverished parts of the world, so I would realize I was very lucky and really had nothing to complain about. They expected me to go to church every week, to be honest, to help my brothers, my cousins, my community. They expected me to hold my head up and keep walking forward no matter what.

    They expected me to stand up when they walked into a room, something I continued through their dying days. The list of their expectations went on and on. And along the way, their expectations of me slowly became my own.

    But over time, another word crept into my life. Slowly at first, even timidly, because for me the word and the concept felt foreign, maybe even embarrassing.

    That word was deserve. To think you “deserve” something when others have so little felt arrogant and selfish—as in, Who do you think you are? I got that message from my parents.

    But I’ve come to understand that there is power in the idea of deserving.

    For example, if you’re a hard worker, you deserve to be appreciated and respected by those you work with. That’s not asking too much. And if you work a lot, you deserve rest. My parents wouldn’t like me saying that, but it’s true. Resting your body and your mind isn’t lazy, it’s being smart. You and your body deserve to rest, so you can be healthy. Emotionally and physically—and then work some more! (That’s the part my parents would like!)

    You deserve to be treated kindly by your friends, family, and significant others. As I say to my kids over and over, “Your siblings deserve your respect.” And as I say to their friends, “So do I. So stand up when I come into the room, look me in the eye when you talk to me, and don’t you dare text at the dinner table!” I realize that if we don’t treat ourselves as if we deserve these things, it’s hard for others to see that actions like those are important.

    So what do you deserve? That’s up to you. I can only answer with what I have come to believe I deserve.

    I deserve to be happy. Much of that is in my control, but just knowing that I deserve it has helped me be happier. And being treated kindly and respectfully starts with how I treat myself.

    I deserve to rest and take breaks. That’s why I go to Cape Cod every now and then for a few days. I’m not yet at the place where I can say I deserve a really long vacation, but I’m working toward that “deserve.”

    I’m no longer embarrassed to admit I deserve these things, too: I deserve to live in a safe place. I deserve to love and be loved. I deserve the right to dream again. Yes, I do. Dreams are not just for twenty-somethings. Dreams are for all of us at any age.

    I deserve to grieve in the manner that works for me. If that’s longer than others would like, so be it. I deserve to have people around me who tell me the truth, lift me up, want the best for me. I deserve to take time for myself. If that’s to read, take a nap, go out to lunch with friends, that’s fine.

    I deserve to laugh as much as I want.

    I deserve to not know. That’s right. Until I know, I deserve to be unsure or uncertain of how I feel about something or someone. It’s okay. I deserve to express my opinions, and I don’t deserve (nor, by the way, does anyone else) to be attacked for what I said, for who I am, for what I believe. I deserve the right to change my beliefs once I’ve seen they hurt me or hold me down, or when I discover a better way.

    The list goes on, and it can also grow and change. In fact, I expect it to. I hope it will. I deserve that.

    I write all this in the hope that you will think about what you deserve. I hope you will allow space in your life and your mind to have this conversation with yourself way earlier than I had mine. It’s not selfish or arrogant. It’s a way to be kind and loving to yourself.

    This thing called life is a magical journey. I find it doesn’t always make sense. It’s filled with uncertainty, joy, struggle, surprises, disappointments, and rewards. It isn’t always fair or clean and neat. You deserve to design it the way it works for you and then redesign it if you want to.

    That’s what I’ve come to expect. That’s what I’ve learned I deserve.

    Now go have a great day. You deserve it!

    —

    From I’VE BEEN THINKING… by Maria Shriver Reprinted by arrangement with Pamela Dorman Books / Viking, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC. Copyright © 2018 by Maria Shriver

  • Walking Through Fire: Change Can Be Scary, But It’s Worth It

    Walking Through Fire: Change Can Be Scary, But It’s Worth It

    “What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.” ~Charles Bukowski

    I used to be scared to walk through the fire.

    I was scared to do deeply unsettling, terrifying, hard things.

    I was scared to face my biggest fears and struggles head on.

    And for the greater part of my twenties, I did everything I could to avoid the heat.

    In particular, there was one fire that scared me to my core.

    As I graduated college, I was the happiest I’d ever been: I’d met my very best friends, traveled to small, colonial Mexican towns, studied meaningful subjects, and earned top grades. I was a natural student—alive and excited as I learned new languages, read interesting books, and idolized my professors. I was energetic, excited, and passionate; I’d created purpose—layers and layers of purpose—in every part of my college experience.

    Naturally, I was scared to death to graduate.

    Would I feel this fulfilled ever again? Would I be able to learn like this, so unabashedly, so completely, so happily, ever again? Would I meet remarkable people like this ever again?

    I’d finally gotten everything figured out—purpose, happiness, friendships—and I had to start all over again. Start a new life.

    As we were packing up, getting ready to leave, a friend’s words stuck with me: “This has been the most amazing four years. But don’t worry, we’ll find this again. The best is yet to come.”

    My heart sank. I didn’t believe him.

    With a heart full of dread, a mind full of doubt, and no clear path ahead, I graduated from college. I had to. But I vowed that I would always be my vibrant, college self—that the “real world” would never change me. That I would never grow up to be boring and dull. That I would avoid the pain of moving on for as long as possible.

    That next chapter of my life—becoming an adult, diving into a job, paving a career path, making new friends, moving out, settling down, becoming more responsible—was a big, blazing, hissing fire, probably the biggest I’d ever seen. God, it looked so scary.

    Instead of walking through that scary fire, instead of moving forward, I did nothing. I stayed exactly where I was, pain-free.

    I went back to my old college campus almost every weekend. I drove to different cities all over the east coast to visit my college friends. I half-assed a few corporate jobs. I partied heavily and frequently, like a college student on a never-ending spring break. I spent all my money like I had no future. I lived at my parents’ house, with no plans of moving out or moving on.

    As my friends were settling down and changing, walking through their own fires, I called them “lame” and “boring.” “At least I’m still my fun, college self,” I thought. I was the same old me and always would be—the life of the party.

    But that fire never stopped blazing in front of me. It was always waiting for me, taunting me, daring me to walk through it. “Turn the page.” “Grow.” “Be someone different.”

    As the years passed, six of them in a row, I was too afraid to even look at the fire. Even though it was getting harder and harder to ignore, I just couldn’t imagine how painful it would be to walk through it. To change, to grow.

    So I turned away from it. Instead, I drank a lot. I ate even more. I settled into dangerous routines—partying every weekend, sleeping a few hours, and eating takeout every night.

    I was waking up in the middle of the night, panting and gasping for air. I started to lose interest in all of my TV shows, my job, my social events, my health, and my family. I was living in a messy house with clothes everywhere. I was gaining weight uncontrollably—almost sixty pounds in a few years. I was at the doctor almost every week with sinus and coughing problems. I had no money, no credit, no motivation. Honestly, I was exhausted. Every day, I’d ask myself, “Is this it? Is this all there is to life?”

    The fire continued to burn more brightly than it ever had. But, for the first time, I wasn’t so afraid to look at it, to examine it more closely. Huh. That was weird, it didn’t look as scary as it used to.

    “Could I survive walking through it?” I wondered. I could almost hear it tell me, “You’re already in pain. Walking through the fire can’t be any worse than this.”

    So I had two choices: continue being the woman who clung to her college glory, her outgrown, empty life, or be the one who walked through the fire.

    So I did it. I finally walked in.

    And it wasn’t easy. As expected, it was painful as all hell.

    I started saving every penny. I quit my nine-to-five job—the one that had financed my drinking and partying—to take a trip to South America, where I was forced to sit with my scary thoughts.

    I said no to all of my social obligations—all of the weddings, the happy hours, the club hopping, the after parties—and wondered if my friends hated me.

    I started cooking at home, and my cooking was terrible.

    I dusted off my laptop and worked from home, doing data entry projects and transcription jobs, even though I desperately wanted to nap.

    I started a savings account when all I wanted to do was splurge at a restaurant and have a few beers.

    I went to bed early, even though I dreaded nighttime. I meditated. I cried. I scrubbed my house, from top to bottom, for hours at a time. I took long, soul-searching walks. I wrote in a journal with furious intensity. I had heart-to-hearts with my sister that ended with both of us in even more tears.

    Yeah, it was painful. The fire was changing and transforming me, just like I knew it would.

    But then, the pain started to subside.

    Glennon Doyle, my favorite writer, talks about walking through fires like this one. In the Big Magic podcast, she says that she actually runs toward fires, because they will (1) either warm you to your very core or (2) burn you up, creating a new, better person that walks out the other side.

    My fire did both.

    After the pain, I started to feel, well…warm. Like when I ate my first successful meal—my homemade meat sauce—and sat in a clean room for the first time in forever. When I hugged my journal after I wrote “I love me” in it. When I meditated with a world-renowned, enlightened guru. When I sat in front of beautiful fountains, lost in thought, in a Chilean park. When I snuggled up in my PJs, on a Saturday night, and watched the Disney Channel.

    At the same time, my fire burned me the hell up. It did. The old me, the one that I had preserved for years, was gone. I wasn’t the same people-pleaser anymore. I wasn’t the “partier” anymore. I wasn’t the tired, exhausted, sad girl anymore.

    In her place was a stronger woman—someone more spiritual, direct, and in tune with her feelings.

    I became a better friend, because setting boundaries had actually made me more loving, patient, and understanding with others.

    I became creative—a painter, a writer, and a planner.

    I became a goal-setter, and someone who could actually accomplish those goals.

    I became a person who will never run away from her fires again, because they’re life-changing and worth it, every time.

    So this is what I say to you.

    Run toward your fire. Don’t look back.

    Yes, the flames will hurt. But the most beautiful moments in life are not easy. They’re painful. They’re challenging.

    The pain of growth is better than numbness.

    You deserve to grow. You’re meant to grow.

    Let that fire warm you up, or change you, or both.

    The more fires you run toward, the warmer, stronger, and more loving you will become. You can do this.

    To walking into the fire! Onward!

  • Don’t Forget to Appreciate How Far You’ve Come

    Don’t Forget to Appreciate How Far You’ve Come

    “Remember how far you’ve come, not how far you have to go. You are not where you want to be, but neither are you where you used to be.” ~Rick Warren

    We’re always talking about how we should live in the now and “be present.” We shame ourselves for looking back at the past or into the future, thinking that we shouldn’t look too far ahead or worry about what’s to come, and we shouldn’t get too caught up in events that have already happened. We want to be focused on being the best person we can be right now.

    We often forget, though, that it’s possible to look at our past with love, not ruminating in it but appreciating it. We’re often so focused on living in the present that we forget to be mindful of where we’ve been and how far we’ve come.

    You could say that I’m a bit of a productivity addict. I love doing things that are beneficial to me in some way. I love the feeling of doing something positive or productive for myself, whether it’s squeezing in that extra thirty-minute yoga practice or ten-minute meditation, or listening to podcasts or reading the news instead of watching TV. I get so caught up with being a “better version of me” that I forget to appreciate my current version.

    Last week when I was walking to work, listening to lines to practice for an audition, I felt this sense of pride.

    I had always wanted to be an actress growing up. It was my dream to be able to transform into a different character and tell a story through film or television. I wasn’t where I wanted to be in my career, but how cool was it that I was actually doing it? I was going to auditions and training with teachers and acting—something that I had dreamed of since I was a kid.

    This realization then snowballed into this moment where I looked at my life and said to myself, “Wow, I’ve done all these things and I’m living a life I’ve always wanted.”

    I began to list in my mind the things I have accomplished: I moved away from my home city, a place I hated; I’ve traveled to many different countries and even seen the pyramids; I went back to school and pursued a career in the arts; I continue to work toward making my childhood dreams come true…

    I realized that I sometimes get so caught up with my big dreams, like being a published author or working actress that I forget to recognize all the little dreams I’ve made come true!

    Even writing this I feel a bit embarrassed. A lot of the times it can feel like we’re bragging or that we don’t have a right to be proud of the things we’ve done. Maybe we have this feeling that we shouldn’t be proud of the things we’ve accomplished because we aren’t where we want to be.

    But for a daughter of a single mother who moved to Canada as a Vietnamese refugee, I’ve come far, and it’s important to recognize that.

    I recently said this out loud to my therapist, but it was different from how it felt in my mind. I had said it to myself with pride, but it didn’t really settle in how big that feeling was, to recognize my own journey and how far I’ve come.

    When I said to my therapist, I was also speaking it to my deeper self. I felt it in my soul.

    I said it to my younger self—the preteen, bullied girl who rode the train back and forth to avoid school. I said it to my early twenties, addicted self, and I said it to my current self: look at the things you’ve made happen.

    When we speak to our deeper selves and feel this connection with our past, this recognition of our journey, it can be groundbreaking. I had never felt that proud of myself, or that impressed with myself before. I cried and felt this amazing gratitude for my life, my own resilience, and most of all, myself.

    And again, it can feel so weird to go there, to try to find something to be proud of or to just be proud of where we are. So, how about we do that check-in with ourselves?

    How about we look at the past to appreciate it? How about we appreciate our own journeys? Our own resilience? How about we look at the places we’ve been, the relationships we’ve formed, the things we’ve achieved, not with regret or the longing of “if only” or “what ifs” or “I wish I was still there,” but “Wow, I did that? That’s where I used to be? That’s pretty cool.”

    We can get so caught up looking at where we should be, where we aren’t, and where others are in comparison that we forget to appreciate where we’ve been and where we’ve come from.

    This was the first time it really hit me how big this is, and how important it is to celebrate my progress. I felt like I had a true sense of perspective on life as a whole, from the triumphs to the failures, from obstacles to mistakes to perfect coincidences.

    It’s amazing that we’re all living and growing, trying to be the best we can be and moving forward every day. It’s a beautiful thing to be mindful of the present, but don’t forget to honor yourself, your past, and how far you’ve come. Odds are, it’s further than you think.

  • The Little Things in Life Are the Ones That Matter Most

    The Little Things in Life Are the Ones That Matter Most

    “It isn’t the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out; it’s the pebble in your shoe.” ~Muhammad Ali

    I followed a little boy in Walmart today. He didn’t look like my son and yet I trailed him and his mother all over the store. I curled my fingers around the shopping cart so I wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and touch him.

    He didn’t walk with Brendan’s bounce or jerk his head back, trying to slide his glasses back onto his nose. He didn’t have his sarcastic smile or those tiny freckles scattered across his cheeks.

    But he had the same cowlick sprouting from the back of his head. I wheeled my cart around and followed this little boy who looked nothing like my son. I itched to brush this boy’s hair, just like I did before Brendan grew too old and wiggled away.

    I used to smooth his spikes down and then laugh when they sprang back up, no matter how much gel I used. By the time he became a teenager, he gave up trying to tame them and left it messy and wild.

    And now, I’ll never get a chance to touch his hair again. My son died in an accident a week before his first day of high school.

    I followed this little boy through the aisles, zigzagging across the store. He spent a long time debating which Lego set to buy. I knew the perfect one, the Star Wars battleship, but I said nothing.

    A few minutes later, he and his mother walked out of the store while I stood there, that hollow feeling gnawing me from the inside. I’d learned to steel myself when I saw Brendan’s friends at the high school or celebrated his cousin’s sixteenth birthday, but I didn’t expect something so small as a wisp of hair to make me stumble.

    That boy’s hair was my pebble.

    You’re never sure what tiny thing will make you stumble. A few months after Brendan died, my husband went to a funeral. It was for his friend’s grandmother, a sad passing, but not tragic like losing a fifteen year old son.

    We both feared it would be too much for him. He prepared himself to see the coffin, to hear the sobs, to smell the roses and carnations in the room.

    “None of that bothered me,” he told me later. “I was fine. But then I went into the bathroom.”

    He stopped and shook his head. “I dried my hands on the air dryer and all I could see was that first time Brendan used one of them. I think he was four and he loved it. Again, he said, over and over. He kept washing his hands just so he could dry them again.”

    It wasn’t the tears of the mourners or the wooden casket covered in flowers that made him break down. It was the memory of Brendan laughing while watching the skin on his hand bubble and dance. Michael had steeled himself against the mountain, but it was the pebble that brought him down.

    A tiny pebble will forever make us stumble.

    And yet, it’s that same pebble that fills us with the sound of Brendan’s laughter. There will be days when I follow a little boy and his hair, limping in pain. But there will also be days when I’ll smile, my fingers warm with the memory of smoothing down Brendan’s wild and messy hair.

    Life is made up of these moments. Joy and heartache are woven into a tapestry of love. There are day when I want to pull on the threads of pain, but I know I risk unraveling it all.

    After Brendan’s accident, icy shock seeped inside me and froze my memories. I couldn’t remember his favorite foods or the nickname he called our dog. I couldn’t even say what we’d had for dinner on our last night together.

    But my daughter Lizzie remembered the special nachos he’d made after dinner that night. “He called them victory nachos,” she said and I smiled, picturing him slicing salami into perfect strips. He’d sprinkled them on top and dove into the pile, eating only one chip at a time.

    And Zack remembered the way he and his brother would lie on their backs on the trampoline, waiting until the sky grew dark. They’d search for the first star to twinkle in the sky and then close their eyes and wish that pigs could fly.

    We shared our memories in a notebook we left on the kitchen counter. The pages filled up, but not with big highlights like our vacation to Disney World. We wrote about the ordinary moments that are so easy to take for granted.

    Like the marathon Monopoly games in our basement and how Brendan always tried to get Park Avenue, even if he bankrupted himself. And the hours Brendan and Michael spent sitting by the firepit they’d built out of bricks. Or the coupon he made me when he was fourteen, inviting me on a bookstore date.

    I still have the slip of paper with his messy words scrawled on it, but what I cherish more is the memory of him hovering by my side, his eyes watching mine as I read his invitation. He’d seen me cry that morning and was desperate to make me smile again.

    This is how love endures. We gather tiny moments and string them together, like beads in a never-ending necklace. And yet, it took the loss of my son to make me realize the little things in life are the ones that matter the most.

    Our family life was a whirlwind of track meets and baseball practice and business meetings. In the chaos, it was far too easy to let those moments slip away. We carved out time for big vacations, but forgot to treasure the tickle fights late at night.

    Don’t wait for a loss to make you realize what you’re missing right now. Push away the distractions that will always be there and hold onto your loved ones and the everyday memories you make together.

    I still keep a notebook on my counter. I write down the piano song Zack played on my birthday or the way my daughter giggles when I touch her knee.

    And I pick up pebbles on my walks. I slip them into my pocket, its gentle weight a reminder to cherish the smallest moments in life.

  • You Aren’t Stuck in Life: Commit to Change and Get Started

    You Aren’t Stuck in Life: Commit to Change and Get Started

    “The secret of getting ahead is getting started.” ~Mark Twain

    We all have big dreams, big goals, and big ideas on what we think our life should look like, or how we think life will end up.

    Some of us meticulously plan out our lives, envisioning and letting ourselves daydream as we think about all the stuff we’d love to accomplish. I’d wager that our plans include some pretty big things in life that would make us feel pretty proud.

    The problem is, a lot of us have trouble reaching the potential we’ve set for ourselves. Time kind of flies by, and we end up looking back and wondering what went wrong.

    Well, one reason stands out like a sore thumb: We never really get started doing the things we truly want to do. We’re all guilty of it, and that includes me.

    I’ve cooked up dozens (literally dozens) of ideas or things I wanted to try over the years. How many did I actually try? Far less than dozens; let’s just say the ratio isn’t exactly working in my favor.

    Now, as time has gone by, I’ve been able to explore more of them. But as you know, some of them got shelved for good. I probably don’t even remember half of the things I wanted to try and never did.

    Why did I not try? What was the reasoning behind it? Why did I lack the forward motion necessary to at least attempt something and see if it sticks? I, like you, are fully aware that not everything we do will end up being a calling in life. But you won’t know until you give it a shot.

    To help you better understand this idea pertaining to a lack of motion, one must take a step back and realize that life, in a very big nutshell, is a series of decisions and actions. These two components are crucial for our self-growth and success in life and unfortunately are not mutually exclusive.

    Without making a decision and following it up with action, we could spend our entire lives stuck in the exact same place.

    If you make a decision but don’t take any action, not much will happen. On the other hand, if you take a bunch of actions without any decisions driving them, you’ll aimlessly float around.

    Being stuck in the same place or floating around aimlessly sounds torturous, doesn’t it? It is, and a lot of people must be living real-life nightmares. I had to wake up from my own years ago.

    Good or bad, where you are in life at this very moment is a reflection of all the past choices you’ve made. Some of us will read that and smile, maybe even give ourselves a little nod of appreciation if it’s good. On the other hand, a fair number of us will probably have a hard time digesting it.

    If you aren’t quite where you thought you’d be, I’d like to start by just saying that it’s perfectly okay. Most of us aren’t really where we thought we’d be, and we’re still giving it our best shot.

    There are generally two reasons you aren’t at your “ideal” place. A small chance is that life gave you an obstacle course with things completely out of your control; in other words, life got in the way temporarily. But there’s a bigger possibility you aren’t where you thought you’d be: you just flat out didn’t pursue something. And it was likely out of fear.

    In other words, you didn’t really ever get started.

    The Good And The Bad News

    Let’s start with the bad news: You never got started, and now you’ve wasted some valuable time moving toward your goals. Your life isn’t really playing out like you thought it would, and you feel somewhat stuck with your current habits, lifestyle, relationships, career, and other things.

    Pause for a moment and take a deep breath, as this might have hit closer to home than you’d prefer.

    Good, you’re still with me.

    Now let’s transition to the good news, because it’s actually really good:

    You’re never stuck, and while the best time to start something was yesterday, the next best time is now.

    You, yes you, have the ability to create the life you want, but it requires you to make moves. And while you may have fallen short previously, it doesn’t mean you will fall short going forward.

    Here’s the bottom line: your past does not dictate your future. Your past habits and lifestyle do not have to determine your lot in life.

    The Idea Behind Starting

    You’ve probably heard the quote “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Well, it sure is true. Because really, is anything built in a day?

    Was your house fully built on top of a piece of land in a day? Was that skyscraper completely erected in a day? Did you apply for, interview, and start working at your job in the span of twenty-four hours?

    Things take time to build. Let’s say you’ve been wanting to switch careers because your soul has been sucked completely dry. You planted the career switching seed a while ago, and you’ve been letting it marinate for far too long.

    Yet you haven’t made any moves, and in the meantime, nothing has changed. Does this sound familiar? I found myself in this exact position years ago. I was miserable at a job I didn’t enjoy. I wanted to change, but I got scared of the unknown and didn’t make any changes.

    Years passed by before I got a kick in the pants and decided to take a change. It took getting laid off, but it was the best thing that happened to me. I decided enough was enough. It was time to ultimately change my entire career, and also start exploring other smaller avenues on the side.

    But unfortunately, I didn’t really know the one thing I needed to do professionally in order to be more fulfilled. I knew what I didn’t want to do (hello old career), but I also didn’t know what I wanted to do.

    I began formulating. Writing goals. Crafting some business plans. Attending meetups and networking around areas I found interesting. It was through this meetup that I came across a three-month program being offered in a particular field that I had once tinkered with in high school, but walked away from.

    And voila, I am now in my new career. You can put the pieces together, but I took a leap and joined the program. Fear and all. I was scared, but now I am in a field that is 180 degrees from my previous one. And all it took was attending a meetup. Funny how life works.

    Self-doubt and fear are the two biggest barriers in our quest to make moves. A third, and less talked about one, is pure overwhelm: seeing where you are and looking where you want to go leaves you exasperated.

    This is where movement comes into play. You take steps, however small, toward your visions and goals. You make sure you’re moving forward.

    And here’s the cool thing: The force that you apply, in other words the actions you take, can be extremely small and still produce positive results. This is the idea of micro-movement.

    What does this mean? If you’re scared to make a move because you’re overwhelmed by the end result of where you think you need to go, it’s really important to realize one big thing: your collection of small steps equals big results.

    No one takes a leap of faith and accomplishes life’s biggest goals in the same breath. Life rewards those who take consistent, measurable action, while enjoying a dose of patience and commitment.

    Putting All The Pieces Together

    Most people have an idea of some higher-level goals they’d love to accomplish in their lives. Be it personal, health, finances, career, relationships, or all five, every single one of us has fallen victim to overwhelm and the paralyzing nature of fear.

    But a few things are happening in your favor.

    Namely, the universe is here to aid you in your dreams and desires if you let it.

    It just requires a few things:

    • A decision made internally to change
    • A desire to take the steps required
    • A realization that micro-movements forward are perfectly normal
    • Actually making moves
    • A dose of patience and commitment

    Then, the laws of motion will help you take care of the rest because you’ll have built movement and momentum.

    You aren’t stuck in life. You are capable of making a lot of power moves.

    The key is just getting started.

  • Where My Social Awkwardness Came From and How I’m Getting Past It

    Where My Social Awkwardness Came From and How I’m Getting Past It

    “We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known…” – Brene Brown

    I’ve recently become increasingly aware of my social awkwardness. In fact, my awareness of it sharpened quite suddenly one day as I was innocently talking to a colleague about work-related matters. When I managed to provide a possible solution to her dilemma, she was full of praise for me.

    To make matters worse, she looked me in the eye and told me, “You’re simply wonderful!” Then she remembered a previous comment I’d made about feeling that I did not quite fit in to my workplace, and she added, “I just want to let you know that we all value you in our team. We love you.”

    The effect on me was immediate. I went into a panicky and self-conscious flap and fired back with one self-deprecation after another to deflect such exposing attention on me. I could tell that my colleague looked surprised at my reaction, so I managed to stammer out my thanks.

    At another time, I was speaking to another colleague about a project I was doing when he suddenly revealed that his marriage was struggling. Again, I had the same cold, panicked feeling, only it was much more intense than the first encounter. I think I froze then.

    These encounters brought up other memories in my personal and professional life where I had a similar felt sense of cold panic that foreshadowed a socially awkward interaction. Now that I was doing an actual tally of how many times I’d felt this social awkwardness, I was aghast at how frequently these occurred for me.

    So why was I beset by it? Surely I was not born with it. My young niece and nephew are testament to that, as they lack any social awkwardness or self-consciousness whatsoever. Or as my brother observed, “Look at them! They’re shameless!”

    Could this mean that I picked up my social awkwardness (and self-consciousness) somewhere along the way? If that were true, then I have hope of becoming more comfortable in my own skin, because it is not hardwired into me. I might even someday achieve shamelessness.

    Getting Under My Own Skin

    I’ve since set out to learn more about my social awkwardness because I sensed deeply that merely plastering it over with manufactured shamelessness would not work. Shamelessness had to come naturally, and I sensed that social awkwardness was in its way.

    I started by exploring how my body carried (and still carries) social awkwardness and self-consciousness. Looking back, I see that my responses to people happened like a bodily reflex, without conscious thought. So I looked out for those times when I was interacting with people that brought up the bodily reflex.

    This is what I discovered over time: The body-feeling of my social awkwardness had layers. In my journal I described it as a cold panic on the surface with a slippery feeling underneath.  It feels like a melon seed, hard to grasp. Why slippery? The words “I slip away” fit this feeling. Why was there a necessity for me to slip away?

    Yes, because I was overwhelmed by the sheer raw and undisguised nature of these personal encounters. Social awkwardness is, at heart, the fear of being vulnerable in the face of unmasked intimacy.

    When my colleague praised me, it brought me into focus, without my masks or facades or roles. When my other colleague talked about his marriage, it brought his humanity into focus. It also put me in a place where I had to be purely me, uncovered, to meet his humanity.

    All this was way too intense for me, and I didn’t know how to respond to it. What would have happened if I showed myself fully to the other person and it was shameful? What if the other person became too needy?

    These encounters are not in themselves overwhelming. Rather I am the one being overwhelmed. I feel that I do not have what it takes to be exposed, like I am paper-thin and will burn out in the intense heat of the raw human connection. It is a child-like feeling, like something very young in me has to handle the serious adult-ness of these kinds of connections.

    As I focus on this feeling, memories connect. Some of them include the intense and dramatic fights I used to have with my family, and also the nerve-wreaking shouting matches I witnessed among them. Thinking about these episodes even now makes me feel kind of repulsed. The unbridled emotions and the ugly way they are expressed make me recoil.

    More so, when I recall myself being emotional, I feel repulsed with myself—more embarrassment and shame. I remember further that for the most part in my younger years, my clumsy attempts to express my strong feelings, or to express myself in general, were usually disregarded at best or met with scorn at worst.

    There was a big pervasive sense that these feelings and being “true to oneself” was a bad thing, whether applied to myself or others. No wonder I closed myself off and slipped away.

    And straight on the heels of this notion comes a question: What happens if I show myself and my feelings to someone who responds in the exact opposite way? Someone who would welcome my feelings instead of rejecting them? Take them seriously without making a big deal out of them? Would I become more comfortable in opening myself up?

    The possibility of this fills me with excitement, although there is also a sense of caution. It says, “Not now, not yet, it’s too much to risk.” I leave it because, for now, this knowledge is enough in itself.

    Strangely enough, making these discoveries brought about a series of small releases within me. It was as if I had made a real-time connection to the truth behind my social awkwardness and self-consciousness, and the connection alone allowed these feelings to loosen a little. I felt like I’d opened up a tiny bit more.

    What I’ve Learned So Far

    I have only begun what I sense to be a fairly long journey of self-discovery, and I would be lying to say that I am now happily shameless. However, I feel empowered by what I’ve learned about the process of self-discovery. I also feel hopeful that I could one day become shameless, because I can find out what I need to get there.

    I’ve found that if I interact in a curious way with the real-time feeling of social awkwardness, I can learn fresh information from it. It is the quality of interaction with my feeling, one coming from a position of not-knowing and wanting to discover more, that allows the feeling to change. From its not-knowing stance, the discovery process is pretty scientific.

    In fact, I find that this kind of interaction is identical to times when we meet someone new and we interact with them to find out more about them. We are trying in these cases to get underneath the initial encounter with this person, to learn about who they are inside. Just watch children. They do it all the time.

    I also feel that these kinds of internal interactions are very crucial in those of us laboring with social awkwardness and self-consciousness. After all, these feelings happen in the context of human interactions, and I believe that the very first of these human interactions is with ourselves. When we are able to be open to ourselves (which is a less risky option than being open with others), we regain the capacity to open up with others.

    Try This Out—Interacting with Yourself

    If you too have always felt a visceral barrier between yourself and others, and even with your own true feelings, try having these kinds of interactions with the feeling parts of yourself. In this case, it is the parts of yourself that feel socially awkward.

    Take a moment to sense how they feel in your body. Then start interacting with them with the attitude of “I wonder what I can discover at this moment.”

    I’ve found that it helps to address these feeling parts as “you,” although this is more a matter of personal style. I’ve also found that it helps to be welcoming of all notions, no matter how illogical they might seem. After all, feelings do not need to be logical to make sense.

    Here is a list of useful guiding questions you can ask your socially awkward feeling part:

    • What do you feel like? How can I describe you?
    • What are you connected to? (Gather as many connections as you can.)
    • When else have I felt you? What is it about these situations that bring you up?
    • What more can I learn from and about you?
    • What would make a difference for you?

    Take your time, revisit this feeling part often, and learn as much as you can from it. It will start to soften and change then.

    Happy self-discovery!

  • How I’ve Learned to Fully Appreciate the Little Time I Have on Earth

    How I’ve Learned to Fully Appreciate the Little Time I Have on Earth

    “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” ~Norman Cousins

    Recently, my grandfather passed away. His departure was difficult for me but it has also left me with something I’ll keep for the rest of my life—an unlikely lesson about life and gratitude.

    I hadn’t seen my grandfather often before he died because I’ve been living abroad for the last couple of years. But I was still fond of him and I warmly remembered the days we had spent together when I was young. So his passing was a shock and a tragedy for me. I felt the grief of losing someone close for the first time.

    Yet, amid all the pain, some other feeling started to come up: a sense of gratitude. I began to feel grateful that I got the chance to say goodbye to him in person. I felt grateful for having known him and having shared so many good moments with him. And I felt grateful that he was able to live his life and even die the way he wanted.

    At first I couldn’t figure out what to make of this weird mix of feelings. I did feel sadness and grief, no doubt. But how could I also experience gratitude? How was I supposed to react? Was it okay for me to feel gratitude or should I only feel sadness?

    It took me a little while to give myself permission to just feel the way I felt. And then I realized that I could take this as a parting gift from him. I began to experience, firsthand, that even in the midst of tragedy, there is still hope. And there are things that I could still be grateful for.

    Gradually, all those good things that are so easily overlooked became more obvious. The people we love, those daily moments of joy that we let go by unnoticed, the little things that make life easier. I began to appreciate all those things as I turned my attention to what I already had instead of what I thought I needed to become happier.

    For my own sake and for the sake of my grandfather, I decided to keep this gratefulness alive and nurture it. Here are the four steps that I’ve been taking since.

    1. Starting the day with gratitude

    At first, the feeling of grief kept reminding me of my desire to be grateful. As long as my grief was fresh, it was easy to stick to this new intention. But I knew I needed something to keep me going when those strong feelings eventually subside.

    That’s why I began to form a daily gratitude routine. It’s the simplest gratitude exercise imaginable and based on an idea that originally came from a positive psychology intervention (a scientifically validated exercise to increase one’s happiness) named three good things.

    Every morning before starting my work, I now write down three things I’m grateful for. I usually think of someone or something that makes my life better until a feeling of gratitude arises. And I stay with this feeling for a little while, maybe a minute or two.

    At times, it can be hard to connect with this feeling. That’s when I use a little trick that psychologists call mental subtraction. That means I’m not simply thinking about what is good in my life but I’m deliberately imagining it wasn’t there. This makes it much easier to feel grateful.

    When we think about how great it is to be able to walk, it can be hard to appreciate. On the other hand, when we think of how much worse life would be if we were paralyzed, it’s easier to experience a sense of gratefulness.

    I’m not suggesting we compare ourselves to people who have it worse than us. I don’t think gratitude is the appropriate response to other people’s misery. I’m simply saying that if we imagine our own life without something, we can help our brain see and appreciate it more.

    2. Enjoying the present

    A blow like the death of a loved one often makes people reflect on their lives. This was also true for me. I couldn’t help but notice how many of my life’s moments I have wasted.

    There were so many evenings I spent alone instead of calling a friend to grab dinner. So many conversations when I didn’t listen properly in order to get to what I wanted to say. And so many unused opportunities to say I love you to my family.

    But the past is gone, what’s left is to enjoy this very moment. Right now, I am grateful. I’m not in pain and I’m safe, I have enough to eat and a roof over my head. And I don’t have to fear any of this will be taken away from me any time soon. So this moment really offers everything to be enjoyed. It’s a fact that’s true for most moments.

    Of course, being fully present for every moment is an impossible ideal (unless you’re an enlightened person, I guess). But aspiring toward more presence is something that we all can do.

    To help me bring more awareness to my moments, I started to use an app that rings a mindfulness bell once every hour. It serves as a reminder to pause for a few seconds and simply enjoy life as it is. Every time the bell rings is an opportunity to be present.

    3. Saying thank you

    Not just moments of joy go by unnoticed; so do opportunities to say thank you. We overlook the kindness of the people closest to us because we take it for granted. Yet there are so many small acts of kindness that we could be grateful for.

    In my case, it had never occurred to me to express my gratitude toward my grandfather. In fact, I haven’t really felt much gratitude toward him at all, because I never truly thought about all the sacrifices he’d made to provide for his children and grandchildren. It only dawned on me recently as I’ve thought (and read) about his life.

    It’s likely that all of us have a person like this in our lives, or several people who have influenced our lives in a positive way who we’ve never properly thanked. There’s another positive psychology intervention that aims to remedy this situation. It’s writing a gratitude letter.

    The exercise goes like this: You think of a person who’s had a positive impact in your life and then write a letter that tells them what they did and how it has affected you for the better. The letter can take any form, but the basic idea is to write as if you’d deliver it at the end.

    Even though we don’t necessarily need science to tell us whether or not we’re happier after writing a gratitude letter, it’s good to know that research shows that this is one of the most powerful happiness exercises out there. I have to admit that I haven’t yet written a gratitude letter myself. But it’s next on my list. I don’t want to miss another opportunity to say thank you to the people I love.

    4. Savoring good memories

    There’s one more ingredient for gratefulness and it is hidden in our past. It’s those wonderful memories of joy and love that we carry around with us. Some of those memories might even seem forgotten, but that’s exactly why it’s so important to bring them back to life.

    Looking through old photo albums and reminiscing with childhood friends about growing up are great ways to do that. Similarly, I’m glad that I’ve heard so many stories about my grandfather. They provide something to remember him by, and they’ve brought me closer to him and the rest of my family. Besides, it’s comforting to be able to keep him alive in my memories.

    I now keep a picture of him at my desk, and he’s smiling back at me as I’m writing this post. And occasionally, when I feel bad, I remember those long gone days together—driving around in his car, walking in the woods, visiting his friends. Because sometimes, especially when life is difficult,  it can seem that all we have left are some good memories of the past.

    —

    I believe doing these four things regularly helps us appreciate how precious our little time on earth is. Of course, gratitude doesn’t inoculate us against feeling bad at all times, and it sure as hell doesn’t take away the grief. But it can be a powerful practice to help us live life fully while we have the chance—and to keep those alive who we have lost.

  • Forget What Other People Expect and Do What’s Right for You

    Forget What Other People Expect and Do What’s Right for You

    “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.“ – Steve Jobs

    When we come to this world, we know nothing. We are all products of the societies that raised us and shaped our belief system with things labeled good or bad, right or wrong, normal or abnormal.

    I was raised in an Eastern European culture that led me to believe every single woman on Earth must tick off certain boxes.

    During the time I was single, especially once I turned thirty, many people started to wonder “what was wrong with me” and why I couldn’t find that illusionary person that was supposed to be “The One.” The prince on the white horse who was supposed to make me forever happy. I was perceived as smart, healthy, funny, and beautiful, so “why I was single?”

    I used to think about my biological clock ticking, and the societal pressure to marry felt high, as if a woman without a romantic partner were unlovable, miserable by default, or incomplete.

    I think asking single people when they are getting married is rude and unfair. No one asks married people when they are getting divorced.

    I met my husband four years ago, many years after I was expected to marry. At the time, we were two Romanians living and working in Asia, within the same company but in two different countries. I was in China; he was in South Korea.

    Our relationship started as a beautiful, genuine friendship. After three dinners in Shanghai and many long telephone conversations that felt like a deep, soulful connection, he proposed. I will never forget that day. It came like thunder. Totally unexpected. Surreal. A miracle of love.

    I was thirty-five and very clear on what I wanted from a romantic relationship. My wish was to feel loved, supported, cherished, and appreciated. I wanted a partner—a lover and a friend—not to complete me, because I was already feeling whole and complete. I wanted to spend my precious time with someone I could share new life experiences with while building a solid foundation together.

    Once we got married, some people started to ask me about pregnancy plans. Some ask this question without even thinking that some women can’t conceive, or just don’t want to have children. In fact, it’s nobody’s business.

    Motherhood is not for everyone, and every woman has the right to her own choices. Having children is not a game to play; it’s the most difficult job in the world, and it has to come as a conscious decision, not an obligation or another box to tick. Some people adopt, and some don’t. Some women make amazing aunts, friends, caregivers, or mentors. There are various ways to give, nurture, and be of service.

    I know women who’ve been advised to have a second child right after delivering their first baby, as if a mother should not act “selfish” and “only think of herself.” To some people, part of being a good mom is providing the first born with brothers or sisters.

    Why so much pressure? In our lives, who makes the rules?

    Someone recently suggested that I hurry up and have a child now, as I’m still young enough to conceive. “What if you end up alone when you’re old?” they asked. “Who’s going to take care of you if you get sick?”

    But here’s what I think: I would never decide to have a child out of fear. It’s not a child’s job to complete their parent or make them happy, just as it isn’t our partners’ job. Children are meant to come to life for themselves, not to fill a void or make us feel whole and complete. Happiness is a personal responsibility, with or without children. But not everyone sees it this way.

    So many people live their precious years ticking boxes or following norms imposed on them by others, trying to fulfill other people’s requirements and expectations. I find this heartbreaking. Some do not go for their dreams because they feel afraid or guilty. They wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone, especially their dear ones.

    In reality, we can’t disappoint anyone. People disappoint themselves with the expectations they set for whom they want us to be, or what they want us to do. People with no agenda cannot get disappointed, nor can they get involved in drama. They accept and love us unconditionally, as we are.

    I wouldn’t want anyone to enter co-dependent romantic relationships with someone out of pressure.

    I wouldn’t want anyone to do a job they dislike or even hate because that’s what someone in their family wanted for them. Or more precisely, their family member wanted that for themselves.

    Descartes was right: by nature, we are all “social animals.” No matter our gender, race, age, or social status, we all have a basic human need to feel seen, heard, liked, appreciated, and loved. Most of us need to belong to particular groups or communities of like-minded people and feel socially accepted. There’s nothing wrong with that.

    The problem occurs when we are not able to satisfy some of our human desires by ourselves, using others as a source of happiness, an instrument for validation, or a means to avoid ourselves.

    I’ve been there myself in the past. I can recall many situations when I did things I didn’t really want to do to please others, like going to a movie with someone on a Sunday when my body wanted to stay home and take a good nap.

    I was a master of people pleasing and, to be honest, it wasn’t always because I wanted to make everyone happy. The truth is that I wanted people to like and approve of me. I expected them to give me the things I wasn’t giving myself: love, time, care, and attention.

    Again, being loved is a human need. However, being needy for love is something different. When we have a harmonic relationship with ourselves, we don’t need to spend time with others to fill a void in ourselves, but rather to feel a sense of connection and belonging. And we don’t need to make choices just to get their approval. We’re able to do what’s right for us, and accept that may or may not approve, and that’s okay.

    You are the sum of your choices. Do whatever feels right for you. You don’t owe anyone any explanations for the way you choose to live your precious years, and with whom. Your time is your life, and it’s never coming back.

    Spend your life with people who bring the best in you, who support you and accept you just the way you are. Relationships in which you need to pretend are toxic. If you don’t feel at ease with people, don’t try to change yourself; change the people you surround yourself with.

    Mind your own journey and sing your own song. If it sounds like something you “should” do, don’t do it. Your needs matter. Don’t let anyone else write your story. Your life is about you, and you deserve to be happy. The world doesn’t need more counterfeit people. The world needs you to be you.

  • How I Stopped Emotional Eating and Started Feeling Better About Life

    How I Stopped Emotional Eating and Started Feeling Better About Life

    “Don’t forget you’re human. It’s okay to have a meltdown, just don’t unpack and live there.” ~Unknown

    For the longest time, I wanted to lose weight. I wasn’t terribly overweight but it seemed to me that if I could just have the perfect body, life would be amazing.

    So, I threw everything but the kitchen sink at my food and exercise habits.

    Never one to settle for small wins, I pushed myself to have the perfect diet—I prepped meals at home, didn’t eat out very much, and worked out as often as I could. Yes, the kind where I would run myself ragged and feel exhausted for the next two days.

    My day until 7 p.m. would go according to plan. I’d use all of my willpower to eat right. The moment I finished work, though, life would go downhill. I would self-sabotage, stuffing myself at dinner and snacking until midnight to feel better.

    I would fall asleep feeling guilty, sick, and ashamed of what I was doing. I would berate myself for not having the self-control and the discipline—this was just a pack of cookies and I couldn’t even say no to it?

    I hated myself while I walked to the convenience store at midnight to sneakily buy another pack of chips. It seemed like I was compelled to eat against my will. My life felt out of control and there was nothing I could do about it. More than anything, it was this feeling of helplessness that really hurt.

    At the same time, I had a career in Fortune 50—by all outward means a great job at an amazing company—yet I was sad, disenchanted, and felt like I didn’t belong in my first couple of years there.

    In hindsight, I can see how I turned to food for comfort; it was why I always overate at night when I was drained out after a long day. It was the time when I needed soothing to make myself feel better, to numb the voices in my head that told me I didn’t belong, and to quieten my mind, which was always searching for answers to existentialist questions of “what is my purpose in life?”

    The more and more I ate to soothe myself, the more and more my body craved food. I felt restless if I wasn’t stuffed. Instead of stopping to deal with the pain rationally, I tried to use diet, exercise, and willpower to exert some semblance of control over my otherwise clueless life.

    Soon, I realized that I was in a deep hole and that all conventional attempts to get myself out of it weren’t working. I couldn’t go on feeling like this day in and day out, so I began to make a series of mindset and behavioral shifts to start feeling happy again.

    As a bonus, I also lost twenty pounds in six months, stopped having cravings, and finally felt in control of my life again.

    My biggest mindset shift was being compassionate with myself.

    • Where previously I judged myself harshly, now I try to do my best without criticism.
    • Where previously I would look for perfection, now I accept that I am dealing with a difficult period in my life and it’s okay to fail sometimes.
    • Where previously I would try to numb my emotions, now I accept that I can’t fix them immediately.
    • Where previously I would expect myself to overcome challenges in a jiffy, now I realize that these things take time.

    My biggest behavioral shift was noticing and facing my emotions.

    1. I began to notice and realize for the first time when I actually overate.

    For me, it was at night after work, and no degree of willpower or keeping trigger foods out of reach seemed to help. Just noticing this pattern, however, helped me anticipate what was coming so I wasn’t caught off guard. Automatically, this made me feel more in control of what was going on with my eating.

    2. I started noticing my feelings during the urge.

    What was that emotion, raw and murky, that I sub-consciously didn’t want to face? Was it tiredness or sadness? Exhaustion or a pick-me-up? Often, the reality of a purposeless existence hit me hard once I was back home and all alone. The last thing I wanted to do at that point was deal with it, so I ate to forget it instead.

    3. I honed it on what I actually wanted to feel—what was it that food would give me?

    Did I want to be warm and comforted? In control? Alert? I was always seeking comfort, so I made myself some hot tea and sipped it mindfully, feeling the tea warming my entire body. I always eventually took a deep breath at the end of it and I felt much better.

    Sometimes this relief was only temporary; I would be fine for a few hours, but by midnight I would be reaching out for food again. That’s when I realized that I also needed to face my emotions.

    4. I had to take the hard step and allow myself to feel my emotions.

    For me, it was sadness and hopelessness. I didn’t try to forget it. I didn’t try to distract myself from it. I just accepted the feeling.

    Sometimes, it would wash over me like a tide and I’d feel like crying. At other times, I felt numb and empty. All of these feelings were only natural and perfectly normal. My body and mind were just seeking some acknowledgement and I would feel a sense of relief that the knot of emotion that was so tied up inside me was finally out.

    5. On some days, allowing myself to feel my emotions was enough. On other days I had to address my feelings head on even if they made me uncomfortable.

    I asked myself why I kept feeling this way. Was I just tired and overworked? Was I unhappy at where I was in life? I kept asking myself why again and again until I found a reason that resonated with me, that wasn’t just another justification to myself. I was experiencing a quarter-life crisis, it was affecting me every day and that was okay, because now I could deal with it rationally.

    6. Lastly, I always gave myself the choice to eat at the end of this exercise.

    If I still wanted to eat, that was fine. If I didn’t, that was fine too. It was important to me that I controlled my actions, and wasn’t a victim to my feelings.

    —

    In hindsight, I realize that at the end of the day, it’s not our conscious habits or behaviors that determine our happiness. It’s our unconscious desires, fears, and emotions that go unaddressed that eat us up from within, literally in this case.

    If you want to stop emotional eating, recognize that it started as a symptom of something much larger—perhaps dissatisfaction with your career, finances, or relationships—something you didn’t want to face head on.

    As the eating habit evolves, it gets more and more compulsive so there is a combination of mental, behavioral, and emotional hacks that all need to work together to heal. That is why conventional dieting and fitness advice doesn’t work. That is why relying on willpower doesn’t work. It’s normal that these things don’t help, and you’re normal for feeling this way.

    Remember that how you respond to an emotion or a craving is your choice, always.

    However hopeless you may be feeling now, know that you have the power to make changes that can transform your life. You just have to start again, even if you fail sometimes—but this time, start differently. Use your emotional awareness to beat comfort eating at its own game.

  • The Lost Art of Silence: Get Quiet and You’ll Know What You Need to Do

    The Lost Art of Silence: Get Quiet and You’ll Know What You Need to Do

    “Silence isn’t empty. It’s full of answers.” ~Unknown

    Last week I was visiting the Scandinave, a Scandinavian-style bath spa, with my mom when it struck me how rare true silence has become. By true silence, I mean silence in the form of not speaking, but also silence in the form of reflection, pause, a capacity to become still, a capacity to just be and not do.

    The art of silence was lost. Even at these baths, where the goal was to disconnect and enjoy the stillness of nature, there was constant chatter among groups with voices audible across the pool. It didn’t matter that signs were posted around the area, encouraging silence:

    Honor Silence.
    Speak Quietly.
    Absolute Silence.

    As a society, we have forgotten how to become quiet, how to become still. We are always on the move, always busy, always doing. We’ve forgotten how to just be.

    This lack of silence pervades our lives. It’s in the moments filled with meaningless small talk about the weather to avoid simply sitting in silence. It’s in the moments on the subway, filling our ears with music, busying our minds with our phones, to avoid simply sitting in silence.

    As a yoga teacher and practitioner, I have seen it showing up in the form of teachers filling classes with an endless stream of cueing. I have seen it showing up during savasana, the final resting pose, which gets cut short to avoid the anxiety of watching students fidget in the uncomfortable silence.

    To me, this is a tragedy.

    Silence creates space in our lives. It allows us to pause between moments, to process and reflect, to see beyond the surface into the depths of our lives. When we cut out silence, we cheat ourselves out of the fullness that life has to offer. Only in the silence can we truly hear the whispers coming from within us, urging us towards our highest potential.

    Silence breeds deep connection, not only to ourselves but to the world around us. The energy of a silent room filled with people is almost palpable. In silence, we are all powerfully connected to our higher selves, to the universe, and to each other.

    For one moment at the spa, I felt this. Sitting in absolute silence in the sauna, silence brought a group of strangers together. We were all present, sharing the same moment, connecting with the world and not with our phones. It gave us space to turn inward, to take stock of our internal landscape, to let go of what no longer served us, and to renegotiate who and how we wanted to be in the world.

    Without silence, we keep moving forward, not really knowing where we are or where we want to go.

    I came away from that day of silence and quietude with a new awareness of what was happening in my life. In those moments of silence, I could hear my inner voice growing louder. Where it was once only a whisper, easy enough to ignore, it suddenly became deafening.

    After a day of silence, I had no other option but to face it. I went home that day and had a hard conversation. Potentially one of the hardest I’ve ever had.

    I realized that I hadn’t been honoring myself in my relationship because I had been afraid of losing something that I loved. My partner and I weren’t on the same page with what the relationship meant to us and what we wanted from it. Unintentionally, I lost pieces of myself to the relationship—by being the one to compromise, by being the one to follow, by being the one to give in. In this way, I put my relationship with myself last.

    I stopped cultivating things I loved that were separate from him in order for us to spend time together. I didn’t go out of my way to make my own plans on the weekend.

    In the silence, I heard my inner voice becoming louder and clearer. I couldn’t go on feeling this way or being this way. The silence gave me the space to hear what my heart was saying and the strength to listen. Something had to change.

    I had to stop sacrificing my own needs and desires just to please someone else. I had to start standing up for myself and making it clear that what I wanted mattered too. I had to start making my own plans and doing things just for myself, and not always waiting to see if he had other plans in mind. I needed to be me, wholeheartedly me, first.

    It was scary to have that conversation, to feel like I might lose it all, by voicing what was in my heart. I was scared of what would happen if I stopped going along with it, if I started putting myself first. But I couldn’t avoid the conversation anymore. The silence roared.

    Perhaps that is why we avoid silence—because once you hear the voice in your heart calling out, you can’t ignore it. You can’t go on denying what’s in your heart once you create the space to hear it out. And that can be scary.

    Usually the voice within wants you to do the hard thing. The voice doesn’t want you to settle. It doesn’t want you to give up. It wants you to live to your highest potential. It wants you to climb mountains. It wants you to dream big and live big. And living that way isn’t always the easy thing. It’s not always the comfortable thing.

    Leaning into silence might seem scary. It might even be painful at first because your mind and body will fight it. But I urge you not to run from the silence any longer. Embrace it. Allow it to create space in your life, because it will transform your life. Ultimately, the silence pushed me farther into the life I dream of, into a life of passion, of meaning, of giving myself my best shot.

    Here are some ways you can rediscover the lost art of silence:

    1. Start small.

    The more time you spend in silence, the more powerfully it will impact your life, but diving straight into a ten-day silent retreat might not be the best approach. In fact, it might have the opposite effect.

    Instead, slowly introduce small pockets of silence into your day-to-day life. If you drive on your daily commute, try turning off the radio. If you take public transit, take out the headphones and put away the phone. Feel this silence and notice what’s happening around you and within you.

    2. Set aside time for meditation.

    Block out a specific time in your day or week for a meditation practice. Perhaps it is first thing in the morning, or before you go to bed at night. Set a timer for five or ten minutes, sit or lie down with your eyes closed, and simply breathe. Watch your breath move in and out of your body.

    3. Use mantras.

    While at the baths, I used mantras to move into the silence. My mantra of the day was “Life flows through me with ease.”

    In the silence, I heard myself fighting against the ebbs and flows of life—holding on to expectations, worrying about how things might turn out, resisting where things were going.

    Sometimes our minds see silence as an opportunity to berate us with thoughts, thoughts about not being good enough, about missing out, about being in a hurry, about not having enough time. Our minds will be particularly active if we aren’t used to the silence. Your mind will fight the silence. A mantra can help you to quiet the mind and settle into the silence.

    4. Use movement, such as yoga.

    If our minds are particularly active and we have a hard time just sitting in silence, we can start with gentle, mindful movement to ease ourselves into it.

    If we aren’t used to sitting in silence, our bodies can get very antsy. Silence can make us anxious. By using movement, we can soothe our nervous system and our minds, making it easier to ease into a state of being.

    When I first got to the baths, I used a few neck and shoulder stretches to relax my body for stillness. This focus on the body in turn helped ease my mind into the silence.

    Embrace the lost art of silence. Your highest self will thank you.

  • Easing a Broken Heart: 5 Ways to Reframe Rejection

    Easing a Broken Heart: 5 Ways to Reframe Rejection

    “When the wrong people leave your life, the right things start to happen.” ~Zig Ziglar

    The end of a relationship triggers many grief emotions, but when a couple breaks up because one person decides that it’s over, there is a very distinct pain: the sting of rejection. It doesn’t matter whether things had been difficult for some time or if the split came out of the blue; either way, rejection feels cruel.

    At the end of my marriage eight years ago, I had no idea that the breakup was coming. On top of the shock that the relationship was suddenly over, I carried the intense and overwhelming feeling of rejection; I was no longer valued, wanted, or needed.

    Rejection can trigger feelings of shame, low self-esteem. and diminished confidence as well as helplessness and victimization. If you are left for another person (which was my experience) the intensity of rejection increases further. I experienced anger and resentment about betrayal; this makes healing feel much harder than in those cases where a decision to split is mutual.

    When I began move through my initial grief, I found that the biggest shift in moving forward came through changing how I viewed rejection. I realized that by identifying with the feeling of rejection I was telling myself that something was wrong with me; that the marriage was over because I hadn’t come up to scratch and, therefore, needed to be let go.

    Of course, this was not true but in the mind of the injured party, it was natural to feel this way. By shifting my perspective, I eventually began to realize that my husband’s decision to leave was not a reflection on me.

    It is always hugely important to acknowledge and process feelings of grief; reframing is not about burying your emotions. However, as I’ve learned from my experience, rather than simply waiting for time to be your healer, you can move through pain far sooner and more effectively by viewing your situation in a different way.

    Here are five ways I helped myself reframe the rejection.

    1. It’s not necessarily about you.

    It’s almost impossible not to take rejection personally. My ex-husband said he left because he wasn’t getting what he needed from our relationship; he needed to follow his “truth,” which no longer included me. His narrative of the breakup became about my inability to be what he needed.

    This is where shame really kicks in. Rejection tells you that you weren’t enough to keep your partner from leaving and, in some cases, you’ve been replaced with someone who can make them happy.

    But what if it’s not all you? As personal and hurtful as the rejection feels, sometimes it happens because the other person is unable to give enough or be enough of what the relationship needs. When someone is unable to love you fully, they will either reject you, or stay in the relationship and treat you badly or indifferently enough until you decide to end it.

    We are all human and it’s very rare that one person is flawless within a relationship. I felt far less rejected when I realized that my ex-husband had his own considerable struggles and issues that led him to choose to leave; it wasn’t all about me.

    2. Relationships are assignments.

    There is a spiritual school of thought that views the people in our lives as lessons. The theory goes that we meet no one by accident; we are all in relationship to further our growth and deepen our connection to ourselves and the universe/each other. Partnerships with a significant other are huge vehicles for growth, but when the learning has gone as far as it can go with one person, it must end.

    Sometimes people leave our lives naturally and comfortably, other times we face the pain of rejection. The lesson is not always obvious at first, especially through the pain of grief, but what is initially perceived as rejection can also be viewed as a release from a completed assignment and an opportunity to learn.

    Consider that you still have much more to achieve with your life, and maybe your partner was not the person to show you the way. Perhaps being released from your relationship will allow you to find what you really need to become the person you are meant to be.

    This reframe can be wonderfully comforting if you choose to find love again in the future. If you learn your difficult lessons from the old relationship, you will grow, and the person you share the next stage of your path with will bring more fulfilment and easier challenges.

    3. Change the ending.

    When someone chooses to leave you, they not only decide that the relationship is over, they also determine “the story” of why it ended. So, why did my marriage end? The event that ultimately broke us apart was his leaving to be with someone else. However, on another level, there was more to it than that.

    I had changed within the marriage; I had been working through a deep personal issue a year or so previously, and had come out of the other side stronger, more content with life, and ready for a happier future with our family. I had grown, but my husband had not changed with me.

    When I became aware of this, I started to view the ending as less about rejection and more about an incompatibility between who we both were. It was an empowering reframe because it allowed me to feel far less victimized. The way he ended the marriage was not excusable, but it held far less of an emotional grip over me.

    Think about ways that you might have been rejected, not for anything you did “wrong,” but for something that altered the nature of the relationship.

    • Did you refuse to have your boundaries crossed or to put up with certain behavior?
    • Have you changed for the better in a way that your ex-partner could not handle?
    • Were you simply yourself and refused to change to please them?

    If you can view the ending in a way that empowers you, even a little bit, it can really ease your pain.

    4. Remember you are still whole.

    The feeling of rejection is greatly fuelled by the beautiful, romantic idea that two people “complete” each other. The conclusion is quite demoralizing; are we are no longer complete because someone doesn’t want us? What is our role in life now that we are not required to complete the other person?

    Losing a partner is painful and the grief of loss is real, but the pain is heightened and prolonged unnecessarily when we believe that we have been rejected by “the other half of ourselves.” It can feel like life has no purpose or meaning anymore. When I began to accept that I was still whole and valuable, it took away the feeling of despair that I was somehow diminished and “less than” because my husband had decided to walk away.

    5. Focus on gratitude.

    I love using gratitude as a tool for helping to shift into a more positive state of mind. Admittedly, in the early days of grieving, it’s not easy to feel grateful for anything at all, so I found it easier to start with making a list each day of the small blessings in my life—the day-to-day things we usually take for granted. I really recommend this as a practice.

    As your mindset starts to shift, you will come to realize that there are genuine reasons to be grateful that you were rejected. Mine included:

    • Finding out about my husband’s affair and my divorce. Who knows how long I could have remained unaware, believing my marriage was something it wasn’t?
    • The chance to learn to value myself more highly and to become aware of how resilient I am.
    • The new life opportunities which came my way once I began to see the loss as an opportunity to have a better life; I know for certain that I would not have the career, and sense of purpose which I have now, without that crisis in my life.
    • The chance to understand myself more fully and begin a new healthier and happier relationship.

    A heart broken by rejection can be a perfect example of a blessing in disguise. The best way to move forward is to allow yourself to feel the pain, then go on to reframe the loss as an opportunity. Trust that the right things will start to come!

  • Why I Stopped Being Busy and Took a Pressure-Free Pause

    Why I Stopped Being Busy and Took a Pressure-Free Pause

    “When we get too caught up in the busyness of the world, we lose connection with one another—and ourselves.” ~Jack Kornfield

    It was a Monday a few weeks ago, 6:00am, and I was taking a morning walk. The only light in sight was the neon yellow glare of the street lamps.

    My heart was heavy. It was as if someone had cut my chest open while I was asleep and slipped a cannonball inside.

    My alarm had awoken me at 5:00am, as it had every morning since the start of the year.

    My shoes crunch-crunched in the snow as I trudged along, ignoring this dull ache in my chest, telling myself, “It’s just resistance to being up so early. Keep pushing through; gotta get those 12,000 steps today, Will.”

    I got to the end of the road, a mere eighty or so meters from my house, and WHOOSH, a wild wave of emotions washed over me, forcing me—jolting me—to stop walking and stand still and silent in the snow.

    I stood and stood as if I’d fallen asleep upright and frozen to death.

    This whooshing wave felt like a panic attack. Except it wasn’t.

    It was this feeling coming from my chest, the one I had tried to ignore. If its first attempt to get my attention was a whisper, this was a shout.

    And it was shouting in desperation, ”LISTEN TO ME, WILL.”

    Without consciously making the decision, I turned and walked home.

    I’d barely walked for two minutes, not quite the forty-five-minute morning walk I had planned, but something inside of me, I can’t explain what, told me this was long enough for today.

    Arriving home, I sat down at my desk to give this feeling some attention.

    My eyes closed. I did my best to give a name to what I was feeling…

    Was it sadness? Nope. Dissatisfaction? Closer, but not quite. Pressure? Yes, pressure! I was feeling pressured!

    The next logical question for me was, why? Why was I feeling pressured?

    The answer was right under my nose, and no, that’s not a metaphor; the answer was literally right under my nose, sitting there on my desk, staring up at me.

    You see, lying there in the center of my desk, scribbled on a piece of paper, was my list of jobs for the day, and it was a long, long list.

    I’d listed all the action steps I felt I needed to take, I felt I should take, I felt I must take on this day.

    An intimidating list detailing emails to be sent, words to be written, opportunities to be created. More. More. More. This list was going to keep me occupied almost every waking minute of the day, having me run around like a headless chicken, stuck in doing mode.

    Sure, there were self-care rituals—meditation, Qi Gong, walks dotted throughout the day—but even these seemed like chores within my strict schedule, just something else to tick off.

    Supporting myself through this, next, I pondered the question:

    How can I take this pressure off of myself?

    At first, no ideas came to mind, nothing, nada.

    Because wasn’t my list full of non-negotiables?

    Then an insight arose, which brought with it an air of refreshment followed by fear.

    “TAKE TIME OFF, WILL.”

    My heart was speaking to me again, the same voice that had spoken to me earlier on my walk, now providing me with an insight to take time off.

    Which was fascinating because the voice of my mind had been telling me to do the exact opposite previously, telling me to write out a big long list of to-dos.

    It was my mind that had told me to wake up at 5:00am so I could do more during each day.

    It was my mind dishing out the restricting need, must, and should statements.

    The thought of taking time off was refreshing, but the fear was: What would happen if I stopped living in doing-mode for some time?

    Fear suggested that taking time out would be a bad thing; I’d lose out on an opportunity of some kind or end up getting lazy. My heart trusted that taking time out, or rather, slowing down was the right path to take to relieve the pressure.

    After a little more reflection, my heart gave me a complete ‘prescription’ to take the pressure off of myself. It involved three stages.

    1. Distinguish between non-negotiable commitments and desires so that I could be more flexible.

    So much of what I thought were non-negotiables were not. They were nothing more than rules I had created. For example, I had told myself I must finish my studies by March. In truth, I don’t have to; this is just a desire.

    I still had a list of commitments I couldn’t stop entirely, but it was a much shorter and more manageable list!

    2. Pause my desires to relieve the pressure.

    Once I’d identified my actual commitments (work, family, household duties), I looked at my list of desires and gave myself permission to pause these.

    This was when fear crept in again…

    Am I allowed to pause my commitments?

    Am I allowed to say no to people?

    The answer is yes.

    I decided on a three-week pause period where I would concentrate only on actual commitments and, of course, concentrate on taking care of myself.

    I decided to pause my studies, any reading for learning (as opposed to enjoyment), any business-related activities, being active on social media—anything I felt I could pause temporarily without jeopardizing myself.

    3. Create a refreshment plan.

    Within my three-week pause period, I set some gentle intentions for how I would spend my time. After all, I had created a lot of time by simply pausing the desires that were causing the pressure.

    So I asked myself a different question.

    Rather than “What must I do?” I asked myself, “What would I love to do?”

    Some of my answers included:

    – Resting. Sleeping longer and napping during the day. My long days were making me feel exhausted.

    – Spending more time outside in nature. I was spending too much time in the online world, staring at computer screens all day. I’ve found myself on my walks, just pausing, closing my eyes, and enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face.

    – Spending more time with my girlfriend, Yvonne, and my family and friends. I know the quality of our personal relationships is a huge determining factor in our levels of happiness. I’d been a little neglectful of this.

    – Reading more fiction. I normally read to learn, which I love, but it’s tough going. I wanted to escape to some far-off fictional land!

    – Practicing the act of appreciation. Tony Robbins says, “Trade your expectations for appreciation, and your whole world changes in an instant.” Having dropped my personal expectations of myself and switched to appreciating, this has certainly been true for me. Each night I’ve been listing ten things I appreciate.

    I’m two weeks into my pause period, and I’m pleased to say I’m feeling refreshed. My personal relationships have improved, the weight has been lifted from my shoulders and chest, and I feel somehow I’ve gotten out of my own way.

    Perhaps I was being busy in an illusionary attempt to feel in control of the areas of my life I wished to move forward.

    This may be true.

    I also feel we often stay stuck in ‘doing mode,’ moving toward our goals, because we feel on the other side of those actions and goals is what we really want. 

    And what do we really want? I can only speak for myself, of course. When all is said and done, what I really want most is the freedom to enjoy my life and to feel good.

    By taking a step back, I’ve realized an important truth.

    I have this freedom right now.

    It’s a funny world we live in where we work so long and hard to essentially buy back our freedom at a later date.

    It’s far easier to appreciate the level of freedom we have right now, before pursuing more. This has been my biggest lesson.

    There is absolutely a time for actions, progress, a time for being down on our knees planting seeds.

    However, we need to be mindful of when it’s time to pause and take a step back and enjoy the warmth of the sun on our faces.

  • How I Learned to Stop Absorbing Other People’s Emotions

    How I Learned to Stop Absorbing Other People’s Emotions

    “Sometimes I think I need a spare heart to feel all the things I feel.” ~Sanober Khan

    I felt her agony and loneliness as if it were my own. Even as I write that sentence, my eyes well up and heaviness fills my heart. Then, I’m reminded to apply the advice I give others.

    My mom was a special person, a sensitive soul just like me. Actually, I’m so much like she was, yet so different. One of the differences between us is that I had an opportunity to observe her life’s challenges. I saw her challenges reflected within myself and made a conscious choice to find healthy ways to cope.

    You see, my mom was a deep feeler and felt the emotions of people near and far. I imagine it was her strong empathy and personal challenges that led her to want to help others, as a wounded healer in a sense.

    But as a helper and healer, she struggled with her mental and emotional health over the years. Witnessing her life moved me to learn how to regulate my own sensitive emotions and set healthy boundaries.

    Sometimes I wonder if not knowing how to manage her empathy is what made her sick.

    There are many ways to understand the challenges my mom battled before her death in 2007. From her perspective, she had a rare, unknown physical illness. Some who knew her may have thought she was manipulative and attention-seeking. Some would see an addiction to pain medication. Psychologists would diagnose her with psychosomatic disorder, borderline personality disorder, and bipolar disorder.

    Maybe all and none of those explanations are true. But perhaps she didn’t have any “disorder” at all. I’m not really asserting that to be true, but merely posing a curious question. What if she was just a sensitive, empathic person who lacked the skills to manage the pain around and within her? What if one unhelpful coping mechanism led a to slew of other ailments?

    I believe my mom felt real physical and emotional pain. I struggled to fully understand her over the years. But after many years of reflection, I now trust her experience because of what I know about my own sensitive nature.

    As sensitive people, we may present with high emotion and feel easily overwhelmed by our senses. We’re often told by the world that there’s something wrong with us. And when we think there’s something inherently wrong with us, we tend to tuck these traits away into our “shadow” or unconscious mind.

    Well, now we’ve not only tucked away our core nature, but possibly the empathic depth that goes along with being a sensitive person as well. There may be a part of us that knows that we’re emotional sponges. Yet, we may choose to ignore our nature without really learning how to manage our empathy in such a way that prevents “dis-ease” and fosters well-being.

    This was me for a long time.

    Not only am I prone to feeling depleted and drained in situations with certain people, but emotional pain of others tends to show up in my physical body. When I over-feel, my throat feels like it’s closing and as my chest constricts, my chronic back pain flares up.

    My boyfriend was complaining of one of those small, painful pimples inside his nose recently. I got one as well. We joked about sympathy pains, but I do wonder sometimes.

    I’ve felt the emotional pain of my family, friends, clients, and strangers. It’s not a simple, “Oh, I feel bad for him.” It’s feeling the despair and rejection of that teenager whose parents didn’t pick him up when he was released from the behavioral hospital where I worked. It’s the deep anguish of being that relative who feels no one believes her and she’s all alone.

    I feel challenged to find the right language to express it all because the deep heartache and heavy burden is a feeling not a word.

    The thing is that no matter how painful it is to feel the weight of the world in my body, I wouldn’t trade my depth and ability to feel for anything. The empathy that comes with high sensitivity is a true gift if we know how to use it.

    We need more kind, compassionate souls if we want to heal the world. Sensitive people have a natural capacity to show kindness because of our profound empathy.

    Deep empathy gives us a special strength in relating and connecting to others. When we genuinely care, we’re more apt to be able to understand another person in a way not that all people can. Our sincerity can help us to develop meaningful, fulfilling relationships.

    Relationships offer us a chance to not only grow a deep sense of connection with another human being, but also an opportunity to learn about ourselves. Both of these are integral to the human experience.

    And as sensitive people, we not only feel the intensity of pain, but also the intensity of joy.

    Yet, regulating our empathy is key to stopping the flood of emotion from overwhelming our ability to cope and care for our well-being.

    If we want to stop absorbing emotional baggage from others, it all starts with taking care of our physical, social, mental, emotional, and spiritual needs. I know it sounds like the whole world is harping on the idea of self-care, but there’s a reason for this.

    When our own immune system or energy is depleted, we become a perfect sponge for sopping up emotions. We must take care of ourselves to avoid absorption in the first place.

    1. When you notice heavy emotion, start by labeling what you’re feeling.

    Labeling helps to bring us into a state of pause, which can help us to gain a little distance from the emotional experience for a moment.

    2. Ask yourself whether what you’re feeling is yours, someone else’s, or a mix of the two.

    It can be difficult to discern the difference sometimes. One approach I like to take is if I think I might be feeling a particular person’s “stuff,” I’ll imagine the person as completely whole, content, and full of light. Then I’ll revisit my own experience and see if I still feel the same way.

    This played out in a recent loss in my life. While I was experiencing my own grief, when my relative who was closest to this person seemed to start to heal, I realized that much of my sadness released as well.

    3. The moment you catch yourself feeling emotions that aren’t yours, raise your awareness of what’s happening within you.

    It can help to say the word “compassion” to yourself as a way of intentionally focusing on what you can do to be supportive rather than allowing yourself to be overpowered by emotion.

    4. Take a deep breath and notice where in your body you feel the most calm, grounded, or neutral.

    It might be as simple as your toe or finger. Bring your attention to that place in your body and allow it to be a centering force to keep you grounded while you process and release any feelings you may have absorbed. Sometimes just having one calm place in our body can serve as a resource when the rest of you is feeling overwhelmed.

    5. Return the other person’s emotions to them.

    It is not your responsibility to carry other people’s emotional distress, and equally important, it helps absolutely no one. Try saying to yourself, “I’m letting this emotional pain that is not mine go now.” Remember that other people have to go through their own processes in order to grow.

    6. Use visualization to fully release the emotions.

    I find that it helps me to visualize a waterfall flowing through my body as a final release of any residual emotional gunk I might be carrying.

    —

    At the center of all of the above steps is building the awareness to know when we’re allowing ourselves to absorb and and adopting tools to reduce this propensity. As a sensitive person, your empathy is a gift that the world needs. It’s up to each of us to channel our empathy into greater compassion so that we can remain strong and well.

  • Why I No Longer Believe There’s Something Wrong with Me

    Why I No Longer Believe There’s Something Wrong with Me

    “Our thoughts create our beliefs, meaning if you think about yourself a certain way for a long enough period of time you will ultimately believe it.” ~Anonymous

    You’re ugly. You’re stupid. You’re a loser.

    Imagine thinking this way about yourself every day. No exaggeration. That was me.

    When a girl didn’t want to go on a second date with me, I told myself I was ugly. When I didn’t know what someone was talking about, I told myself I was stupid. When my Instagram post only received two likes, I told myself I was loser.

    I spoon-fed myself toxic thoughts like these on a daily basis for years. And what’s worse is I believed them.

    But why? Where do these toxic thoughts and beliefs even come from? Well, for most of us they come from our childhoods, and they are largely based on experiences with our caregivers.

    My belief system (which fuels those not-so-nice thoughts listed above) was formed by the tragic death of my mother when I was three-and-a-half years old and by my rageaholic cocaine-addict father. I internalized Mom’s death and Dad’s crazy behavior (trust me, it was bad) the only way I knew how to: I thought I was the problem.

    You see, my dad never sat me down and apologized for bursting into my room in the middle of the night high on cocaine and torturing me. He never apologized for not allowing me to celebrate my birthdays. He never apologized for making me get in front of my soccer team and tell them that I was a bad boy and couldn’t play in that week’s game.

    Since he never apologized to me, my growing little mind took it personally and figured I must be the problem. I thought I deserved to be punished and as such, a negative thought pattern was born.

    Like a kid at school writing on a chalkboard because he did something wrong, my thoughts wrote in my mind over and over again: I did something wrong. I did something wrong.

    This consistent negative self-talk eventually turned into a core belief: I am wrong. I am wrong.  

    Imagine growing up believing that your very existence is wrong. That was me. I was hard-wired by my parents to believe this. It was like being sentenced for a crime that I didn’t commit.

    As an adult I actively looked for validation in other people as a result of this belief. I became a people-pleaser, a yes man, a guy that would do anything for you to like me. Please like me, please tell me I’m okay.

    If you liked me, I felt less broken, but one person liking me was never enough. If I was in a room with 100 people and all of them but one liked me I would worry and fret, wondering what I had done to upset that one person.

    I also thought I had to be perfect in every area of my life. My hair had to be perfect. My clothes had to be perfect.

    I had to say the right things. Do the right things. Be the right thing.

    I also used each failed attempt for your validation as proof that I was broken. See!

    I would go to bed at night saying I was done with that kind of behavior, yet I would wake up in the morning and start it all over again. It was like the movie Groundhog Day. I was living the same day over and over again, and I couldn’t stop.

    I hit what I’ll call my rock bottom eight years ago when I was thirty-seven-years old. I hated myself and the life I had created and desperately wanted change.

    But how? How do we let go of deeply rooted false beliefs that no longer serve us? The same way we formed them.

    You begin by detaching from the individual thoughts that reinforce the negative belief, then you let go of the belief all together. I’ve heard them called illusions, false beliefs, and even lies. It took time for me to believe these lies and it took time for me to undo them.

    Henry David Thoreau said, “As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.”

    In order to let go of false beliefs, we have to practice observing our thoughts and recognize when we are acting on old stories about our worth. By repeatedly choosing not to get caught up in the old stories, we can begin to experience the world in a new way.

    You don’t go to the gym once and suddenly you’re in the best shape of your life. No, you go five to six times a week, eat healthy, and get plenty of rest. And you do this over and over again.

    The same goes for our minds. The more we work toward mindfulness and self-kindness, the quicker we will default to it. When you catch yourself having a negative thought, recognize that you don’t have to get attached to it and choose to let it pass. If you’re having trouble letting it go, tell yourself a new, more empowering story.

    And above all else, just remember, it had nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong. You are not flawed.

    I didn’t commit a crime. I just absorbed the information given to me the only way my eight-year-old mind knew how to.

    So where do we start? It’s different for all of us, but if you’re reading this and relating to any of it then that in and of itself is a start. That’s the beginning of self-awareness.

    For me it was all about becoming self-aware. That was my first step toward personal change.

    I knew I couldn’t do things on my own (been there, tried that), so I started with a twelve-step program. Liberation would never be possible if I kept reaching for validation from other people, so I took a deep breath and courageously stepped into my first meeting and admitted that I had a problem.

    It was there that I opened up and allowed myself to be seen for who I was: a wounded man who sometimes still felt like a scared little boy. Eventually, little by little, I shared my childhood secrets and I was loved for doing so. It was an eye opening experience, which immediately changed my thought process to: I did nothing wrong.

    For the last eight years I’ve been letting go of false thoughts and beliefs, which in turn has created new possibilities for how I think and feel in relationships. I hope you can do the same.

  • Drop the Mask: The Freedom of Living an Authentic Life

    Drop the Mask: The Freedom of Living an Authentic Life

    “It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” ~e.e Cummings

    Here is an unsettling idea: Most of us are not who we think we are. We are not the people we bring to work; we are not the people we show to our parents and children; and sometimes we are not the people we show our friends.

    Most of us go through our entire lives wearing a series of masks.

    We have different masks for different purposes and occasions: the “perfect” mask of someone who’s always strong, positive, and together; the professional mask for today’s meeting; the expert mask that we put on when teaching or advising; the malleable and energetic one we put on when selling our skills or flogging our wares.

    Our masks become so comfortable we lose awareness that we are wearing them. But make no mistake, the masks we wear are not who we are.

    Those masks that we put on to protect ourselves, that we reach for to be taken seriously, that we don because we think we should be that soft-spoken, outgoing, or strong, these masks are not who we are.

    Beneath our masks are real, sentient human beings, people with opinions and passions, people who can be angry and impatient; human beings who can be deeply empathetic and compassionate.

    If we want to be reminded of what a real-life, uncensored human looks like, spend some time with a baby. These little cherubs laugh with their whole bodies, and they do it frequently and loudly. They cry with gusto, their bellies expanding like a balloon when they are building up to a real howl.

    If they are already talking, they voice their opinions clearly and honestly. “Don’t like it. Want more. No, not going.”  

    Their questions are beautiful and profound because of their honesty and completely untarnished way of experiencing the world.

    Most of all, when watching these little humans, we can observe that wherever they are, whatever they are doing, they are fully in it. We work our whole lives to recapture this authenticity and ability to be present.

    Some time early in our development, something tragic happens. Maybe it happens the first time we are given signals that being jealous of a sibling is not appropriate, that crying when we are hurt is being dramatic, or that being loud is annoying. We get signals that the way we are behaving is not making the adults around us happy.

    Little by little, bit by bit, we adopt socially acceptable behaviors, facial expressions, voice volumes, and agreeable ideas that harden into a series of masks.

    In any given moment, our truth lies beneath the masks we wear, sometimes screaming for oxygen. We work really hard to stuff our truth down, to temper ourselves to fit in, to follow the rather rigid rules of social acceptability.

    We need to be authentic to fully express ourselves in the world. When we try to stuff down our inner voice or pretend it doesn’t exist, it fights back. Stuffed inside our body, repressed feelings can lead to depression, insomnia, physical pain, and if we continue, diseases like cancer and heart disease. This is real. Inauthenticity makes us sick.

    Thankfully, our authentic selves have enormous strength. I say thankfully because these breakdowns of our coping mechanisms often lead us to our greatest insights about ourselves.

    The people I know who are fully and authentically themselves have been led there by difficult events, by a crisis that shook their world, by insights that have loosened their masks long enough to reveal the people underneath waiting to breathe and live life fully.

    This has definitely been my experience. My divorce was a crisis point. Although it was over a decade ago, it remains the most transforming single event of my life. In an instant, any ideas that my former life had created were blown to smithereens.

    I saw with glaring clarity how the married person I had become was a role I was playing. For years I had been editing my behavior and my dreams to fit what I thought I was supposed to be. I wasn’t even sure who that person was, but I knew she was more patient and her energy was smaller, and it didn’t overwhelm people.

    Worse, I began to understand that I didn’t even know who I was. I’d been wearing the mask of Olympic athlete, public figure, wife, and mother for so long that I wondered if I was still in there.

    When my marriage blew up, I was possessed with renewed energy. This wasn’t because my husband was a rotten guy who had kept me under his thumb; this was because the pain, the upheaval, and the shock of what had happened broke my mask in one fell swoop. A life crisis put me back on the path of discovering my authenticity.

    If all this sounds a little hokey to you, think about something really difficult you have experienced, like the loss of a loved one, the loss of a job, or the end of a primary relationship. Often in these times of extreme crisis, we make deep connections with others—the friends that support us, the sister who holds our hand by a parent’s deathbed. In crisis, people can drop their masks and simply reach out for one another, human to human.

    There is something so magical and refreshing about this connection that many people never come back fully into their mask-wearing afterward. Life has new meaning, and the desire to live connected and live authentically becomes a motto for life.

    When I shredded the masks I was wearing, I found myself filled with creative energy. It turns out that all that pretending is pretty exhausting. When I stopped trying to be who I thought I was supposed to be, it was like I plugged my soul into a current of electric life energy. I started writing books, taking courses, painting, studying yoga, and doing all sorts of things I didn’t consciously know I wanted to do.

    Through the pain of upheaval and loss, I freed myself of the personas that I’d layered on top of my authenticity for decades.

    Reconnecting with my truth was a new and exciting adventure as well as a coming home. In terms of my mental and physical health, I believe coming home to myself saved my life. It could save yours.

    So say what you really feel. Make the choices you really want to make. Forget who you think you’re supposed to be and let yourself be as you are. At the very least, finding the courage to reconnect with the self inside yourself could be the single most liberating act of your life.