Tag: hard

5 Lessons from a Breakdown: How to Make Hard Times Easier

“Never apologize for showing feelings. When you do so, you apologize for the truth.” ~Benjamin Disraeli

Three years ago, at twenty-five, I had a breakdown that stole over two years of my life and almost killed me.

People often think of breakdowns like car accidents—one almighty crash that results in the dissolution of that person’s being. But for most of us, breakdowns are a slow descent into madness. They creep up on you. They change you one small step at a time until you no longer recognize yourself.

You get exhausted walking around the supermarket for your weekly shopping. You have a panic attack because you’re supposed to go out with friends but can’t face them. You’re reduced to tears because even getting dressed feels overwhelming.

I went from someone who was strong into someone I didn’t know; I existed, but I wasn’t there.

I couldn’t leave my bed, didn’t eat, and could barely even talk at times. Though I had suffered with depression since I was thirteen, I had never known pain like this. I wanted so desperately to end my life but had no energy to do so, which only added to my misery.

I felt lost, stuck, and hopeless, and believe I would never find myself again.

Though I’m still left with remnants of my breakdown, including post-traumatic stress disorder, I can appreciate the lessons it taught me, however difficult they were to learn at the time. If you’re going through hard times yourself, you may find these lessons helpful.

1. Let your friends be there for you.

The saying goes that when you are at your lowest point in life, you will discover your true friends, and I am blessed to have discovered mine. The ones who would allow me to Skype from my bed so that we could enjoy breakfast together. The ones who understood when I couldn’t face them for dinner like we had enjoyed so many times before. The ones who would say nothing, but lie on my bed and hug me when I couldn’t talk.

Friends often don’t know how to help you when you’re struggling, so you have to ask for what you need. Allowing them to be there for you in this way can really strengthen your relationship. It shows that you can count on each other when times get tough.

2. Learn to say “no.”

Instead of accepting things that were no good for me, be it other people’s negative behavior or situations that upset me, I began to say “no” and walk away.

If friendships were bringing me down instead of lifting me up, I ended them, and instead of feeling obliged to attend gatherings, I cancelled because I recognized I needed time to look after myself.

We are conditioned by society to believe that saying “no” to invitations or commitments is selfish, but when you are struggling so intensely, you need to get selfish. Learn to look after yourself in the smallest of ways and evaluate what works and doesn’t work so you can eliminate the latter.

3. Stop worrying about what others think.

Mental health (or lack of it) can be a difficult concept for others who’ve never struggled with it to understand.

If you have cancer or physical symptoms, such as a broken leg, you can explain a lot of your mood away, but when your pain is neatly wrapped up in your head and you have nothing to show for your illness, you find yourself having to justify not being able to get out of bed. So I stopped worrying about what others thought.

As long as you know your truth, nothing (and no one) else matters. While we often seek acceptance from others, if you can accept that you are not “crazy” and that you are sick, needing help, it can often take away the guilt and embarrassment you may feel.

4. Become grateful and proud for the small things.

As a healthy person, we really do take the most routine and mundane things for granted; it’s not until we can’t do them that we realize just how treasured they are.

Simple things, such as reading a book, become impossible because you can’t finish a sentence without forgetting the beginning of it. You have no energy to leave the house even when it’s sunny. You can’t bring yourself to go out to dinner with friends you’ve known for years.

When you are able to read a whole page of the book, walk to the shop for some milk, or spend an hour with a friend, be proud of yourself!

Don’t beat yourself up because you couldn’t leave the house; be proud that you managed to get out of bed, even if it was to sit on the couch. Every little thing becomes a big achievement, and one you should be proud of.

5. Listen to yourself and look after your needs first.

Being depressed made me incredibly introspective and therefore, very in tune with my body and what I craved on a daily basis. Sometimes I needed company, so a friend would visit to offer their love and comfort. On other days I needed to be alone and cry until my head hurt.

Your needs will change daily, and that’s okay. Some days you might want to go for a walk in the sun with a friend, but other days you might just want to snuggle up at home with your phone off and a good movie. You should remember that both are different ways of looking after yourself.

As Winston Churchill once said, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” And I did. Every day I woke up (despite not always wanting to) and I survived.

My breakdown changed me in ways I couldn’t hope to put into words. Though I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through the despair that I did, I’m thankful for the painful, yet necessary, lessons it taught me, and the person it has made me become.

Depressed man image via Shutterstock

October 28, 2014
Getting Back Your Spark When Every Day Feels Hard

“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.” ~Thomas Jefferson

Did you ever wake up one morning and not know who you were anymore?

Waking up for the past four years of my life, I felt like I was in the movie Groundhog Day. The same things happened every day, and I felt the same horrible feelings all the time. Anxiety, depression, and hopelessness ran my life.

I had it all figured out at some point. I was furthering my career and moving toward my dream of becoming a psychologist. I had great co-workers, tons of friends, and a supportive family.

There was this continuous, sun-shiny, flowing feeling of “everything works out for the best.” Any struggles I went through would make me stronger, a better psychologist and friend. A better person. And so, I enjoyed the ups and downs of life with no regrets and little struggle.

It seems that I woke up one day and everything was gone.

I had lost my job, which paid for my education. All my friends had drug abuse issues, and I removed myself from their lives or vice versa. My puppy, best friend since age five, died four days before my birthday. I was plagued with pain from Lyme disease and an undiagnosed tick-borne illness. I felt like every piece of my life was falling apart.

My dreams were not coming true anymore. I still have no idea how I slid down this far without knowing it.

The best parts of my life had left me, and it seems like it all hit me at once. There were no more happy, “let it go, it’ll all turn out for the best” thoughts. It was all darkness. I had lost myself and my joy for life.

The worst part was that I knew I could get back to that place if I tried. But I didn’t know how. I longed for that spark, that fulfillment with my life, for years. I just couldn’t put my finger on what I was missing. I hadn’t even realized that it was gone until it seemed light years away.

I realize now that there were quite a few things I could actively do every day to pull myself out of this dark place. If you’re going through a rough time, these may help you as well.

1. Acknowledge and appreciate everything that happens, even the seemingly bad.

During my “golden age,” I had acknowledged everything that worked out well for me. I recognized the random strokes of luck that life handed me and appreciated them, and it seemed like more of these things happened as a result.

When I lost my way, I was so focused on the negative, overwhelming feelings that I thought good things just didn’t happen for me anymore. I had to learn that the only difference between a good thing and a bad thing is how you look at it.

I could sit and think about how much I disliked my boyfriend’s mother all day. From the first thought in the morning, all the way until bedtime I could obsess over how horribly she treated me. Why couldn’t she just accept me as I am? I love her son more than anything, after all!

After struggling with this for close to a year, I finally realized why she had grown to be such a focal point in my life. She was here to teach me compassion. True, loving compassion for someone you thought you couldn’t stand, until you open your eyes and think what it may be like to be them.

It is a good thing that she is in my life, and though she often presents challenges to me, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. She helped me to see that people are not black and white, good or bad.

Nothing is inherently bad; it just is. As your mind processes information, it applies your filters, your beliefs, and your preconceptions to the information. This is the reason we are angered, or feel sad, or disappointed. It’s not actually the thing she said, or what he did that angered you; it’s all what you think about it.

2. Challenge limiting, irrational thoughts.

When things go haywire, we tend to cling to our irrational thoughts like a life preserver, when what we really need to hold onto is our inner calm.

I really believed that I could just think my way out of the hopelessness-box I had placed myself in. I obsessed and ran and re-ran the same thoughts all day, trying to make sense or pull what I wanted out of every conversation.

My mind was a mess of tangled thoughts that I used to keep me in a bad place. Nothing was ever good enough; nothing was ever good at all. And there seemed nothing I could do about it but obsess even more.

I would obsess that my boyfriend and I weren’t getting along. Did he still love me? Why wasn’t that spark there anymore? He was cheating on me, he had to be. Why couldn’t things be the way they used to be? Why had he said that thing this morning, the one that made me feel so unloved?

I realized that all these thoughts did was give me something external to obsess over, to keep me from thinking about the real problem.

The real reason why I was uncomfortable and stuck in this thought loop was because of my own insecurities. I did not feel like I was good enough for him, hence my sneaking suspicion he would cheat on me. Focusing on what he may do kept me from addressing my own issues.

I was insecure. I had deep rooted self-worth issues, and I kept looking past the fact that all this started and ended with me. It was my insecurities making me think this way. It was my thoughts that would one day enable these things to happen—if I wanted to keep believing that I wasn’t good enough.

Often, when you think defeating and self-limiting thoughts all day, you start to believe they are true.

If you start from a place of love and acceptance for yourself, it greatly affects the way you think about important things in your life. My panicked mind just took the root cause and expanded upon it, made it grow, made it bigger and meaner until I couldn’t overlook the real problem staring me in the face anymore.

When you accept and love yourself as you are, and when you feel the inner peacefulness and calm inside yourself, you are able to see straight through your own tricks.

3. Do something just for you. Every day.

I am a responsible person and I always did everything I was supposed to do. I was a good girl. I went to work. I did my job. I did the dishes and laundry and was exhausted by the end of every day. But I couldn’t sleep through the night.

I felt like nothing was ever truly done. There was always more to do. I remember looking at a dirty bottle once and breaking down crying. Being everything for everyone doesn’t mean anything if you can’t enjoy a few moments with yourself. No one can appreciate you the way you can.

I slowly started substituting tasks with things I wanted to do. Instead of coming home and picking up the living room, I would come home and exercise. I felt better, relaxed, and energized when I was done, and the picking up got done quickly and without the bitterness accompanied by never having any time to do anything for me.

Its funny—all these people are relying on you, but all these people really need is you. Not the things you do. They love and appreciate you for you, not for the clean house. I had built up this idea that being a mother and responsible adult meant that I couldn’t have fun anymore. That I couldn’t do things I enjoy.

Make time to do something you love, and to just be you. Make you your number one priority today. Everything else will fall into place

4. Let the fun in.

Dance to your favorite song in the car, go dig your hands in the dirt in the garden, tickle your husband, make a mess; however you like to have fun, do it!

It seems like as we grow into adults, we are expected to act like grown-ups and slowly filter out all the fun in our lives. Piece by piece you realize everything that you used to enjoy, you no longer do!

Reclaim your life.

You need to take whatever time you have and use it to the fullest. It’s okay to go a little crazy. Get a little dirty doing something you enjoy. Remember what it was like to be a kid and totally immerse yourself in something, just because you loved to do it.

Forget your to-do list and do you instead. Love completely, open your heart, act like a kid, and who knows; you may just feel like one again.

October 19, 2014
4 Faulty Beliefs That Cause You to Push Yourself and Do Too Much

“Slow down and everything you are chasing will come around and catch you.” ~John De Paola

Do you ever work past the point where you know it’s time to stop? Where your body, heart, and soul are saying, “Ah, enough already,” only you can’t hear them because your mind is pushing you on?

And have you ever pushed to such an extent you become physically and/or mentally sick?

My hand is raised.

Working hard and pushing the boundaries can be stimulating and rewarding; the problem comes when there’s an imbalance for extended periods.

Meditation and silence are increasingly advocated as ways to find balance in today’s hyper-connected, “always on” world. But for those of us with a propensity to work till we drop, there’s more to it.

These four common, though faulty beliefs get to the heart of why it can seem so hard to stop, rest, and rejuvenate.

Faulty Belief # 1: I have to keep going.

It’s easy to think you have to keep going, when usually, you don’t.

“I have to finish my degree.”

“I have to … ”

“I have to …”

The human mind loves to make plans and stick to them, no matter what. The problem is that our mind thinks these things will strengthen our identity and make us feel good.

This is reinforced by a world focused on achievements, not one that values us for just being.

It’s often easy to just stop or change course. But we don’t; we become rigid.

Dogged determination can be useful, like when writing a book, or even this article; if I stopped every time it got difficult, I’d never finish anything. But sometimes the plan isn’t a good one. Sometimes such determination isn’t healthy or useful.

I spent years thinking the road to “success,” and therefore happiness, was a college degree. But that’s all it was, a thought, a belief. A rule I’d made for myself that simply wasn’t true.

Who knows if leaving college would have been a less painful route; I just wish I’d seen it as a viable option. Would it have been such a bad thing to get my Masters degree in six years instead of five? Or to not get it at all?

If you’re feeling strung out, ask yourself, do I really want to do this—not just the assignment, but the degree; not just paying the mortgage, but the house?

Take notice of what your gut is saying. Can you feel what the right thing for you is?

And even when there are things you have to do—though really there are very few and they usually involve caring for dependants—they can often be modified so you can reduce your load.

Keep an eye out for long held beliefs and notice how uncomfortable it feels to consider a new tack.

It feels scary to go against what your mind says. Why? Because you don’t know what’s going to happen. But in truth, you never do.

Faulty Belief #2: I’m essential.

No, you’re not.

Handsome, talented, and deeply lovable, yes. But essential? No.

This is a bit embarrassing, but a few years ago if you’d said to me, “You have to come to my party because it won’t be as fun without you,” I would have believed you.

I could have just arrived back from a two-month trans-arctic trek and I’d still have hobbled in on frostbitten toes trying to be funny and charming. Aside from suffering from an extreme case of self-importance, I didn’t want to let people down.

I thought I needed a reason to say no. A real reason. Not just, “I feel like writing poetry tonight.” Something big.

“I have the mumps.”

“I’ll be in Fiji.”

But saying no and taking time out isn’t selfish. Putting other people’s needs ahead of your own, especially long-term, doesn’t help anyone. It’s dishonest, it makes you feel resentful, and you miss out on the wonderful things that happen when you rest.

Consider that you’re not as essential as you think you are. Delegate. Get help where you need it.

(This applies in the workplace too.)

Your friends will understand. They want you to look after yourself. And the party/school reunion/church fete you don’t want to go to—everyone will get along just fine without you.

The only thing you’re essential to is you.

Faulty Belief #3: My mind is a wise guide.

Most of us are brought up to believe our thoughts are the best guides for our life. And so we spend our days and weeks doing what seems logical.

—If I go to the party, people will like me and be there for me when I need them.

—If I get a bigger car/taller horse, I’ll get a prettier girlfriend.

(You probably won’t, you know. You might just get one that cares more about your car/horse than you.)

The problem is—as you may know—the mind is inherently insecure. It wants you to take the safest route, following others or repeating what you always do.

If working without adequate rest has been modeled as the way to be successful, or if you habitually push yourself hard, then your mind will want you to continue doing this.

Thankfully, there is another side to us that is often a better guide than our mind. Our heart. I’m not talking about the romantic heart—though this is part of it—but the bit of us that knows, deep down, what’s right for us.

The challenge is our heart speaks more quietly than our intellectual side, often in the form of a hunch or deep knowing. And because the guidance doesn’t always appear logical, we can easily dismiss it.

For instance, when you have the idea that you’d like to write songs, that is your heart. The thought you get immediately after, saying, “You can’t even play an instrument,” that’s your mind.

When I get an inclination to rest, my mind almost always thinks it’s a bad idea.

But the more I practice ignoring my mind’s taskmaster-like tendencies, the more I trust my inner wisdom. Not only do I feel more refreshed and enthused, I get ideas and see opportunities I miss when I’m in full swing.

Faulty belief #4: There’s something wrong with me that keeps me going so hard.

I used to wish I was the kind of person who naturally moved more slowly, and who didn’t wake in the morning with their “on” switch already dialed up.

I don’t think this anymore. (Well, not often)

I’ve come to believe there’s nothing wrong with emerging at the end of the day weary and happy. I love my energy and enthusiasm and good intentions. Finding balance isn’t about trying to stop that flow, but working with it.

I have to factor in stops. Things like turning off my phone and laptop in the evening, going hiking in the weekend, or even something as simple as doing the laundry in a relaxed, pottering way.

For those times when it’s harder to shift gears, try just sitting, staring into space. It’s a great way to reconnect. Looking at things like social media, does it recharge you or make you feel discharged?

Celebrate your zestiness! But look after yourself too. You really will get more done and you’ll feel better while you’re doing it.

And when you forget and overdo things—my hand is up again—don’t worry. It’s no big deal. Us over-workers also tend to overwork at being hard on ourselves!

Photo by Gerry Thomasen

June 19, 2014
How to Stop Judging and Being Hard on Yourself

“You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” ~Buddha

For a long time I joked that if I had a time machine, I would go back to 1989 and give my sixteen-year-old self a swift butt kicking. But then a few months ago, on my fortieth birthday, a friend posted a picture of me at sixteen on Facebook.

Seeing this image of myself totally threw me for a loop. Other than a school photo, it’s probably one of the few pictures I am aware of from that time in my life.

I spent some time contemplating this version of me glancing sideways at the camera. Under the surly expression of not wanting my photograph taken, there is undeniable beauty and innocence.

What makes it even more poignant is that I am the mother of a teenage boy who happens to be sixteen right now. His teenage drama has brought back so many memories of myself at that age.

For most of my career as a teenager I was preoccupied with being cool, with cultivating a counter-culture, bohemian persona (assuming clove cigarettes, On the Road, and a pile of mixed tapes constituted “bohemian”). Rolling my eyes at my mother was a near constant affectation.

I was certain that I knew it all; I had the rest of my life all figured out and I rejected anything that didn’t fit with my narrow understanding of the world. I now know there were countless experiences I missed out on by virtue of my stubbornness and general disdain for everything.

I avoided most of the mainstream high school dances and events. I dropped out of clubs and activities as soon as they felt challenging. I didn’t bother investigating the many academic and social opportunities that came my way.

What I would have regarded not long ago as a silly, selfish, snotty teenage attitude, I now realize is something else entirely. In that picture I see the seeds of pain and hurt—some already planted and taking root; some yet to be sown.

Lack of encouragement and confidence was written all over my face. The trauma of rejection and the fear of not measuring up was so apparent. That cool thing was just an act—a part I was playing to protect the hurt little girl that I really was.

It occurred to me as I observed her tentative gaze that this girl is still a part of me and deserves my love and tenderness, not my judgment. She deserves respect for the woman she is going to become and comfort for the child she has been.

Those reflections brought me full speed into the present moment. Seeing this image of myself in a new light forced me to examine the way I treat myself today. I tend to be pretty understanding and gentle with others, but so tremendously unforgiving with myself.

Maybe it’s a sense of guilt over squandering my potential. Or maybe I’ve grown to be hyper-vigilant about seeming unworthy. Perhaps I’ve just been metaphorically giving my inner sixteen-year-old a butt kicking all along.

Whatever the reason, when I notice in hindsight that I’ve made a bad decision or missed an important detail, I beat myself up. Whether it’s buying something that turns out to be a waste of money or spending time goofing off on the Internet, I often feel like I’m that teenager in need of a stern, judgmental lecture.

I have yet to really figure out why I’m so ruthless with regard to my own mistakes but I’m pretty sure I’m not alone. If our culture’s lack of self-esteem is any indication, this seems to be a challenge for many people.

I’ve heard it said that until you can love yourself, you can’t truly love others. I’m not sure how much I agree with that. In fact, I’ve come to think of maternal love as loving someone else more than you love yourself.

What I do know is that struggling to love myself makes showing up in the world a big challenge. Showing up as my authentic self requires so much effort. In fact it’s nearly impossible when I don’t feel self-love.

I strongly feel that lack of self-love holds us back. It prevents us from connecting with our purpose and doing great things. I may be over-generalizing but the scarcity of self-love in our society seems to be at the root of so many common problems.

It’s important to understand that loving yourself doesn’t mean you are selfish or a narcissist or that you don’t take responsibility for your mistakes. It means that you treat yourself fairly and with respect.

Self-love means that I forgive myself for my errors and continue striving to be the best person I can be. It means I believe in myself and put the same effort into my well-being as I do for my loved ones.

It should come as no surprise that the practice of self-love is far easier said than done. But, in my often-imperfect journey to loving myself, I’ve learned a few things along the way:

1. Challenge the notion that there’s any merit to being hard on yourself.

Beating yourself up may have the short-term effect of making you work harder or be more diligent. But in the long run, being unkind to yourself causes resentment, a sense of defeat, and eventually some emotional scars.

2. Add a new twist to the Golden Rule.

We always teach children that they should treat others the way they wish to be treated. A good rule as we grow up is to treat ourselves according to the same standards we treat others.

You probably aren’t the kind of person who would call their child, mother, or best friend “stupid,” so why would you say that kind of thing to yourself?

3. Know that forgiving yourself doesn’t mean lowering your standards.

There is nothing wrong with striving to be the best you can be. However, it’s important to cut yourself some slack when you fall short of expectations.

Making a mistake or not being perfect is simply part of being human. If you didn’t do your best, it’s okay and it’s really not the end of the world. Dust yourself off, keep moving forward, and love yourself for all your imperfections!

While it’s definitely not easy at first, I promise that learning to love yourself really does pay off. The love and kindness we have for ourselves may eventually allow us to change the world!

January 14, 2014
What to Do When You Find It Hard to Do What’s Good for You

“If you correct your mind, the rest of your life will fall into place.” ~Lao Tzu

I know how you feel.

You know you shouldn’t eat that cookie, but it’s as if there’s something from deep within that compels you to move your arm forward, pick it up, and consume it in one, grandiosely guilty gesture.

You find yourself performing entire series of behaviors—like reaching into your pocket, picking out the pack, getting the cigarette, and lighting it—without even realizing what you’ve done until you’ve got the thing in your mouth.

You promise yourself you won’t complain, judge, or gossip, and there you are giggling about that thing she’s wearing or rolling your eyes at the person in front of you in line who’s taking ages to pick out her coupons.

You wake up in the morning with the full intent to exercise, feeling faint pangs of guilt with each passing hour on the clock, each hour with its own special excuse. “Too early” becomes “Too hungry” becomes “Too full” becomes “Too late.”

You mean to meditate, you really do, but you spend the whole time bothering about all the items on your to-do list and getting chest-clenching reminders of all the things you’ve forgotten. In the end, relaxing stresses you out even more.

What is going on? Why is it so difficult to just do what’s good for you? Why does it seem so easy for other people? Are some people biologically equipped to be emotionally and physically healthy? Are their lives just easier and more stress-free than yours?

It’s much too easy to say that people who do what’s good for them are different from you somehow. However, it’s even easier to reply to such claims with “You can do it!” or any endless refrain of motivational and inspirational slogans.

We’ve all heard that we can do it if we set ourselves to it, so all the motivational tapes make us feel even worse when we, as if possessed by demons, reach out and pay for the very fries that we spend hours regretting.

That’s because motivation isn’t the answer. Neither is willpower. I found this out the hard way.

Once upon a time, I tried to quit smoking. I failed. I thought I’d failed because I hadn’t picked a proper replacement behavior and because it wasn’t the right time.

In reality, smoking was the least of my problems. I was extremely close to a mental breakdown. I didn’t see it that way, but I knew something was wrong.

The same way that you can become obese over ten years by eating just a little bit extra at every meal, I became just a little bit more mentally ill every day. It was barely noticeable because it was so gradual. I was acclimatizing to my misery as I was plunging into it.

Have you ever been drawing or writing something and suddenly made a mistake? It just makes it worse when you try to cover it up, but you can’t seem to stop. You just keep making it worse and worse the more you try to fix it.

Well, that was my relationship with my body, my mind, and my life.

As the pressure began to build, I kept ignoring obvious signs of my distress. I remember rubbing at my face, thinking that the dark circles around my eyes were from smudged eyeliner. Except they didn’t rub off.

I remember getting nightmares night after night. I remember when I started eating meat again, after abstaining for nine years. I remember when I stopped exercising and started smoking double the amount. I remember when I started drinking every day.

I felt, more and more, like I didn’t really care much about my body, like it could rot for all I cared.

It wasn’t until I became suicidal and started hearing voices that I started to panic a little. Obviously, something was wrong.

So, I decided to quit smoking. Obviously it was the smoking.

Genius, right?

The first time I tried, it failed. Within about twenty-four hours of stopping, all of my mental symptoms worsened tenfold. I was a wreck. I reached back for a cigarette.

I waited a few weeks and tried again.

Within two weeks I had a mental breakdown, which I must say was one of the most amazing things that had ever happened to me. It was a beautiful moment between me and myself.

Suddenly, all that had been extremely complicated and confusing became simple and easy. I faced a choice: change or die.

Choosing to change meant getting on my knees. It meant surrendering to a higher power I couldn’t define or see, and trusting that, even though I wasn’t in control anymore, something would carry me through and help me heal.

There, I found peace.

And yet, my journey after the breakdown was extremely rocky.

I would fluctuate between peace and distress. For a while, I would be happy, peaceful, and joyful. I would treat my body like a temple and feel this intense, building urge to just take care of it, to give it nourishing care and tenderness.

Then I would crash. I would reach back for old vices and the same old insecurities.

After a few months of fluctuating, I crashed again. This time, I ended up in the hospital with meningitis. I knew the moment I got admitted that it wasn’t a coincidence. I knew I’d done it to myself.

Staying in the hospital was sort of like going to prison.

I was being punished for the way I’d been treating myself. I was being punished by my own body, by my own self.

I remember reading that, if you were to go to bed as a non-smoker and wake up the next morning with all the symptoms of having smoked for ten years, you’d rush yourself to the emergency room. You’d think something was horribly wrong.

The only reason that people smoke for ten years without much worry is because the consequences come on so gradually.

For ten years, I’d ignored the effects of my self-hating, self-destructive thoughts the same way that I’d ignored the effects of smoking cigarettes. I couldn’t ignore them anymore.

Lying in that hospital bed, in excruciating pain because the doctors refused to give me narcotics considering my “history,” I realized that the reason I kept hurting myself was because I believed I deserved it.

I was always telling myself that I wasn’t good enough. I was always judging my body. I was always comparing myself to others and deeming myself unworthy.

After I broke down, I started being more loving to myself but, soon enough, the old habits returned.

Lying alone in that hospital bed, I learned my lesson. I realized that self-love was not an option. If you don’t love yourself, you’ll destroy yourself and do what’s bad for you. There’s no middle ground.

After I got released, I got to work. I read some books, made some plans, and, more importantly, embraced myself.

I quit smoking, re-embraced vegetarianism, started exercising again, and opened my first blog. I decided to pursue my dreams at any cost and to take care of myself, because I deserve it.

It’s not that I’ve discovered some magical willpower formula that’s helped me combat cravings for cigarettes. I just haven’t craved them.

It’s not that I force myself not to eat meat. I just don’t want it.

Doing yoga, writing a book, starting a business—these weren’t hard. They were meaningful and enjoyable. It was destroying myself and ignoring the effects of it that was hard.

In the end, I’ve realized that a craving is never just a craving. A craving is a signal that something’s missing. An urge to restart old, destructive habits is always, always a sign.

If you can’t seem to do what’s good for you, then maybe you don’t think you deserve what’s good. If you feel compelled to hurt yourself, maybe you think you deserve to be hurt.

At the end of the day, I realized that I didn’t need to quit smoking. I needed to quit hating myself.

I didn’t need to start exercising. I needed to start respecting my body.

I didn’t need to stop drinking. I needed to stop numbing my emotions.

I didn’t need to watch my calories. I needed to watch my thoughts.

Inside each of us, there’s a state of mind where being good to ourselves, others, and the planet is effortless. Don’t try to do good or be good. Just find that state of mind, and it’s all downhill from there.

Editor’s Note: Vironika has generously offered to give away two copies of her new book The Love Mindset: An Unconventional Guide to Healing and Happiness. To enter to win a copy, leave a comment below. You can enter until midnight PST on Monday, January 6th.

Update: The winners have been chosen: Tiffanie and Belinda.

January 2, 2014
4 Lessons on Surviving and Thriving When Times Are Tough

“Every day may not be good, but there’s something good in every day.” ~Unknown

Five months ago, I was sitting outside with a friend when a mosquito bit me under the arm. I went to scratch the bite and felt a lump on the side of my breast. My doctor sent me for a mammogram, ultrasound, and fine needle biopsy. I had breast cancer.

I am a 44-year-old single mother of two beautiful young girls with primary custody. I am also Director of a psychology practice and self-employed.

The day I was diagnosed was the day I lost the carefully constructed control I thought I had mastered in my life. I juggled many balls in the air every day, and they all came falling down.

I strongly believe in salvaging good from bad, but I struggled with finding the silver lining. The fear and anxiety waiting on test results to find out if the cancer had spread were crippling, and I was haunted by dark thoughts of death.

I was lucky. The cancer had not spread, as far as they could tell. The tumor was contained and I had a genetic test done that showed minimal benefit from chemotherapy, assuming I had lumpectomy surgery, radiation, and then took a hormone drug called Tamoxifen for the next ten years.

I think I have found the silver lining in this journey, and my dearest hope, over and above the cancer being gone for good, is that I hold onto these lessons:

1. Let go.

My life before breast cancer was highly organized, disciplined, and controlled. Every spare moment was productive. I saw clients back-to-back, I ferried my daughters to activities, I crammed my weekends with social events, and I had multiple to-do lists for each facet of my life.

I have spent the past five months going where medical people tell me to go, doing what they tell me to do, and waiting. The radiation has made me extremely tired and my brain is simply not functioning.

I returned to work three weeks after surgery in an advanced state of denial, and kept on trying to be the old me but finally accepted I was not.

I don’t do very much now. I go to radiation treatment each day. I come home and do some household chores and then rest. For hours. I may read a book, listen to music, play the piano, I even started a painting. I then pick my girls up from school and spend time with them. And it is a revelation.

Control is an illusion. Letting go of control is liberation.

2. Stop asking, “Why me?”

Why not me? That is the profound answer I have come up with to answer this most difficult of questions. Bad things happen to good people and life is not fair. The test is genuinely is how we cope with the adversity thrown at us.

I am proud of how I have coped with having breast cancer. I have remained psychologically intact, albeit bruised and battered, and allowed myself to be vulnerable. I have dealt with the spectre of dying and have gotten my affairs in order just in case. I also now have a bucket list, and I am crossing things off one by one.

The purpose of life, I have decided, is not to be happy. It is to realize our potential, to love and to be loved, to do new things and take calculated risks. I do not want to get to the end of my life, be it next year or in forty years, and have regrets.

The biggest regrets are the things we did not say or do. So focus on what you can do instead of dwelling on why there are some things you can’t.

3. Ask for support.

I have never been good at asking for or accepting help. I have asked people to come to appointments with me, to pick up my children, to come and sit with me while I cry. I have never been good at crying either, and I have had crying jags that lasted hours since being diagnosed.

I had friends over one day and as they were leaving, I slid to the floor and could not get up because I was sobbing so hard. They bundled the girls and me, took us to their home, and looked after us, me weakly protesting that I was fine. The loss of control and identity associated with melting down felt soul destroying.

So many wonderful people have offered to help, and I am learning to say, “Yes, thank you, that would be lovely.” And it has made me and my relationships stronger, not weaker.

Sometimes we have to ask for what we need and accept being vulnerable.

4. Practice gratitude.

In the blur of normal life, I think we are all guilty of wanting more. We forget to be grateful for what we have, and at its most fundamental, that is life. I would love to be able to write that I am now genuinely grateful for my life, but this would not be entirely true just yet. I slip into denial at times and fall back on old habits, but I am learning.

I am grateful for the immense generosity of my parents, my friends, and my boyfriend, who have given of their time, money, and emotional energy. The parents at my children’s school who delivered us meals. My work colleagues, who have kept my business going, and acquaintances who have contacted me to express their concern.

I have let go of the disappointment I felt over those people who I expected to be there for me but were not.

I have also found myself grateful for things that I took for granted. For my beautiful children, a vase of flowers in the hallway, a good cup of coffee, a flock of birds on my walk, or the ability to pay the bills. I am grateful that I am not dead.

Mindfulness and gratitude let us stay in the present and ward off anxiety, which comes from living in the future.

I obviously do not know what the future will hold. My chance of dying from breast cancer related illness is a lot higher than average, but I am so lucky. I am lucky to be alive, and so are you.

Every day we are not in the ground is a good day, a chance to remake ourselves and our lives into things of value and beauty. Tragedy and trauma can have silver linings. Sometimes it is hard to find them and even harder to hold on to them, but I am holding on tight.

Photo by geralt

June 18, 2013
How to Deal With Change When Change Is Hard

“You must welcome change as the rule but not your ruler” ~Denis Waitley

My name is Hannah, and I find it hard to deal with change.

As much as I used to want to think of myself as flexible and easy-going, I struggle to live up to these ideals. I like to know where I am, what I’m doing, where I’m going, and to have my near future mapped out in lists, to-dos, and ideas. In short, I do whatever I can to minimize the level of uncertainty in my life.

My discomfort around uncertainty means I am usually very decisive. In some ways this has been beneficial; for example, it’s allowed me to make hard decisions that I might have otherwise been tempted to avoid or delay.

In other ways, it’s been a disadvantage, especially when I’ve prioritized removing my discomfort above anything else, and made decisions without having all the information I really needed first.

Historically, when life’s ups and downs have left me feeling uncertain, I’ve done whatever I need to do to regain my sense of control. Keeping my options open or “going with the flow” provokes feelings of restlessness, impatience, and eventually frustration; after all, why leave things up to chance when you could have a plan?

My relationship with change, well, changed at the end of last year, when my partner and I embarked on a seven-month trip around South America and Mexico. Over the past few months, I have experienced different cultures, climates, environments, people, food, languages, and many more changes than I could have imagined.

During the first couple of months, I discovered a lot about my need for control, and how it affects my day-to-day experience. Working through this, I’ve learned to find a balance between meeting that need, and flowing with the many changes that come from moving between different places, countries, and cultures.

Here are five elements that have been invaluable in this process of adapting to change:

1. Learn to differentiate between what you can and can’t control.

One of the most important lessons I learned early on in my travels was the difference between factors I could control and factors I couldn’t control. For example, I could control whether I left enough time to get to an airport or a bus station to catch my next connection to a different city or country; however, I couldn’t control whether that plane or bus actually left on time.

As well as learning to place events in their rightful control-related categories, I learned to appreciate the importance of acceptance, and the emotional freedom this provides. Once I accepted that I couldn’t control some changes, I felt less anxious about them.

2. Keep a journal.

Keeping a diary or journal has been one of the most helpful activities for processing the changes I’ve experienced.

During my trip, I’ve embraced my morning pages routine (writing 3 A4 pages, or approximately 750 words stream-of-consciousness, as described by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way). This has helped me keep a record of the many things I’ve seen and experienced, and has also helped me recognize a strong limiting belief.

Through keeping a journal, I’ve realized that my aversion to change was based on a fear that I wouldn’t be able to cope with it. Reflecting on some of the experiences I’ve had and the way I’ve processed them, however, I recognized that I actually have far more internal strength than I previously gave myself credit for.

3. Develop routines, even small ones.

Developing small routines and habits has helped me stay grounded and connected to myself. In turn, this has enabled me to feel more accepting of other changes happening around me.

As well as morning pages, I have developed other routines (such as having the same breakfast most days and dedicating Saturday mornings to learning Spanish), that have helped meet my need for consistency and stability.

When it feels like everything else around us is in flux, finding small comforts to hold on to can make all the difference in how we process and deal with other changes in our lives.

4. Connect with others who are sharing a similar experience.

Talking to other travelers and hearing about their experience of long-term travel has helped me realize that I’m not alone in how I feel. Change is hard, even if you’ve volunteered for it. As one friend said to me a few days ago: “Just because you’ve chosen to do this doesn’t mean it has to be perfect.”

Talking to people back home about the struggles I’ve encountered has felt hard. Part of me feels guilty complaining about enormous bugs and travel sickness when people back home are enduring a freakishly cold winter and still doing the 9 to 5. But fellow travelers understand, and knowing that I’m not alone has helped me accept some of the more negative aspects of the changes I’ve experienced.

5. Take care of your basic needs.

Taking care of your basic needs is absolutely crucial if you are in a period of change. These needs are like the foundations of our physical and mental health; without them, we’re unlikely to be able to process additional challenges in a healthy way.

My non-negotiables are sleep, hygiene, exercise, and healthy food. When I have these things, I am a happy camper and can deal with external changes far more easily. When I don’t have them, my tolerance levels drop, I feel stressed and I find it hard to flow with other changes that are happening around me.

Your basic needs might be similar to mine, or they might be different. When you’re able to identify and prioritize them, however, you give yourself a much better chance of encountering change with minimal stress and anxiety.

What are your tips for dealing with change? Leave a comment and let us know.

June 9, 2013
Two Lies We Learn as Kids That Keep Us Stuck and Unhappy

“You can only grow if you’re willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new.” ~Brian Tracy

With apologies to everyone who is from somewhere else or lived before 1776, we Americans want everyone to believe that we live in the greatest country in the history of humanity and that makes us the greatest humans beings ever.

We even have data to back up our bravado: our GDP, the quantity of our millionaires and even billionaires, and our weapons power. We have more movie stars, more rock stars, and more celebrities who are celebrated for being celebrities than anybody. That’s right, by anything we choose to pay attention to, we’re the greatest.

America certainly seems to be the land of achievement. So how did I get to be so lazy? It seems I have had an attraction to “low hanging fruit.”

I am intrigued by solutions that come in the form of a pill. I want growth without the necessity of change. In short, I am a typical American.

The fact is I am a product of my environment. I have spent my life being inundated by marketing messages telling me “you deserve it,” “do it the easy way,” and “lose weight while you sleep.”

There seem to be such an abundance of easy solutions. Why on earth would I ever consider doing anything hard or time consuming?

I had to turn lazy. I wasn’t born that way. Like everyone else, I came into this world with nothing but possibility. I had no notion of limitation. “Work” wasn’t a dirty word. In fact, I worked at everything with joy.

Do you know I learned how to both walk and talk with no schooling whatsoever? True, Mom and Dad were encouraging. But I have a sneaking suspicion I would have figured it out anyway. I really wanted it.

America, the Land of the Free

As I got older, I formed a really bad habit: I began comparing myself to others. Were my grades as good as other kids my age or my siblings? Could I run as fast? Did I have as many friends? I developed an aching need for these things. I wanted this stuff and if I could get it on the cheap, so much the better. In fact, free was better yet.

My world offered a lot of “free.” At least, they said it was free. But it wasn’t really. There was always an unspecified cost. I just started accumulating the debt of it.

Since everyone else seemed to be amassing that same debt too it all felt normal. Normal was proclaimed by gifted marketers and copywriters as highly desirable. Who was I to argue?

Being cool just came with drinking the right beer. Being refined came with wearing the right clothes. Being successful came with driving the right car. Never mind that I wasn’t even sure I liked beer. Fashion is such a moving target I secretly felt I would never grasp it. And cars, they just got more and more expensive.

When did free become so hard and time consuming?

Too Fast for My Own Good

So I graduated from free to fast. Okay, I am now willing to pony up the bucks so long as it’s lickety-split. If a Porsche makes me instantly debonair, I’ll fork over the dough. Bring on the shortcuts!

Years and years of this kind of reasoning saw millions of dollars run through my hands. But all of this stuff was consumable. It went away, washed down the drain, and wore out. Sure, I had fun. But what did I have to show for it?

I will not discount the thrilling experiences, fond memories, and good times. But there was no permanence in this life of quick fixes.

After many lessons (more than I care to admit) and much pondering, I started to turn the battleship that is my mind. Maybe counting the cost is a good idea. Maybe the purposeful expenditure of time is worthwhile. Those were the new theories anyway. So I determined to test them out.

Something for Something and The Slow Fix

What I discovered was that a mindful use of my time and resources created a new and bigger world. I built useful foundations that can take a beating and still stick around. I found that selfishness had too high of a price tag on it and that indolence just wasn’t worth it.

These days I focus on abundance. The fact that there is a price for things makes them valuable. The requirement of time makes them precious. Abundance springs from a mindful investment in value.

It is no longer about give and take; it is about giving and receiving. Taking requires no willing giver. In fact, it usually prods unwilling givers. But receiving requires cooperation, collaboration, and acceptance. It also draws these things. True giving cannot exist without true receiving and vice versa. It’s a package deal.

All the money that washed over me and away is gone, but it wasn’t meant to stick. The money I encounter these days has a new adhesive quality unknown to me when I didn’t truly value it.

I am older now. Arguably, I have less time left. But I don’t mind expending my shortening time for worthwhile things. After all, that is what time is built for.

It turns out I can’t afford the phony promises of something for nothing and I don’t have time for quick fixes. From here on out it’s slow food, quality over discounts, and nothing free with strings attached. I am starting to suspect that this was the American Dream all along.

Photo by Luz Adriana Villa A

May 12, 2013
How to Bounce Back from a Hard Time and Come Out Stronger

“How we remember, what we remember, and why we remember, form the most personal map of our individuality.” ~Christina Baldwin

Look in the mirror. Who returns your gaze?

Is the face looking back at you a fulfilled being, or a mere shell of longing for something better?

If you would’ve asked me these questions a year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you.

Fresh out of college and on a mission to convince my ego of its importance, I began down a path that, unbeknownst to me at the time, would teach me more about myself than I’d ever committed to learning before.

It taught me who I am.

As I suffered through recovery from a brain tumor, the wild emotional rollercoaster of becoming a tech entrepreneur, social insecurities, and the straining of interpersonal relationships, my ego assumed the form of a beaten and battered soldier, pushed to the brink of surrender.

And that’s when the magic happened.

Three things occurred in this process. If you’re going through a hard time, these may help you come out the other side better and stronger.

1. Understand your limitations.

Before my tumor diagnosis and the ensuing melee between my thoughts and the reality of the outside world, I had never really needed to push myself. Success came easily.

Sure, I worked hard, but nothing like the excruciating mental work and rapid maturation of emotional intelligence required to successfully trudge through to the other side of those trying years.

I had no need to test my limits before I was actually challenged.

But amidst the storm, I learned that I’d just begun to push. There was still a lot of room to grow—and nothing to be afraid of.

So I decided to perform another form of slow torture on myself.

I started a company.

Eighteen months later, I was broke. Like “barely pay the rent, eat only oatmeal, and do laundry once a month” broke. Things didn’t work out financially, to say the least. But on the flip side, starting that company was the most incredible, educational thing I’ve ever done.

I spent eighteen months pushing myself to the brink of what I considered possible—doing things that I never could’ve foreseen myself doing.

Yet I did them, all in a short amount of time. At times the impossible became possible. Or it was just outside my reach. But I saw it.

It was as if the mere act of doing opened my eyes to an invisible line that I could not cross, but I could push back—further and further until eventually I was in new, uncharted territory.

We all have a line like that—our limit. It awaits acknowledgement, and it becomes an opportunity.

2. Understand your value.

Before pushing my limits, I never had a grasp on how much value I bring to the table.

For example, I’ve always been good at science—heck, I’ve got a degree in neuroscience—so I allowed myself to be grouped into a certain categorization, one that I wasn’t particularly content with.

Because I’m also an artist. With engineer tendencies. And Asperger focus. And I love business, innovation, and technology. And writing about issues as seemingly mundane as fitness by reaching in and pulling them out by the heart, Temple of Doom style.

I didn’t understand my value before because I had never taken the time to give it away. You cannot give that which you don’t have.

Taking the time to push boundaries and dive headfirst into things that scared the heck out of me—voluntarily or involuntarily—forced me to reassess just how valuable I actually am.

I can do a lot of things! And I’m sure you can too.

Many people fall into the trap of not knowing what their gifts are, or what value they can bring to others.

And they never actually take any action in terms of seeing just how much they have to give.

Sitting in a room thinking about what gifts you may have will not help anyone. Going out into the world and succeeding or failing at something will. A gift is meant to be given. How can you know your gifts until you try to give something, anything, to someone else?

Don’t make the mistake of underestimating your worth.

It is far better to overestimate yourself and fail, to take that learning experience and recalibrate your direction, than to underestimate your potential and miss out on opportunities in the process.

When I finally accepted my gifts and embraced the idea that I could use them to not only make a living, but also to create a meaningful life—a congruent existence that mattered—I was instantly free to explore.

Free to pursue. To create. To add value.

Will I continue to overreach? Fall flat on my face? Fail?

Of course; only a fool would expect not to. But at least I can rest easy knowing that I’ll never again under-reach. I’ll never regret a chance untaken.

Because heck, I’m going for it, and you should too!

3. Surrender yourself.

Life is a journey.

And when, after climbing mountains and enduring valleys, you’ve come to that point in the trail where you’re weathered and beaten, your feet pulse from the incessant pounding, and your mind screams to please stop, you realize that you’ll never reach the end of this journey alone.

That alone, you’re too insignificant to go on.

That’s when you surrender yourself.

You don’t quit, no. Instead, you acknowledge your role in the big picture. That’s when you learn your place in relation to all other things. And you can relate your purpose to the plans of that kingdom.

So when I fully absorbed the fact that I am here to serve others, to use my gifts selflessly, and in turn reap the goodwill I sow, well, I gained a purpose.

For the first time ever, life became so overwhelming that I realized I couldn’t go through it alone, like I had been. Growing up, I barely talked to anyone, including my parents. I began reaching back out to them, finally asking for help, and a strong bond resulted.

I also always focused on my gifts as something to be cherished and cultivated for my own purposes—so I could be outstanding or excellent at something. But this was leaving out a key ingredient to true success: context.

Without someone else to receive it, a gift is nothing more than a selfish toy. Something we use to amuse ourselves.

To truly find your relation to other things, you must first surrender your self. Start relying on other people for help and support. Start giving freely of your gifts. Define a religious purpose. Self-discovery is a long, arduous process, but the alternative, complacency, is fatal.

We already have far too many ill-defined shells of individuals floating through life, not making a difference, not making an impact, and, quite frankly, not even living.

Ghosts.

What we need is more warm bodies.

More passionately congruent, ambitiously purposeful individuals—people who know that what they do matters.

People who understand their value and limitations, and have not only brushed up against their dreams, but embraced them.

So from here I breathe my challenge to you: Will you realize that you matter?

Photo by Zach Dischner

April 25, 2013
Waking Up and Forgetting a Bad Day

“Life is inherently risky. There is only one big risk you should avoid at all costs, and that is the risk of doing nothing.” ~Denis Waitley

Yesterday was a bad day.

My husband and I got really close to buying a car before we walked away—again. This time it was because it was above our budget (with taxes), because the current owners didn’t have the title (their bank did), and because our own car broke down on the way to trying to buy the new car (didn’t see that one coming).

I was fine about the ordeal yesterday, seeing the whole thing as one big adventure toward the right car in the end. But this morning I woke up angry and fearful. Angry about the time we’ve invested so far without results and fearful that another almost there deal might fall through again.

After three days negotiating on the last fall-through deal, it felt like the failure of failures and just wanted to stay in bed so I could avoid more of them.

Of course I knew rationally that my feelings didn’t reflect reality, that yesterday’s annoyances are small change in the scheme of things, and that I’m fortunate to be even looking for a (second) car let alone have so many choices for which one to buy.

The real problem was that my feelings weren’t staying within the boundaries of the car-shopping situation. They were infecting how I felt about everything from my business to my past choices, to my body image, to my mental health image.

I was flooded within minutes of being awake, and I didn’t know how I was going to coax my mental strength back from cowering in the corner.

So I did what every procrastinating person does these days: I went on Facebook. And after seeing a bunch of uninteresting stuff, my eye caught on the most courageous thing I’ve seen in a long time: a picture of my five-year-old nephew Caleb leaving home for his very first day of school. (more…)

September 26, 2012