Tiny Buddha

Tag: heal

  • For People Who Look in the Mirror and Cringe

    For People Who Look in the Mirror and Cringe

    “Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are.” ~Brené Brown

    When I was fourteen years old, I vividly remember the first time I put my fingers down my throat and made myself puke.

    I remember feeling fat, ugly, unworthy, and like I was not good enough. I felt as if I had no control and I was unable to effectively process the strong emotions I was feeling. Binging and purging allowed me to temporarily release these feelings, to numb them out, and created a fallacy of control in my life.

    From that day on, for the next twelve years of my life, I became consumed with food, weight, working out, and binging and purging.

    I measured my value based on the inches on the measuring tape, the letters on my clothes, and the numbers on the scale.

    I measured my self-worth on the severely skewed perceptions of beauty that I held.

    The way I viewed myself led me down a lifestyle of numbing my emotions with substances, putting myself in risky situations, and hurting the people I loved most.

    My self-hatred kept me blocked off, emotionally numb, and gave me a false sense of control in my life. I became adept at constantly wearing a façade of masks—smearing a smile on my face was second nature to hide the ugliness and shame that I felt in every pore of my body.

    And although over the years I have overcome my disordered eating, the battle with self-love continues. I sometimes wonder if I will ever be able to silence the constant push and pull from the internal thought patterns and dialogue that goes on in my head.

    The one thing that gives me some solace (and sadness) is knowing I am not alone.

    Because, no matter your age, gender, race, family make-up, or religion, the majority of us struggle with some sort of skewed self-image, negative self-talk, and self-limiting beliefs that keep us stuck in the perpetual cycle of questioning our worthiness.

    Although the stories we tell ourselves based on our personal life experiences, traumas, and joys are unique to us, they are collective to the human experience.

    This post is for anyone who looks in the mirror and cringes…

    Who cry as they measure their self-worth by the letters on their clothes, the numbers on the scale, or the amount of “likes” they get on social media…

    Who judge themselves for the jiggle of their bellies, the cellulite on their legs, or the wrinkles on their face…

    Who take out their perceived inadequacies on their bodies, harming it through their method of choice—substances, eating disorders, self-harm, risky behaviors.

    This post is for the women who are researching the next fad diet, fretting about the color of their roots, their wrinkles, or their weight as they contemplate spending their savings on cosmetic surgery trying to live up to society’s filtered expectations of how a woman “should” look.

    For the men who are measuring their masculinity based on the size of their penis, the look of their muscles, or the hair on their heads.

    For the transgendered and Cis community who feel trapped in a body that is not aligned with the essence of their true being.

    For the people who refuse to look in a mirror, fearful of what they may see.

    For the people who feel like they will never be good enough, strong enough, or worthy enough.

    I want you to know: You are beautiful enough. You are good enough. You are worthy enough.

    I know if you are reading this right now, you may be skimming over those words thinking “yeah, yeah.”

    But slow down and read them again.

    You. Are. Beautiful.

    You. Are. Good. Enough.

    You. Are. Worthy. Enough.

    No matter your age, size of your pants, number of dimples or pimples you have. No matter the size of your muscles, the hair on your head or the wrinkles in your skin.

    You matter.

    Your life matters.

    The world needs your essence. Your love. Your personality. Your spirit. Your uniqueness.

    In a world where we are inundated with an average of 6,000 to 10,000 advertisements a day telling us how we should look, how we should live our lives, and who we should be, in a world where social media is a filtered lens skewing reality, allowing only glimpses into the realities of others’ lives, it can be easy to add fuel to the fire of self-deprecating thoughts and feelings of unworthiness.

    What I learned from my personal struggle with body image, self-hate, and pure distain for every inch of my being, is that self-love is going to look different for everyone, and it is going to take time to undo the decades of self-deprecating self-talk.

    But it can be done.

    The rise of body-positivity and self-love movement is encouraging, yet it can also leave you feeling as if it is one more thing you are failing at because you just can’t bring yourself to fully embrace those lumps, bumps, tiger stripes, pimples, and dimples just yet.

    Through my experience I have found if you start small and give yourself grace and compassion you can start shifting your mindset around how you view yourself. Below are the steps I took in my journey that you may find helpful for your own journey.

    Do the deeper work.

    Begin to understand how your subconscious mind and self-imposed limiting beliefs from your personal experiences are keeping you stuck. Neuroscience shows us that we can reprogram our subconscious beliefs. Start being the scientist of your life and figure out where these feeling come from so you can start becoming aware of them. The first step in changing any habit/belief is awareness.

    Start small.

    Focus on the features you love about yourself. The first body part I started liking was my fingernails. Yes, my fingernails. But as I got used to saying I loved my fingernails I moved on to other body parts and kept the snowball going.

    View your body as your partner, not your enemy.

    This body does so much for you day in and day out. Shift into a perspective of gratitude for all the amazing things it does. Those thighs help you walk, that belly processes nutrients to fuel you, those wrinkles are proof of years of love, life, and wisdom. Start using the holistic healing powers of your breath. Begin partnering with your body on how you can help each other.

    Do an inventory of your strengths.

    If this is hard for you to do, then reach out to someone you love and ask them to tell you, in writing, what they love about you or see as your strengths. Seriously, this is scary. I get it because I did it. And I am so grateful I did. I reached out to three of my closest friends and family members and asked them what they saw in me. I did this over eight years ago and still have these letters taped in my journal so that I can read in times when I cannot see what they see.

    Consciously choose to focus on what gets you excited in life.

    It is so easy to waste our valuable time comparing our lives to others, focusing on what we hate about ourselves, or getting stuck in the perpetual cycle of negative self-talk. Instead, consciously choose to chase your curiosity.

    Have you ever set intentions for your year or your life? Setting intentions is one of the most powerful tips I adopted when I began my self-love journey, as it allowed me to focus on the bigger picture of who I wanted to be, how I wanted to show up each day, where I wanted my life to go, and what my definition of happiness truly looked like.

    Can you imagine how much passion, happiness, and love we would exude into the world if we were able to switch out the time we spend putting ourselves down into building ourselves up?

    We would change the world.

    You truly are so much more powerful that you know.

  • How I Survived Suicidal Thoughts When I Really Wanted to Die

    How I Survived Suicidal Thoughts When I Really Wanted to Die

    **If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts now, please consider speaking with a trained professional through the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, at 1-800-273-TALK.

    “Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.” ~Lucius Annaeus Seneca

    When I was twenty-four my best friend died suddenly in a car accident. She was like a sister to me, so this plunged me into a deep depression. I had struggled with depression since I was about fourteen, but it became much worse after she passed away.

    At times suicide honestly seemed like the best possible solution to what I felt like I knew was going to be another fifty years of sadness. I wasn’t depressed every day, and there were weeks and months when it seemed like things were getting better. But the depression always seemed to come back and it was wearing me down.

    Despair

    In Andrew Solomon’s book The Noonday Demon, he states that it is easier to convince a schizophrenic person that their delusions aren’t real than it is to convince a depressed and suicidal person that life is worth living.

    “You don’t think in depression that you’ve put on a gray veil and are seeing the world through the haze of a bad mood. You think that the veil has been taken away, the veil of happiness, and that now you’re seeing truly.”

    This sums up exactly how I felt. I needed others to have hope for me when I didn’t have any. I was lucky to have a great support network of family, friends, and professionals. I had a doctor and an amazing therapist who helped a lot.

    I read everything I could on depression and sought out people who were going through similar things. It made me feel less alone to be able to talk openly about the darkness I was experiencing. I craved authenticity. The support I received kept me alive and gradually I started to heal.

    Hope

    As I write this, I haven’t been clinically depressed in two years now. I am blessed with so much love, purpose, and happiness. If I had ended my life back then I would never have met my amazing partner, become a counselor, or seen my nieces grow up.

    I couldn’t skip those painful years, but I wish I knew that things would turn out okay, that I could recover, and that life could be worth living. What I’m saying is, give time a chance to heal you, give life a chance to get better. You will have to fight for it, but it can happen.

    Hope is such a powerful thing, and suicide is the ultimate state of hopelessness. If you can connect with a suicidal person’s hopelessness but also hold and communicate your hope for them, that is a huge gift. They may not thank you at the time, but one day they might. It could be the thing that gets them through that night.

    The Secret We Keep

    Suicide is a lot more common than people realize. One in five people experience thoughts of not wanting to be alive at some point in their lifetime, but it’s not socially acceptable to admit to this. We walk around thinking we’re the only one and must be totally crazy when right next to us someone else might be thinking the same thing.

    It makes sense that when we are suffering our brain looks for ways out, especially if we feel like we are a burden to others because of our suffering. Usually we can dismiss this as a bad idea, an extreme and permanent solution to our problems.

    But what if the suffering doesn’t seem to be ending? What if the pain just goes on and on and you can’t take it anymore?

    The Ones You Leave Behind

    If you are deeply depressed, you may think you are just putting an end to your suffering by ending your life, but you are actually just passing it on to the people who know and love you. It is estimated that fifteen to thirty people are severely affected by each person’s suicide. They are left with questions of “What did I do wrong?” “What did I miss?” “What could I have done?” The people left behind are also at a higher risk of suicide.

    This is painful to hear when you are desperate for an escape. I don’t mean to guilt trip anyone. But instead of passing on this pain to others you could try and channel it into something positive. Even if that is just your own recovery and survival.

    Some of the greatest creatives and altruists are people who have known deep pain. It was their experiences that prepared them and allowed them to create something good in the world. We are all going to die eventually, so if you do nothing else in this life, do your best with all the years life gives you.

    Grief

    I was at a conference recently and the facilitator, a therapist who specializes in working with people bereaved by suicide, told a story. She was walking along the street when a woman almost accidentally stepped out in front of the traffic. The therapist was too far away to grab the lady so instead she yelled out “Don’t leave us!”

    This story brought tears to my eyes. It reminded me of the loss that people feel when they lose someone, especially to suicide. I think of the pain that I felt when my best friend died, the absolute grief, and then I imagine how much worse it would have been if she had died by suicide. I am so glad I did not successfully inflict that on my family.

    Safety Planning

    I suspect many are feeling suicidal right now, given that we’ve all been isolated, some with mental health issues and no support; others trapped with their abusers; others still feeling overwhelmed by financial struggle. If you’ve been feeling suicidal the first thing I would suggest is telling someone. It could be a friend, a family member, a therapist or a helpline.

    I know this can be scary. You might be worried they will think you’re crazy or rush you off to hospital. I can’t say for sure what will happen, but I can say that if you pick someone good, they will most likely ask you some questions and try to come up with a plan to keep you safe while you feel this way.

    Be clear with what you are thinking and feeling. There is a big difference between feeling that you don’t want to be alive sometimes and planning to end your life. It’s all important and it’s okay to talk about it. If the first person doesn’t respond well, that’s okay; tell someone else. There are good people out there.

    Maybe you are reading this and thinking that no one would care if you died, and your family wouldn’t miss you. Well, someone would. Maybe someone you haven’t even met yet. Someone who will never get to meet a person just like you. You are completely unique, and no one can replace you. Please don’t leave us.

    **If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts now, please consider speaking with a trained professional through the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, at 1-800-273-TALK.

  • Why Joy Is Important for Healing Developmental Trauma

    Why Joy Is Important for Healing Developmental Trauma

    “We all have everything we need within us to create our fullest potential.” ~Abraham Maslow

    Did you grow up with a critical, distant, or ignorant mother?

    She probably made sure that your physical needs were covered, but she never noticed or understood your emotional needs. If she was anything like my mum, she may even have shamed you for having them!

    You’re an adult now, and you have everything you need to be happy. So why aren’t you? Instead, you feel unworthy, disconnected, and lonely even when you’re with people you love. There’s this constant emptiness inside that makes you angry and sad at the same time. 

    Maybe you still long for a loving mother like you did when you were young, hoping that one day she’ll show up, or maybe you’ve given up hope that your mother will ever change.  

    Either way, she left open wounds inside your entire being—invisible traces of the trauma that you sustained. And you need to heal these wounds so that you can rediscover your true nature, activate your full potential, and live a life of your choice—a life filled with joy.

    Healing is crucial for your health—mental, physical and spiritual alike. The good news is, you don’t have to live in misery waiting for the “perfect” day to start being happy. In fact, bringing more joy into your life now will help you heal.

    Think about it this way: Joy is like the sun that eats away grey clouds and opens up the skies. Everything it touches brightens up and fills with the energy of growth. 

    Joy helps minimize the stress of the fight-or-flight reactions that you grew accustomed to because of to your traumatic past. It activates positive patterns in your brain instead, helping you heal and thrive.

    Just like it helped me.

    How I Learned to Speak Joy

    I was thirty-one when I made the life-changing decision to move abroad, far away from the stress of the strained relationship with my mum. On the outside, I was a confident adult woman, the mother of a seven-year-old boy. But inside, I felt like a scared little girl longing for a safe place to hide.

    Moving to a new country brought much positive change into my life. But, like nearly everything in life, with the good came a challenge.

    Running from my narcissistic mum, I left behind everything I knew—everything I had built in my life. I also left Mum alone with my dear sick father in the age before the Internet, when international phone calls could bite holes in a family budget. What I wanted was a break from the pain inflicted by Mum’s behaviour, but I never stopped worrying about her and my dad.

    I swapped my career in one of the country’s best medical centers for the life of a housewife, surrounded by strangers who spoke a language I didn’t understand. I uprooted my little boy and brought him to an unfamiliar place far away. We both felt like two survivors who had landed on another planet, and I needed all my strength just to stop myself from falling apart. 

    So how did I step beyond merely surviving, and begin to thrive? By making a conscious decision to live in the now and enjoy what I have.

    As simple as it seemed, it was a challenge in itself. You see, Mum taught me that life was serious business, and neither fun nor joy belonged there. Fortunately, the healthy part inside of me knew what I needed: to master another “foreign” language—the language of joy. Fortunately, I listened.

    “Even when you didn’t have the mother you needed, there’s a place inside your heart that totally knows how to love.” ~Jette Simon, psychotherapist

    So, there I was, learning to enjoy mundane chores like vacuuming and cleaning bathrooms—what could be less joyful than that? But I would turn on MTV, sing along, and swing my hips to the tunes blazing out of the big black box of a TV we had back then. And that simple trick drizzled my life with positivity, helping me to turn boring, everyday stuff into pleasurable activities.

    After that small success, I learned to seek and find joy in everything I did.

    You may be unable to change every challenging circumstance of your life, but you can bring more balance to your emotional inner world. 

    Being a food lover, I experimented with local recipes, enjoying tickles of creativity and sharing the results.

    My mother-in-law, Kirsten, who called me every day, clearly cared about us. Unfortunately, we didn’t speak a common language, and I needed something to make those conversations come alive. So, I made a list of the stuff I was usually doing—I’m vacuuming, reading, helping my son with his homework, and so on—and my husband translated it for me. This list became not only my first lesson in Danish, but it also brought joy to our connection and deepened our relationship.

    I loved spending quality time with my son with no stress attached and enjoyed the growing feeling of closeness between us. I did my best to help him cope with new people and our new life, and in turn, he helped me.

    I enjoyed my time alone, too—a walk with the dog (another language to learn!), sunbathing on the terrace, or reading a book. For the first time in my life, I could sit there doing nothing, and no one would criticize me for being “lazy” as Mum used to!

    Spice up your daily activities to expand a flow of positivity and minimize reactivity patterns.

    Looking back, I clearly see that I learned to be in the moment, pay attention to what I was doing, and do it with joy.

    Gradually, my overall mood began to improve, and I could see my life in a brighter light. Each day started to look more like an adventure, with endless possibilities for joy presenting themselves.

    It didn’t heal my trauma, of course, but it helped me get the best out of a turbulent time of change and prepared me for a healing journey. 

    Your Brain Still Remembers

    The chronic stress of developmental trauma has a long-lasting impact on the brain. Overloaded with negative bias, some parts of your brain are overwhelmed and “acting out,” while others are numb, taken out of the game. You need to calm the loud ones and reactivate those that have gone quiet. By doing so, you re-center yourself and find a healthier emotional balance. 

    When you laugh, have fun, or simply enjoy the moment, troubles and worries step aside, and you enter another realm where you feel connected, safe, and loved.

    Joy is inside you as a natural part of your true being. You simply need to find and reconnect with it.

    Here’s how you can increase your ability to feel joy.

    Acknowledge your current situation.

    Put in words what you’re struggling with, why, and how it’s negatively impacting you—not to punish anyone but to clarify the challenge. Remember, denial keeps you stuck, but acknowledging things for what they are opens doors for personal growth, healing, and joy.

    Now, knowing where you stand, ask yourself what you want your life to be and what you can do to get there. Possibilities for moving forward always exist; even small steps will take you closer to your goal.

    Find balance in a state of control.

    Either too much or too little control means co-dependency. Many people try to overcontrol their lives. To overcome this, let go of things that are beyond your control, like changing other people. Instead, focus more on self-growth. 

    In other cases, people allow their circumstances to dictate their lives, resulting in too little control or even no control at all. If that’s the case for you, it means taking matters into your own hands. Start with easier things like taking care of your well-being and choosing things that bring you joy. After that, work on saying no and building and defending strong boundaries.  

    Learn to tolerate difficult emotions.

    To achieve a peaceful and joyful state, you must first learn to tolerate your difficult emotions. It’s not easy, but staying with your grief, anger, or shame can turn things around and free space for positive emotions. If you push these difficult feelings away, they will almost certainly eat you alive. Do you want to miss out on all the good stuff in life? I didn’t think so.

    Validate your feelings instead of suppressing them, denying them, or pushing them away. You have the right to all of them! How could you not be angry, sad, or in mourning when you grew up without the loving mother you longed for as a child?

    Working through painful feelings on your own can be tough, so ask your partner, a friend, or a therapist to support you during this time.

    Live in the moment.

    Did you know that multitasking is one of the biggest enemies of joy? It’s true! Taking on multiple tasks at once keeps your mind and body overloaded, and it’s impossible to enjoy yourself when you’re constantly changing activities. Focusing on one thing, on the contrary, allows joy to surface and bloom.

     Learn to calm yourself. 

    Nobody is happy or relaxed all the time, but you can learn the skills and techniques to calm yourself when you need to. By doing so, you help your brain build more positive connections and open up for joy.

    Mindfulness and mediation are two excellent techniques that help you to slow down and focus on the moment. If sitting silently cross-legged on a cushion isn’t for you, don’t worry, there are other ways to get the benefits of these practices. Anything that helps you focus, pay attention, and be present will do the trick.

    Engage yourself fully.

    No matter what you do, get completely involved in it. Even when you do something out of necessity, it’s possible to find joy in the action. Fully engaging in everything you do helps you discover new, exciting sides to boring stuff from your to-do list. And sometimes, adding fun to dull, repetitive activities like washing the dishes or waiting for the bus solves the problem and awakens joy.

    Help or share.

    Social connections bring lots of joy into your life, even if you’re just connecting on Zoom. Help people, or share something with them—a cup of coffee, a smile, or a passion of yours. For example, I like to bake, and blend facial tonics and creams; it helps me relax. But sharing my passions with others is what brings me profound satisfaction and joy. 

    And the effect stays for days and weeks—I promise! 

    Choose joy. 

    More joy means lower levels of inflammation in your body, better health, and greater happiness. You’re no longer a prisoner of your emotions and can consciously choose where you want to use your energy and how. 

    Activating joy helps you reconnect with an authentic, wise part inside of you that knows how to love. It means finally feeling like yourself and safe inside your skin—no matter what traumas you have endured throughout your life.

    “Every moment, if it’s really inside of you, brings you what you need.” ~Rumi

    Choose joy!

  • My Cat Had Cancer and Taught Me How to Cope with Illness

    My Cat Had Cancer and Taught Me How to Cope with Illness

    “A cat purring on your lap is more healing than any drug in the world, as the vibrations you are receiving are of pure love and contentment.” ~St. Francis of Assisi

    We all know what it is like to be sick. At some point in our lives we get the flu or a bad cold, but we know the course—get lots of rest and before you know it you are as good as new. But for some of us, we live with chronic illness.

    Chronic illness brings with it day-to-day symptoms, the ones you cannot get away from. Coping with chronic illness is really tough.

    You wonder if you will ever get well, grieve the things you used to do or want to do but can’t, stress about how to maintain employment, and feel invisible to those who don’t know what it is like to be sick.

    Autoimmune illnesses affect 50 million people in the United States and includes over 100 illnesses (aarda.org). I have an autoimmune disease—Crohn’s disease. It is a chronic inflammatory bowel disease.

    Crohn’s disease has many symptoms, which fluctuate day-to-day, and like all autoimmune diseases has remissions and relapses. I don’t know when I wake up if I am going to have a good day or a really bad day.

    Some days it is overwhelming, but others I feel supported and hopeful that I will get better.

    When my twenty-year-old cat Yochabel was diagnosed with bladder cancer, now two of us in the same home suffered with a chronic condition. As we faced our health challenges together, something remarkable happened.

    She became a mirror of myself. I thought I was coping, but she challenged my current perceptions of illness. I had room for improvement as Yochabel, my dear cat companion, offered me lessons for coping.

    Obviously, I didn’t have feline bladder cancer, but her condition, similar to my own, was chronic, and unpredictable. Similarly, treatment direction was unclear and despite seeing diverse specialists, opinions were confusing and conflicting.

    Whether it is cancer, autoimmune disease, or another illness, there are common themes among them. I think of illness as painful, uncomfortable, disorienting, stressful, frustrating, and even depressing from time to time.

    But to my surprise, Yochabel introduced me to a positive aspect of illness. Illness brought irreplaceable gifts to both our lives, one of which is gratitude.

    Notice and Appreciate the Small Things in Life

    When we know our time is limited with those we love, suddenly our perspective shifts. Instead of focusing on what we don’t have, we focus on what we have. Each day Yochabel was physically able to walk to her litter box I was grateful.

    First thing in the morning, I ran into the room where she was sleeping, and when I saw her big beautiful green eyes wide open and heard her purring, I felt gratitude. I noticed that while I was able to appreciate these things in Yochabel, I couldn’t in myself.

    My body, just like hers, was giving me many moments to be grateful for. Despite living with Crohn’s disease for decades, my body gifted me with the ability to walk to see Yochabel, the senses to see and hear her, and a heart that filled with love when I thought of her.

    My body gave me life—a life that I could make the most of because it was my choice regardless of illness.

    Being Present: One Step, One Moment at a Time

    Throughout the ups and downs of adjusting to the bladder cancer, I noticed the stark contrast between Yochabel’s responses and my own. I wanted the answers to be clear and results from treatment immediate. I was impatient and outwardly frustrated.

    Meanwhile, Yochabel’s life was consumed with frequent trips to her litter box. Back and forth each morning I watched her squat to urinate, return to her bed, and start the process all over again. Her pacing made me anxious and angry.

    I asked myself again and again why is this happening to her? She didn’t deserve it.

    I watched her take one step at a time, as though each trek to the litter box was a new one. I, on the other hand, accumulated her sufferings, each trek to the litter box being “stacked” on top of the prior ones as I angrily said, “Here we go again!”

    Meanwhile she was calm and present in each step.

    I wondered how does she do it?

    Then I concluded, it was truly about being in the moment—taking one symptom at a time. The more we accumulate and stack symptoms, the harder it is to cope. One symptom at a time is more manageable.

    I wondered if I could handle my symptoms one at a time.

    It is almost as if she knew this was a process that her body had to unfold in its own time.

    As I watched her presence and approach to a very annoying constellation of symptoms, I realized how much energy I expel trying to rush healing, obtain immediate answers, and get to the end of treatment. This negative response steals energy away from my healing in the form of stress.

    Stress doesn’t help healing, it makes it worse. It was a major difference: Yochabel seemed to manage stress much better than I do.

    It is All About Perception—We Are What We Think

    One side effect of bladder cancer is bleeding. Despite my knowing this can be a common symptom of cancer, my perception of blood is “scary,” and painful.

    In fact, it causes me to freak out!

    Yochabel didn’t perceive blood as alarming. Therefore, every time she urinated blood, while I panicked, Yochabel remained present and calm until my nerves and actions alarmed her.

    To my amazement, even while bleeding, she still purred and sought my companionship and meals.

    I wondered if I could be this calm as my body did strange things; it would certainly be useful.

    It was all about my perceptions.

    Joy and Illness Can Coexist

    The most perplexing to me was Yochabel’s ability to show a joy and zest for life despite what I perceived as uncomfortable—cancer.

    While bleeding, urgently urinating, and dealing with her own lifestyle changes she was upbeat, kind, patient, and obviously joyful.

    I couldn’t think of a day in my life where I exuded outward or inward joy while in a Crohn’s flare. Not to mention, I was irritable towards those around me when I was suffering.

    Yochabel, staying in the moment, never allowed her illness to displace her joy or relationship with me.

    She was always kind and full of gratitude.

    Pet Companions Help Us Heal

    Living with chronic illness inspires me to continue developing and refining what my body and mind need to heal.

    Through the years I have explored many approaches for healing Crohn’s disease and strengthening my immune system.

    I tried physical interventions: diet, routine blood work, and taking vitamins and supplements and emotional interventions: seeing a licensed mental health therapist and addressing the impact of childhood trauma and stress on my health.

    These were all effective in their own ways, but sometimes healing can be simpler than we think.

    Our pet companions are critical assets to our healing.

    Not only do they provide us unconditional love and support, but they are some of our greatest teachers. In the presence of a pet companion, there is no such thing as invisible illness.

    They see us for who we really are and their wisdom and intuition is something all humans can benefit from.

    Hold on to the Gifts in Front of You

    Illness is life changing for caretakers and patients.

    However, the greatest lesson I learned from Yochabel is that some of the difficulty is of my own creation.

    Rushing the human body beyond its natural ability to heal is counterproductive, anger and frustration toward loved ones and oneself is damaging, negative perceptions create stress and confusion.

    Just because illness is present in our lives does not mean we have to surrender to it. We still have our joy, quality time with loved ones, ability to make decisions moment to moment, and hope that things can get better.

    While Yochabel had the cancer, I seemed to be the victim and the “sicker” of the two of us.

    Why?

    Because she didn’t let go of any of these gifts.

    Her focus was holding on to them moment by moment and when I do the same, I can cope much more easily.

    *You can read more about Yochabel’s wisdom, and her end-of-life story, here.

  • Trauma Can Make Us Sick: How I Found a Key to Healing

    Trauma Can Make Us Sick: How I Found a Key to Healing

    “Our bodies contain our histories—every chapter, line, and verse of every event and relationship in our lives.” ~Caroline Myss

    I could hear my teacher talking, but I wasn’t listening. Staring at the math homework in front of me, I couldn’t get the sound of my heartbeat out of my head.

    Two times two equals, thump thump, equals thump thump, four.

    The more I focused on my heartbeat, the louder it became. I could even feel beating in my chest.

    Noticing the clock, I had ten more minutes before my mom would meet me in the school office. We had a meeting scheduled with the school nurse. I dreaded it.

    Was I in trouble?

    If so, then why was I meeting the nurse and not the principal? Besides, I was an A+ student. I never got in trouble.

    At the sound of the bell, I made my way reluctantly to the office. As planned, Mom was there. The school nurse, a small woman with a huge smile, met the both of us.

    “Come in,” she said, as she motioned in the direction of her door.

    I looked over at my mom and she looked at me, shrugging her shoulders. We were both clueless about the purpose of this meeting.

    “Uh huh,” clearing her throat, Nurse Smith broke the ice…

    “Let’s get to it. Casey, you are too thin. It concerns me.”

    Looking at my mom, she said, “Mom, do you know why Casey is losing so much weight?”

    My mom quickly described our diet and how she prepared meals for me, “balanced and complete.”

    “Is Casey seeing a doctor?” Nurse Smith followed up.

    My mom, in an agitated voice said, “When necessary we go to our family physician.”

    Looking at me intently, Nurse Smith patted me on the shoulder,

    “Okay, Casey, you eat more of your mom’s good cooking and get some weight on you. I don’t want to see you back in my office until you fill out a bit.”

    This was one of many incidents where people, including professionals, noticed something physical about me, made assumptions, but never asked me about my experience.

    No one asked me about my perceptions of my weight.

    Did I notice changes in the way my pants fit?

    Did I notice changes in my desire to eat?

    Instead, a band-aid approach—eat my mom’s great food—was recommended, and I was sent on my way.

    It was assumed that if I ate more, my weight would increase.

    Was eating more also the solution for my fast heartbeat?

    Apparently not.

    Months later, during a physical education drill, my teacher confirmed my rapid heartbeat. My teacher was not only concerned, but I was banned from taking physical education classes until my heartbeat was “normal.”

    Saddened that I couldn’t take a class that I really enjoyed, no one, including my physicians, offered me any solutions. After wearing heart monitors and complying with many tests, I was diagnosed with tachycardia. This is a medical term, or as I like to call it, a fancy name for not knowing the cause for elevated heartbeat.

    The Importance of our Thoughts, Feelings, and Perceptions

    I went through most of my young adult years being diagnosed with a number of conditions based on my physical symptoms and observations of my outward appearance.

    No one inquired about my internal environment—my thoughts, feelings, beliefs.

    No one asked me about my life either.

    What was it like for me at home?

    What kind of relationship did I have with my parents?

    Did I experience any stress, or even understand the meaning of stress?

    Did I feel safe and cared for physically and emotionally?

    Needless to say, my mom’s excellent cooking didn’t make me gain weight. I continued to lose weight. My heartbeat continued racing too.

    It wasn’t until my mom took me to see a psychologist that I was diagnosed with an eating disorder. The real reason I was losing weight: I was very ill.

    It was during therapy sessions that the psychologist pointed out I would not gain weight or begin to repair my relationship with food until the conflict between my parents remitted.

    She was absolutely right.

    The psychologist made a connection between my weight loss and conflict in my home.

    The focus wasn’t on my diet as the cause. The focus was on the emotional turmoil in my life.

    This was the first time anyone connected my physical symptoms to stress in my environment.

    Trauma Can Make Us Sick

    At the time of my weight loss and rapid heartbeat, my parents were going through a tumultuous, and by my view, traumatic divorce. Conflict was normal in my home, and I was a classic “child the middle of this conflict.”

    As my parents argued over their lost relationship and years of service to each other, I was lost in the midst of their problems.

    Divorce is one of many traumatic events people can experience.

    Any event perceived as threatening, disempowering, helpless, or out of control is a trauma.

    Trauma contributes to physical symptoms in the body.

    In other words, one of my traumas—my parents’ divorce– made me sick.

    After years of therapy, I came to understand that anxiety is a mental health condition. Anxiety can present with many symptoms, one of which is tachycardia, or a rapid heartbeat.

    I was relieved. Suddenly the reasons for my rapid heartbeat made sense!

    Animal Instincts Keep Us Safe But Can Make Us Sick

    When a person’s perception of safety is threatened, the body goes into a natural response called fight-or-flight. Like an animal in the wild who is about to become prey for another, the body mobilizes a response to react and protect.

    People who live in traumatic environments experience threats frequently. Just because we aren’t going to really be eaten, the body doesn’t know the difference, and it mobilizes to save us just the same. Increased heart rate is a side effect.

    I did not perceive my home as safe. The conflict between my parents was traumatic. My body didn’t know the difference between an animal getting ready to eat me or any other threat.

    When my parents argued, my body mobilized a fight-or-flight response, which caused my heart rate to increase. Anxiety, living on edge, and fearing for what was going to happen next, became a way of living for me—even when my parents weren’t arguing. This explains why my heart rate was elevated even while I was at school doing something I enjoyed.

    Making Connections That Help Us Heal

    I am grateful I saw a psychologist at such a young age. She planted the seed for bringing my awareness to connections between illness and trauma.

    However, for decades following these sessions, no one else made these connections, and gradually I forgot about how intertwined our physical symptoms are to our histories of trauma and stress.

    It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, an autoimmune inflammatory bowel disease, that I was compelled to go back through my life and connect the dots in hopes I would find answers to aid in my healing.

    Sure enough, I didn’t have to look very far to discover physical symptoms that were preceded by a traumatic event in my life.

    Empowered by this information, I knew I had found the answers to my healing.

    My only task was to find a professional: a physician, healer, or licensed mental health therapist who could help me integrate my life with my symptoms.

    Once there is an awareness of the connections between illness and trauma, it is possible to find resources.

    Functional medicine physicians, somatic therapies, alternative modalities, and sensorimotor psychotherapists are just several of many options which look at healing as integrative.

    You Are an Expert on Your Body

    I have explored many therapies and I continue to improve. However, I believe healing is a lifelong process. I have to be continuously aware of how sensitive my body is to stress. After all, it had a lifetime of programming to be geared for fight-or-flight.

    When stress is in my life, my body will often have physical symptoms. Sometimes simple interactions with colleagues are enough to trigger my body’s threat response.

    Living with Crohn’s disease has many challenges. True healing began when I recognized that my past history of childhood trauma laid a foundation for disease in my body and continues to contribute to how the Crohn’s Disease shows up.

    Now that I have this awareness, the possibilities for healing are exponential. The more I support my body in healing from trauma, the more my physical symptoms improve and the stronger my immune system becomes.

    Needless to say, it isn’t an easy journey. But never lose hope.

    Even though conventional medical models continue to separate physical from emotional, solutions are plentiful. This means that people like you and I must brave the terrain, making connections about our own bodies and lives and seeking treatments that offer this integration.

    In many ways, we have to educate our physicians and healers about these connections. As we are experts on our own bodies, we hold many answers to our own healing based on a lifetime of living with ourselves.

    No one knows you better than you know yourself.

  • Radical Compassion: How to Heal Our Hostile World

    Radical Compassion: How to Heal Our Hostile World

    “An enemy is a person whose story you do not know.” ~Irene Butter

    We all know the status of our currently hostile nation—it feels as though you can’t make it through a single speech or read an article or engage in a conversation with friends that doesn’t somehow touch on polarizing topics or divisive politics. The focus is on our differences instead of our shared humanity.

    It’s all too easy to blame other people, other groups, and other political parties for the endless strife in our world—civil wars, famines, natural disasters, school shootings, homelessness, environmental destruction—just as it’s easy to blame others who play some role in our personal narratives of failed relationships, unsatisfying work, and family strain.

    Suffice it to say, compassion is all but gone and the golden rule that we were taught so innocently as children feels as though it died along with our childhoods.

    I could readily spin this into some narrative about that person, that group, or that organization causing the “problem.” But I’m going to let you in on the secret to this post ahead of time… spoiler alert, they aren’t the problem, I am. Whoever or whatever I find myself blaming aren’t the real sources of the problem, I AM… and so are you.

    I hope by the end of this, a small part of what I am saying resonates with you as a means for a cure rather than another recipe for guilt and shame.

    I wish I could tell you that radical compassion has come easy to me. I wish I could tell you that I have it all figured out, that I’m enlightened, that I’m making cookies for every stranger I meet, passing out hugs like coupons to a new restaurant. I wish I could give you a secret formula for perfect peace and joy in your life so you can be consumed with radical compassion yourself.

    But in all honesty, the formula doesn’t exist, and I wouldn’t trust anyone (including myself) who ever tried to feed me one. However, that doesn’t mean there aren’t very real, very tangible things we can do to get closer to a life of joy amidst all of the chaos living throws our way.

    I don’t believe that pure joy and bliss are endpoints—things to “achieve” or “accomplish.” Instead, I think of joy and peace as continuums you can actually work to improve upon, allowing you to find more balance in your life—as opposed to the stress, anxiety, anger, frustration and resentment that consumes so much of our days.

    The storms of life will never stop coming our way. We can’t stop them or even lessen their blows. But we do have power to control our reactions and to change how we weather the storms. Therein lies the path to peace.

    Let me rewind things back a bit for reference. I came from a troubled childhood; I had a twisted relationship with my religion and, by the time I made it to college, I was destined to prove wrong the world, my childhood, and my God. I was going to save the world. I earnestly believed that nobody else in mainstream culture seemed to care, so it was up to me.

    By graduation I was living on four to five hours of sleep per night, working seven days a week, and surviving on a liquid diet of coffee, coffee, and another cup of coffee. I was so productive and effective that I actually thought it might be possible for me to save the world.

    By twenty-three I was worth seven figures and was running my own save-the-world social enterprises. I had a non-profit, a kid on the way, and I was consulting for some of the largest companies in the Midwest—all while driving a two-door, uncomfortably bright-yellow Ford Focus.

    Within a year I was physically sick (another spoiler alert—I survived to write this to you) and completely broke. All of my businesses were shut down, including my non-profit. My family was split.

    What was the worst part of this for the success-obsessed twenty-four-year-old with a hero complex? Realizing that when my world came to a crashing halt, the rest of the world moved on without me.

    Now what does this all have to do with radical compassion? For me it took losing everything to see that I needed to change. It was only in the humility of losing it all that I was able to wrestle with a very hard truth of social justice work: It is physically impossible to sustain long-term external compassion without a stronger, more stable, foundational internal compassion. In my journey to save everyone else, I did so at the expense of my own life.

    And here’s the now-obvious downfall in that: You cannot love another person more than you love yourself. It is impossible and if you try to do so, you will ultimately fail. Without caring for and loving myself, I eventually become a greater burden to those I was trying to help in the first place.

    What does this have to do with our world now? Like the twenty-three-year-old self-proclaimed savior of the world, we have become a selfish, self-idolizing culture that thinks we have all the answers and the others don’t. We think we are the only ones who care about the world.

    What we are missing in our current polarized culture is a shared humanity. That person that you are yelling at who has a different political, social, religious, fill-in-the-blank opinion than you, well they are human too, and you are no better than them.

    When you can unveil your own hidden depths and come to admit that you are not perfect, that you make countless mistakes, all the time, that you constantly change and evolve your opinions and beliefs… then you will begin to open up to having more compassion for yourself.

    And when you can begin to see yourself as a human being that is loved and worthy of grace and compassion—even though you are not perfect and not living up to your own ideals—you can begin to see that the person “opposing” you with the same grace and compassion you have for yourself, no matter how different she is or how many mistakes he has made.

    Why? Because you can believe that maybe, just for a moment, they are a person, just like you, doing the best they can with what they believe to be true.

    My friend Irene Butter, who survived the holocaust concentration camps, perfectly summarizes this entire concept in a single sentence: “An enemy is a person whose story you do not know.” Daryl Davis, The Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, Malala Yousafzai—all people who live out their lives through radical compassion share this conviction.

    Friends, we need to seek wisdom from the people who have come before us—people like Irene who have suffered through the worst of human history. We need to listen to how they came out on the other side of those horrors somehow loving their enemies, filled with an unspeakable compassion that no hate can touch, and with a reverence for a burning activism of change that no amount of water can put out.

    If ultimately, we care about changing this world, if we believe in ideas like radical compassion, it’s time we stop looking elsewhere and start looking within. It’s time that we become the radical compassion this world so desperately needs. This is just the first step, but my friend, whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever your story is, that first step starts with you.

    Join me and may we be radical enough to take that first step, together.

  • Growing Up with a Narcissist: How I’m Healing from the Abuse

    Growing Up with a Narcissist: How I’m Healing from the Abuse

    “You could have grown cold, but you grew courageous instead. You could have given up, but you kept on going. You could have seen obstacles, but you called them adventures. You could have called them weeds, but instead you called them wildflower. You could have died a caterpillar, but you fought on to be a butterfly. You could have denied yourself goodness, but instead you chose to show yourself some self-love. You could have defined yourself by the dark days, but instead through them you realized your light.” ~S.C. Lourie

    As the memories of my childhood flash within my mind, I am brought back to a place in which I did not know if I was ever going to be happy. Happiness, stability, and love seemed so far away and out of reach that I met each day with overwhelming sadness. I longed for peace, I longed for someone to understand, and I longed for someone to save me.

    No one really knew what was going on behind closed doors with my mom. She was a tyrant who emotionally demolished anyone who got in her path. My siblings and I were her constant targets. Due to her nature, she isolated us from family and friends and only brought us around to make her look good and build up her ego. The classic case of a narcissist.

    You see, it was not until many years later during my adult life that my mom was officially diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder.

    If you are unfamiliar with this diagnosis, it is someone who lacks empathy and is unable to show love. They appear to have a superficial life, and they are always concerned with how things look to others.

    She was incapable of being loving and nurturing, things we look for mothers to provide. While I was a child, I was always grasping for answers to the constant emotional, verbal, and physical abuse that plagued my household.

    I learned very early on that I was to be seen, not heard, and that any challenge or inquiry of fun would be met with a tongue-lashing and/or strike to my body. When you are the daughter of a narcissistic mother, you internalize every strike and every word laid upon you. You feel dismissed and discounted. You never feel good enough.

    I remember moments in which I wished for the mother-daughter bond that my friends experienced. I would cry whenever I would read about it in books or see it on television.

    When you are a victim of abuse, you always feel as if what you desire is out of reach because you believe you don’t deserve it. How could someone who gave birth to me inflict so much pain? This question flooded my brain on a daily basis.

    Motherhood is a sacred act of love that was not provided to me, and therefore, I suffered. I suffered with lack of confidence, limited beliefs, fear of failure, anxiety, perfectionism, and lack of emotional closeness with romantic relationships and friendships.

    It was at the age of nineteen that I decided that I no longer wanted to be a part of this life. I made up my mind that this cloak of darkness would no longer plague me. I left.

    I left with all my belongings in a laundry bag as well as what little light I had within me and moved in with my now-spouse’s family. I was grateful that they welcomed me with open arms and that I was safe. Little did I know that the real healing began once I decided to step into it.

    Trauma leaves not only emotional scars but also tiny imprints that influence your thoughts and decisions. I was an adult who knew nothing about adulting and lacked the guidance from a parental figure: I was terrified.

    But I realized that sometimes you must mother yourself. In the chaos you learn how to give yourself the love and affection you longed for in your most powerless moments. 

    I needed to show up for myself and the little girl within me that didn’t have a chance to enjoy life. It was time for me to take my power back and ignite my inner being.

    I started becoming increasingly curious and hopeful about this transition I was beginning to step into, so there were a few steps that I began to implement on this journey of transformation. I hope you may find them useful when you are ready.

    Distance yourself from the toxic behavior.

    Sometimes distance and time help heal and give clarity as well as peace.

    I’ve had to take myself out of situations where I knew I had to protect myself. This allowed me to take time out to really focus on what I wanted and the direction I desired to go in.

    At times this meant limited communication, geographic distance, or emotional distance. This is not always easy, but it will help keep you on track if you constantly remind yourself that it is for the development of your highest good and your healing.

    Surround yourself with people who can lift you up and pour into you.

    Coming from a household where love and warmth were not present can leave you feeling empty. Surround yourself with friends or other family that can lift you up while you are sorting things out. Being around people who were able to showcase this for me provided me with the motivation to continue creating it within myself.

    Develop and nurture a spiritual practice.

    Faith and hope were the two driving forces behind my motivation to leave. I just knew deep down that this was not the direction that I wanted my life to go in, and there were better things out there for me.

    Developing a spiritual practice helped me to gain inner peace when moments of fear, anxiety, and doubt heavily crept in. It comforted me when I had no idea if taking a leap would work out, but the valuable lesson that I learned was that when you take a leap, the net will appear. Meditation, prayer, and connecting to a higher power can create stillness within the chaos.

    Start with unconditional love toward yourself.

    Surviving verbal and physical abuse is no easy feat and can tarnish what little confidence you may have had, which is why beginning to develop that within yourself is super important.

    I had to learn that if I loved myself, I could feel more confident in my abilities and continue pushing forward.

    Give yourself those motivational pep talks, read dozens of books, work with a professional, listen to uplifting music or podcasts. Pour into yourself and become your own best friend. No one can take that away from you.

    Give yourself time.

    There is no one-size-fits-all solution to healing. It is a journey that loops and curves, but it all leads to a transformation.

    It can take time to unravel all that you experienced, but be compassionate with yourself as you figure it all out. Set the intention of working toward a positive transformation and gather the tools necessary to facilitate the change.

    It took me years of trial and error to get to the place that I am in right now, but my intention was always to become better than I was yesterday. Nurture your healing; there is a breakthrough on the other side.

    Continue to make that conscious choice every day to grow, heal, and reach transformation. Don’t shy away from the healing necessary to set yourself free and live the life you deserve to live. You have to shed the old in order to let in the new and no longer allow fear to have a strong hold on you.

    There is beauty in discovering a life of inward and outward victory. Throughout my transformation my breakthrough consisted of this one powerful mantra:

    I am not a victim of my circumstance. I am victorious.

    You are too.

  • Why I Was Desperate to Be With an Unavailable Man

    Why I Was Desperate to Be With an Unavailable Man

    “If you don’t love yourself, you’ll always be chasing after people who don’t love you either.” ~Mandy Hale

    In January, a couple of years ago, I had been declared unfit for work, suffering from anxiety and mental exhaustion. For too long, I had not listened to my body and soul complaining about all the heavy burdens I had been carrying.

    Out walking at this time, the bitter cold and relentless rain felt like a blessing to me, grateful to at least feel something. It was on one of these walks that I first bumped into an old school friend, hearing him call my name before I saw him smiling hello at me.

    To begin with, I felt reluctant to chat or attempt to return the happy smile as he asked after my brothers, having known us since we were all kids, but I began to walk away feeling a bit less tense and felt an urge to see him again: “Call in for a cup of tea if you’re passing.”

    And he did call. But I wasn’t in—I was out battling the elements again, trying to walk through my confusion and melancholy. My adult son called me: “Some weird guy with a ponytail has just knocked on asking for you,” he voiced with scarcely concealed outrage.

    I’m not sure whether the outrage was caused by the fact that a man had knocked on our door asking to see his mom or whether it was at the audacity of the man’s long, graying ponytail, at his age.

    A week later, he called again and this time I was home. I welcomed him in and shut the door against the winter blackness. The house felt cosier somehow since he was there, noticing my daughter’s artwork on the wall before he had finished taking off his shoes.

    Sat together in the lounge, I was struck by the way he curled his feet up easily on the chair as I sat upright and uptight on the couch opposite. Before long, I had confessed my inability to work. He shared that he was off work too as he had recently lost his father and that his mother was now terminally ill.

    The next time he called I was out again, so he pushed his mobile number through my door. I lingered looking at the bold handwriting in crimson ink. I do remember I hesitated before I put his number in my contact list.

    Why did I want or need his number? Maybe I had identified that he was a troubled soul too. I sent him a text saying: “Thanks for your number. This is mine.”

    Now we had both admitted that we wanted to be able to contact each other. From this point the texting became more frequent, and so did his visits to me. But then he told me that for the past year he had been living with somebody and her three children.

    Classic rebound stuff—he had moved in with her immediately after the end of a twenty-six-year relationship. Of course, I did the decent thing and said we couldn’t see each other anymore. I wished I could have been angry and indignant, but instead my vulnerable self crumpled a little more as he took me in his arms to give me a hug.

    I rebuked myself for being in this position when I was in the middle of so much mental and emotional turmoil. I had survived the break-up of a marriage and another long-term partnership—I told myself I could certainly recover from a few-week-dalliance.

    “I need a hug,” the message bleeped. So do I, I thought, but steeled my resolve to not return his message. Some time elapsed and then came another message, “My mum has little time left.”

    His pain was tangible. So I put my needs on hold and arranged to see him. A pattern began: talking through the night when the rest of the town slept; trips to doctors and hospitals; visits to see his mum together; soup-runs to him at the nursing home. And I suppressed the nagging question about where his ‘partner’ was in all this.

    In March his mum died. Our intimate bubble was burst by the grief, practicalities, and conventions of death.  It was his ‘partner’ that stood by his side at his mum’s funeral in April while I sat home alone, bereft at the thought of his loss and facing the reality that I had been cast aside.

    I decided I would go away to visit friends for a month to get some distance. I needed to iron out my crumpled life, to see what was worth holding onto and what needed to be discarded.

    I also hoped it would give him time to decide if he wanted for us to share a future. Looking back now, I wonder if I was so desperate to be with him because dealing with his pain was a distraction from my own.

    “I will be ready for our future when you return.” I was relieved that he was resolved to sort the situation after all of the emotional angst of the previous months. “Only collect me from the airport if you are sorted,” I urged.

    The night before my flight he still hadn’t confirmed that he had left her. I needed to know the situation I was walking into: “Sorted?”

    “Not quite.” I know, not very fair of him, right? Not just to me, but to his partner who must have felt painfully his constant distraction. I had a long-haul flight to dwell on how another month could have elapsed during which he had made regular and frequent contact with me, promising me a future together, only to have let me down again.

    Jet-lagged and sleep deprived, I sat dejectedly in his car—hardly the homecoming I had hoped for. I might be a programmed people-pleaser, but even I could see this was going to dent my damaged self-esteem even further.

    “There is no relationship until this is sorted.” I stopped contact with him, but emotionally I hadn’t let it go since the promise of a relationship was still on the table.

    Eventually, he decided he would see a hypnotherapist. He began telling his painful tale. But it was still not completely told: he gradually moved his stuff out from her place but couldn’t quite tell her the final line of their story: “I have to leave you now.”

    I didn’t see him for over a year as he tried to muster his final resolve. I knew we three were squirming our way through lonely nights and taut days, as we crawled, emotionally spent, toward the end of our story. I knew that it would involve a final, painful telling of, “It’s over,” from one to the other of us caught in this mess.

    I had always imagined that it would be him that would make that call to either her or me. This shows just how powerless I felt. It is evident to me now that the three of us were caught in this web for one striking reason: we each didn’t love ourselves enough to withdraw from this damaging situation.

    I am so grateful that I eventually gave myself enough distance to heal myself properly. I now really understand what people mean when they say you have to be ready for a relationship. I became strong and I learned how to love myself first.

    So strong that I moved away from my old, unhappy life and took myself on an adventure where I had time and opportunity to listen to my own needs. I had spent months trying to fix a damaged and broken man instead of fixing myself.

    Many, many months later, when I had a new life and was at the beginnings of a new relationship, he turned up, out of the blue, and asked me to marry him. He hadn’t quite left her yet but would be leaving her that night. It was me who said, “You’re too late. It’s over.”

    I’m not proud of my part in all of this. But I have forgiven myself as I know I was so emotionally vulnerable when he first came into my life.

    Following this emotionally exhausting experience, I have learned:

    • You can only heal yourself, you can’t fix others.
    • You will be treated by others as badly as you allow.
    • You are responsible for your own happiness.
    • To let go of the people who have caused you pain.
    • Above all, never wait to start living your life.

    It was painful to tell you this; to be reminded of how little I valued my own needs, putting his pain above my own and hers too. I am happy to say I now don’t recognize the me that was so damaged and broken.

    I love myself everyday and I’m delighted to know that “nothing can dim the light that shines from within.” (Maya Angelou)

  • How I Found Healing and Happiness in a Developing Country

    How I Found Healing and Happiness in a Developing Country

    “Your life does not get better by chance, it gets better by change.” ~Jim Rohn

    For years I dreamed of leaving the winters of Northern Ontario, Canada and basking in the warm golden sun somewhere in Central America from October to May. I would joke with my co-workers every winter “This is my last winter here, I swear!”

    I did that for years until finally, one year, it was my last winter there. But it wasn’t because it was the most brutal winter we had experienced so far. Oh no. It was much more than that.

    Rewind Back to 2012

    I had just walked out of my eight-year abusive relationship. I was beaten down, ripped apart, and left as a shell of a woman. I had nothing to my name materialistically or emotionally. Very few belongings and no self-respect, self-worth, self-love, or self-confidence.

    I left empty and numb. But at that time, it didn’t matter to me what I had or didn’t have. All I knew was that in order to preserve what little sanity I had left, I had to leave.

    Rebuilding my life took a lot of time. I had just declared bankruptcy and didn’t have two cents to rub together. With the amazing help of family and friends, I was able to get a job, find an apartment, furnish it, albeit very simply, and start my life over again.

    I was fifty-one years old. And scared out of my tree. I have never lived alone, ever, and wasn’t sure I could support myself or how I was going to live.

    My Journey out of Despair

    After I left my relationship I delved into the world of personal development. I needed to get my hands on things that were going to help me improve my life. I read eBooks and self-help blogs and watched YouTube videos by some of the greatest people on earth (Les Brown, Tony Robbins, Lisa Nichols, etc.)

    I had hundreds of Post-it notes with motivational quotes and sayings taped all over my tiny apartment. I read them aloud every chance I could. I had a lot of healing to do and was willing to do whatever I had to do in order to heal.

    I was broken, empty, and numb and I knew I had a purpose here on earth—and it wasn’t to be miserable for the rest of my life. I was not interested in subscribing to that life anymore.

    And then something wonderful happened….

    I Found Home in a Homeless Shelter

    One day I was having a conversation with someone I had just met, and they told me they volunteered at the homeless shelter and how amazing it was.

    I was all ears then. I wanted to know who, what, where, when, and why. All of it.

    The next day I found myself there applying to become a volunteer. And suddenly I had something to look forward to that took me out of my misery, helped me to forget my troubles, and opened my eyes to a whole new world.

    The volunteering gig, I soon discovered, was a huge part of my healing journey. I had no idea how my whole world was about to change simply by feeding homeless people dinner twice a month.

    I fell in love with these people. Each and every one of these broken, lost souls filled my heart with immense joy. It was here that all my troubles disappeared and my heart opened up.

    The more I helped, the happier I became, and I suddenly realized what my purpose was in life. It was right here with the poor, the broken, the helpless, and the hungry.

    Fast Forward to 2014

    Every day I became stronger and happier. I started falling in love with Iva. I found a new Iva. One who had something to look forward to. A woman who, once broken and beaten, was coming alive and had a zest for life.

    One year after I started volunteering at the homeless shelter, I became team captain and was there almost daily.

    But part of me still wanted more. I wanted to help more on a personal level and somewhere poverty, homelessness, and malnutrition was prevalent. I drifted back to my dream of going to Central America and suddenly had a major a-ha moment.

    If I could just find a way to support myself down there, I could go. Once again, I delved into the personal development world but this time with a different goal in mind. I was going to learn how to become a freelance writer so I could make this dream possible.

    But it was two dreams now: escape Canadian winters and help the hungry.

    Suddenly the Dream Became a Reality

    After much research, and submitting numerous amounts of guest blogs for free, I finally found a job as a freelance writer. It took me eight months of cutting hair for nine hours a day and writing for free for three to four hours a day, but I finally did it.

    In July of 2015 I resigned from my hairstyling job and had become a full-time freelance writer. The next step was to downsize, find a country in Central America, and move.

    It was all happening so fast. It seemed like just yesterday I was leaving my abusive relationship, and here I was looking at third world countries to move to.

    I was scared, excited, terrified, and finally happy. I had a new lease on life, and this lease didn’t just include me anymore. It was bigger than that.

    But I Realized Something Very Big and Important

    In October of 2015 I landed in Guatemala with two suitcases on a one-way ticket. I was terrified but knew I had to be here.

    I found organizations that needed help and found families on my own that I helped independently. I helped people on the streets, bought lunch for the young shoeshine boys, and sent kids to school.

    I loved life in the third world. It was simple, people were beautiful, and I was finally happy and at peace with my past and the traumatic life I had lived.

    That’s when I realized one very important thing: When we help others, we help ourselves. Through helping others we create deep connections, which helps prevent depression; we find a renewed sense of purpose; and, research shows, we reduce our stress level and boost our happiness.

    I realized that volunteering was the best thing I could have ever done for myself during my healing journey.

    When we take ourselves out of our own heads and lives and put ourselves in a place that not only rocks our comfort zone but gives us a chance to serve others, that’s when true healing occurs.

    That doesn’t have to mean moving to a third-world country or making any major changes. It can be as simple as volunteering for an hour once a week, or even once a month—or even just helping friends and neighbors in need.

    We heal by helping others. By bringing joy to others. And by sharing our stories of change, courage, and bravery.

    It’s four years later and I’m still in Guatemala, still helping and still growing personally. I don’t think I could ever move back to Canada. Living here has brought ridiculous joy to my life and so much love to my heart.

    It’s changed me in ways I never dreamed possible. And I couldn’t be happier.

  • How Mother Nature and I Manage My Depression

    How Mother Nature and I Manage My Depression

    “I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.” ~John Burroughs

    I sat on the front stoop sobbing, unable to move. Hunched over like a heaving dog hugging my knees and clutching a wad of decomposing tissues. About fifteen minutes before, I’d managed to get myself off the couch where I’d been parked, withered and absent, for the fourth consecutive day, and had made it through the front door.

    Once there, I tried to stay upright, but like cool syrup I slid down the side of the wrought iron railing and down onto the steps. Now all I had to do was get up and walk to the mailbox and back and maybe I’d feel better. But I couldn’t do it. It was too much.

    I hoisted my ladened head from my knees and stared out the driveway to the mailbox about seven hundred feet away. It may as well have been ten miles… or fifteen feet. It didn’t matter, it was too far.

    “Please just help me get up,” I pleaded to a somber sky. The help didn’t come and so there I sat crying, searching for the energy or the wherewithal to make myself move. Fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, twenty-five… the time oozed by thick and distorted.

    It had happened before, more than once, and had overtaken me at varying speeds and intensity.  Sometimes it leached in with the change of seasons; like an inflatable pool toy left floating past the end of summer, sad and wilted, the air having seeped out in infinitesimal degrees. Sometimes I could fight it off, catch it before things got too grim. Not this time. I’d felt myself spiraling down, hot wind escaping me until I was in a deflated heap, slack and flaccid on the sofa.

    It had happened a few years ago, although not this bad, and a chirpy classmate had suggested that I just “snap out of it!”

    “Just… ‘snap out of it?’” I repeated.

    “Yeah!! Snap out of it!”

    “It’s not that simple,” I said.

    “Sure, it is! Like the song says, ‘Put on a happy face!’”

    “Are you kidding me right now?”

    “No, I’m not kidding,” she said. “It’s mind over matter. Just distract yourself by doing something that makes you happy. Stop thinking about it… you know, snap out of it!”

    I looked at the woman through a haze of disbelief and deadpanned, “Just snap out of it. Gee. Why didn’t I think of that?”

    Another friend enquired, “Why don’t you just ask for help when things get bad?”

    “Because you can’t,” I said

    “What do you mean you can’t? You just pick up the phone and ask for help. It takes two seconds!”

    “I mean you can’t; not when you’re in the depths of it. That’s the insidiousness of it. When you need help the most is when you’re least able to ask for it.”

    “That doesn’t make any sense,” the friend replied. “If you’re sick you call the doctor. If your car breaks down you get it to a mechanic. If you have a drinking problem you go to AA. When you need help, you ask for help!”

    “That’s like telling someone who is trapped under a piano to walk over to the phone and call the movers,” I scoffed. “You simply can’t”

    “Of course, you can! You’re not actually trapped under a piano and you’re not paralyzed, are you?”

    “Well, no, obviously it’s a metaphor. But in a way you are… paralyzed, I mean.”

    “Oh, come on… I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

    “And I think you’re being dismissive and oversimplifying it.”

    “Because it’s pretty simple. You just ask for help.”

    “I don’t think there’s anything I can say to help you to understand how it feels. I just don’t know how to explain it if you’ve never experienced it.”

    “Well, I think if someone needs help, they should just ask for it.”

    I sighed and said “Maybe the name says it all. It’s a good name for how you feel. ‘Depression.’ There’s the word depression like a hole in the ground and you definitely feel like you’re stuck down in a hole. And there’s depression in the sense that something is pressing down on you. It absolutely feels like there is a physical weight holding you down. It’s inexplicably heavy. It’s heavy in your mind. It’s heavy in your lungs. It’s heavy in your body. Sometimes, when it’s really bad, it’s nearly impossible to move.”

    “Nearly impossible… but not impossible,” my friend said. “You could still get to the phone.”

    Okay… Whatever…

    But that was then and now I was alone. No nonbelievers to convert nor pep talks to deflect.

    Medication had worked to a degree and only for a while. The struggle to find the right prescription and dosage combined with the ever-growing list of side effects had proven too much. I also swore I could feel the drugs in my system, and they made me feel toxic, for lack of a better term, and I couldn’t stand it.  So, under my doctor’s guidance I’d titrated off my meds.

    I’d discovered that, for me, the best way to loosen the grip of despair and keep it at bay was intense, intentional, physical exercise. As I slowly increased the time I spent walking, then running, my doctor kept close tabs on my progress. It had worked. It was my magic pill and like any prescription, I had to take it without fail or face a relapse.

    I’d found that he more/less I exercised the more/less I wanted to, and the better/worse I felt; it was self-perpetuating in both directions, and over the past couple of months I had gotten lazy; my laziness turned into malaise, the malaise had become despondence, and despondence had gotten me here. Sitting languid and bleak between a spitting gray sky and the gravel drive.

    It was late September in Mid-Coast Maine. The days were growing shorter and winter would not be long behind. The hibernal season was always a struggle and it was harder to manage my mood. The window of opportunity was closing. If I didn’t get ahead of it straightaway there’d be no escaping without medical intervention. I had to move my body so my mind could follow, it was the only way out and would happen right now or not at all.

    I had to dig down deep, excavate some minuscule untapped reserve, the survival instinct maybe, and use it to push back against the darkness with everything I had left.

    Okay. On the count of one… two… three… I took a deep breath in and with the exhale, slowly rolled forward off the step onto my hands and knees into the small dusty stones. I looked out to the end of the drive, toward the empty road and the stand of pines beyond, then hooked my eyes onto the mailbox. Just get there. Crawl if you have to, but go.

    I crept a few feet forward on all fours, the sharp pebbles jabbing into my knees and palms “I think you’re being a little dramatic…” I rolled my eyes and set my jaw. Sitting back on my heels, I pushed with my hands and came up into a four-point squat. I sat there for a minute keep moving keep moving then, fingers splayed on the ground, I stuck my fanny in the air, grabbed hold of my thighs one at a time, and hauled myself up.

    Arms crossed over my stomach and chest, stooped and shivering, I hugged myself. Move. Move your feet Taking tiny steps, increments of half a foot-length, I shuffled forward; right, left, pause… right, left, pause…  “God it’s so hard.” Keep going keep going…

    Over the past couple of years I’d become an athlete, a trail runner. I ran twenty-five or thirty miles a week, up and down ski slopes in the summertime, yet right then I could barely move. There was nothing physically wrong with me, but depression is an autocrat and I’d fallen under its totalitarian rule. It forbade me from moving with my normal grace and ease and instead had me shackled and chained… but I kept going.

    “You should die from this,” I breathed out loud. “If there was a true, proportionate cause and effect, feeling this bad should, in all fairness, kill a person.” Keep going keep going. 

    “But it doesn’t. It squeezes the life out of you but doesn’t actually kill you.”

    I was halfway to the mailbox.  I didn’t pick up my feet, just sort of slid them along, rocking back and forth like a sickly penguin leaving drag marks behind. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe.

    “Please help me,” I turned my face upward and beseeched the misting sky. “Please give me a sign. I need something, anything, so I know this will be worth it. If you do, I promise I’ll believe it and I won’t give up.  I promise I’ll keep going.” Right, left, right, left. I was closing in on the letterbox, tears flowing. My body ached.

    I got no sign, no random flash of light nor clap of thunder, just the sound of the breeze in the pines and my feet scratching in the pebbles.

    When I was about ten feet away, I extended an arm, right, left, right, left, almost there… reaching…  fingertips touching the cold damp metal. “I did it,” I feebly cried. Maybe there’s something in the mail today… maybe that will be my sign. I opened the box and peered inside. Nothing. Just a flyer from the market with its weekly specials—not even real mail, just more junk.

    But with or without a sign, I’d made it.

    Oh… God… I turned around and, clamping my Kleenex and the stupid flyer to my chest, stared blankly back down the driveway to the house. Now I have to do it again. It was so far. “Just get it over with and then you can be done.”

    I breathed in and started back… right, left, right, left, right, left, I resumed my melancholy march. My gaze was fixed yet something moving high in a tree caught in my periphery… a bird; a crow or raven maybe.

    I paused and looked up, and there he was flapping his wings just a bit, arranging himself on his perch. The huge chocolate-colored body and glorious white crown were unmistakable, even at this distance.

    Bald Eagles were common up here, but this was no ordinary creature and I knew it.  Strength, pride, power, Mother Nature to the rescue again. Yes, this was my eagle and I understood the message he brought. I sniffled, dragged my damp sleeve across my nose and cheek, and nodded. “Okay,” I whispered. “Thank you. This is good. I can do this”

    I regained momentum. Right, left, right, left. I’m a runner, I’m an athlete, I eat hills for breakfast, Goddammit. Keep going. Hand outstretched, I grabbed hold of the railing and climbed the three steps to the house. I made it back, albeit barely, and let myself inside.

    I got out of my wet clothes and wrapped myself up in my accomplishment and a fluffy robe. I would get a little something to eat, I thought, take a hot shower, go to bed, and watch TV.  I still felt like hell, but I did it. I would get some sleep tonight and first thing tomorrow morning, I told myself, I would go to the mailbox again… and maybe just a little bit farther.

    * * * *

    When a person releases any type of toxicity from their lives or stops accepting their drug of choice, in whatever form it takes, after years of abuse, they discover all sorts of things about themselves that may have been masked by, or mistaken for, their addiction.

    One of the things I unearthed when I got sober was a history of severe depression that I’d attributed to alcoholism; I was wrong, they weren’t one and the same. They were, however, mutually parasitic, two separate entities that fed off one another.

    Which came first, the depression or the alcoholism, I have no idea and, frankly, it didn’t really matter to me. My substance abuse certainly exacerbated my despondency, but cessation didn’t cure it; I was left with chronic, sometimes debilitating bouts of despair.

    My first twelve-step sponsor suggested we meet for weekly walks at the town reservoir, a three thousand-acre forested reserve dotted with pristine watershed lakes. It was to become a transformative practice.

    Once a week, we walked and talked our way around a popular three-mile loop where I learned, among many other things, a quote that I believe helped save my life: “Move a muscle, change a thought.”

    This quote introduced me to the theory that physically moving the body helps dislodge negativity and facilitates a healthy thought process. It also reintroduced me to my love of the woods, something I’d forfeited long ago to alcoholism.

    The activity became so enjoyable that I began to seek out my new like-minded friends for a “walk at the Res,” building healthy relationships in a tranquil setting, eventually heading out on my own as well.

    I’d walk the loop after work as the days grew long and hike for hours on sunny weekend mornings. I’d often catch glimpses of deer, even a doe with her fawn. It relaxed me and made me smile, which may not sound like much but for me, as sick as I’d been, it was a big deal.

    Surrounded by the soft shapes and sounds of the forest, the whispers of the breeze rustling the leaves, the sound of water moving over rocks in the creeks and the birdsong in the trees, and the rich smell and feel of earth under my feet, I found the magical world I’d claimed as a girl and then left behind.

    Being alone in nature I found peace and my very first feelings of joy as an adult. I’d forgotten that joy existed, let alone that it was something that might be available to me. Not to be understated, it also kept me occupied, away from dangerous environments and temptation.

    As the happiness in my heart grew and my healthful body returned, I began going for short runs. It wasn’t easy, but I kept at it, physically challenging myself gradually, mindfully, and without impunity. The endorphins, already being released on walks and hikes, increased proportionately with the pace, the distance, and demand of the terrain.

    I was feeling strong, happy, empowered; literally and intentionally changing the chemical balance in my brain. With the blessing and guidance of my therapist, I slowly replaced my antidepressants with scheduled, purposeful exercise, proud to be scaling my active participation in my recovery under the watchful eye of my doctor.

    After several years, I traded regular visits with my shrink for the occasional tune-up with a sports physician.   Nature was at the center of my spiritual healing and running and hiking had become my medicine.  And like any medicine, if I kept taking it, it kept working and, well, if I didn’t…

    ****

    Day by day, I had allowed one excuse after another to erode my commitment to exercise and disrupt my healthy routine, but I’d just sloughed it off. “No big deal,” I told myself. “I’ll get back to it tomorrow.”

    But my “tomorrows” were adding up and before I knew it, momentum was lost and the pendulum had swung. Then, my relationship fell apart. My conditioned response would have been to run it off; take my anger and pain into the woods and leave it there rather than turn it inward. But it was too late. My depression had already taken hold and gotten ahead of me, so instead of hitting the trail I’d spiraled down and hit the couch… and I stayed there for days. It was a very difficult lesson, but I learned it. I have yet to make that mistake again.

    Today, nearly twenty years after my long journey to the mailbox, I have a million things to do. But first, I went for a run.

    I know I need to make intentional exercise a priority, and to celebrate the small victories when all I can manage is a short walk. When you’re depressed it can be hard to see this, but small wins are wins, nonetheless.

    If you’re struggling right now, I get it.  I know you can’t just snap out of it. I know it’s hard to ask for help. I know you might need medication, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But perhaps, like me, you’ll find it helpful to get out of your head, get outside, and get moving.

    If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s to never underestimate the healing power of physical exercise and mother nature.

  • Healing from the Trauma of Narcissistic Abuse

    Healing from the Trauma of Narcissistic Abuse

    “Don’t blame a clown for acting like a clown. Ask yourself why you keep going to the circus.” ~Unknown

    When I first experienced narcissistic abuse as an adult, it was at a time when the term “narcissistic abuse” was not so heard of or understood.

    I had met a handsome, intelligent, charismatic, and charming man, and as is typical in abusive relationships, had been completely overwhelmed by the intensity and ‘love’-overload of the early stages.

    Before I could catch my breath, though, the nitpicking started, and so did the heated arguments, the jealousy, the cutting contact, and disappearing for days on end—shortly followed by dramatic make-ups, apologies, gifts, and promises.

    And so had begun the emotional roller coaster ride that is dating a narcissist.

    Many months later, I found myself becoming a different person. I was stressed, anxious, paranoid, increasingly isolated, and cranky. I was totally lost and felt like nobody understood. Friends couldn’t understand why we couldn’t just end things. We were hooked in a destructive bond.

    At the worst points, being caught in a toxic relationship feels utterly maddening. After months of relationship highs and lows, of it being on and off, the gaslighting, accusations, and coercive control, I honestly began to believe I was losing my mind.

    I was stuck trying to make sense of my experience, and the logical part of my mind was desperately searching for answers to so many questions:

    Why did he cheat?
    What was so wrong with me?
    Why did he lie?
    What were lies, and what was the truth?
    Was any of it real?
    Did he ever really say the things he said?
    Was he even capable of love?
    How could things have been different?
    What else could or should I have done?

    These are some of the same questions I hear my clients ask now when they come to me for support in healing from narcissistic abuse.

    The Journey of Healing

    My own recovery started one particularly frantic night. I was incredibly upset and desperate to make sense of what was going on. Searching online, I happened to come across information about sociopaths and narcissists and this particular kind of psychological abuse.

    This was a pivotal moment. I had never heard anybody use the term “narcissistic abuse,” and at that time (this was many years ago), there was hardly any information around about it. But I knew, the moment I read this, that this was it. It shifted my whole perspective. It was shocking and confusing, although overall, an unbelievable relief. I realized this was a ‘thing’ and that, for the first time, other people understood. More importantly, there was a way out.

    Reading more about psychological abuse, I arrived at my first key point in healing:

    I Realized It’s Not Me—I’m Not Crazy!

    Toxic relationships will leave you feeling like you are mad. Often abusive partners will reinforce this by never taking responsibility and constantly telling you in various ways that it is your fault or your issues.

    My narcissistic partner would criticize and undermine me in all sorts of strange and subtle ways, including judgments or ‘suggestions.’ He would often communicate in ways that would leave me doubting or questioning myself. As is the power of being with a narcissist, at the time, I was eager to please and impress.

    If I ever pulled him up on any of the criticisms, he accused me of being negative, told me he was trying to support my personal growth, that I was being sensitive, paranoid, that I was over-reacting, or that I had issues. This kind of abuse in itself is maddening. I realized that all of what I had been feeling was in itself the symptom of being in an emotionally abusive relationship.

    I was not and am not mad, but I was in a mad relationship. I found as I cut contact and removed myself from the toxic dynamic that my sense of sanity swiftly returned. This is something that many sufferers I work with now also experience. You are not crazy, but if you are in an abusive relationship, you are in a relationship dynamic that will leave you feeling like you are.

    Letting Go of the Need to Understand and Know

    It’s our mind’s natural tendency to want to make sense of our experience; however, with narcissism and narcissistic behavior, there is no sense. You can’t apply logic to illogical actions. I created a lot of distress for myself in the early part of my recovery by desperately clinging onto the fantasy that I somehow could understand all the whats and whys.

    Being able to let go of this need to know is a big step in recovery. This was not easy at the time, but I managed this by practicing mindfulness and learning to recognize when my thoughts or attention would drift to the narcissist or on trying to work out the answers or understand the non-existent logic.

    As I became aware of my thoughts drifting to such a futile task, I would then try and tune into my feelings in that moment and ask myself, “How am I feeling right now?”

    I’d mentally label the emotion and any physical sensations that went along with it.

    Then, knowing more clearly how I was feeling (sad, angry, etc.), I would ask myself “What do I need? What can I do for myself right now that is a loving and supportive thing to do?”

    Sometimes this would be to allow myself to cry, punch a pillow, reach out to a friend, or go and treat myself to something nice—to practice self-care. It was a step-by-step process to find ways in which I could gently feel my feelings and attend to my own needs. This also included the feelings I had about not having answers and accepting that maybe I never will. You can gently let go with this refocus and self-care. Make a choice about what may be harmful or helpful to your healing and recovery.

    Considering My Own Narcissism

    I laugh now that my breakup lasted longer than the actual relationship did! The toxic dynamic was addictive and really hard to let go of from both sides.

    An empath will care, forgive, understand, and put a narcissist’s needs before their own. A narcissist will crave the attention, contact, and power. It becomes a dance.

    Narcissists tend to have a disorganized attachment style. Relationships will be push and pull, on and off, up and down. Being in a relationship with a narcissist is a lot like being on an emotional roller coaster ride. It’s exhilarating and draining, but if you stay on, going round and round for long enough, you will get sick!

    Because of the attachment style, the moment a narcissist senses you are pulling away, they will instinctively aim to pull you back in again, throwing all sorts of bait in order to hook you back.

    I was hooked back again and again by broken promises and wanting to believe the fantasy of how things could be.

    I was also hooked by believing that somehow, I could be the one to change him, to make him see, to help him love and feel loved, to make things different, to help him be the person I hoped and believed he could be.

    Truth be told, I wanted to be the one to capture and hold his attention and interest. However, such are the demands of narcissistic supply that it’s impossible that there can ever be one person forever.

    Quite frankly, I had to recognize the narcissism in this. To see the narcissistic fantasy in my idea about somehow possessing some magical powers to help him heal and change. I can’t. In fact, nobody can.

    A narcissist’s healing and actions are their responsibility only—nobody else’s.

    Believing on some level you can be ‘the one’ to change a narcissist is narcissistic to some extent in itself. This doesn’t mean somebody who has this hope has narcissistic personality disorder! It’s just helpful to recognize the ill-placed hope and fantasy.

    Narcissism is one of the most difficult clinical presentations for highly experienced specialists to treat. You do not have the ability or power to change or help an abuser. More to the point, why would you want to?

    Let Go of Fantasy Thinking and Ground Yourself in Reality

    Many people who’ve experienced narcissistic abuse become trapped in an elusive fantasy. Fantasy thinking is clinging onto the hope of how you believe things could be, not how they actually are.

    One of the most confusing things I experienced when in a relationship with a narcissist was distinguishing the difference between fantasy and reality. With this there can be a discrepancy between body and mind. For example, my ex constantly told me that he was being supportive. However, I didn’t feel supported.

    Like in many abusive relationships, the words and the actions do not match. Nobody can really mean the words “I love you” and be violent, critical, or abusive at the same time.

    In recovery, it is vital to distinguish between the hope and fantasy of how things could be and the reality of how things actually are. I often hear people describe the longing for things to be like they were “in the beginning.”

    The start of an abusive relationship can be incredibly intense and powerful. This is the time the manipulator will ‘love-bomb,’ and it can feel exhilarating, romantic, powerful, and highly addictive.

    Intensity is not the same as intimacy, though. Real intimacy takes time and is balanced. Intensity can give you a high that you continue to crave.

    If you suspect you are in an unhealthy relationship, it’s important to take an honest and objective inventory of the current reality, not your ideal of how things were or could be. Right now, how safe and secure do you feel? Currently, what are the actions of your partner or ex?

    It can be helpful to take pen to paper and list the current behaviors or circumstances to help regain some more realistic perspective. Perhaps asking friends or family their view too.

    Take Responsibility

    One of the things I feel most grateful about from my experience of narcissistic abuse is that I really had to learn to take complete responsibility for myself. I had to become fully responsible for myself and my actions: my recovery, my efforts, my self-care, my finances, my health, my well-being, my life… everything.

    Something I see many people do while in a toxic relationship, and even following the end of one, is to become stuck with focusing their efforts and attentions on the narcissist. Over-concerning themselves with what they are now doing, or not doing, or still trying to get them to see things another way, or holding out for an apology from them, or hoping they will change or fulfill all their promises, and so on.

    A particular hook I often hear about in my work now is the abusive partner dangling a ‘carrot on a stick’ when their partner attempts to end the relationship. This can be highly abusive as they step up the promises of providing you with whatever it is they know you wish for, be it proper commitment, a family, a secure home situation, financial purchases, or more.

    I have honestly yet to hear an account of when any of these promises have been honored. Instead, partners are left wasting months and years, even decades, holding on to the fantasy and hope that a partner will provide them with what they need.

    I think it’s important to recognize the bigger perspective. If there are things you want in life, then you take complete responsibility for making them happen.

    Remember, too much focus on the narcissist is a big part of the problem in the first place!

    Healing comes with returning your focus to yourself, acknowledging your own feelings and emotional experience, recognizing your own wants and needs, and gently attending to those yourself.

    I truly believe that healthy relationships begin with the one we have with ourselves. That includes taking full responsibility for all aspects of ourselves and our lives.

    Gratitude

    When I was in the midst of the insanity of narcissistic abuse, I felt like I was in a living hell! At the time, I absolutely would never have entertained the concept of applying gratitude to the experience! Now, though, many years later, I can truly say I am deeply grateful for the experience.

    When I became aware of this particular kind of psychological and emotional abuse, the sheer depths of the pain I was experiencing propelled me to embark on a deep journey of exploration, healing, and recovery and vast personal growth, which I am now eternally grateful for.

    I actively practiced writing about what I could be grateful for in each part of the experience, and—as difficult as that was at the time—it helped to assist my healing.

    I learned about narcissistic abuse. I learned how to spot the signs of both overt and covert narcissism so now I can spot this a mile off. With awareness, I have a choice.

    I had to take a good look at my part in the dynamic, my issues of codependency. I learned boundaries. I’ve learned healthy communication. I worked with a therapist and support group to feel and heal the family origins of some issues that related to why we attract or repeat unhealthy relationship patterns in the first place.

    I learned how to tune into and trust myself and my gut instinct; I always stay close to that now. I learned a huge amount about myself. I know what healthy relationships are and enjoy many of them in my life now. I’m a better, wiser, and more grateful person for going through it all.

    Don’t get me wrong, I would never want to experience it ever again! But I rest confident now that, because of a full recovery, I absolutely will never need to. I do not attract that kind of person anymore. In fact, I can be quite the narcissist repellant because I recognize the warning signs. As well as spotting the signs on the outside and recognizing the abusive actions of others, I now have clear boundaries and the self-esteem to communicate them.

    I have also worked on what needed to be healed inside of me, and for that I am grateful.

  • It’s a Myth That We Can Just “Get Over” Pain and Loss

    It’s a Myth That We Can Just “Get Over” Pain and Loss

    “There is some kind of a sweet innocence in being human—in not having to be just happy or just sad—in the nature of being able to be both broken and whole, at the same time.” ~C. JoyBell C.

    “I just feel like it’s never ending… like I should be more over it by now,” my friend says, her eyes looking down at her mug of tea. She lost a loved one three years ago in tragic circumstances.

    Her words make me sad, and there are layers to my sadness: I’m sad for her loss, her grief, for the difficulty she faces daily as she continues her life without this person. Also, I’m saddened by her belief about her suffering; that it’s somehow not okay or normal to still be so sad.

    This is not a woman in ruins. She has a good life. A job she loves, a beautiful home, and family. She’s a wonderful mother to her children. But she is deeply sad. She carries this sadness around with her everywhere she goes—on the train to work, on the sofa while she watches Netflix, out to dinner.

    Her sadness is heavy, yet she carries it with a grace that belies its weight. It’s not ruining her. Yet it’s there, like a psychological shadow, even in her happier moments.

    This conversation made me think more broadly about our societal beliefs about loss, our attitudes toward sadness, and the inherent problems these give birth to.

    My grandmother died over six years ago now. She died horribly and quickly from a brain tumor. From the time of her diagnosis to her death, there were only three weeks.

    Her death didn’t feel real for a long time, and initially I didn’t grieve as I expected I would.

    Months afterward, it started to sink in. As it did, the sadness came. It didn’t consume my every waking thought and feeling, but it was there beside me, wanting me to turn toward it. For a long time, I found this very hard to do.

    My cultural conditioning that sadness was ‘bad’ added a toxic layer on top of the raw experience of sadness and made me feel somehow ‘wrong’ each time I felt sad.

    A Kind of Healing-Perfectionism

    “Get over it.”

    These words suffuse the space around us, deeply ingrained in the cultural lexicon of healing. “I’m over it,” we say to ourselves. We assure others that they will do the same. Worst of all, we hold the belief that we should be over it by a certain time.

    We believe that this is the hallmark of a perfectly recovered loss/trauma/sadness—the gold standard of “I am perfectly okay now.”

    Is anyone ever perfectly okay? Is this really what we’re aiming for?

    Is there anyone who doesn’t walk around with the roots of sadness grounded in their being, even as their happiness exists above these depths? I don’t know of these people.

    What I do know is that the greatest lie we’ve been sold about success and happiness is that these things exist in our lack of sadness or pain.

    The notion of “getting over” a loss speaks more to an ideal than a reality. Like many ideals, it’s alluring, but the closer you move to it, the more you see the danger. It gets in the way of our understanding about loss and grief, and it congests the fullness of our hearts.

    It disconnects us from our emotional truth and gives credence to an expectation about the course of grief that we cannot live up to. When this happens, there is one predictable outcome: We add judgment to our suffering and turn a natural process into a pathological problem, something to be ‘fixed.’

    Certainly, when it comes to dealing with loss, there are times when a normal emotional response can turn into a condition in need of intervention—if our initial sadness fails to abate with the passage of time, and we continue to be obsessed with our grief and unable to function in our everyday lives.

    In such cases, therapy and possibly medication are required. Yet, within the boundaries of what can be considered a healthy reaction to loss, there is a great range.

    What does a normal, healthy response to loss look like? How should it feel? How long is it okay to still experience sadness? When should we get over it? Should we ever? Says who? Why? What does “getting over it” even mean?

    When we think about the need to get over a loss, what we’re referring to is arriving at a psychological destination of being untouchable, unshakable. Reaching a point where we are largely unaffected, even by the fondest memory, or the most difficult one, of that which we have lost.

    It’s a kind of healing-perfectionism that needs to be named for what it is. Such ideals around suffering cause further and unnecessary pain and obstruct the very heart of what it means to be human. When we use the language of “getting over” loss, we are reinforcing the belief that sadness is something that must be overcome.

    Co-existing with Our Sadness

    We are conditioned to move toward things that feel good and to retract from those that feel bad. Primally speaking, it’s about survival. Sadness is one such ‘bad’ feeling; we recoil from it. Yet this retraction isn’t so much based on the inherent quality of the emotion as much as our insidious belief that sadness is, per se, bad.

    Of course, sadness isn’t a pleasurable experience—psychologically speaking, it’s classed as a “negative” emotion. However, we are not simple beings, and the primal drives we have are not so simple either; as such, it is often necessary to go against our basic instincts—to move away from pleasure (as in the case of addiction) and to move toward pain (as in healing).

    In healing from loss, ignoring and resisting our sadness will only send it deeper into our psyche and our bodies. One thing we know for certain is that when we fail to acknowledge our feelings, they continue to affect us anyway—influencing our thoughts, our emotions, and our decision-making beneath the level of our conscious awareness.

    One of the biggest problems with the idea of getting over loss is the implication, and subsequent expectation, that there is a life span to our sadness. A progressively tapering timeline where, after a certain point, the volume of our grief has reached a finite baseline—zero.

    Depending on our unique losses and our personality, the acceptable lifespan might be one year, two years, three years, four. But at some point, as time marches on, we’ll turn to our sadness and ask it why it’s still sitting with us.

    We’ll start to tell ourselves that it’s “been too long.” Yet, try as we might, we cannot force or sadness to leave, so we’ll do the only thing we can: turn our minds away from the sadness that lingers on in our bodies. We’ll disconnect.

    We Can’t ‘Fix’ Our Sadness, and We Don’t Have To

    Whilst Elizabeth Kubler-Ross may have delineated the stages of dealing with death (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance), these were originally meant for those who were themselves dying, not for those who were dealing with the death or loss of another.

    An unfortunate consequence of applying the concept of linear stages of grief to our human experience of loss is, again, the expectation of a finite ending; we go through the stages and we reach The End.

    The less convenient truth is that grief is non-linear; there is no one pattern it’s obliged to follow.

    Yet this concept of a finite resolution speaks to our society in a broader sense. Humans are exceptionally good at finding solutions. If there’s a problem, we solve it. If something’s broken, we fix it.

    This way of thinking is part of what makes us great; without it, we wouldn’t have the technological advances we have. But the problem arises when we apply this mode of thinking to our human suffering.

    Our bodies can be fixed; we can give someone a leg when they’ve lost one, sew a deep cut, stop an infection with antibiotics. But what of our sadness in the face of loss? How are we to ‘fix’ that?

    When we’re sad, we are not broken. We are suffering, and this is different. Sadness is a normal response to the experience of loss. Yet in a culture obsessed with fixing what’s broken, the idea of “getting over it” starts to infiltrate the rawness of our experience and dilutes the edifying, tragic beauty of living with loss.

    Making Space for Our Sadness

    It also speaks to our discomfort with ambiguity and paradox, especially in the realm of our emotions. We cling to our separate boxes; we seek the clear delineation of “I’m over it” versus “I’m still suffering.” Such thresholds don’t exist in life, nor in love.

    But rather, two opposing, seemingly contradictory emotions coexist; I am both okay and I am suffering. We must give ourselves permission to be the complex and contradictory beings that we are if we want to be fully human.

    Healing is not a line, but a wave. It’s organic, meandering. It doesn’t always move in one direction with one energy. But the most important thing is that it moves—if we allow it to.

    When we have lost, we must learn to live side by side with our sadness. Attempting to shut it out will shut everything out. There is only one highway where emotions in the body make their way into the awareness of the mind; joy, sadness, frustration, peace—they all travel along this same road.

    There are no alternate routes. Which is why when we judge our sadness and push it away, we inevitably push away our joy also. Rather than wasting our energy on the hopeless eradication of sadness, we must make a home for it. A place where it is welcome to live.

    We, in the West, are not so hot at embodying the truth that our sadness has a right of its own; we can’t really control it, any more than we control our joy. Certainly, we can’t structure our life around it, but we can make a space in our life for it to coexist.

    Its resting place is in the same sweet spot as our deep joy and gratitude. Sometimes I say to myself, “My sadness is a person too.” This is how I think of it. And in this thought, a respect for it arises.

    Side by Side, Sadness and Love

    Our belief in the notion of getting over our sadness also robs us of one of the most beautiful opportunities of healing—experiencing love by the act of remembrance.

    The thing that keeps our sadness close is remembering the love we hold but cannot give to someone we’ve lost. Memories are how we relive a person. They’re a way that we honor the existence of another. They’re also how we re-live a part of ourselves and bring meaning to our life.

    In our remembrance, we suffer. We feel sadness. And there is such poignant beauty in this; it’s an edifying kind of pain because it’s born from the depths of our love. To never feel sad, then, would be a kind of forgetting.

    The last thing we want to do when we’ve lost someone we love is to forget them. And yet, when we buy into the belief that healing means a lack of sadness or pain, we avoid the memories of the people we’ve lost, and in our avoidance, we disconnect from our love. Because to feel this love is also to feel the pain of it.

    Where does the love we hold for someone who is no longer with us go? It lives in us. But to breathe life into it, we have to let it live in our hearts right next to the pain that love and remembrance bring.

    When we do this, we soften. There is a release. We expand. We connect, both to ourselves and also to others.

    Compassion can only exist between equals; when I know my suffering and let it speak to me, I can see and speak to yours.

    You don’t need to overcome your sadness. That is not the measure of your healing.

    The measure of healing lies in the relationship between you and your sadness. You don’t have to make friends with it, but you do have to learn how to allow it to live in you, to respect its right to be there even as you respect your wish that it wasn’t.

    This is no small feat. It is the most courageous and bold thing you will ever do, to live in that dichotomy. To inhabit that space.

    Let this be the measure of your healing.

  • Collective Trauma Online Summit—A Transformative Free Event

    Collective Trauma Online Summit—A Transformative Free Event

    Do you ever feel overwhelmed by everything that’s going on in the world and powerless to help? Even if you avoid the news—which to be honest, I generally do—you’ll still be bombarded with the latest conflicts and tragedies when you log on to social media. We may look to our smartphones for a little break from the chaos, but really, there’s no escape from it.

    It’s not that we don’t care—that’s not why we often try to zone out and tune it all out. It’s just all so heavy and scary and disheartening, not to mention never-ending. Still, we can’t just avoid reality, not if we want things to change. And we can’t simply disconnect from it. Whether we face it head on or not, it all takes a toll.

    We are all affected, in some way, by collective trauma.

    We all bear psychological scars from the many disasters and catastrophes we’ve faced as a society.

    We’re all carrying the weight of traumas passed down from generation to generation, possibly without conscious awareness.

    And many of us are working through our own personal traumas while contending with all the tragedies we see in the world around us.

    The good news is, we can heal our collective wounds, find new ways to address the critical challenges we’re facing as a society, and create a world with far less pain and suffering—if, that is, we’re willing to work together.

    If, like me, you’re committed to healing and helping others do the same, I invite you to join meditation teacher, mystic and systems-thinker, Thomas Hübl for a free global online summit to explore one of the most important issues of our time: collective trauma.

    “When we address and heal collective trauma, we go to the root of problems and conflict that can divide people and nations, while preventing future generations from unnecessary anguish and residual problems that get passed through generations.”  ~Thomas Hübl

    Thomas Hübl created this free nine-day summit, which starts on October 12th, to bring awareness to how trauma is not just an individual issue but also a collective phenomenon. Our traumas stay alive (repeating in our life and our world) precisely because they are unrecognized.

    During the summit, Thomas and other speakers will discuss not only the social symptoms we’re all experiencing, but also the steps we need to take to address our challenges through global collaboration and creativity. The summit will explore the following areas:

    • How each of us is affected by collective trauma
    • How community can be a resource in the healing process and pathways to bringing different groups together for large-scale healings
    • How the current structures hold us back from group healing and what we can do to create new supportive structures
    • How our global immune system operates and what can be done to strengthen it as we move through greater stress on the planet
    • How we can invite humanity into a new future where we have the tools and teachers that can work to heal collective trauma

    When you attend this online summit, you’ll learn new insights from leading experts including:

    • Dr. Gabor Maté – Bestselling author and speaker
    • Dr. Claus Otto Scharmer – Senior Lecturer in the MIT Management Sloan School and founder of the Presencing Institute
    • Rev. Angel Kyodo Williams – Zen teacher, author, social justice activist
    • Daniel J. Siegel, MD –  Best-selling Author, Founder of the Mindsight Institute
    • Woman Stands Shining (Pat McCabe) Diné (Navajo) activist and international speaker
    • Ken Wilber – Founder of Integral Theory
    • Monica Sharma – Best-selling author of Radical Transformational Leadership
    • Richard Schwartz Ph.D. – Developer of the Internal Family Systems model of psychotherapy
    • Terry Real – Best-selling author and founder of The Relational Life Institute

    You can register for the Collective Trauma Summit for free here.

    This is the first even of its kind, and it’s going to be powerful and transformative, accelerating our understanding of health, collective healing, conflict resolution, global governance, and the nature of our climate crisis.

    I hope you emerge on the other side of this summit feeling more aware of our shared wounds, more empowered to proactively heal them, and more hopeful about our collective future!

  • Let’s Heal So We Can Stop Accidentally Hurting People

    Let’s Heal So We Can Stop Accidentally Hurting People

  • What a Month of Daily Panic Attacks Taught Me About Anxiety

    What a Month of Daily Panic Attacks Taught Me About Anxiety

    “You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

    It happened in the middle of an intimate moment, about a month before my wedding.

    One minute I was enjoying a kiss from my fiancé and the next thing I knew, I was clutching my face and writhing in agony.

    At first, there was a loud thud in my chest, as if my heart had skipped a beat.

    Then out of nowhere I started getting this strange sensation—like the kind of feeling you’d get on an elevator that’s going down too fast. The feeling was so disorienting I couldn’t help but let out a startled cry.

    I felt what I would later describe as “the draining”—it was as if all the blood had poured out of my body in a split second and I was left with an icy, numb, and shaky shell.

    I was convinced that I was going to die.

    But I wasn’t dying. Ten minutes and many repetitions of long, deep breaths later, I calmed down enough to shake off the fear and I was able to see the ordeal for what it really was—a panic attack.

    It Wasn’t My First Time

    I was no stranger to panic attacks—I’d already had a few in my life up till then. The first one hit me shortly after I was diagnosed with Leukemia at age nineteen. From then on it would rear its ugly head from time to time when things get overwhelming.

    So when I had this panic attack a month before my wedding, I didn’t think much of it at first. I chalked it up to excitement over the impending wedding. I thought once I rested up for the weekend, everything would go back to normal.

    But I was wrong.

    I went on to have another panic attack, and then another one—until I lost count.

    I continued to have panic attacks every day for an entire month. The experience opened my eyes about anxiety—I learned a few valuable lessons in this journey that taught me how to cope with anxiety and helped me get to a better place.

    And I’m here to share those lessons in the hopes that my experience may be able to help someone else who’s suffering from anxiety.

    3 Important Lessons About Anxiety from My Month of Panic Attacks

    1. You don’t need a reason to explain or validate your anxiety.

    I used to think that anxiety was something you’d only feel if there was a good reason for it.

    For example, just right before an important exam or after a life-changing diagnosis.

    So when I first started having those daily panic attacks, I kept asking myself why?

    I know what you’re probably thinking: Maybe it was the wedding planning?

    After all, many brides do get stressed just before their wedding. But I assure you that wasn’t the reason. I was a happy, relaxed bride-to-be who already had everything planned out months in advance. There was little left for me to do except to wait for the day to arrive.

    Perhaps there were other stressful things going on at the time? No, not a thing.

    My job was wonderful, my health was better than ever, and I was having a great time with my family and friends. I’d been through rough waters before and in comparison, this period of my life was all smooth-sailing.

    Could it be from chronic stress that had been building over time? I doubt it.

    I was practicing Tai Chi and Qigong meditation for at least forty-five minutes on a daily basis—a habit that I’d kept up for a couple of years already by then. I was in a good place mentally and physically. In fact, I hadn’t had an obsessive thought or lost sleep over anything in a long time.

    I was feeling on top of the world.

    But despite all of this, I began to experience some of the most terrifying symptoms of anxiety I’d ever experienced in my life. And the more I tried to look for an explanation, the worse I felt. As my mind desperately searched for an answer, it became more and more fixated on the anxiety itself.

    I started to examine myself inch by inch—with a giant imaginary magnifying glass—for any clues that would explain the tightness in my chest, the tingling in my hands, or the throbbing in my neck. Soon, my anxiety was all I could think about.

    In order for me to stop ruminating over my anxiety, I had to surrender to the fact that I didn’t know the explanation.

    I had to accept that anxiety can strike at any time for no reason.

    I came to realize we don’t need a reason to explain our anxiety, as if a solid explanation would somehow validate the way we feel. Sometimes anxiety just shows up. And once I accepted this fact, I felt more at peace with myself.

    So if you’re stuck running in circles wondering why you feel the way you do, try this:

    Instead of beating yourself up looking for a reason for your anxiety, accept that it is happening and you may never know why.

    The sooner we make peace with the fact that there is no clear answer, the sooner we can stop scrutinizing our anxiety—and concentrate on healing.

    2. Incredible things can happen when we open up about our anxiety.

    I used to think having anxiety was embarrassing.

    My family never talked about mental health when I was growing up. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. A couple of my relatives had mental health issues, and everyone in our extended family treated them like they were the family shame.

    So when I started having the daily panic attacks, I felt I had to keep up the act that nothing was wrong.

    “I’m fine,” I told my friends and coworkers when they noticed I wasn’t my usual cheery self. “I’ve got it under control.”

    But as the days went by, it began to dawn on me that I was not fine. I was rapidly loosing grip on my normal life. I needed help.

    I finally opened up to my friends and coworkers about my anxiety. I was skeptical and nervous at first. I’d imagined I’d get a lot of caring but suffocating questions, plenty of warm but generic words of comfort, and a few well-intended but over-simplified comments like “just relax.” I expected some people would want to jump in right away and try to “fix” me. But to my surprise, I got a very different kind of response.

    Instead of doing all the things I’d imagined they’d do, the people I talked to listened to me with compassion and understanding. Many of them even opened up to me about their anxieties too.

    They shared with me their encounters with panic attacks—their symptoms, worries, and coping strategies. Their stories gave me an incredible sense of relief, comfort, and hope. The experience gave me the courage and reassurance I needed to keep going. Because I knew I was not alone.

    So if you’re suffering from anxiety, don’t bear the burden alone. Talk to someone. Find your support tribe. Give people the benefit of the doubt that they’ll understand you and do whatever they can to help you. Incredible things can happen when you open up about your anxiety.

    3. Believing you can get better is the key to getting better.

    I used to think I was helpless against anxiety. Panic attacks would come out of nowhere like rogue waves, and all I could do was flail my arms in the air and wait for them to pass.

    But what I learned from this month-long struggle with anxiety is that believing you can get better is key to getting better. It’s called “sense of agency.”

    Sense of agency is the belief that you have control over your own life. When you have a sense of agency, you feel you’re in charge of your actions and you have the ability to influence your reality.

    When you believe you have the power to control what happens in life—despite the fact that there are things that are clearly out of your hands—you act in a way that aligns with that belief. Instead of being a “victim of circumstances,” floating in every which direction life takes you, you become the driver of your own destiny.

    When you have a sense of agency, magic happens. You complain less. You become more optimistic. And you focus on what you can do instead of ruminating over what you can’t. As a result, you feel better.

    I didn’t always have a sense of agency. In fact, I spent much of my childhood and teenage years feeling helpless. Life at home was hell—a stewing pot of anger and disappointment from my parents’ unhappy marriage. School wasn’t much better—I was this awkward kid who was on the fringe with exactly two friends out of the entire school. And then I won the lottery from hell when I got cancer. I frequently asked myself the question: “Why do bad things happen to me?”

    But my thinking started to shift during my early twentiess. I realized in order for me to win the fight against cancer and live a fulfilling life without the constant fear of relapse, I needed to change. I was sick of being a victim—I wanted to be a victor.

    So I began to take actions to improve my health and my mindset.

    I admit, I was doubtful at first.

    Do I really have the power to make a difference in my life? I would think to myself. But I pushed forward anyways, taking one small step at a time. And my efforts paid off. Once I started seeing some improvement in my life, I started to gain confidence. And the more confidence I felt, the more I believed in my own power.

    When I started having those daily panic attacks, my initial response was to cry, complain, and throw my hands up in the air and say, “I can’t deal with this!”

    I was scared and lost.

    But I reminded myself that the power to heal was already within me—I didn’t have to settle on being frightened and helpless. So I started to learn and practice strategies to help manage my symptoms—everything from breathing techniques and meditation, to acupressure and cardio exercise.

    I believed I could make myself feel better, and that belief helped me feel better.

    So work on building your sense of agency. Start with just making one small positive change such as adopting a tiny habit. You’ll be amazed how much impact your actions—even if seem insignificant—can have over your life.

    The good news is I haven’t had a panic attack in over a year now. My anxiety still rises up from time to time like waves in the ocean, but for the most part, it remains quiet. I know one day, my anxiety might get out of control again and I could have another panic attack, but I’m not scared anymore.

    I’ve learned how the surf the waves.

  • Why My Abuse Is No Longer a Secret

    Why My Abuse Is No Longer a Secret

    “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” ~Anne Lamott

    To say I had a tough life would be a gross understatement. Growing up in a strict Catholic Italian family I endured my fair share of emotional and physical abuse. I was unloved and suffered great violence at the hands of both my parents, mostly my father.

    No one ever talked about this. On the outside, we were the ‘perfect’ family. Both my parents had decent full time jobs; Mom was heavily involved in the church and was the pillar of the community. Everyone respected and liked my parents.

    Growing Up Scared

    I spent most of my teenage years terrified of my parents. I hated them and wished I had a normal mom and dad like my friends did. I craved love, compassion, and affection. I so desperately wanted a normal life.

    I’ll admit, I wasn’t winning any “Teenager of the year” awards, but I’m sure my punishment never fit any crime I committed. Dad’s brutal force and mom’s lackadaisical attitude toward it all had me wishing I was dead. On many occasions.

    I have very clear memories of dad storming downstairs into my bedroom after an evening shift at work, ripping off my blankets, pulling me by my leg out of bed, and whipping me. He stopped when he was tired.

    I never knew when these random visits would happen. They just did.

    I feared coming home after school, I feared when they came home from work, I feared bedtime.

    Seeking Redemption

    Long after I moved out and had a child of my own, my mom became parent of the year. No one ever spoke of the abuse. It happened. It was their normal. And life went on.

    My mom finally became the mother I longed for. Dad wasn’t too far behind. Still unloving to me, he adored my child and with that, finally treated me somewhat like a human being. My parents would do anything for me and my son.

    I welcomed these new parents into my life. Loving, supportive, caring, and affectionate. Mom became my best friend. Dad became a father figure to my son. I appreciated this, as I’d separated from Julian’s father when he was just eighteen months old and we never saw him again.

    Through the Years

    As time went on I maintained a very close relationship with my parents. With my father it was mostly for my son; with my mom, it was simply because I let bygones be bygones. I forgave them both and we just moved on.

    I carried the trauma with me throughout my entire life. I spent a lot of time healing and growing. I needed to do that for me. I wasn’t the least bit interested in carrying all that heavy weight around. I had to learn to let it go. And I did.

    I let it go through writing, much to my family’s dismay.

    Finding My Voice

    I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but I discovered blogging. At first I was blogging about fun Feng Shui stuff. Then I slowly slipped into personal development, and there I found my voice.

    I would share my stories and my readers would reply. They felt me. They totally got it. I wasn’t alone in my healing, and I realized that people desperately needed to hear my stories so they could heal too.

    At first I would share stories of healing from bad relationships (Lord knows I had enough of them), and then I started sharing stories on self-confidence and self-love. The more I wrote, the more impact I was having on others.

    I had found this voice that was helping people around the world, and I was more than happy to use it.

    And Then It Was Time

    I held back for the longest time on sharing my family trauma. I wasn’t sure. Should I or shouldn’t I? Will I hurt people? Will I help people? I struggled with this for years, until one day I finally put it out there.

    I wrote of the trauma, the pain, and the abuse. I poured my heart out about the lack of love and encouragement in my childhood—two things every kid deserves from their parents. I spoke of random beatings and being terrified.

    The replies and emails I received from people around the world shocked me. They thanked me for helping them forgive. They cried. They asked me how I did it and how they could let go and move forward.

    Finally, something good was coming from all this pain. I was not only healing myself, but helping others heal too. The more I wrote, the more we all healed together. And it was a beautiful thing.

    Not Everyone Shared My Enthusiasm

    I was sure, without a shadow of a doubt, that none of my family would ever read my stuff. Surely none of them were open minded enough to read self-help stuff, especially mine. They didn’t read blogs.

    They followed the news and immersed themselves in negativity and drama. They craved and hung on to misery and trauma. They’re not going to read anything from me ever. I was positive of this.

    I was wrong.

    Someone read a blog. I’m not sure who it was exactly, but I have my suspicions. A cousin perhaps. I’ll never know and at this point, it no longer matters. Someone read a blog and shared it with other members of the family.

    It was a good one. It was a Mother’s Day blog, and I went on about how my mom wasn’t always the mother of the year. How she beat me and let my dad do the same. I talked about how not all moms deserve to be honored on this special day.

    However, in my defense, I closed this piece with how my mom later became my best friend and the mom I had always longed for. No one read that part apparently.

    I didn’t become aware that my relatives had read my post until my mom’s funeral in February of 2019.

    My Final Goodbye

    Mom had been suffering with Alzheimer’s for the last fifteen years. We were waiting for her to die. We wanted her suffering to hurry up and end. (Dad had passed away five years earlier).

    I’ve been living in Guatemala for the last four years and hummed and hawed about whether or not I should return to Canada for her funeral. I had said goodbye to her when I left Canada.

    Somewhat reluctantly, I made the decision to return, be with my sisters and family, and say my final farewell to mom. And besides, I hadn’t seen most of my family in a long time. I was looking forward to catching up with them.

    That never happened.

    Being Shunned at My Mother’s Funeral

    I arrived in Canada and spent the first few days catching up with friends and two of my sisters. I was looking forward to seeing the rest of my family over the next two weeks. The day of mom’s funeral I knew I would see them all.

    Not the best place for a family reunion, but isn’t that usually the way? Weddings and funerals?

    I walked into the church and greeted a few people. Then my eldest sister walked in and brushed right past me, uttering a very brief and cold “oh, hello” as she continued to walk away. That’s odd, I thought. We’ve always been pretty close.

    Then another family member walked by without even a word. Hmmm. And then another one. I was numb. What was going on?

    We all congregated in the church for mom’s service, and the whole time I was confused and saddened by the fact that my family was shunning me. Why was this happening? Especially on this day?

    The Final Straw

    After the ceremony, we all headed to the basement of the church for fellowship. There, even more family members ignored me. I’d say hi, and they’d turn and walk away, leaving me standing with my heart broken and my jaw on the floor.

    I still didn’t know why I was being treated like this, though I had my suspicions—that someone had read a blog. And sure enough, two days later, I found out.

    My family members wanted to strangle me. They were disgusted with me. I embarrassed the family. I was a disgrace.

    This is How We Heal

    I spoke to no one after that aside from one sister. She understood.

    I found my voice and lost my family. I learned how to use my voice to help others heal, but not everyone understands this or is ready to heal. Keeping family secrets is sometimes more important.

    I long to have them back. But I realized this is also part of my healing, since it’s led me to release things and people that no longer serve me or my higher good.

    It breaks my heart into a million pieces to know that my family will choose losing a relative over healing. It frustrates me to think that people would rather stay broken, tormented, and in silence than repair what needs to be fixed.

    But I know I’ll never make them understand any of this, or grasp the concept that anger is toxic, negativity is poison, and only in love and forgiveness can we heal what hurts and move beyond the past.

    What’s Your Story?

    Too many of us keep our stories buried deep inside, afraid to share them with the world. Afraid of upsetting the apple cart. Embarrassing our families. We keep the trauma and the pain to ourselves, hiding behind secrets and drowning in shame.

    I did that for years, but when I finally released the truth I was set free.

    What’s your story? What family secrets and lies are you keeping buried deep inside that are tormenting your soul? It’s in talking about them and sharing our stories that we can heal from the pain.

    It is also in sharing our stories of pain and recovery that we can help others find healing and freedom too. Generational curses can end when we speak up and speak out.

    Always remember, the truth will set you free.

    My Final Goodbye

    My time with my family has come to an end. They are no longer part of my life (aside from a few). My heart is broken and I know without a doubt, this healing will take a bit longer, but it’s necessary.

    I know how hard it is to forgive. I also know that some people will never choose forgiveness and would much rather live with anger and hate.

    My wish and sincere hope is that one day, they will see that forgiveness will set them free.

  • How to Break Painful Relationship Patterns

    How to Break Painful Relationship Patterns

    “Until you heal your past, your life patterns and relationships will continue to be the same; it’s just the faces that change.” ~Unknown

    First of all: honey, you are not broken. We are all works in process. There is nothing inherently wrong with you. We all end up in a loop here and there. Sometimes it’s because we haven’t healed pain from the past. And sometimes it’s because we’ve healed our pain but still hold on to past habits. When we do this, past habits will promote the replaying of past events and, therefore, the pain will return.

    This happens at a psychological and practical level. The type of beliefs we have about reality will shape the way we perceive it, react to it, and interpret it. This is a neurological reality that has been proven scientifically: the brain creates concepts and finds ways to validate them.

    This is the way prejudice is built, but is also the way you expect sweetness and tartness out of an apple.

    The moment you read the word “apple,” you already started generating the necessary enzymes to digest one and enjoy its flavor. You already started reacting to something that isn’t even here, based on the concepts (beliefs) the brain (mind) has constructed on it according to previous experiences.

    This is one of the many ways science has validated that “life is an illusion.” This is great news. It means we can choose, in a way, what kind of illusion to believe in and, consequently, co-create in our lives.

    Past experiences—especially our childhood experiences—inevitably shape this concept-system in the brain. They create what we refer to as a value system in the mind. These, in turn, determine our thinking habits. The thinking habits will define how we speak and act.

    In other words, the way we perceive apples will determine how we react to them or even the idea of them.

    If you believe that you should expect sweetness out of apples, you will seek apples that provide sweetness, and you will react by preparing to enjoy the sweetness, which will allow you to do so at a higher level than if your body didn’t salivate and prep your taste buds for it. By expecting sweetness, you get to experience it with heightened senses when you get it.

    This idea also applies to unpleasant concepts. This is also a neurological reality and was designed as a survival mechanism.

    Go get your ears pierced and you will see what I mean. When you get ears pierced the first one is barely perceivable. However, the next one hurts quite a bit. Why? Because the brain was expecting pain; therefore, it reacted to the second experience with a concept of pain.

    You think, “This will hurt,” and, therefore, you experience more pain. The tool is still the same. The pressure did not change. Reality is the same as with the first one; however, your brain constructs a concept of pain, so that’s what you get.

    Your earlobes will heal within six weeks. But when you expect unpleasantness out of other life experiences, that’s what you will repeatedly get. In order to produce change, we must let go of a value system that constructs realities of pain and difficulty. This truth is evident in relationship dynamics as well.

    The Loop: What We Think About Relationships Defines How We Experience Them

    I want to make a disclosure about what you are about to read: taking responsibility for your thinking habits and how those affect what you expect from relationships does not mean that anything is your “fault.” It also should not be used to justify abuse.

    Abuse is not justifiable. However, as a survivor of abuse, I can say from experience that it’s actually empowering to realize how much is in my power. I can change how I think, how I talk, how I perceive situations, and how I react to them. I can co-create my relationships.

    I happened to grow up in a culture of fear. I grew up thinking work had to be hard, people had to be in a bad mood when they got home, marriages are meant to be hard, and you should not expect the best, ever; you needed to expect the worst.

    I was married for almost eight years and got divorced a year ago. Since then, I’ve found myself making similar mistakes in the way I seek partners, and all of my relationships have ended up leaving me drained and resentful. But why? I was doing what I thought was supposed to be done: I was being of service in a relationship where one person needed to be saved and I could be their savior.

    There are so many memes out there with the phrase “You saved me” phrase on them. It’s supposed to be romantic! Well, that did not go so well for me. It bred unhealthy and unbalanced relationships, and an environment of codependence that led to pain for both people.

    So I went on a quest for my own healing and discovered why I was constantly trying to save the people I date (more on this later). Finally, I was ready to get out there again. But this time, there was no saving involved. Because I was ready for a healthy relationship. I was at peace.

    I went on a first date with a wonderful man I’d met on a dating app. Before leaving, I called a friend to share how excited I was. She suggested that I calm down, keep “low expectations,” and keep my guard up. I decided not to follow that advice. It comes from a place of good intentions, but it’s really a chain of fear.

    On a vibrational level, to act that way would not allow me to attract my highest good. On a practical level, it would set me up to not look for the best in this person, which would produce a reality where I would be unable to see it even if it hit me in the face.

    I went in there with the same attitude I approach everything currently: at peace. No negative or positive expectations. Just being in the present moment.

    I ended up having the best date of my entire life and building a deep connection with my now-partner.

    We cheat ourselves out of wonder if we tiptoe around in life afraid to get hurt. We must be strong and self-confident to allow ourselves to expect goodness. I did not get here right away. It does take practice to make progress. But it really doesn’t have to be considered an “impossible” in our brains.

    How to Hijack Your Way Out of the Loop and Start Flowing Upward!

    These are some of the things that helped me heal and rewire my brain before I finally downloaded the dating app, posted a cute picture of myself, and hoped only for the best.

    1. Observe your thoughts. What are they based on? Which beliefs no longer serve you?

    A tool that helped me greatly in this step was John Bradshaw’s book Home Coming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child, which includes exercises to heal past experiences. This releases the brain to freely create new constructs and prevents us from staying on a loop.

    I was having trouble as an adult voicing my needs. I would be terrified and would be physically unable to communicate what I needed.

    During my work with myself I discovered that when I was four years old, I was so terrified of being physically and emotionally abused by my caregivers that when I was hungry, I would not dare voice that need. I have memories of hiding in a cabinet eating raw rice from a bag in order to feed myself without being a “bad girl” and bothering my caregivers.

    I recognized then that this was why I fell into a pattern of focusing on my partners’ needs and trying to save them: I was expecting that it would be painful if I voiced what I needed.

    So, I recognized the source of the problem, now what?

    2. Release the vibrational memory of emotional baggage.

    Once you recognize the roots it will be time to release their emotional baggage. That way you won’t be triggered by old stuff in your new relationship. In other words, you won’t fall into the same old patterns because you’re driven by emotions from the past.

    There are many ways to release emotional baggage, including meditation, Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) tapping, Mental Emotional Release (MER) therapy, and journaling. Explore, experiment, and find what works for you.

    I went to an Emotional Release Body Balance therapy specialist. It’s the best investment I’d ever made in my life.

    I also engaged in regular cleansing rituals with sage at home.

    Finally, I used release affirmations and prayers daily. One that especially worked for me was a Unity prayer that states: “I release from me all energies that are contrary to what I am creating for myself. I cut them off and release them to the Universe to transform into beneficial forms of energy. I now fill myself with love, peace, and perfect health.”

    Okay, I am no longer controlled by emotions from my painful past, what’s next?

    3. Learn new skills.

    This is the ongoing step. It requires our willingness to learn new skills. New thoughts. New ways of communicating, new brain constructs about relationships, and new ways of having faith in ourselves and others. In my case, this meant learn to voice my needs instead of stifling myself in fear.

    To accomplish this, I attended virtual classes. I enrolled in a communication workshop and practiced those skills. It was just like learning how to read: practice, review, assess, practice again. You will need support here. Someone to practice with. I do so with my best friend. We exchange notes and debrief with one another.

    The skills you need to learn will depend on what you ascertained about your beliefs and expectations and what pattern you fell into as a result of them. It doesn’t matter if you attend classes, read books, practice with friends, or join a support group. What matters is that you do something to learn and strengthen the skills that will help you break your pattern.

    But… why?!

    Now, why go through all this? Baby, ‘cause you are worth it! Plus, there is no magical soul mate in the Universe who will heal your low self-worth concepts and create positive expectations of healthy relationships in your brain.

    You either do the work you need to complete on yourself before you get out there, or you will be stuck in an ongoing loop of pain, with a list of exes that turn out the be the same dog with a different collar, calling them “toxic” instead of owning your own need for growth.

    I’m rooting for you. I bless your journey. The best is already within you. What you want in a partner is out there looking for you as well. May you find each other at the right time and may you have the skills to enjoy your union. Ashe!*

    *Ashe is a West African philosophical concept through which the Yoruba of Nigeria conceive the power to make things happen and produce change.

  • How I’m Healing the Vulnerable, Rejected Kid Inside Me

    How I’m Healing the Vulnerable, Rejected Kid Inside Me

    “In case no one told you today:
 You’re beautiful. You’re loved. You’re needed. You’re alive for a reason. 
You’re stronger than you think. You’re going to get through this. 
I’m glad you’re alive. Don’t give up.” ~Unknown

    I was fourteen years old and it was a holiday of firsts: my first holiday away from my family with my school and my first holiday abroad, where I had my first real crush.

    For the two weeks I was away, I was caught up in a flirtation with a boy from one of the other schools. I had to pinch myself when he said yes after I’d struck up the courage to ask if he would meet me at the disco on the last night.

    The disco was everything I wanted it to be; we laughed, we danced, and I had my first kiss. If there is such thing as cloud nine, that’s where I woke the next morning. Still in a romantic haze (well, as romantic as a fourteen-year-old can get), I went to wave off the boy I’d begun to think of as my “Prince Charming” for what would be our last goodbye.

    But the fairy tale romance didn’t work out the way it had played out in my fourteen-year-old imagination. As I walked up expecting an embrace, he didn’t even want to make eye contact, then he turned his back on me.

    I’ll never forget the feeling of rejection. It was like my whole being was blocked off and cast aside.

    Still hoping for that dream goodbye, I waited until he got on the bus, thinking maybe I had been mistaken. That’s when it happened: surrounded by his friends, looking through the window, he was pointing at me, pretending to stick his fingers down his throat, implying being sick, and making gestures about my weight.

    “Prince Charming” had actually led me on as a bet, as a joke to his friends. I was the joke. I don’t know how, but somewhere inside I had the strength to keep my tears in, probably because I didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of what had just happened in front of everyone (including my friends).

    Twenty-one years on, and for as long as I can remember, when I recall the experience I feel the exact pain—the feeling of rejection and not feeling good enough—as I did at that very moment.

    That, right there, was the beginning of my low self-esteem, which later manifested into an eating disorder, anxiety, and being in toxic and abusive relationships. I accepted physical, emotional, and sexual abuse because I didn’t want to feel the feeling of rejection again.

    It was only recently, when I retold the story to my therapist, that I realized what a life-defining moment it had actually been, and recognized the narrative I had given myself.

    As I began recalling the experience, I started “When I was fat, ugly, and spotty I had this experience… No wonder he didn’t like me.” There it was: that one life-defining moment had played out a narrative that all my being wasn’t good enough. As a result, I sought acceptance and approval from others, and accepted their opinions of me as my truth.

    As I’ve started to process not only what happened but also the huge impact it’s had on my life, these are the things I have learned and what has helped me to begin to heal:

    1. We are good enough, and what really matters is how we feel about ourselves.

    At first I found it difficult, but I had to start believing that I was lovable, good enough, and that the only opinion of me that really mattered was my own. As I began practicing telling myself “I love you,” my whole body would tense, and I’d feel wrong for saying it. As I kept practicing, I slowly began to realize that I could love myself. I even had a small ceremony sealing my commitment to myself!

    Having struggled with self-love for nearly thirty years, I found it easy to slip into seeking approval from others at times. On the days I felt weak I looked at my commitment ring as a reminder of my love and acceptance for myself. On these days I gave myself the permission to feel whatever emotion I needed to feel.

    I’ve learned that we are each the one person we are guaranteed to wake up with for the rest of our lives, so we need to make ourselves our main priority. Instead of putting others on a pedestal and seeking their approval, we need to instead change our hierarchy of love so that we’re sitting at the top.

    We deserve love, but that love needs to begin within us.

    2. What would your present self like to say to the hurt person from long ago?

    As I sat with the pain of my fourteen-year-old self, I had an overwhelming urge to hold myself tight, providing a force field of safety where no one could hurt me.

    As the tears began to flow, I told myself how beautiful I was compared to the boy who had ridiculed me; any person who feels the need to humiliate a person for a joke is not deserving of my love or respect.

    As I stayed with the moment I felt every emotion I could feel—sadness, fear, anger, and then, just as the feelings flooded through me, the weight of the emotions I had held for so many years began to dissolve.

    Talking to our vulnerable self may seem a bit weird at first, I get it, but it’s worked for me. By going back in our minds and being there for our vulnerable younger self, it’s like having a superhero swoop in to protect us, only even more empowering because we are the superhero, minus the spandex and cape.

    No matter what has happened in our pasts, we have the opportunity to give ourselves the wisdom and words of hope we wish we had heard at the time. If it’s difficult to do this, think about what you would say to a best friend if they had a similar experience. We’re often much more compassionate toward our friends, so try to see yourself in that same loving light.

    3. Where has the need for validation from others come from?

    Having committed to love and accept myself, I knew I owed it to myself to go deeper to work out why I had relied so much on others for approval.

    My reflections led me to think of my upbringing, growing up with parents affected by alcoholism. Following violent outbursts I felt I was to blame for what had happened; I felt that I deserved the abuse. In fear of further violent outbursts I began people-pleasing and seeking approval from others in order to feel safe. At my core I felt unlovable.

    I then realized that when the fourteen-year-old boy had ridiculed me it had only reinforced how I had felt inside, and made me further believe that I was unlovable. I was then able to look at how I had acted and behaved from then onward, reinforcing those core beliefs.

    I realized I had accepted poor behavior and abuse from others because I felt I “deserved it.” I also engaged in self-sabotaging behaviors in the form of an eating disorder and drinking to excess.

    Delving deep inside may not be an easy task, and it may be something that we put off, or don’t do at all. We may be connecting to a part of ourselves that we may have kept hidden for years, even decades, for fear of being rejected. But, when we have the ability to do this important work, we are finally giving that vulnerable part of ourselves a voice and an opportunity to say what it needs to heal and finally get its needs met.

    4. Nourish, nourish, nourish.

    For close to three decades I had hidden that vulnerable part of myself and turned to my eating disorder for comfort, believing that others would reject me for being fat and ugly if I let it go. I now know I need to connect to the part of myself that has been abandoned for so long. I need to nourish it, and give it the love it has deserved all this time.

    While hard at first, when I’ve eaten, I’ve reminded myself how the food will nourish me. When I’ve exercised, I’ve remembered how the exercise is nourishing my body. When I’ve sat in meditation, I’ve reflected on how good it has felt to nourish my soul.

    These small acts of kindness have already had a positive impact. I haven’t found the need to emotionally eat or purge. I have more motivation, as I’m doing things from a compassionate place of self-love. I am also finally able to look in the mirror and utter the words “I am enough” and “I love myself” (and mean it).

    —

    No matter what happened to us in the past, we have the opportunity to rewrite our narrative for our future. We have the opportunity to love and accept ourselves as a whole, including the vulnerable parts that we may have hidden as a way of self-preservation.

    With each day we begin to meet our own physical, emotional, and spiritual needs the layers of self-loathing will be replaced with self-love and acceptance.

    Be kind to yourself. xx

  • Overcoming Intergenerational Trauma: We Can Break the Cycle of Abuse

    Overcoming Intergenerational Trauma: We Can Break the Cycle of Abuse

    “Our ancestors knew that healing comes in cycles and circles. One generation carries the pain so that the next can live and heal. One cannot live without the other, each is the other’s hope, meaning and strength.” ~Gemma B. Benton

    I thought I had no value, my opinion meaningless. My sense of self was decimated. Finally, I got angry and attacked.

    “You can’t imagine the pain you’ve put me through!” I yelled. “You don’t even know who I am. You can’t see it. You’re refusing to take responsibility for the way you raised me! Not thinking is not an excuse! You don’t even care to try to understand what you’ve done to me!”

    This was me to my retirement-age parents about a year ago. Those yelling sessions happened several times. They called the police on me once.

    None of it did an ounce of good. They can’t see it.

    The more I have experienced with depression, anxiety, and recovery, the more I am convinced that the events and circumstances of my past—and my parents’ past—have shaped me much more than my brain chemistry.

    I’m pretty confident that the problems I’ve suffered from are derived from generations of unhealthy behavior. I believe the effects of intergenerational trauma shape us much more than we might realize.

    I’m not a researcher, so I only have my own experiences to base this on; it very well could be different for someone else. But from what I’ve seen from my grandparents through my kids, this succession of trauma is difficult to break. It takes different forms, but it always rears its ugly head. In my grandparents, it was alcoholism; in my parents, physical abuse; me, emotional abuse.

    I don’t consider any of us to be bad people, but we have each passed horrible things on to our children.

    My mom’s dad was an alcoholic and very strict. Her mom didn’t actively do anything wrong, but she turned a blind eye to what her husband was doing. Mom won’t talk directly about it, but reading between the lines, I believe her brother abused her as well.

    My dad’s dad was killed in a car accident when my dad was five. That left my dad as the man of the house, with no father figure. His mom never remarried and worked full time to support the family, meaning my dad was mostly on his own.

    So then, this is how it all added up for me: Because of the abuse she suffered, my mom became a narcissist with no empathy. My dad became an absentee father who always blindly agreed with my mom. I was raised so that every good thing I did reflected well on my mother, and every mistake I made was my own fault.

    It took me forty-four years to unravel all this. I’m still trying to figure out who I really am. I know I crave attention and approval from women. I’m insecure and selfish. At times, sometimes for long stretches, I distance myself from my wife and kids. But I’m working on it.

    I’m also working on forgiving my parents. It’s not easy, but I know it’s necessary for me to keep progressing. They’re just flawed people, like me, after all. I’m mainly having trouble with my mom, a selfish, self-centered, and ignorant woman.

    If I forgive my parents, it will be for my own peace of mind. I will know then that I did everything in my power to make peace with them. That doesn’t mean, though, I want to keep them or my extended family in my life.

    Some people aren’t going to change, and we each have the right to decide whether we want that kind of person around us. I feel that most of my family is dysfunctional. It’s a really tough decision.

    My mom’s favorite excuses for her behavior, which she refuses to acknowledge, are “That’s the way I was raised” and “I never thought about it.” Must’ve been glorious to live a life and raise a child without responsibility.

    I know I need to do better. I need to take responsibility for creating change and break free from the intergenerational beliefs and behaviors I see as unhealthy. My family sees this as a rebuke.

    To find my hope, meaning, and strength, I may have to leave my entire family behind. That’s a heavy decision, but it’s one I will probably need to make.

    It will mean that I’ve learned the lessons of my parents and used them to bring power and strength to myself and my children. I can only hope that happiness and peace come along for the ride. That would be the greatest gift I could give to my kids.

    I can’t sit around waiting for the negativity and condescension to go away, or for them to make an effort to understand my problems. In order for me to get better and start living my own life, I need to be the one making the rules. I need to be positive and I need to take care of myself.

    In being raised as children and in raising our own children, we receive many messages. Some are helpful, some are hurtful. We need to be aware of those messages as adults, discarding the harmful ones and emphasizing the healthy ones. We need to be honest with ourselves and others, and willing to admit when we’re wrong. We need to constantly question everything.

    Some of the messages I received growing up were “You’re not as good as you should be,” “Conformity is good, being different is bad,” and “You don’t matter enough,” sprinkled in with healthy doses of guilt.

    My wife and I have tried to instill the opposite in our kids. Everyone matters. Your opinions and feelings are valid and important. Be yourself and follow your dreams.

    None of this is easy. It takes awareness, courage, and the determination to live a better life.

    Some will have bigger hills to climb. Some will look around and find the support they need has been around them all along. Others will be alone and will have to dig deep inside themselves to find the strength to live better.

    No matter our situation, we all deserve the happiness that comes with living our best lives. And the secret isn’t money or success; it’s filling our lives with love. This requires us to heal any childhood wounds that prevent us from giving and receiving love.

    Your present may be built on your past, but it doesn’t have to be controlled by it. In order to break the chains of intergenerational trauma, you will most certainly face some serious challenges. Here are some recommendations from my experiences that may help you.

    Have courage.

    If you look at your past with clear eyes, you’re likely to see a fair bit of unpleasantness. Pain, abuse, manipulation, deceit could all be there. And they could be coming from people you love.

    Facing all of that will take courage and energy. It’s difficult and emotionally exhausting to look at your life objectively. You have to keep reminding yourself to see what’s really there rather than what you’ve always thought or what you want to see.

    Going against the tide of several generations of family is a daunting prospect. You might alienate or offend people you love, but you are worthy of living your life your way.

    Things don’t have to be the way they’ve always been. You don’t need to suffer just because your family chose to suffer in the past. But, understand this is difficult work.

    Have confidence that doing this healthy work for yourself is worthwhile. Stay focused on self-care and keep your eyes on the bigger picture.

    Have a support group.

    A support group can be built of any mixture of people. Friends, relatives, co-workers, or even strangers. It can be formal or informal. The best support groups possess various experiences, perspectives, and personalities.

    What you are doing is huge, and it’s going to be a significant help to have at least one or two people you can lean on while you do this. If you have more, great. But don’t try to do this alone; find yourself a support system before you start.

    My support group is patched together from people who have read my articles and responded to them, people I know from online interest groups, and a few people from real life, too.

    My group has layers, an inner circle I hear from often, a group that checks in every couple of weeks, and a group that is just more encouraging when they hear what I’m up to.

    I’ve had the gift of actually growing my support group while I’m going through this. I’ve opened up to some people and found that we’ve been through similar circumstances. This can give you new ideas and solutions to your problems.

    And don’t forget, a doctor, clergy member, or a therapist can be part of this group for you. You can also consider trying organized local support groups if that appeals to you.

    The more love and support you can gather around yourself, the more strength and conviction you will find you have. This love and support feeds off itself. The more you give, the more you get back.

    Have motivation.

    Remember why you’re doing this. You’re setting out to build a better life for you and your children. The thought of overcoming this pain can be a liberating and positive force.

    Being aware of what put us where we are today will not only give us the motivation but also the direction we need to create positive change for ourselves and our children.

    Not all the changes we make will be successful, but if we keep going and correct our mistakes, we can still help ourselves and our kids learn healthier behaviors. We can stop perpetuating a lineage of abuse, domination, neglect, hurt, and unhealthy coping mechanisms.

    There’s no finish line in overcoming intergenerational trauma. Keep being aware. Keep moving forward, and be the force that is constantly pushing toward healthy change in your family.

  • How Expressing Myself Helped Me Release Chronic Pain

    How Expressing Myself Helped Me Release Chronic Pain

    “Live life as if everything is rigged in your favor.” ~ Rumi

    It can be frightening to experience physical or mental pain. It’s not something anyone wants to deal with; nobody wants to race against the clock hoping that some future experience will take away their pain. Nobody wants to question the purpose of anything, like seeing a friend or even traveling, just because they feel their pain will ruin it.

    During my freshman year at college, I woke up one day with horrific nerve pain in my legs and in my pelvic area. What was this? My instinct told me this would go away in a few days, and when it didn’t, I took to Google to diagnose myself. According to Google, I had hundreds of different diseases and infections. That only kicked up my anxiety.

    I started seeing doctors—neurologists, urologists, and pain management specialists as the time went by. Over the course of few months, the pain not only spread but also got more difficult to deal with. The doctors were stumped. I was stumped. No MRIs or nerve conductive tests had any conclusive results. A spinal tap came out clear. I didn’t have any type of autoimmune disease.

    During the course of all this, I was extremely depressed. It was difficult to leave my bed, go out with friends, and enjoy the simplest things. I loved learning and I was in the midst of very exciting classes, but I identified with my pain—I believed I was pain and I was hopeless—so I cut out anything that interested me or could bring me happiness or joy.

    I was eighteen, young, and adventurous, but my pain caused me to fear the future. What was going to happen in next six months? I was convinced I would never get better. 

    It seemed the only thing I could do to escape the pain was release anger and tears and do different drugs. Though I had this new pain and was now a different person, I could not accept that and let go of the person I’d been before it happened.

    I finally had a breaking point when I was studying in Greece but couldn’t enjoy myself because of all the negative, terrifying thoughts my mind could produce. I kept fantasizing about life in the future, in situations that didn’t exist and situations that could “save me”:

    • I’m going to move to New York one day and then I will be fine, and I will be so happy.
    • This pain won’t stop me from meeting someone and gaining a beautiful partner, and I’ll be saved.
    • One day my writing will be published, I’ll be famous, and I will be so good!

    What I now know is that I was just feeding my ego. None of those scenarios were going to stop my pain or save me.

    The following year I decided not to go back to school. I had to ‘fix’ my broken self. It started off with many psychological TED talks. Many books on Eastern Religion, then meditation books, books on medicine and illness. It wasn’t always easy to find the motivation to research and read, but some part of me knew that it was the only way to free myself.

    After so much reading and many different books, I had to jump to action.

    I started meditating because I’d heard that it could help you tune in and listen to your body. This opened up a new world to me, and after some time, I realized my pain could have purpose and could be managed with meditation and other meaningful activities, including: 

    • Journaling
    • Creative expression

    Creativity has always been a passion of mine, and I had fiddled with meditation in the past, but not in a serious manner. All of these activities not only helped me deal with physical pain, but also helped me discover more about myself and my interests.

    I realized when there isn’t a cure for your chronic pain and the medications prescribed only make you feel worse, you have to take responsibility for yourself. And that’s what I decided to do.

    Journaling freely with no restraints took the focus off the pain and put me in the present moment. It helped me realize I could create my own reality, my own narrative.

    Through journaling, I was able to see how much I had to be grateful for. I was able to develop my intuition, let go of the day’s anxieties, and keep track of how my choices affect my mood.

    I recognized that I kept writing “I am pain,” and “I am depressed and scared” in my journal. It brought me the awareness that I am not pain, nor am I my depression. I was aware that I was in pain and I had feelings of depression, but I would no longer identify with those feelings.

    Journaling unlocked a new world. I physically felt the anger around my heart. I felt the pain in my legs. I felt my migraine. So, I wrote about it. I started writing directly to the areas of my body that hurt. “Dear Legs…” I asked my pain specific questions. I was ready to learn from the pain. It had to have a purpose, and I had to become present with it in order to recognize it.

    Journaling allowed me to see the repetitive patterns in my life. The things I was writing about were the same things I was worrying about two years ago. The same issues that I never took the time to actually acknowledge. Could it be that these issues needed attention so badly that they had to manifest physically within my body? The more I journaled, the more I started to believe that was true.

    I wrote, and hours went by, and eventually, I was writing about my childhood. I was writing about book ideas, TV ideas, I was creating characters. I was writing about how much I love to learn.

    And I didn’t put any pressure on this creative expression. I didn’t tell myself, “This has to be a bestseller!” and “This has to be the next Hamilton!” I just began creating. It made the time fly by, it was productive, and it took the energy away from my pain.

    While writing, my pain and mind transformed. It was as if each word written took a little bit of pain with it and transported it onto the paper. My writings became deeper and more creative, and my pain became less villainous and distracting. The more I journaled about the pain, the more I discovered about myself.

    Meditation was another form of journaling for me. I was able to watch my thoughts, and on days when I experienced heavy pain, I could see how they could change quickly and violently.

    On days where my pain was mild, my thoughts were filled with hope and excitement. I wanted to get out of bed and go out and see the world. However, if five minutes later aches came, my thoughts completely changed. I would glue myself to the television, waste my day, and fantasize about those “one day” experiences I would have: New York, a partner, fame.

    When I noticed this pattern, I stepped back and laughed. It was insane to witness how fast thoughts can change. How much easier it was to identify with a depressed mindset rather than a happy, hopeful one.

    I realized I had a choice: I could feed into the negative thoughts or choose to view the world optimistically. I decided I was not going to follow the negative, depressive narrative my mind provided for me. I was going to choose to identify with a more positive, open, and loving mindset.

    Meditation revealed that I am more than my pain. I was aware that I was in pain; I was seeing my thoughts. How could I be those thoughts if I was aware of them? And more importantly, if I wasn’t my thoughts, I couldn’t be my pain either!

    All of this, in time, helped show me that I didn’t need to be fixed, because I was already perfect. Sure, I was still messed up and my body didn’t feel right, but I was more than my physical body.

    Regardless of what would happen in the future, I had the tools my pain had brought me. I had the awareness to start creating my own reality. I knew I was bigger than whatever pain I would face.

    For a long time, I thought I had to achieve the maximum level of consciousness possible in order to free myself of pain completely. I had to be perfect.

    However, I soon realized that that my pain may never fully be gone, and I may never have complete Buddha nature. But that didn’t and doesn’t matter.

    An extraordinary life is not a pain-free life. An extraordinary life resides in the in the ordinary of the everyday. There is no need for perfection.

    I came to realize that I always was and always will be whole and complete. Regardless of where I live, regardless of my relationship status, regardless of my health.

    Nothing—good or bad—could define my life anymore. The only thing I could be from here was authentic and mindful to what I needed.

    I believe my pain needed expression; my inner child, the neglected being I had shut off for so long needed a way out, so it manifested in pain. All the times I listened to music I wasn’t into to impress others, all the times I spent hiding my sexuality from others and myself, the times spent stuffing my feelings down because of a large ego, I was neglecting my inner child.

    Not getting the right amount of sleep, going on ten mile runs and having a bag of Doritos for dinner, never drinking water but constantly drinking Gatorade and other sugary drinks—I hadn’t even provided the basic necessities for a child to thrive, let alone given that child love and expression.

    So that’s where I had to start. I had to start giving my inner child proper hydration and sleep, and much, much love. As I did with my pain, I had to sit down and talk to my inner child. I also started to spend time with my present self. Taking myself out on a date to a movie I wanted to see, going out to dinner with a nice book, taking long walks without a phone and other distractions. I had to show my inner child and myself unconditional love.

    I realized that previously, I was scared to be unique. I was afraid of expressing myself. What would people think? It was much easier to neglect, suppress, and resist feelings rather than be wrong or be judged.

    Gratefully, I was able to curb my pain and take it down many levels. It seems the more I discover about myself, the more I express my authentic self, the more I free myself.

    Now I make sure I do something every day to connect with my true self. Writing. Meditation. Sitting in nature. Having a cup of hot tea, focusing deeply on the present moment. In the present moment, you are truly saved.

    It’s still hard to wake up in pain and believe the Universe is rigged in my favor, but the experiences my pain gave me, the people I met through it, the maturation I developed from it, confirms that it is the truth.

    Meditation, journaling, and expressing myself awakened me from my pain. It provided more insight and compassion to those around me because we are all in some type of pain. Pain cannot be compared, because pain is a lesson constructed for each of us. The best thing we can do is make friends with our pain so we can understand what it’s trying to teach us. To meditate on the normal anger that arises with pain and sympathize with it.

    Ask your pain questions. Give yourself a hug. When it’s one of those days, be there for yourself. In the end, all you can do is surrender to the Universe and choose to graciously learn from it.

    It’s not always easy, especially when the pain takes control. It’s hard to step back and look at everything through a lens of positivity, but it is possible. All you can do is keep breathing, keep encouraging yourself to focus on the moment—the breath—and like everything in life, the pain will pass.

    Illustration by Kaitlin Roth