Tiny Buddha

Tag: Help

  • You Don’t Have to Be Strong All the Time

    You Don’t Have to Be Strong All the Time

    “Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is to ask for help.” ~Unknown

    We live in a world that praises strength—especially quiet strength. The kind that shows up, gets things done, and rarely complains. The kind that’s resilient, dependable, productive. But what happens when the strong one quietly breaks inside?

    “You are a superwoman!”

    “You’re so reliable!”

    “You’re the glue that holds everyone together.”

    I wore those compliments like badges of honor. For years, I believed them. Not just believed them—I built my identity around them.

    I’ve always been a multitasker. A jack of all trades. I managed work, home, relationships, and a hundred moving pieces in between. I cooked elaborate meals, remembered birthdays, bought thoughtful gifts, checked in on friends regularly, showed up for strangers when needed, pursued hobbies, supported others’ dreams, and pushed through physical pain or emotional fatigue without complaint.

    I was the one people turned to. And if they didn’t turn to me, I turned to them. If someone was going through a hard time, I’d show up with soup, a handwritten card, or a call that stretched for hours. I’d intuit needs before they were spoken.

    And when people said things like “Wow! How do you even manage all this?” or “You’re incredible,” my heart swelled with pride. It felt good to be seen. It felt powerful to be needed.

    But over time, I began to realize something quietly tragic.

    Underneath all that strength was someone tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix—but the kind that comes from years of overriding your own needs for others. The kind that comes from confusing love with over-giving. The kind that sneaks up when you’ve worn the strong-one mask for so long, you don’t know who you are without it.

    I didn’t see it as people-pleasing back then—I truly loved being helpful. I believed that if I could ease someone’s burden, why shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what love looks like? Isn’t that what kindness does?

    But slowly, quietly, invisibly, it was taking a toll on me. My skin had withered, my hair had thinned, and I’d put on weight around my waist.

    As I grew older, I began to feel the shift. The same enthusiasm that once lasted until midnight now faded by sunset. The fatigue wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, spiritual. My body wasn’t breaking down, but my soul was whispering, “You can’t keep carrying everything.”

    And eventually, I listened.

    Because something beautiful and painful hit me all at once:

    Strength isn’t about holding it all together. Sometimes, real strength is in knowing when to let go.

    It’s in saying, “I don’t want to be strong today.”

    It’s in resting, without needing to earn it.

    It’s in telling the truth when someone asks, “How are you?” and answering, “I’m actually not okay.”

    It’s in giving yourself permission to be fully, messily, unapologetically human.

    The world doesn’t tell us that. It tells us to hustle. To push. To keep going. That rest is a reward, not a right. That slowing down is weakness. That softness is fragility.

    But now I know that softness is a kind of strength too. A brave kind. A kind that doesn’t scream or perform—it just is.

    So, How Do You Begin Letting Go of the “Strong One” Role?

    Letting go doesn’t mean giving up on your values. It means loosening the grip on the pressure to be everything to everyone. It means rewriting what strength means to you. Here’s how I began doing that:

    1. Check in with yourself daily.

    Ask: What do I need today?

    Not what’s on my to-do list or who needs me, but what would make me feel centered right now?

    Sometimes the answer is water. Sometimes it’s stillness. Sometimes it’s movement, or tears, or music. You won’t know unless you pause to ask. Even five minutes of silence—before bed, in the shower, or while sipping your tea—can reconnect you to yourself.

    2. Learn to receive help.

    You don’t have to carry everything alone. Let someone else cook the meal. Let someone else take the lead. If someone offers support, don’t reflexively say “I’m fine” or “I’ve got it.” Say thank you. Let them show up for you.

    I remember one day telling a friend that I was exhausted and just not in the mood to cook. She offered to send over food, and I accepted it—with gratitude and relief.

    Letting someone care for you like that doesn’t make you weak; it makes you human. Accepting help builds connection, allows others to show love, and often brings a quiet joy that’s just as nourishing as the support itself.

    3. Let go of the applause.

    Here’s the hard truth: validation feels amazing—but it can also be a trap. You start doing things not because you want to, but because others expect it from you. The cycle is addictive.

    Ask yourself: Would I still do this if no one noticed or clapped?

    If the answer is no, give yourself permission to step back. Choose joy over performance. Choose peace over praise.

    4. Set soft boundaries.

    You don’t need to explain or justify your “no.”

    For years, I would justify mine, feeling the need to explain or defend it. Slowly, I began changing the narrative. Now, I gently and unapologetically say, “I’d love to help, but I don’t have the capacity right now.” “Can I get back to you on this?”“I need some time for myself this weekend.”

    Boundaries aren’t about pushing people away—they’re about protecting your inner landscape. The more you honor them, the more spacious, calm, and kind your life becomes.

    5. Redefine what it means to be strong.

    We’ve been taught that strength is about endurance, resilience, and never showing weakness. But real strength can also be quiet, tender, and human.

    I remember one day, completely overwhelmed, a close friend came to check on me. When she asked how I was, I couldn’t hold it in—I just broke down. She didn’t try to fix anything; she simply held me, letting me pour out everything I’d been carrying. And in that moment, I felt lighter than I had in months.

    Strength isn’t always in doing more. Sometimes it’s in being fully present with yourself, in your softness, in taking a pause, and in saying “not today” without guilt.

    6. Prioritize rest like you would a deadline.

    Rest isn’t laziness. It’s fuel. It’s sacred.

    You don’t need to wait for burnout to rest. You don’t need to finish everything on your list to earn stillness. Schedule it. Guard it. Honor it.

    Make rest a daily ritual—not a rare luxury. Your body, mind, and spirit will thank you.

    Once I began prioritizing rest, I noticed a shift—not just in my energy, but in my clarity, mood, and ability to truly show up for myself and others. Life felt lighter, and I finally understood that honoring my body wasn’t selfish—it was necessary.

    To Those Who’ve Always Been the Strong Ones

    If you’ve always been the caregiver, the doer, the reliable one… I see you. I honor you.

    But I want to remind you of something you may have forgotten:

    You don’t need to prove your worth through over-functioning. You don’t need to sacrifice your well-being to be loved. You don’t have to keep showing up as the “strong one” when your heart is quietly asking for a break.

    You were never meant to carry it all.

    You can take the cape off now. You can exhale. You can cry. You can be soft. You can ask for help. You can choose rest. You can let someone hold space for you.

    Because you’ve already done enough. Because you are enough. And because strength isn’t about how much you carry—it’s about knowing when to let go.

    Let your new strength be rooted in gentleness. Let your softness lead. Let your heart exhale.

  • Beyond Cliché Advice: What Helped When I Was Struggling Financially

    Beyond Cliché Advice: What Helped When I Was Struggling Financially

    “When you are in uncertainty, when you feel at risk, when you feel exposed, don’t tap out. Stay brave, stay uncomfortable, stay in the cringy moment, lean into the hard conversation, and keep leading.” ~Brené Brown

    When you think of someone who’s struggling financially, you might picture someone who’s barely making ends meet, living paycheck to paycheck, just getting by. But money trouble doesn’t always look like that.

    I was struggling even though it didn’t seem that way. I had a six-figure salary. I owned a home in one of the most expensive cities in the world, having bought a half-million-dollar property in my late twenties. From the outside, I had it all.

    But a year into homeownership, my partner backed out of our financial agreement, leaving me to manage everything alone. Then COVID-19 hit. The government responded to the national deficit by doubling mortgage rates. Suddenly, nearly every penny I earned went toward my skyrocketing payments, insurance, maintenance fees, and property taxes. Selling my home at the right time became an anxiety-inducing gamble.

    That’s the thing about financial struggles—they look different for everyone. And at some point in our lives, most of us will experience them.

    During those years, the weight of my financial burden crushed dreams I hadn’t even had the chance to imagine. Along with my dreams, my mental and physical well-being and vitality were exchanged with mere survival.

    Well-meaning family and friends tried to offer support, but their words often missed the mark. Telling me to “trust the universe” or “just stay positive“ only made me feel more isolated, like I wasn’t truly understood. I struggled to explain why my financial hardships felt like a barrier to my dreams, why I couldn’t simply shake them off and believe everything would work out.

    While I did make it through my financial struggles, I have reflected on this period of my life. Maybe easy was never an option, but did it all have to be so hard? I also realized there’s a massive gap between the complex challenges and struggles that can arise from prolonged financial struggles and the solutions, support, and advice that we receive from others in combating them.

    What Not to Say to Someone Struggling Financially

    “The struggle will end when you learn your lesson.”

    This idea—that struggles repeat until we find meaning in them—might be comforting in some situations, but it doesn’t apply to financial hardship. The idea that I was somehow failing to learn my “lesson” only added to my stress.

    The truth is, sometimes life throws challenges at us that have no lesson attached. Some things just happen. Our job isn’t to decipher a hidden message—it’s to keep moving forward, however we can.

    “You’re strong; you can handle it.”

    While meant as encouragement, this statement often feels dismissive. Financial stress is relentless, affecting not just the big picture but the daily grind of survival. Instead of pushing someone to be strong, ask how you can lighten their load. Let them vent. Acknowledge their exhaustion. Strength isn’t the absence of struggle—it’s surviving in spite of it. And even strong people need a break.

    “Money is just energy—align yourself with abundance.”

    A positive mindset is valuable, but financial hardship isn’t a spiritual failing. People don’t struggle because they’re “out of alignment” with abundance; they struggle because of real-life expenses, job markets, and economic systems. No amount of positive thinking can pay the mortgage.

    “When something changes inside you, your external world will reflect it.”

    After years of financial struggle, I had no aha moment, no inner transformation or miracle, or even a slight mindset shift before my financial circumstances changed. The only thing that counted was my consistent preparation, planning, and execution of all the logistical tasks that were completed over a very long period of time. In my case, it was hard work that paid off. There was no magical moment of liberation.

    “Just work on your passion after your day job.”

    When you’re financially drowning, exhaustion is constant. My job required intense mental energy. Coming home and using the same cognitive muscle to work on passion projects was nearly impossible. It’s like telling a personal trainer to do intense workouts morning, noon, and night—they’ll burn out or get injured. Sometimes, survival means setting dreams aside until you can pursue them without harming yourself.

    What Actually Helps

    Love through Listening

    As someone who has gone through a period of financial struggle, it is even impossible for me not to bring my bias, experience, and perspective into the conversation when someone shares their struggles with me. The key is to remind ourselves that we are not an expert on somebody else’s life. They are, but we can be powerful listeners. It is in our listening that we express love.

    Get Into the Specifics

    One of the most helpful things I experienced was having real conversations about my financial situation. Talking through an overwhelmingly large number of concerns helped me gain clarity and relief. If you want to support someone struggling, ask about their specific plans and course of action. It will help them declutter their mind and ground themselves in something they can actually control.

    Provide Resources

    Support doesn’t have to be financial. Helping someone find a reputable accountant, connect with another homeowner, or compare mortgage rates were all incredibly useful for me. A friend once helped me break down different bank rates and calculate my options—a simple act that made a huge difference. Another friend helped me with repairs and paints. They helped move the plan along.

    Help with Decision Fatigue

    Financial struggles come with endless decisions—which bills to pay first, whether to downsize, how to negotiate better rates. The questions are endless. Having someone to talk through those choices with can be a game-changer.

    Remind Them of Their Leadership

    One piece of advice that truly stayed with me came from Brené Brown:

    “When you are in uncertainty, when you feel at risk, when you feel exposed, don’t tap out. Stay brave, stay uncomfortable, stay in the cringy moment, lean into the hard conversation, and keep leading.”

    At a time when I felt anything but a leader—let alone a good one—these words resonated deeply. They didn’t focus on what should have been or could have been, but on what was: a whole lot of discomfort. My job wasn’t to crumble under pressure or lose my footing with every new challenge. It was to keep leading—myself and everyone involved—through the uncertainty, no matter how difficult it felt. That was my only job.

    —

    My financial struggles are now behind me—something I once thought was impossible. If you’re struggling, know that you are not alone. The weight of it may feel unbearable, but the leader inside you, the people who shoulder the journey with you, and a benevolent force greater than you can see will carry you through. As I recently read, “The horrors will persist, but so will you.”

  • People Who Need Help

    People Who Need Help

  • What I Do Now Instead of Trying to Rescue People

    What I Do Now Instead of Trying to Rescue People

    “A leader leads by example whether he intends to or not.” ~Unknown

    This past year has been a journey—one that cracked me open in ways I never expected.

    It began with life-changing news: I was pregnant with my third child. In August, I welcomed my baby, and as I held that tiny, precious life in my arms, the weight of reality crashed over me. Something had to give. I could not keep moving at the same relentless pace, endlessly pouring myself into others, holding their pain as if it were my own, and giving until there was nothing left. If I continued like this, I would become a shell of myself—a zombie mom, moving through life on vibrate mode, disconnected, exhausted, and lost.

    For years, I had been the person everyone leaned on. The healer, the fixer, the one who never said no. As a therapist, it felt natural to care deeply, to hold space, and to offer whatever I had to those in need. I became so adept at giving that I forgot how to hold anything back for myself.

    I thought that was love. I thought that was worthiness—being the person who could carry it all. But with another baby on the way, I finally saw the truth: If I didn’t change, I would be consumed. I couldn’t keep running on empty, sacrificing myself at every turn, and still be the mother my children deserved. I couldn’t be lost to burnout and depletion.

    So, I made a promise to myself. I would protect my energy. I would honor my own needs. I would stop trying to be a savior.

    “I am not a savior; I am a leader.” This became my mantra, my anchor in moments of doubt and old patterns.

    It reminded me that my worth wasn’t tied to how much I gave or how many burdens I carried. Real healing wasn’t about sacrificing myself; it was about guiding and empowering others—without losing who I was in the process.

    But breaking free of old habits isn’t easy. The reflex to jump in, to rescue, to absorb others’ pain is deeply ingrained. It’s part of who I’ve been for so long that choosing differently feels unnatural, even selfish at times.

    Recently, a friend reached out in distress. Every instinct screamed at me to drop everything and save her. That’s what I always did—rush in, fix it, try to make everything better, even if it meant leaving myself drained and overwhelmed.

    But this time, I paused. I took a breath. I reminded myself: “I am not a savior.” So, instead of absorbing her crisis, I encouraged her to lean on other supports and tap into her own resources. I stayed present, but I didn’t make myself the solution.

    And let me tell you, it was hard. Guilt clawed at me. Doubt whispered that I was abandoning her, that I was failing her. I felt my inner child—the one who learned love was earned through fixing—screaming that I was making a mistake.

    There were moments when it felt like I might break. Watching her struggle triggered every fear and insecurity I carried. But then something remarkable happened—she found her way. She leaned on others, drew on her own resilience, and overcame the challenge.

    By stepping back, I hadn’t let her down—I had lifted her up. I had given her the space to find her strength, to be her own hero. And in doing so, I had freed myself from carrying a burden that was never truly mine to hold.

    The realization left me breathless. By not being the rescuer, I had broken a cycle—a cycle that kept me drained and others dependent. I had shown up in a different way, and it felt terrifyingly unfamiliar but profoundly right.

    I felt pride, relief, and a deep, aching grief. I grieved for all the times I had sacrificed myself, believing it was the only way to be worthy. I grieved for the younger me who thought love could only be earned through self-sacrifice. But I also felt hope—hope that I could lead with compassion and strength without losing myself.

    This journey isn’t easy. The pull to rescue, to absorb, to fix is always there, whispering that I need to be more, to do more. But I’m learning to listen to a different voice—the one that tells me my needs matter too. That I am worthy of care and boundaries. That I can lead without sacrificing myself.

    As I hold my new baby and navigate life with three children, I know there will be times when I slip. Times when I fall back into old patterns, when guilt gnaws at me, and when I feel the weight of everyone else’s needs pressing down. But I’m committed to choosing differently. I refuse to become the zombie mom, lost in everyone else’s expectations and needs. I deserve more. My children deserve more.

    When I protect my energy and honor my needs, I become the mother I want to be. I show up with love, patience, and presence. I am not a savior. I am a leader. And when I choose to break these cycles, I give others permission to do the same. I create space for those around me to find their strength. I lead by example—not by sacrificing myself, but by showing what it means to love deeply without losing who you are.

    So, I keep going. I choose myself, even when it feels hard. I break old patterns, even when it hurts. Because I deserve to be whole. I deserve to be honored. And those I care for deserve a version of me who leads with strength, compassion, and presence—not a shadow of who I used to be. I am not a savior. I am a leader. And that, for the first time in a long time, feels like more than enough.

  • 4 Ways to Help Someone with Mental Health Challenges

    4 Ways to Help Someone with Mental Health Challenges

    “Just being there for someone can sometimes bring hope when all seems hopeless.” ~Dave G. Llewellyn

    Have you ever found yourself in a situation where someone told you something deeply personal and traumatic and you were stuck on what to say to them, how to act, and how to behave?

    This happens to me regularly, and it’s not that I don’t have feelings or emotions about what’s happened to the person. I feel deeply sorry for them. But I sometimes freeze and don’t know what to say or do.

    When it comes to mental health issues, this can be even harder to broach. And I say that with a severe amount of irony because I have mental health issues myself. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder in 2017.

    Sometimes, when we have experience with things, knowing what to say or do can still be difficult.

    Nevertheless, I want to share a few things I’ve learned from how people have treated me and how I’ve chosen to treat people.

    Hopefully, after reading this, you won’t find yourself acting awkward when someone opens up to you about what they’re going through!

    This generally applies to people you view as friends—people who would open up to you and be willing to share what’s happening inside their heads.

    So, I guess a theme or mantra we can keep in mind would be, “A true friend shows care and concern whenever possible and, in fact, is a brother or sister who is born for times of distress.”

    What does this mean?

    Well, we ourselves can be overwhelmed when a friend is suffering from mental distress. We don’t know what to say. We don’t know what to do. Of course, we feel bad for them. Perhaps we even empathize with them.

    But what’s more important is the fact that we show how much we care by trying to help them cope with what they’re going through.

    How do we do that? My first tip is to listen when they want to talk.

    You don’t have to respond to everything they say, but you should acknowledge what they say to show you’re fully listening. It could be just a gentle “aha” or an eyebrow raise.

    Remember to remain compassionate as well. Don’t jump to conclusions; keep an open mind and avoid judgment.

    When someone opens up to you, maybe they’re doing it for the first time and not thinking about how it sounds. They’ll probably say things that they don’t mean and might later regret. Just be a good friend and listen.

    And if you disagree with something they say, sometimes it’s best to say nothing.

    The next pointer I have for you is that when you decide to speak (when you think it’s necessary to respond), remember to speak in a way that consoles them.

    Bear in mind that your friend, family member, whoever it is, they’re probably anxious, and if they’re dealing with mental health issues, they likely feel some worthlessness as well.

    So, with your kind words, you can reassure them that you care, comfort them, and encourage them, even if you don’t know the ‘right’ things to say.

    Your words might sound a bit muddled, but that doesn’t matter; if your tone reflects warmth and kindness, your friend will pick up on that. They’ll understand that you’re there to care for them and that you’re doing your best.

    Something else to consider is making an offer to help practically.

    Don’t assume you know what your friend needs. Instead, ask how you can help.

    If your friend is struggling to express what they need, you could suggest something practical that you could do for them.

    You could do some chores around the house for them, go food shopping for them, clean up for them, or do something else that you know they need. You could also just offer to walk with them to get them outside, which might lift their spirits.

    Remember that sometimes, it’s not just what you say or how you say it; it’s the things you do that show you care.

    Maybe, like me, you’re not the best with words, but your actions can show that you care about your friend and want to help them.

    The final piece of advice that I have for you is to be patient.

    You might be ready to talk and offer sage and sound advice, but maybe your friend isn’t ready to hear it.

    If that happens, just remind your friend or reassure them that you’ll listen when they are ready to talk, and you don’t need to offer any advice at all if they just want an ear.

    Don’t take it personally if your friend says or does things that upset or hurt you. They might cancel plans with you or become irritable. Remember to be patient and understanding, because this is how you ultimately offer the support they need.

    And if they cancel on you, know that it doesn’t reflect badly on you. It’s a reflection of where they are at the current time.

    So remember: Be quick to listen, speak consolingly, offer practical help, and be patient.

    This winning combination offers the most benefit to you and your friend.

    Well done for wanting to help your friend out; dealing with mental health challenges isn’t easy, but having someone to talk to is so important.

  • How to Find the Gold When Everything Falls Away

    How to Find the Gold When Everything Falls Away

    “To stay with that shakiness—to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feeling of hopelessness—that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic—that is the spiritual path.” ~Pema Chödrön

    Sixteen years ago, when everything familiar fell away, I felt desperate for spiritual answers. I bartered with a woman who called herself a quantum healer. When I explained I didn’t have enough money to cover rent, bills, and food, she scoffed, “Well, you have to have money to be spiritual.”

    Say what, now?

    In our culture, this myth is pervasive, yet we only have to look at the life of the Buddha (or Jesus or Muhammad) to see that’s untrue. The Buddha left a life of wealth and privilege in order to awaken.

    What this woman probably meant was that people need money to attend retreats in exotic locales, or to purchase expensive courses on manifestation, or to hire coaches who promise them seven-figure incomes.

    To awaken to our true nature requires nothing. It doesn’t even require a teacher, because life is the teacher.

    For many of us, spiritual growth is propelled by a falling away of everything familiar, including income. Admittedly, it’s difficult to focus on spiritual growth when we’re hungry or facing other survival challenges. The paradox is that these can be a crash course in awakening if we allow them to be.

    In my experience, these challenges are designed to humble our egos and show us that all our doing and egoic effort aren’t going to work; only surrender can. Begging and taking a victim stance (historically, one of my areas of specialty) doesn’t work either.

    The Jedi trick is to find peace despite all this, to discover the freedom of emptiness, or, as it’s called in Christianity, “the peace that surpasses all understanding.”

    Prioritize Inner Peace

    “If you get the inside right, the outside will fall into place.” ~Eckhart Tolle

    One year, despite sending 200+ emails, I couldn’t find work. If I hadn’t felt so frustrated, the sheer volume would have made it comical.

    Then, after listening to many, many hours of Eckhart Tolle’s talks, I decided to stop trying so hard. I began practicing a fierce form of presence, staying only on the razor’s edge of this very moment, because to consider anything other than the present moment brought panic.

    I prayed and meditated near-constantly, which helped me become aware of even the smallest signs of grace: seeing the first cherry blossom on a tree, making eye contact with a starling, or receiving a free baguette from a local baker. Each of those moments—and thousands more—brought inexplicable joy.

    In those moments, I felt deeply connected to the network of life. I’d believed I needed a baseline of money to feel inner peace, yet without money, I’d found inner peace anyway.

    The moments that brought up immense fear in our relative world became expansive in the absolute. When I fully accepted and inhabited each moment, life showed me the next step. And the next.

    Life isn’t quid pro quo. Capitalism is. Whatever we put out always comes back, though not always in the same form.

    How to Find the Gold When Everything Falls Away

    Cultivate joy with a giving practice.

    In 2014, amidst a round of financial challenges, I heard about the 29-day Giving Challenge, based on Cami Walker’s book 29 Gifts: How a Month of Giving Can Change Your Life. The book is based on instructions she received from a medicine woman named Mbali Creazzo. The idea is to give something away freely every day for 29 days—and also to pay attention to what flows in.

    These gifts don’t have to be material, though it helps to give what you would like to receive. Because I was hungry and behind on rent and bills, for me, that was money.

    One day, I was able to purchase a $10 gift card for the local grocery store, and I gave it to a woman I saw frequently on the street. Other times, when I was down to less than $5, I left a dollar coin on a wall where children love to climb.

    Being broke had made me feel less than human. Recognizing that I could help someone feel seen and valued again, even briefly, was a revelation. Knowing that a child would find that dollar made me smile all day.

    Giving became, and remains, the most euphoric practice I’ve ever had. This isn’t virtue-signaling or bragging; it completely transformed my life, or rather, the way I experience life.

    We all need something, and we all have something others need. That’s the definition of interdependence.

    Many times, I gave patience, directions, or thanks. Other times, when I could afford it—and this is still one of my favorites—I would leave a chocolate bar on a public bench with a note that read, “Please accept this random act of chocolate.”

    Other times, I wrote notes on Post-its with words I needed to hear and placed them in public areas. Things like “You are loved” or “You make a difference in the world.” Writing each of these gave me a hit of dopamine and helped me feel more like a part of the world rather than forgotten.

    Try community giving.

    For several years, I bartered with an independent coffee shop to be able to eat one meal a day.

    Inspired by an Italian trend called caffé sospeso, we created a practice of “suspended coffee.” If a customer was financially able, they could pay ahead for someone else’s coffee. If someone wanted a coffee but couldn’t afford it, they could request a “suspended coffee.”

    Being able to co-create a giving practice that benefited everyone in the community made me giddy.

    At the same coffee shop, baked goods were typically thrown out after two days. I began taking bags of leftover muffins, scones, and banana bread to a local soup kitchen, where they were a treat for guests more often served soup and stale bread.

    On holiday weekends, instead of throwing out food, we gave whatever pre-made salads remained, as well as day-old baked goods, to people in transitional housing.

    I was flat broke and trying to pay off a five-figure debt, $10 at a time. These giving practices evoked such joy in me that my anxiety about money all but disappeared (okay, mostly). And when that happened, life stepped in to support me.

    Be open to receiving.

    What does it mean to be open to receiving? A complete lack of resistance to what is. Many people feel resistant to receiving financial help because there’s a myth in the dominant culture that accumulated wealth equals an individual’s value, and not having money makes someone ‘less than.’ Those are both false human constructs.

    It’s important not to give in order to receive, nor to give because you believe you have to. Those cancel out the energy of giving. If you can give freely, though, miracles unfold.

    For me, these ranged from a neighbor who spontaneously offered me money to cover rent to an acquaintance who gave me the cash back from her credit card so I could pay down more of the five-figure debt. I saw clearly that flow is always at work in the world. And I stopped feeling ashamed about receiving.

    Giving helps me see what I do have: people who care about me, a roof over my head, a meal that day. It gets me out of my head and my ‘poor me’ stories.

    To my delight, giving helped me rediscover the feeling of oneness, emptiness, or “the peace that passes all understanding.” Because I felt so peaceful, I felt less resistant to my own situation, and that allowed the situation to change.

    We think of items and money as “ours,” but really, we’re just stewards. Indigenous cultures have known for millennia what we settler-descendants need to learn: What we have is to be shared with others, not hoarded.

    Money Can Make Us Forget

    Once income began flowing in, I was mortified to discover how easily I slid back into wanting to keep what I had (after all, I rationalized, it wasn’t much). I began grasping again and believing in the collective delusion of stability. Awareness—access to the experience of emptiness, oneness, or the “kingdom of heaven”—shrank.

    My ego had been so thoroughly humbled, even fractured, during the broke times that it grasped at anything that could help it rebuild a sense of identity—which is antithetical to emptiness and peace.

    It’s not just me. Sociologist Paul Piff, Ph.D., of the University of California, Irvine, ran a game-based experiment in which he found that “rich” players hoarded their fake wealth far more than “poor” players, who tended to be more generous. This aligns with research that demonstrates that, on average, wealthier people donate less than their less-affluent counterparts.

    By maintaining a giving practice, I can reconnect with that expansive feeling of joy at being able to meet someone else’s need, whether that’s a friend, a stranger, or some random child walking along a wall who finds a dollar coin.

    It’s a Process and a Practice

    The gold in the title of this post refers to awareness. That is the experience that all spiritual teachings point toward (and which no words can capture).

    When things fall away, life is inviting us to awaken. As long as we resist what is, the doorway remains closed. When we prioritize inner peace and then generosity, miracles can happen.

    After nearly three years of bartering with the coffee shop, I was offered a contract—out of the blue—that helped me pay off the five-figure debt within six months. This was unusual, though not unheard of.

    More typically for me, and probably for many, when we give from what we have, smaller amounts begin to come in that enable small payments or a few days of groceries. It doesn’t always come back as money. Receiving food by bartering with the coffee shop was a complete gift to me. Be open to different ways of receiving.

    It’s not easy when things fall away, but it is an opening. If we can learn to prioritize inner peace, let go of our egos, and become part of the flow, we can find peace and even happiness greater than we ever imagined.

    If you’re hungry and broke, the apps Too Good to Go (US/Canada), FlashFood (US/Canada), and OLIO (global) may be able to help.

  • How Admitting Your Weaknesses Could Actually Make You Stronger

    How Admitting Your Weaknesses Could Actually Make You Stronger

    “The first step towards change is awareness. The second step is acceptance.” ~Nathaniel Branden

    Do me a favor and don’t tell my wife what I’m about to share with you.

    I have an absurd number of weaknesses.

    Just kidding. My wife, of course, knows this. She is well aware of my many shortcomings. While she would be happy to add to the growing Encyclopedia of dumb shit I do, I will keep this short and sweet out of respect for your time.

    We live in a weird culture that’s afraid to admit any of us have weaknesses or struggles. We’re terrified because none of us want to look stupid or unqualified.

    We pretend to be squeaky-clean specimens of perfection, but inside, our minds are on the verge of exploding as we obsess over questions like: What will people think of me? Will they think I’m dumb? Will I be passed up for a promotion? Will others discover that I’m struggling? Am I actually a fraud?!

    What makes this even more challenging is that it’s a silly game we all willingly play.

    Think of a typical job interview.

    HR: “So, Terry, we’re really impressed with everything you shared today, but we have one final question. What would you say is your biggest weakness?”

    Terry: “This one’s really hard to admit, but it’s got to be that I work too hard. I’m always willing to go above and beyond to get the job done.”

    HR: “Wow, thank you for being so vulnerable, Terry. You sound like you’d be a great fit for mentoring our new hires as they navigate the challenges of working in a fast-paced environment.”

    Here’s the truth: We both know Terry is full of crap. Like, c’mon, Terry, is that really your biggest weakness? That you work too hard? Are you sure it’s not that you’re an emotional black hole since your divorce, which is why your kids don’t talk to you?

    I’m aware that what I’m about to share sounds contradictory, but it’s true. Admitting you have weaknesses is a sign of strength, not weakness. You must know what you can do and what you can’t, your powers and limitations, your strengths and vulnerabilities, what’s in your control and what isn’t.

    There are obvious circumstances that make admitting our weaknesses easy. In fact, not realizing you are outside the scope of what you know in these situations makes you look about as bright as a jellyfish.

    Break your leg? You go to the emergency room.

    Car alternator blows? You go to a mechanic.

    Time to do your business taxes? You go to an accountant.

    But here’s where we all start to fall apart. What about when you’re depressed, hopeless, or emotionally drained, and you don’t know how to help yourself?

    What do most of us do in the above scenario?

    Sweet eff all.

    Actually, that’s not true. We double down on negative habits like drinking, eating, shopping, or mindlessly scrolling on our phones, hoping something will change our state.

    We’re not weak, right?

    We don’t have a problem, right?

    Who cares if we’re not addressing our emotions? There’s work to be done. I already don’t have time to get everything done, so why would I waste time on crap like this?

    It’s embarrassing to admit that I believed not addressing my weaknesses was a sign of strength.

    My depression only made me weak because I kept it hidden in the shadows—not because mental health struggles are signs of inherent weakness. I endured relentless suffering, tormented by the belief that I was a worthless bag of flesh who subjected my loved ones to my endless mistakes and would be better off dead.

    What was I trying to prove?

    Why was I so afraid of looking weak?

    Would I be less of a man?

    And here’s the irony. By asking those questions, I realized that I was the one labeling these weaknesses as such. That shift empowered me to confront these challenges head-on, seeking the support of a therapist and coach, and hold myself to a higher standard.

    I’ve discovered that these “weaknesses” are sources of extraordinary growth. Therefore, acknowledging our weaknesses is the key to becoming stronger.

    I was blind to the cost of my denial until I gained a different perspective. I needed a new pair of glasses to show me that how you do anything is how you do everything.

    When I viewed these moments as gravity problems—things I couldn’t do anything about—I felt hopeless about everything in my life. But when I realized that these were challenges that I could overcome, I was given the opportunity to see that I could conquer any obstacle in my path if I was willing to embrace imperfection.

    Don’t let the subtlety of this shift in thinking race past you as you read the rest of this story. Understand first that you and I are having this conversation because I chose life.

    If you don’t address a broken leg, you’re going to hobble around like a pirate for the rest of your life.

    If you don’t fix your alternator, you have a 3,000-pound paperweight.

    If you don’t get an accountant to handle your business taxes, you will pay dearly to the tax man.

    And if you don’t address your emotional issues?

    You will forever be anchored to a tiny, scared version of yourself. Never capable of reaching your potential.

    It’s not enough to know that you have weaknesses; you must know when you’ve reached the limit of what you can figure out independently. You’re outside your boundaries if you don’t know which side of the line you’re on, or if there even is a line at all.

    I’m not here to tell you what to do, but you can bet I will leave you with a question.

    Six months from now, what will you wish you had spent time on today? What action would help you get the support you need to overcome something you’ve been struggling with?

    Calling a friend?

    Grabbing breakfast with your mom?

    Booking a therapist appointment?

    That, my friend, is what matters most.

    And nothing else on your to-do list will fulfill you if you don’t prioritize it.

    Choosing not to act now is delaying a better future. So, whatever you’re going to do, do it. Do it now. Don’t wait.

  • The Friend I Couldn’t Fix: A Story of Love, Loss and Letting Go

    The Friend I Couldn’t Fix: A Story of Love, Loss and Letting Go

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of domestic violence and may be triggering to some.

    “You can’t heal the people you love. You can’t make choices for them. You can’t rescue them.” ~Unknown

    Every story starts at the beginning. But how far back should I go? Birth?

    I was born at Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital in Camden, New Jersey, in May of 1972…just after three in the morning.

    No, wait. That’s not morning. It’s still dark outside.

    Forgive me. That’s an inside joke.

    You see, just a few years ago a friend of thirty years came to live with me. A down-on-his-luck, unemployed alcoholic that recently battled Stage four cirrhosis, we agreed he could stay with me, rent-free, for six to eight weeks as he sorted himself out.

    Just typing that sentence makes me cringe. How did I ever think he’d sort himself out?

    I believed that with enough love and support people could overcome their troubles. However, it never occurred to me that they had to WANT to overcome their troubles.

    Within a few days of moving into my apartment, he blew the job opportunity that he (and I) counted on by insulting his future boss. Six to eight weeks evolved into eleven and a half months. Sorting himself out morphed into sleeping all day, drinking all night and abusing me in the time in between.

    Which brings me back to the inside joke.

    Don’t Engage

    I woke one day before dawn. “Good morning,” I yawned as I flipped the coffee on.

    Fortified behind a barricade of empties, he launched his daily verbal assault. “Are you really that stupid? It’s not morning; it’s still dark. F*cking moron.”

    “Don’t engage,” I said to myself. Not engaging pissed him off because he wanted to fight, but engaging was so much worse.

    Engaging led to things being slammed. Thrown. Shattered. Time spent searching for every shard of glass and worrying about the eight tiny paws that scampered around my apartment. I didn’t have it in me to see any more of my belongings broken. Any more of my spirit broken.

    His attacks began months prior and consisted of only words at first—a slew of insults he hurled at me as though playing a game of merciless Mad Libs. I was stupid, a moron, a fat blob, ugly, pathetic.

    Then began the screaming, throwing, slamming, backing me into corners, pushing me into walls, grabbing my throat, and finally punching me in the face.

    It’s Not That Simple

    Prior to living with him, I never thought too much about domestic violence. I’d never witnessed it, and to be honest, it never occurred to me that domestic violence could exist in this type of relationship. You see, he wasn’t my father, my husband, or my boyfriend. He was a friend.

    Moreover, and I’m ashamed to admit it, I unfairly thought people in abusive relationships were weak. And I am not weak. I’m strong and independent. I realize now abuse is not that simple.

    It began so slowly I didn’t see it for what it was, nor did I want to. I wanted to see the best in him. Only with the gift of hindsight do I clearly see the picture three decades of brushstrokes formed. For thirty years I loved his potential, not who he really was. Looking back, I see that he had been narcissistic, manipulative, and emotionally abusive since day one.

    The Perfect Storm

    When he first came to live with me, I was his “angel” and could do no wrong. I won’t lie to you—being an “angel” felt wonderful.

    You see, as far back as I can remember I have felt useless and unworthy—the ugliest girl in the room that no one wanted. It’s a paralyzing state of mind that led me to a place of constant giving at my own expense. Of people-pleasing. Doing anything and everything to make those around me happy so they wouldn’t abandon me. So they’d need me. So they’d love me.

    And here was my friend who needed help as desperately as I desired to offer it. My friend whose spiral of mental illness and alcoholism was as destructive as my non-existent boundaries and acute need for acknowledgement. We were a perfect storm.

    The Last Day

    The last morning we ever spoke, he was in the midst of what I can only describe as a reality break. He spewed such nonsense that I secretly recorded his rage on my smartphone in case I needed proof of what was happening. He verbally berated me and threw a heavy pair of headphones across the room, missing my head by inches. The straw finally broke the proverbial camel’s back.

    I kicked him out of my home…out of my life. This man who for so long I loved and admired. This man who in reality lived his life like a forty-six-year-old toddler. Choosing to kick him out was more difficult than living with him. I loved him. But I chose me.

    I had to choose me.

    The Path to Recovery

    Not long after kicking him out, I found myself standing in front of a wall full of light bulbs in Home Depot—with no idea how I got there. I was sinking fast.

    I reached out to my primary care physician, as I realized I was in a situation I was ill equipped to handle. I was diagnosed with compounded trauma, placed on medication for depression, and instructed to seek talk therapy.

    Talk therapy enabled me to unpack the root of the issue of why I’d “allowed” this situation to carry on as long as I did.

    I peeled back the layers of an onion that revealed that I had such a deep-seated fear of abandonment and self-loathing that I was willing to sacrifice myself for breadcrumbs of love, affection, and validation. Only by identifying and facing my core wound head on was I able to make significant progress.

    Additionally, I explored eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapy, which lifted a weight off of me I wasn’t aware I carried. Reprocessing distressing memories using this technique fundamentally changed my relationship with my trauma.

    I devoured books, podcasts, and internet tutorials on emotional abuse, CPTSD, attachment styles, and so much more. I began eating cleaner, exercising consistently, and prioritizing sleep.

    He tore me to my foundation, but as the architect of my future self, I undertook the painstaking process of building myself into who I chose to be. I chose warrior. Well, that’s who I am on my good days. I also have days when I’m a little scared mouse, and that’s okay too.

    Lessons Learned

    It’s been three years since that final day in my apartment. In that time, I’ve accepted there is a difference between showing someone grace and sacrificing oneself for someone who cares only for themselves.

    I’ve made peace with the realization that I can’t heal or change anyone—that they need to do that work on their own.

    Can I provide love? Yes. Will I hold space? Absolutely. Am I capable of fixing anyone? No. Will I forfeit my sanity and safety? Never again.

    My love could not help my friend. I could not fix him. At the end of the day, only he had the ability to fix his problems, and he was either unwilling or incapable of doing the work.

    The Actual Last Day

    I kept tabs on him in the weeks following him leaving my place. He bounced from friend to friend, to various seedy motels and finally to emergency rooms for psych evaluations and vomiting copious amounts of blood.

    And then the inevitable.

    Every story also has an end.

    My friend of thirty years died at Our Lady of Lourdes Hospital in Camden, New Jersey, in September of 2020 at 7:13 a.m.

    A time I think even he would consider morning.

  • If You Really Want to Change the World: 4 Ways to Be Kind

    If You Really Want to Change the World: 4 Ways to Be Kind

    “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ~Maya Angelou

    I’ve now reached the age in my life when every so often, I get an email or text informing me that someone I know has died. Some of the people who have passed away have been former supervisors or teachers from high school. Others have been the parents of friends or elderly members of my church.

    At one time, the news that someone had died was shocking to me. Now it’s nearly a monthly occurrence, and I’ve become accustomed to it.

    Whenever I receive one of these texts or emails, I always go in search of the obituary. This may sound macabre, but I love a good obituary. I like to learn what people chose to do with this one life that they were given. I particularly like the obituaries in which you get a sense of who the person was. Aside from their accomplishments, what was that person really like?

    Because the reality is that your accomplishments aren’t what will have mattered most about your life.  Instead, what matters about your life is how you made people feel, as so aptly put by Maya Angelou. Another way of putting it is this: Were you kind to others?

    Why does kindness matter so much? Because kindness is the only real way to change the world for the better. For example, I can give you $20, and you can use that to buy one meal. Certainly, that is a nice gesture.

    But what if I encourage you? What if I take the time to specifically identify your gifts and talents? What if I explain to you that you have the ability to do great things with your life? Then my kindness potentially has changed your life.

    Kindness is powerful. In fact, being kind is the most important thing that we do in life.

    Below are ways to start incorporating kindness into your daily life. If you make kind acts part of your daily routine, you’ll end up being someone who changes the world in the most beautiful way.

    To Be Kind, Be an Encourager

    We live in a very critical world. Sadly, people are quick to criticize, and they are reluctant to offer praise. Given the harshness of our world, it’s no small wonder that so many people lack confidence in themselves.

    Kind people are our only hope to fight the world’s negativity. That is because kind people encourage others. They are the type of people who go out of their way to comment when someone does something well. And they readily point out others’ gifts and talents.

    But realize that encouraging others is something that we have to intentionally choose to do. For example, often a complimentary thought will float through my head. “Her hair looks great today.” Or “That was a terrific presentation.” But unless I catch myself, that idea will float out of my head just as quickly as it floated in! As a result, I try to make an effort to say those complimentary thoughts out loud whenever I can.

    Realize that being an encourager has to be a conscious choice. Otherwise, those complimentary thoughts will just stay inside our brains. And the other person won’t benefit from those precious words of encouragement.

    So choose to be kind by choosing complimenting over criticizing. Build others up instead of tearing them down. If you do, you’ll make the world a far more pleasant place to be for everyone.

    Be Helpful in the “Right” Way

    Most of us strive to be helpful. After all, that is what good people do—we help others! But the problem is that so often we help others in the wrong way.

    For example, I learned many years ago that to be a good mother, I had to help my daughter in the ways that she wanted help.

    The issue came to the fore one day when her room was messy. I thought I would help her out by tidying it up. Later that day, she returned home from school and wanted help with her homework. However, by that point, I felt worn out because I’d already cleaned up her room. She then said to me, “But Mom, I can clean up my own room. I didn’t ask you to do that for me. What I need help with is my homework.”

    She was right. That moment was a turning point for me. I tend to think that I know what is best for everyone! But after that experience, I came to realize that even if I think I know best, I need to help others in the ways that they want help.

    Because if you help people in the way that you think is best for them, you aren’t respecting them. You effectively are saying, “I know better than you what you really need.” And that attitude diminishes people.

    So part of being kind to others is helping them in a respectful manner. If you want to want to help someone (or give them a gift), find out what that person wants. You aren’t being truly kind and helpful if you simply help them in a paternalistic fashion in which you convey that you know best. Instead, be kind by helping others in the right way.

    To be Kind, Choose Compassion Over Judgment

    Unfortunately, it’s human nature to judge others. After all, how often do we walk by a homeless person and think, “That person needs to get a job!” Or we may have a family member with an alcohol addiction, and we’ll say, “For heaven’s sake, just stop drinking! Pull your life together.” Or we may have a child who is failing math, and we’ll tell the child, “These bad grades are your fault. You need to study more and stop goofing off.”

    But being kind means offering compassion, even when it is oh so easy to judge. I find that the best way to avoid the “judgment trap” is to say this to myself on a regular basis: “But for the grace of God go I.”

    What that means is that some of us get lucky in life. We may have been blessed with a stable upbringing, or with good genetics. Or we may have been born with a gender, skin color, or nationality (or all three!) that simply makes our lives a lot easier than other people’s lives.

    Given that some folks are just dealt a better hand in life than others, it makes sense that we should interact with people who are struggling by coming to them from a place of compassion rather than judgment. Our attitude should be “I’m so sorry that you are suffering. Let’s figure out a way to fix this situation.”

    I’ll concede that it is frustrating when people make big mistakes that negatively affect our lives and the lives of others. Nevertheless, be kind. Remember that to be kind means to be compassionate, even when it is so much easier to judge.

    Value Kindness Over Being Right

    Years ago, I hosted a family gathering in which there was a heated argument about politics. Angry words were said. People insulted each other. And everyone left the gathering feeling terrible.

    What was particularly stupid about the whole thing was that the argument was pointless. Not one of us worked in politics. And not one of us had any sway over politics outside of our one vote in each election. So we didn’t change the world by arguing. We simply damaged our relationships with each other.

    I’ve had a similar experience when it comes to discussions about other hot button topics, like religion. For instance, I happen to go to church. Now, I never try to inflict my religious views on anyone. Rather, I consider religion to be a deeply personal matter.

    Yet, every so often, I’ll receive a snide, insulting remark about my religious faith from people who are atheists or agnostics. I choose not to argue back when I hear those remarks, but I always think to myself, “What was the point of that remark? How did that remark make the world a better place?”

    Realize that problems arise when we are more concerned about being right than we are about being kind. Of course, there are times when we need to voice our concerns. For instance, we should always speak up when we see someone being treated unjustly. But that is different from demanding that others see the world in the exactly same way that we do.

    To treat others with kindness, we have to be willing to agree to disagree. We can’t bully others into our point of view. Instead, we have to value being kind over being right.

    If you really want to change the world, the simplest thing you can do is be kind. Be kind consistently. Strive to be kind, even when you don’t feel like it. Be kind because it is the easiest thing that you can do to make the world a better place.

  • How I Kept Going When I Wanted to End My Life

    How I Kept Going When I Wanted to End My Life

    “When you’ve reached rock bottom, there’s only one way to go, and that’s up!” ~Buster Moon, from the movie Sing

    When I first heard this saying, as I was watching the movie Sing on my way to another continent, a small light bulb lit up inside me. As I sat with this sentence, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t agree more.

    After hitting my own rock bottom a couple of years ago, I know that once you get there, there is no place you can go that is lower. It’s the final breaking point.

    And if there is anything I have learned about the final breaking point, it’s that you have two choices: either give up or start over.

    This theory can apply to many aspects of life, like when you’re in a job or career that is no longer working, so you hit rock bottom in a health crisis or a mental breakdown. You have a choice: Be insane and keep going, when you know deep in your heart and gut that this decision isn’t right, or “give up” and finally pursue the career or job that you have always wanted.

    Sometimes, rock bottom gives us a good reflection point on what is no longer working in our life, as well as the opportunity to change. But what happens when your rock bottom is wanting to end your life?

    I remember it clear as day. It was summer 2020, during the Covid-19 pandemic, and I was working remotely from home, like many others. Nothing was unique about my situation, except the fact that I had ended a very toxic, karmic relationship just three weeks into a global pandemic.

    The things that most people do in order to get over a breakup—like see friends and go out and have fun—were all things the whole world had to put on pause. Oh, and top of that, I was worried about dying from Covid.

    I never realized the effects lockdown could have on my mental health. While I am naturally introverted, there is a significant difference between being forced to stay in and choosing to do so.

    I realized that I had hit rock bottom during a beautiful summer day. I was outside, staring into my backyard, when I realized that I felt nothing. I no longer wanted to live, and I could no longer see the beauty and miracles of everyday life.

    I was disappointed that I woke up every single morning, because that meant another day that I had to muscle through. Another day that I had to survive. While I’ve had bouts of depression my entire life, I never came as low as I did then.

    By the end of the summer, I knew I had two options: I was either going to save my life or end it. But I also came to a humbling moment when I knew I couldn’t do it myself. I needed therapy. No one else could help me through this except a professional that could help me dissect my feelings, trauma, and emotions, as well as myself.

    Starting therapy was a blow to my ego, as I imagine it is for many. It’s sitting there, across from your therapist, when they ask you, “Why are you here?” knowing damn well that you are there so that you don’t die. That you don’t want to suffer anymore. That you are wondering, “Why am I even suffering? Am I just being overdramatic?”

    There are so many hard truths that you learn about yourself through therapy. But also, so many enlightening things, like the fact that it wasn’t your fault you endured abuse, gaslighting, and manipulation in past relationships. Even though you thought it was.

    Or that trauma literally shuts off the frontal cortex of your brain, especially when you are in “fight or flight” mode, because your body is just trying to survive. This is why there are so many memories that, to this day, I cannot remember. They are little black holes in my brain history.

    When you’re in therapy, you don’t notice the gradual changes at first. It’s not until months down the line that you start to notice that little things are bringing you joy once again.

    How the sun, in the cold harsh winter, after days of cloudiness, brought a small smile to your face. Or how you realize that you no longer partake in OCD behaviors that you thought you could never break before starting therapy. Or how your irrational fears are no longer at the forefront of your mind anymore.

    While not everyone will notice these changes, you will. And you will then start to think about how and why you didn’t start therapy sooner. How and why you didn’t choose yourself sooner. Do not berate yourself; this was all part of your journey.

    If there is anything that I have learned by wanting to die, it was that inadvertently, I also wanted to live. I just no longer wanted to live my life through the same suffering and stories. The body, mind, and soul can only sustain pain for so long before it can no longer do it anymore.

    One of the most pivotal things about my life, hands down, was my rock bottom because, as the saying goes, I could only go up from there.

    Up doesn’t mean that you change your life drastically in one day, or even a couple of months.

    Sometimes up is showering after a week of not having the energy to do it. Sometimes up is allowing yourself to feel a slight feeling of joy again, after months and months of darkness. Sometimes up is remembering to eat again, because you never had the appetite to eat when you were at your lowest.

    If you’re struggling right now and can’t get out bed, I’m not telling you that you are wasting your life. You are not. Even in the depths of suffering, this is all a part of your journey.

    But I can tell you this: Living—not merely existing—is a choice made of lots of little choices. Like the choice to get help. The choice to believe things can get better. The choice to do the little things that help you feel better. And the choice to recognize the small wins along the way.

    Other people can support you, but no one can make these choices for you but you.

  • 5 Ways to Start Healing from the Grief of Betrayal and Domestic Abuse

    5 Ways to Start Healing from the Grief of Betrayal and Domestic Abuse

    “If your heart hurts a little after letting go of someone or something, that’s okay. It just means that your feelings were genuine. No one likes ends. And no one likes pain. But sometimes we have to put things that were once good to an end after they turn toxic to our well-being. Not every new beginning is meant to last forever. And not every person who walks into your life is meant to stay.” ~Najwa Zebian

    It’s hard to describe what betrayal feels like. Unless you’ve experienced it, I mean, in which case you’ll know. You’ll know that moment—the punch to the gut, which in my case, even though I was standing in an empty room all on my own, literally knocked me to the floor. I’d seen something, you see.

    Proof that my partner had been cheating.

    It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining. I think I’d been listening to music, probably something upbeat in the hope it would squash the worry that something wasn’t quite right. Maybe (most likely, knowing me) dancing, to carry some of the nervous energy away. Scrolling on social media, distracting myself with other people’s realities, to stop me thinking about my own.

    And then something—something—made me look. A pull. An inexplicable urge. And so, of course, I did.

    There it was. What I’d known in my gut, but had been told repeatedly couldn’t be true. Labelled as “over-reacting,” “seeing things that aren’t there,” “being too sensitive.” What I now know to be gaslighting, that abuse isn’t always physical (even though in my case it was that too). Tangible evidence for all to see.

    And so here I was, in a heap. Collapsed to the ground like a house of cards that had been caught by a gush of air. But it wasn’t air that had taken my legs from underneath me. It was the end of a relationship.

    To this day, I don’t know how long I was lying there. I can picture it in my head even all these years later.  Like a boat that’s adrift. Wind knocked out of my sails. Listless.

    The night drew in, and with it came this incredible wave of noise. Like I was sitting in a busy café, and someone had turned the music up to try and compensate, but you couldn’t make anything out. Except no one could hear this noise, because it was all happening in my head. Thoughts about “what if?” and “if only,” ironically contributing to the din.

    I wanted a hand to reach out from the darkness and give me the answers. To say “It’s going to be fine.” But it wasn’t fine. It was painful. Distressing. Desperate.

    And then, something. A message. A friend. He had no idea what was going on; I hadn’t told a soul. But he knew. At least, he sensed it. So he had messaged me and gently reminded me that I have a right to be here.

    I look back on this moment in my life now as if it was another person. I’m still me, of course, but different, like we all are when we go through grief. Because grief doesn’t just belong to death. We experience it for anything that mattered to us that’s no longer there.

    A divorce.

    A redundancy.

    Even a child leaving for college.

    Endings mean we go through this process; not in stages, but a journey that takes as long as it takes.

    Here are a few insights and tips that might help if you’re on this journey now.

    1. Grieving is a unique experience.

    It’s raw at first; it can be messy, but it does look different to everyone. Some people feel rage, others feel numb. I felt completely lost for a while. There is no right way to mourn a loss; we just find our own way, hopefully with the support of others who get it. Even then, people need to resist the urge to cheer us up or “silver line” what’s happened.

    We don’t always need to find the “upside” of pain or be told “at least you can always get remarried” (sigh). What helped me that night was the generosity of a friend, a simple act of kindness in the willingness to just hold space with me.

    But of course my journey to recovery didn’t end there. Allowing myself to be open to the idea that I didn’t need “fixing”—that I just needed to go at my own pace, finding healthy ways to cope—was hugely beneficial.

    2. Feel what you feel.

    Sometimes we numb out with booze, food, or mindless scrolling so that we don’t have to feel the pain we’re enduring, and I get it; grief can be gnarly. But the reality is, whether we give our feelings a name or not, they’re there anyway. Sure, we can push them down for a while, but if we keep putting pain on top of pain, eventually it rises up and grabs us metaphorically by the throat.

    Give yourself permission to sit with your emotions when you can, or with someone else if it helps.

    3. Reach out.

    I am so grateful in my case that someone reached in, but in the weeks that followed I went in search of people and services that I knew would be able to help. I got in touch with a therapist to sit with my grief and found a mindfulness teacher—a Buddhist monk as it happens. He trained me to be still with the painful thoughts of rejection and abandonment I was having, and the trauma I had been through.

    I also found agencies who could offer practical help with housing and finances, as I literally had nowhere to go, having been isolated from friends and work, what I know now to be a common sign in these cases.

    If you or someone you know has been affected by domestic abuse or are suffering with difficult thoughts, find what services are available in your local area.

    4. Share what you know.

    I do not see what happened to me as a “lesson.” I didn’t need to experience trauma in order to be a “better” person; I was good enough before all this happened actually.

    Having said that, I did find meaning in these moments. I decided to use what happened to me to help others; I became accredited to work with victims of crime and now volunteer my time in a women’s refuge. I also work as an independent advisor to police authorities to help raise awareness of what helps (and what doesn’t), as well as writing and supporting people in other ways.  When you’re ready, you could use the benefit of your experience to help others too.

    5. Take care of yourself.

    I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that when you’re going through a difficult time, your needs matter too. You’re not saying “me first” to the people in your life; you’re just saying “me included.”

    For me, this meant making sure I was eating, getting enough sleep, and yes, even dancing round my kitchen—it all helps.

    I’ve always believed self-care is in the little things, like changing your bedding, putting out clean towels, and getting fresh air. But it can be other things, like spending time in nature, chatting with a friend, or learning new ways to cope healthily with what life throws at you.

    It doesn’t have to be expensive; in fact, restorative acts of self-care don’t have to cost a penny. I love taking myself off somewhere to enjoy a cup of tea and reading a book. You’re allowed to have and do nice things that can help lift your spirits. Give yourself permission to say no and make sure your tribe includes people that help you rise, not bring you down.

    —

    We deal with endings all the time in life, and some might seem inconsequential, but that doesn’t mean we have to forget or pretend they didn’t happen. We can honor our experiences in helpful ways; we might just need to figure out how to do that for a while.

    Allow yourself time and space to discover what helps you best. This might mean taking time out or just taking a deep breath, revisiting your values to understand what really matters to you, setting new boundaries, or distancing yourself from those who don’t help. As Elizabeth Gilbert once so beautifully said, “We can love everybody, but some we must love from a safe distance.”

  • 5 Simple Yet Essential Self-Care Tips That Can Change Your Life

    5 Simple Yet Essential Self-Care Tips That Can Change Your Life

    “Never be ashamed to say, ‘I’m worn out. I’ve had enough. I need some time for myself.’ That isn’t being selfish. That isn’t being weak. That’s being human.” ~Topher Kearby

    Years ago, my extended family, who I am very close with, migrated from Vietnam to America as permanent residents. Four separate families had a couple of kids in each family. They are nice, kind, and loving people, and their kids were super cute and respectful.

    My relationship with my extended family has taught me a lot of lessons throughout my life so far, but this was one of the most impactful ones to date.

    Throughout the first few years of their residency here in the USA, they struggled with the language barrier and navigating an unfamiliar setting. As with most people who choose to migrate to another country, it was challenging for them to learn how to adapt to their new normal here in the United States.

    I couldn’t bear seeing them struggle, so I decided to step in to help them through this huge transition they were facing. I took them to most of their doctor’s appointments, brought them to work on time, helped them out with school conferences for their kids, and supported them in the completion of other tasks that they weren’t able to do on their own.

    I didn’t see this as a burden at all. In fact, I was having fun helping them because I love them so much.

    If you’re like me, you will understand this. When I am helping people that I care about, I tend to forget about taking care of myself. Slowly, this began to be the case.      

    The love I have for my family fueled my energy, which made me overlook the importance of caring for myself. Sure enough, after a while of supporting and caring for my family through their transition, I started to feel emotionally depressed and physically drained.

    I couldn’t find an explanation for why I was feeling this way, so I decided to check in with my doctor. My doctor explained that I had nothing to worry about regarding my physical health.

    After determining that I was healthy, I realized that there must have been a deeper explanation for why I was feeling that way. That’s when I knew my exhaustion was coming from overly helping and caring for my family. After all, I was taking on responsibility for everything in their lives from the little things to the important things.

    At this point, there was a little voice inside my head saying that it was time to sit down with myself and re-evaluate how I was spending my time and energy. Deep down I knew that this would be the only way for me to feel healthier and happier.

    For the sake of my well-being, I decided to implement positive change in my life, Once I did, I was amazed at how my physical and emotional well-being began to improve.

    I didn’t want to leave my family hanging, so I made sure that I took the time to show their kids what they needed to know so that they could help their parents and themselves. I knew that they had other family members that were willing to step in when they needed assistance with tasks.

    It took me a while to make this decision because I didn’t want to leave them without ensuring that they would be cared for. Thankfully, their children were confident taking over some of the tasks and helping their parents and their own families with the transitions that they were making.

    Sometimes, setting healthy boundaries with the people you care about also comes with setting a boundary with yourself.

    You cannot control how other people will react to your choices, no matter how badly you would like to be able to. With that said, it will bring you comfort knowing that you are doing what is best for you.

    In my case, I knew I needed to take better care of myself. I also took comfort in knowing that the choices I made for myself wouldn’t bring harm to anyone else. In time, I hope that my family will come to understand; but if they don’t, that’s okay too.

    I will always be wishing the best for them and sending them the brightest blessings in their life, regardless of if it is from a distance or up close.

    It was through this experience that I learned that the best way to care for others is to begin with caring for yourself. This may seem selfish or unnatural at first. However, with time, you will find that you are more capable of adequately caring for others when you are well cared for yourself.

    Once you master the art of self-care, you will find that you have more time and positive energy to put toward caring for those around you. Here are a few tips on where to begin on your journey toward self-care.

    1. Stay in touch with your feelings.

    If you’re honest with yourself about how you feel, you’ll be better able to meet your needs. It can be a challenge to be truthful with yourself and others about your feelings, but if you don’t, you’ll end up burnt out and resentful. This was my first step toward taking care of myself: telling my family I was feeling depleted.

    Ask yourself: How do I feel about how I currently spend my time? Am I honoring my needs and priorities? How do I feel about how much I give in my relationships? Am I overextending myself or giving more than I receive?

    2. Spend time with others.

    You can’t spend all of your time alone and remain emotionally healthy. Part of self-care is surrounding yourself with people who uplift, encourage, and support you.

    The ideal amount of human contact varies greatly from one person to another. No matter how much of a loner you might be, though, spending time with others matters because human connection brings happiness, joy, and belonging.

    When I realized I needed more time for reciprocal relationships, I set out a schedule to hang out with some of my closest friends.

    Call some of your friend or relatives to catch up, and ask them to get together. You’ll feel more connected, and if you open up about what’s going on in your life, you’ll be able to receive support instead of always being the one who gives it.

    3. Spend quality time alone.

    When you spend time alone, you’re able to get in touch with yourself on a deeper level. You get to reflect, introspect, and make a plan for anything that needs to change in your life. This will help you accomplish your goals, and you’ll feel more grounded as a person.

    Again, how much time you need to spend alone is an individual preference. It can be hard to refuse requests or say no to gatherings, but if you find the right balance for you, you can stay connected to other people while keeping up with your personal goals.

    4. Exercise regularly.

    When I decided to prioritize myself, I committed to keeping myself active and in shape. I personally enjoy weight training, pilates, dancing, and taking long walks by the lake. Not only do I feel physically stronger, I have more energy and get a boost of feel-good chemicals every time I exercise.

    Any physical activity is better than nothing, but you’ll feel a lot better if you can devote thirty minutes each day to movement, whether you play a sport, dance, or participate in a group exercise class. Your body is designed to move, so when it’s not using its potential, it creates stagnation.

    5. Manage stress.

    Take frequent breaks throughout the day to relieve tension and restore your energy before tackling your next task. Check in with yourself regularly to look for signs of stress, including physical exhaustion, getting irritated easily, having a lack of focus, and mindlessly eating junk food.

    When you notice your stress level rising, practice deep breathing or utilize any other relaxation methods that work for you.

    I generally like to get a massage, go for a walk, meditate, and journal. I like to write out all the stress on paper and burn it away.

    Another stress relief practice that I often do is chanting. It’s a healing method to help you clear any worries, stress, fears. When I chant for a period of time, my energy always shifts, bringing me back to a more grounded state.

    If you take on other people’s energy, you may want to practice energy cord cutting. This can be as simple as visualizing yourself detaching a cord connecting you to someone who drains you.

    Practicing forgiveness for yourself and others is also a powerful stress-release method. I highly recommend the Ho’opononopo practice; if you’re not familiar with it, you can go on YouTube and look it up.

    —

    The quality of your self-care is a great barometer of your overall well-being, and it can keep you firing on all cylinders. If you’re feeling down and out, give extra attention to your self-care. You deserve the time and attention. A regular self-care practice also demonstrates that you truly recognize your own worth.

  • How I’m Healing from Abuse After Going in Circles for Years

    How I’m Healing from Abuse After Going in Circles for Years

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of sexual abuse and may be triggering to some people.

    “Recovery is a process. It takes time. It takes patience. It takes everything you’ve got.” ~Unknown

    We are often told in therapy that we need to dig deep and explore our feelings until we find the root of our problem, as though we’ll finally have peace and relief just because we’ve found the “Nugget of Trauma.”

    The problem with long-term childhood trauma is that there was not just one Nugget, or one moment that we were left reeling from. For many of us abused as children, trauma encompassed our entire childhood and adolescent life.

    When I was in my early twenties my memories became a deluge, flooding into my mind all at once. I started with talk therapy, and it seemed like the one recurring question being asked of me was, “What’s the issue or event that you are struggling with?”

    So, thinking that they must know more than me about how to deal with the chaos in my mind, I would focus on one aspect of my childhood to try an work through it with them.

    I had a lot to pick from: beatings, torture, rape, sodomy, abduction, neglect, and the big pulsing mass of guilt and shame.

    I was ashamed that I could not protect my brothers and that, each time I was raped, it was because of something I had done that required punishment, like not wringing out a wash rag tightly enough. All of my abuse and the abuse of my brothers was, according to my father, my fault because I wasn’t good enough.

    Sound familiar? For many of us, the manipulation of how we think about the abuse and ourselves is the most painful and long-lasting trauma, but going into detail about this in therapy is exhausting, mentally and physically, and can cause a spiral into deeper depression.

    I didn’t know all this when I was in my twenties, and I barely understood the concept of talk therapy, which was: You talk about something that happened to you, and then the therapist tells you about the side effects of that experience to help you understand your feelings and behavior.

    It took me a long time to learn that having a realization about a certain event and learning how it’s affecting me in the present doesn’t mean the problems associated with it go away. And, unfortunately, the clinical view that I was making progress with those realizations, or “breakthroughs,” was false.

    For many of us, having a “breakthrough” doesn’t even mean that in two years we’ll remember it, and we may go through the same cycles of dealing with the abuse all over again. Like a big Wheel of Trauma.

    It took me years to recognize I was cycling through the Wheel of Trauma:

    • A deep dive into depression
    • Leading to anger at being depressed and feeling “sick of living with this”
    • Then the realization of how a specific past experience was affecting me
    • Cue the tsunami of relief and giddy hopefulness and a false belief that I was getting better
    • The relief soon wears off
    • A deep dive back into depression where the realization is forgotten

    I may never have recognized it if a friend hadn’t pointed it out to me. To find out I’d been going in circles was devastating.

    After doing some independent research on the neurological damage caused by early childhood trauma, I have begun to wonder if my brain was cycling just so I could have those moments of relief as a way to feel something positive and hopeful. That might be wishful thinking, but this is one example of why it is so important to write things down and keep track of what is going on in your head, especially in dark times.

    Trust me, I know so well how scary it can be to put things down on paper and suddenly find yourself looking at something that your brain put away a long time ago to protect you.

    I’m not going to say it’s easy or fun. I’m not going to say that I haven’t been triggered by writing. I have been, but I also came through it, and the memories I was so afraid of, while painful, aren’t as scary now.

    If you’re like me, your mind protected you when you were too young to process what was happening to you. But you aren’t that child anymore; you’re older, your mind is more mature, and you’re better equipped to deal with those experiences now.

    Be gentle with yourself, but also have faith that you will come out the other side if you have to come face to face with a horrible memory, or what I have dubbed a Nugget of Trauma.

    I’ve also learned that you can grab a Nugget of Trauma and pull it into the light, metaphorically. I don’t mean to take it out and analyze every detail. The goal isn’t to hurt yourself with old trauma; the goal is to learn how to move forward with it, and figure out some basic reactions you may have to that memory Nugget.

    Do you recognize the feelings that memory, or Nugget, has entwined with it?

    Do you behave in a certain way every day based on those feelings?

    Do you avoid certain people or places because they trigger that feeling?

    Do you feel this every day or just in certain situations or around certain people?

    How does it affect how you react to other people?

    How does it get triggered, and does it send you spiraling into depression?

    How do you feel about yourself?

    The goal isn’t to make it go away because it may never go away completely. But you can learn how to take care of yourself with this knowledge in hand and create new habits to counter the poison of the trauma.

    If something happens and you begin to feel a certain way, you will more likely recognize that feeling as something that is not associated with the present, and you can make a plan to take care of yourself in that situation.

    For example, I have come to recognize a sensation I sometimes feel when I’m with one or more people in an enclosed space, like a conference room or office. It is a physical, slimy, crawly feeling that I have to focus on and consciously control until I can make an excuse and leave.

    I’ve learned to recognize it so I can take care of myself in those situations. I leave, usually to a bathroom, and allow time for it to go away so I can feel safe again. If I can’t leave, I will hold a notepad or something in front of my chest as a barrier.

    Other things that may work for you are saying some soothing mantras, making a cup of tea, or taking a break and just writing it out. Smells can be a great way to break through a triggered response. Maybe keep some lotion or something else scented to help calm yourself and bring you back to the present. I love VapoRub for this.

    Your knowledge of yourself is the key to taking care of yourself, lessening past’s hold on you, and breaking the cycles.

    This means being completely honest with yourself and observing things you say and do without judging.

    When you can really see yourself without all the rationalizations, defenses, and excuses you cover your psyche with, you can better recognize your triggers, behavior patterns, and reactions.

    In my case, I am badly triggered by any cinama-graphic representation of rape. I will get up and walk out of the room, usually in a state of high agitation, and get really catty with anyone who tries to touch me or invade my personal space, which at that moment is about 1000 meters wide.

    It’s not a surprising trigger, and it doesn’t require a lot of analysis to figure out why it’s upsetting to me, but that isn’t really the point. The point is to truly be with myself in those moments to keep myself from spiraling down to the depths or physically harming myself.

    I’ve had to learn how to deal with my brain being doused in visual memories of rape and all the skin-crawling feelings that come with them. For me, this is where self-comfort and care has become vital.

    It’s almost like I have to be two people at the same time; while a huge part of me is freaking out, I have to be able to step outside of that, see myself in pain, and comfort myself back to safety and calm. And considering that I perceive most other people as threats when I’m triggered, I really only have myself.

    This was originally a hard lesson because I could listen to advice from friends or doctors or people on TV, but it was hard for me to take those ideas from “yeah, that sounds logical and smart” to actually living with those tools at my disposal and using them when I needed them.

    The first step was learning how to get myself to a mental state where I could use them. When you’re in the dark in your own mind and you can’t see the reality in front of you there is no logic that can break through.

    The damage isn’t logical, so it’s not an issue of logic or understanding; it’s a matter of taking care when your mind is in that painful moment and getting yourself back to the point where you have more control and are able to use those tools.

    It takes a lot of practice, patience, and honesty to develop self-care routines based on self-love and understanding. That understanding can’t always come from other people telling you what’s going on or why you’re reacting in a certain way. It’s best when understanding comes from caring enough about yourself to get your hands dirty and learn what’s really going on in your head.

    Admittedly, I have had long runs of not knowing what to make of the chaos in my mind, sometimes not even knowing what I was feeling, or what was real, or what was an attack from my past. In some moments of terror, not even knowing how old I was. It can be really bad at times, and I totally get that.

    The best course of action is to write as much as you possibly can every day about everything that is going through your mind. This gives you some idea of what your brain is fighting with.

    When you’re done writing, get some sleep or cry or go for a walk or talk to yourself on a voice recorder, or do something that will help calm your thoughts a bit. Later, you can look at what you’ve written and really see what you’re going through.

    This can be harsh at times, so be prepared for what comes out of your head. One of my dark writing sessions showed a seething self-hatred that was quite frightening.

    A lot of people take this journey with a therapist, and that can be a safe way to venture into the sometimes-ugly reality of our thoughts and being, like having someone with a life preserver waiting to pull us out of the muck if we get too deep and can’t get back out. I’ve had hit-or-miss experiences with therapists, but as mental health knowledge around early childhood trauma expands and improves, it is becoming a more viable option for some people.

    If you haven’t tried it yet, do some research and make an appointment. It takes time to build trust with someone, so be patient and remember to be kind to yourself.

    When I went to my last therapist I made a list of boundaries. I had been placed with a male against my noted preference, but I wanted to give it a shot, so I made a list letting him know things that would make sessions more difficult for me, like having him stand between me and the door. Little things to some people, but triggers for me.

    Don’t be ashamed of letting people know how best to help you. And know what helps you might change over time.

    After doing this for so many years I have learned that a method of self-care that worked for me in the past may not work for me today. Or a method that never sounded quite right for me before might now make sense. Allow yourself time and space to learn and grow and regress and progress.

    First priority: be good to yourself.

  • The Joy of Unexpected Kindness and 3 Reasons It’s Hard to Be Kind

    The Joy of Unexpected Kindness and 3 Reasons It’s Hard to Be Kind

    “Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world.” ~Howard Zinn 

    Have you ever experienced an unexpected act of kindness that completely changed your day?

    I have, and I sincerely hope you have too.

    Please pause for a moment and try to remember the last time that happened. How were you feeling before? What happened? And how did the act of kindness impact you?

    If I look back on my own life, I can find countless moments where the suddenness, the unexpectedness of an act of kindness, shook me awake.

    It might sound strange, but this seems to have been especially so when it came from a stranger.

    That’s not to say that the kindness of those close to us isn’t important, because it is. The kindness of our friends, family, and colleagues can keep us going when life throws challenges in our way, and their joy in our happiness makes the good moments radiate even stronger.

    But there is something about an act of kindness from an unexpected source that causes its healing ripples to be especially powerful.

    And most of the time this isn’t some great or inspiring act but just a very small gesture: a smile, a friendly greeting, a sincere question, a few words from someone who genuinely seems to wish you a good day.

    I remember the first time I went backpacking, feeling lost in a city, staring at my map, when a random stranger offered me his help in pointing out the way.

    I remember feeling tired and lost in thought after a long drive, stopping for gas and a quick bite, and the man working behind the counter at the restaurant clearing my mind with the pleasure he took in his work, smiling with a disarming friendliness.

    I remember sitting in a train in Thailand for fourteen hours, anxiously moving toward my first month-long meditation retreat, and suddenly getting a few genuine words of encouragement and advice from a pair sitting across the aisle.

    I remember a woman sitting in her car, rolling down her window to share her joy in seeing my son race down a hill on his bike.

    I remember yesterday, when the cook at our canteen advised me on what to choose, doing her best to prepare my dish with full attention and then sincerely wishing me a good day.

    In all these situations I was not only left with a feeling of joy, but also a sense of connection.

    Kindness can bring a short moment of relaxation in an otherwise busy day, or a complete change from feeling stressed and chagrined to feeling elated, open, and interconnected with the world.

    Kindness is just that powerful.

    And the beautiful thing is that we all have the chance, every single day, to contribute to this kindness in the world.

    So, again, pause for a moment and this time think about the last time when you were the kind stranger. When was that? How did it make you feel?

    To start with the second question, my guess would be that it made you feel good. The first question might be more difficult to answer. Looking at myself, although I would love to say “today,” that just isn’t true.

    Interesting, isn’t it.

    So, kindness is very powerful and important, it helps us and others, it doesn’t cost us anything, yet it still is difficult to give every day.

    I can think of many reasons why it is difficult, but to keep it simple I’ll list three:

    1. You can only give what you have.

    If you want to give somebody money, you must first have money in your bank account. If you want to give kindness, you must first practice being kind to yourself.

    That is why, for example, Buddhist meditation on loving-kindness (mettā) begins by giving loving-kindness to yourself, and only then to others.

    But don’t worry, you don’t have to spend hours each day meditating; just start with a few minutes every morning (or any other time that fits your schedule) by wishing yourself and those close to you happiness and health. Then try to act on this throughout the day by honoring your needs and prioritizing things that bring you peace and joy.

    It’s okay to wish yourself happiness; it’s not selfish. If you are happy you will be able to radiate that happiness outward, making spontaneous acts of kindness easier to do.

    As your ability to do so strengthens, you can always add a few minutes to wish the same to people you know but about whom you do not have a specific feeling, or a neutral feeling. If that gets easier and easier you can even start adding people you dislike, strengthening the power of your kindness further and further.

    2. You have to see the other person.

    If you are anything like me, then you probably live most of your life in a form of zombie state. Moving from place to place, working, talking, acting on what’s happening, checking your smartphone way too often, all without any form of true consciousness or mindfulness.

    You can do the following test to check this for yourself.

    At the end of the day, look into the mirror and ask yourself how often that day you truly noticed how and what you were doing. That’s all.

    Chances are the honest conclusion will be that you just rushed through the day (again).

    If you don’t notice how you are during the day, if you are not mindful of your own state of mind, if you do not see yourself, then how can you truly see another person?

    It all comes down to how much conscious space we have—how open our mind is toward ourselves and those around us.

    Consciousness tends to expand when we harbor wholesome qualities such as patience, energy, calm, and so on, and it tends to narrow when we harbor unwholesome qualities such as anger, desire, envy, and so on.

    Fundamentally, these mental qualities depend strongly on mindfulness, on our ability to see our mind for what it is.

    If you let a goat loose in a field of grass it will just do whatever it pleases and eat wherever it pleases. If you tie the goat to a pole, the goat will only eat the grass within the circumference of the rope and pole.

    Mindfulness is like the rope that binds our mind to ourselves, keeping it within. Keeping the mind within prevents it from creating all kinds of illusions and personal realities that cause the unwholesome aspects of your mind to arise.

    Keeping the mind within helps bring calm and contentment.

    To strengthen your mindfulness, you do not necessarily have to sit down on a meditation cushion as is often suggested. Mindfulness is something you can practice every day, whatever you are doing.

    Just pick a few routines you do every day and cultivate the intention to do them as mindfully as possible. Do only what you are doing, with all your attention, and if you find your mind drifting off bring it back to your task.

    The more you practice this, the more it will become an ingrained aspect of your mind, bringing with it the experience of calm and openness—and the better you’ll be able to really see other people and recognize opportunities for kindness,

    3. You have to practice regularly and be patient with yourself.

    In the end, kindness isn’t different from other skills. Every human possesses the potential to be kind, but you have to practice it in order to bring that potential to fruition.

    Research by the University of Wisconsin showed that compassion can be learned. Just like a muscle can be trained by weightlifting, people can build up their compassion.

    The most direct route I know of is training through meditation—by practicing loving-kindness meditation and the practice of being mindful, as mentioned about, even if it is only for a few minutes every day.

    But don’t go at it with the businessman’s approach most of us grew up with. A businessman’s approach means expecting results relative to the time you invest. Developing the mind, developing kindness, doesn’t work that way.

    We all have our own personal qualities and hindrances, and just as with other skills, to some it comes natural, while others need more time and effort.

    Don’t worry too much about the results; getting on the path to becoming a kinder person is the most important thing. If you keep practicing patiently you will develop the power of kindness within yourself sooner or later. And it will become second nature to offer those small gestures of support, appreciation, and encouragement that can completely change someone’s day.

  • Abuse is Like an Iceberg: The Cruelty and Pain You Never See

    Abuse is Like an Iceberg: The Cruelty and Pain You Never See

    “What we see is only a fractional part of what really is.” ~Unknown

    On the surface, in the public eye, it can seem trivial. It might look like the seemingly harmless teasing of a child or romantic partner, joking about words they have mispronounced or silly mistakes they have made. Inane mistakes like putting on a shirt backward, burning something in the oven, or losing their keys. Mistakes that everyone makes.

    Abuse might sound like judgmental comments that appear to come from a place of compassion. Comments like:

    My daughter doesn’t apply herself; she’s lazy, and I wish she would care about her education so she can make something of herself.
    At the moment she likes girls, but I’m sure she’ll grow out of it because I just want her to be happy and get married and have a family.
    I wish he would make plans and stick to them instead of changing careers every five minutes; he would be so much happier.

    Sometimes on the surface abuse can sound like frustration:

    I wish she would just pick up after herself; it annoys me that I have to live in a pigsty.
    She doesn’t do well in school, which is embarrassing for me because I am a teacher.
    He never has any time for me; he’s so selfish, and all he thinks about is his work.

    Abuse can also sound like statements of compassionate control:

    If she doesn’t do better in school, I’m not going to pay for her cello lessons.
    If he doesn’t help out around the house, I’m not going to make time for him.
    If she doesn’t try to dress nicely, then why would I make time for date night?

    I’m not saying that all teasing or comments expressing frustration necessarily mean that someone is being abused. I am only drawing your attention to them and encouraging you to look closer.

    The victim might give you subtle hints. Hints like:

    My parents really don’t care what I do; my parents only care if I do well in school and that’s all.
    My partner is only happy when I’m doing things for him.
    I don’t get a lot of me-time because me-time is selfish.

    The victim might show you emails or texts the abuser has written. Oftentimes, these emails or texts may seem benign or contain subtleties that can be easily overlooked. They might have a few verbally abusive comments and a handful of demands, or they might even be disguised as messages of concern.

    Sometimes these messages may be written so persuasively you might find yourself siding with the abuser or wondering why the victim is so upset about something so trivial.

    Beneath the teasing, the frustration, and the deprecating comments disguised as compassion lies a world of abuse that you are not looking for.

    Behind closed doors teasing turns into putdowns and verbal abuse:

    You will never amount to anything.
    You are incompetent.
    You are lazy.
    You are fundamentally a failure.
    You will never be able to support yourself.
    You’re a fag.
    How can you be so dumb?

    These harsh words may come with physical violence, but even on their own, they can be devastating.

    Compassionate control that appears on the surface may be an indicator of neglect or financial abuse.

    I have the money for music lessons, but you’re not doing what I want, so I’m not going to support you. I’m not giving you money for shampoo because it wouldn’t change the fact that you look ugly.

    You have not become the person I had hoped you would become, so I’m not going to pay for your educational opportunities.

    Sometimes you might look at abuse victims, like me, and wonder why we don’t wear better clothes, get regular haircuts, or take better care of ourselves. However, many times these simple choices were not within our power to make.

    Victims of abuse often make self-deprecating comments. Comments like:

    It was no big deal; anyone could have done it.
    I’m not good at a lot of things.
    I can’t do anything right.

    Over the years we have been groomed to put ourselves down before you do. We have internalized the abuse narratives to the point where we no longer see our lack of self-esteem, or our talents.

    Victims of abuse often don’t know how to accept a compliment and at times can feel uncomfortable in the spotlight. We’ve learned to make ourselves small and build you up so that we can keep ourselves safe. We downplay the favors we have given to you or the kindness we have shown you because we have learned the needs of others matter much more than our own.

    We become overly anxious when we made a mistake, when we’ve expressed an opinion contrary to yours, or when we think we might have offended you.

    We put your needs first, and we act overly agreeable and easy to please. We don’t mind where we go or what we eat when we are out with you. We don’t tell you if we’re feeling tired or cold, and we hyperfocus on you because we have learned that our needs don’t really matter to anyone.

    Because we have been gaslit and our reality has been denied over and over, we have learned to downplay the abuse and even to deny it. We might say contrary things about our abuser, such as:

    My mother loves me; she just doesn’t know how to express it.
    Yes, that was a nasty thing that he said, but if I had been kinder to him or done a better job, he wouldn’t have felt the need to say that.

    You might occasionally hear us expressing frustration about the way our parents have treated us. You might hear our longing for love and acceptance, but in response you may find yourself saying:

    Your mother really loves you; she just wants what’s best for you.
    I know you’re frustrated with your dad, but you should really try and forgive him.

    You might hear us expressing frustration about our partners and you may find yourself saying:

    You should be grateful for all that they have provided for you and done for your family.
    I don’t believe you; he or she doesn’t seem like the type of person to do a thing like that.

    Your comments leave us feeling invalidated, so we become silent.

    Abuse was always there in plain sight, but like an iceberg you only saw the tip. A tip you could easily normalize, rationalize, and dismiss.

    If you suspect that someone is being abused, here are some small steps you can take to protect them.

    First, realize that the victim may not know that they are being abused or that the way they are being treated is wrong.

    Oftentimes, they have been groomed to believe that they deserve to be treated poorly and that the abuse is somehow their fault. If they do realize that they are being abused, they may not be in a position to do anything about it; therefore, their denial serves as a temporary coping mechanism. The best thing that you can do is to treat them with kindness and compassion.

    Ask questions that encourage the person to get in touch with their feelings or needs. For example, I noticed that your mother makes a lot of negative comments about your abilities. How does this make you feel? Or, last night when we were out your partner said some harsh things about your appearance. How did you feel about this? I notice that you look thirsty. Would you like some water?

    By encouraging them to get in touch with their feelings, you validate their lived experiences and help them recognize that the way they have been treated is not appropriate or healthy. By encouraging them to focus on their needs, you help them to prioritize self-care even if only in a small way. This allows them to take back the power they have lost and helps them realize that they deserve to be treated better.

    Sometimes the simplest compassionate questions can help them take small steps to decrease the amount of abuse they are exposed to and eventually take drastic actions to remove the abusers from their lives entirely.

    If you witness someone being teased or shamed during a social event, firmly tell the perpetrator that their behavior is not kind or appropriate. If the perpetrator does not stop, invite the victim to walk with you to another part of the room or engage in a different activity to give them a break.

    Never join the perpetrator in teasing or criticizing the victim even if you believe that the teasing is just for fun.

    When you join the perpetrator in teasing you are engaging in a benign form of abuse and reinforcing their power and control. You are unknowingly teaching the perpetrator that you are a person they can use against the victim. Additionally, you are affirming and normalizing the perpetrator’s opinions of the victim, making it hard for the victim to break free from toxic narratives and limiting beliefs.

    Never engage in discussions about the victim with the perpetrator. Oftentimes, abusers use people who are close to the victim to convince them to do things they are not comfortable doing. Sometimes these conversations are disguised as concern for the victims, their well-being, or their financial future. If you suspect that you are being used in this manner, make it clear that you are not comfortable engaging in these sorts of conversations. Keep your communications with them brief yet firm.

    Never confront the abuser or tell them that you think their behavior is abusive. This may prompt them to encourage the victim to cut you out of their life. If you need to call the abuser out on their actions, talk specifically about why you do not like their behavior or why it is not appropriate. If you suspect that the victim is in serious physical danger, contact the police, a social worker, or a local women’s shelter for professional advice.

    Abusers tend to isolate their victims in order to maintain control over their lives. Invite them to activities you both enjoy so you can spend quality time together and give them a break from their home life.

    If you have a friend or family member who cancels plans at the last minute or frequently declines invitations, they may not be making this choice of their own free will. It is important not to take this personally or wall the victim out of your life. This is what the abuser wants you to do.

    Instead, continue to call your friend and invite them to social events even if you  think that they will not attend. Knowing that you are in our lives even in some small way can make us feel less isolated.

    Make it clear to your friend or family member that you are always there if they need to talk and frequently remind them of this. If you feel comfortable you can also let them know that they are always welcome to stay at your home if they ever need a safe place to go. You can also offer to help them create a safety plan should they ever feel unsafe.

    By taking these small steps you are choosing to see the abuse that lies beneath the tip of the iceberg and helping your loved one make it safely to the surface.

  • How to Reclaim Your Joy After the Pandemic: 3 Things That Helped Me

    How to Reclaim Your Joy After the Pandemic: 3 Things That Helped Me

    DISCLAIMER: Though vaccines have allowed many of us to return to more normal activities, the pandemic isn’t over, and it’s still crucial that we all follow the evolving CDC guidelines to keep both ourselves and others safe.

    “Perfect happiness is a beautiful sunset, the giggle of a grandchild, the first snowfall. It’s the little things that make happy moments, not the grand events. Joy comes in sips, not gulps.” ~Sharon Draper

    It was a rainy, late Sunday afternoon. The sun was already going down, and it was getting dark outside.

    “How are you?”

    “Oh, good. Nothing special. It’s quiet,” my mom responded when I called her a couple of months ago.

    “It’s quiet” had been her response for the past two years, possibly before that. My mom is retired. Since the pandemic, her life became even more “quiet” than before—fewer friends, fewer activities, less fun.

    I’m not retired, but I work from home, and the same happened to me. To some degree, I let it happen.

    I got used to not seeing people, not laughing, and not dancing. I got used to being alone, and it became more comfortable to stay home on Saturdays than going out for social activities. Was I developing a mild form of social anxiety? Maybe.

    Two things were for certain: my social skills had atrophied, and I had forgotten how to have fun. What was joy like?

    “I feel like this must be what it’s like for the elderly; when no one visits them and they don’t have many friends and activities, they sort of start dying inside.”

    “That’s how I feel right now,” my mom responded.

    Have you experienced that too at some point? Not feeling like doing anything and seeing people because you forgot how to connect with them and what you even enjoy doing?

    “I think it’s a slippery slope. We should do something about it. We should make an effort to break the pattern and start socializing and doing activities again before we die inside,” I told my mom.

    After hanging up the phone, I reflected upon what I had just said. I knew that “shoulds” wouldn’t make the situation better; I had to be proactive and do something about it. I took out a pen and a notebook and started writing an action plan.

    Here are the three things I wrote down that day that have most helped me to reclaim a sense of joy in my life.

    1. Do one thing on your list of “joys.”

    A piece of advice that was very helpful came from a friend who lost his partner to cancer a couple of years ago, just a few months after she was diagnosed.

    It was a shock to him. They had projects together, like buying a campervan, traveling around North America, and building a house off-grid. Suddenly, those plans were gone, and my friend had to learn to live alone again while coping with grief.

    One thing that helped him get out of depression and slowly regain his spark for life was to make a list of things that made him happy (even just a little). Every day for the next three months, he did as many things on his list as he could.

    I took that advice and created my list of fifteen “little joys.”

    They’re not complicated. They include things like watching the sunset, reading a book while drinking a mocha latte in the morning, walking in nature, wearing my favorite outfit, dancing to progressive trance music in my living room, and watching funny dog videos.

    Every day, I picked at least three things on my list to do that day; if I could do more, great! But I did at least three. Over a few days, this simple practice started making me feel happier.

    Of course, you’ll first have to create your own list of “joys,” but once you have it, it’s a wonderful tool to bring more joy into your daily life.

    2. Do one thing to trigger the “helper’s high.”

    Another thing that significantly impacted my mood and energy was to do one act of kindness every day.

    I had read articles about the science of altruism and happiness, and I knew that helping or being kind to others makes us happy. There’s even a specific term for it: the “helper’s high.”

    I began asking myself every morning, “What’s one act of kindness I will do today?”

    Since I don’t always feel creative first thing in the morning, I made a list of fifteen acts of kindness ideas that I could choose from. Like my list of “joys,” they aren’t complicated. They include writing a nice comment on someone’s Tik Tok video, posting an uplifting quote on Facebook, and complimenting someone.

    Just doing this one thing, intentionally, every day made me feel more alive. But in case you don’t feel inspired to do one act of kindness a day, here’s another idea.

    Another thing I started doing recently, which I learned from Tim Ferriss’s book Tools of Titans, is a ten-second loving-kindness exercise created by Chade-Meng Tan, the man behind the popular mindfulness-based emotional intelligence course for employees at Google called Search Inside Yourself.

    The exercise is very simple: A few times a day, randomly choose two people you see and secretly wish for each of them to be happy. You don’t have to do or say anything—just think, “I wish you to be happy,” with a sincere intention from your heart.

    I find both the ten-second loving-kindness exercise and doing one act of kindness a day therapeutic. They take our focus away from our problems and increase our sense of connection to others, even when the act of kindness is anonymous, and we don’t physically interact with the person.

    3. Do one thing every day to nurture your social circle.

    It took me some time to realize that my mental health was being affected by a sense of isolation. I’m an introvert and enjoy my own company. It wasn’t obvious that my desire to eat more ice cream than usual and my lack of motivation to get out of bed in the morning had something to do with spending too much time alone.

    Some weeks during the height of the pandemic, I talked to no one except my clients on Zoom and the cashier at the grocery store. And the more time I spent alone, the less I wanted to see people. The idea of socializing began to feel daunting, and I chose to stay home (alone) more and more often.

    But it was killing me inside. I had to break the solitude pattern before the hole I was digging and putting myself in became too deep.

    I started small but did something every day to revive my social life.

    One day, I commented on an acquaintance’s Facebook post. Another day, I messaged a friend on Messenger. The following week, that friend suggested we go for lunch, and I went.

    Friendships must be nurtured to grow stronger and thrive; otherwise, they atrophy.

    So, perhaps you can ask yourself every day, “What’s one thing I can do today to nurture and expand my social circle?”

    Start small.

    —

    I did a few other things to bring more joy into my life in the past few months as well, like taking on a new hobby (learning to play the djembe) and attending social events every other week. But the three actions I mentioned in this article are the ones that made the most significant difference in my well-being in the long run.

    What do you do to feel alive and inspired? Share with us in the comments so we can all benefit from each other’s wisdom.

  • 3 Painful Consequences to Overgiving and People-Pleasing

    3 Painful Consequences to Overgiving and People-Pleasing

    People-pleasing, overhelping, overgiving—we can give it lots of different names, but the consequences of putting yourself last all the time are generally the same.

    You may have been raised to see giving and helping as virtuous things. And hear me say, they are. I believe wholeheartedly that it’s a beautiful thing to serve, support, and help others. However, people-pleasers don’t always know when to draw the line; they give and give almost as if they have an endless supply of time, energy, and resources.

    Surprisingly, people-pleasing is often about control. It’s rooted in your need to try and boost your own self-esteem, avoid conflict, and manipulate the environment into what you need it to be to feel at ease.

    But I can assure you, there are vast and detrimental consequences to working so hard to please and appease others. I know firsthand. My overgiving, overhelping ways were rooted in my deep need to be seen, supported, and cared for. I’ve experienced fried adrenal glands not once, but twice from pushing so hard to say yes to everything but me.

    Let me share with you some of the costs of overgiving and people-pleasing now.

    Deep Resentment

    The more you try to please those around you, the less time you have for yourself and the things you need and desire, which then leads to feeling resentful.

    If your needs aren’t being met by those around you (because, let’s face it, most people-pleasers aren’t being honest and telling our people what we need), it can cause deep hurt and anger.

    It’s not other people’s job to read our minds. It’s our job to speak our truth and be honest, but often, we fail to do so. So when they don’t intuit or “just know” our needs, we start becoming resentful toward them too. “Arghhh, how can they be so uncaring?”

    Anger then takes hold. Resentment is what happens when we stuff or suppress that anger (common for the people-pleaser—remember, we need to keep the harmony at all costs, so speaking on behalf of our anger is major a taboo!).

    And once resentment kicks in, that’s when the illness of bitterness seeps in and festers. Resentment is what leads to long marriages and relationships of contempt, rolling eyes, and “staying together for the kids.” It leaks out as criticism, defensiveness, and snarky side comments. It explodes in the kitchen at a random comment (that actually isn’t random—it simply pressed on the already existing wound).

    Loss of Identity

    People-pleasers spend a great deal of time editing themselves—so much so that they lose sight of who they really are.

    When you’re always trying to please other people, you often hide yourself or morph into behaving like other people to get what you want. You’re a master chameleon, an expert at being anyone… other than you.

    This was my ammo 100%. I didn’t know who I was because I had spent decades trying to be what I thought others wanted me to be. It was the only way I knew how to keep myself safe. I had spent years feeling like I was unlikable, didn’t fit in, or that I wasn’t smart enough. So I simply bought into the notion that I had to go along to get along.

    This led me straight down a path to never understanding what I enjoyed, liked, disliked, or needed because I rarely made any choices for myself. I didn’t put aside time for myself and explore new things because I had no idea what those things might be. So I just didn’t. I continued in my pattern of pleasing and appeasing to my own detriment.

    Loss of Intimacy/Loss of Relationships

    For a typical people-pleaser, their relationships often look one-sided.

    Let me guess, you’re the one that:

    • Plans outings
    • Is the listening ear
    • Is the shoulder to cry on
    • Everyone calls when they need something
    • Is always “holding space for others”

    This makes you feel needed, wanted, valued, and important. But when you stop to think about it, you realize you’re not getting the same in return.

    It’s not hard to see how this leads to short-lived relationships following a set pattern:

    Joy and fun at first, then you start to feel exhausted, then resentment creeps in, followed by mild confrontation and the inevitable parting of the ways. (And I know because this is a pattern I followed more times than I care to confess).

    There came a point where I had to get honest about the depth of my friendships. Yes, many were fun. But they lacked the support and intimacy that I longed for. No one ever asked about me and what I had going on. No one ever held space for my hurts and frustrations in life. I often felt emptier when I came home from spending an evening together than I did when I left.

    Fear kept me in those relationships long past their expiration dates. I didn’t walk away sooner because I was too scared to be alone.

    I noticed that I held back from being honest and sharing myself with them. I didn’t think I could be intimate or vulnerable, so at some point, the relationship simply expired. Just like a carton of yogurt that gets pushed to the back of the refrigerator, it saw its final date.

    As I was growing and healing, I began to see that the people I had chosen to be in relationships with were no longer healthy for me. My soul was healing, and I was learning to align with relationships that felt honest and authentic.

    Speaking your truth and asking for what you need doesn’t make you a selfish person. It makes you a real person with real needs, and real relationships are only formed when we are willing to be… you guessed it, real.

    It’s okay to want to help and support people. I’m not telling anyone to be a jerk and to never lend a helping hand. However, you need to know where to draw the line; you need to find a balance of helping them and you.

    We all matter. We all have needs that matter. And the only way to get our needs met is to be honest about them—and to set healthy boundaries that honor them.

    Boundaries are not about saying no all the time and demanding things of other people. Boundaries are about knowing where the line is for you and communicating that line in a way that is firm and compassionate so you can flourish and thrive.

    When set correctly, boundaries give both people a choice as to what happens next in the relationship. It’s okay sometimes to walk away. But it’s also okay to stay in the relationship and practice honesty and intimacy if that feels right. When you start to become familiar with boundary-setting, your intuition will guide your next steps.

    Trust yourself. I know from being a recovering people-pleaser that this step alone can be so challenging, as we don’t really know who we are, so how do we trust ourselves? But that small, still voice within has always been there, guiding and leading. The difference is, now you’re listening.

  • If You’re Afraid to Ask for Help Because You Don’t Trust People

    If You’re Afraid to Ask for Help Because You Don’t Trust People

    “Ask for help. Not because you are weak. But because you want to remain strong.” ~Les Brown

    I sat in the doctor’s office, waiting—linen gown hanging off me, half exposed—while going through the checklist in my mind of what I needed help with. I felt my breathing go shallow as I mentally sorted through the aches and pains I couldn’t seem to control.

    Fierce independence and learning to not rely on others are two of the side effects of my particular trauma wounds, stemming from early childhood neglect and abandonment. During times of heightened stress, my default state is one of significant distrust.

    Letting people in and asking for help has never been my strong suit.

    Not only did it prove painful at times, asking for help has also proven to be unsafe. I’ve been given poor and damaging advice from people I assumed knew more than me. I’ve emotionally attached to people who disappeared when I least expected it. I’ve been lied to, betrayed, and left behind when my help was no longer useful.

    I’ve been injured both physically and emotionally when relying on others to care for me and have been let down more times than I can possibly recall.

    I have plenty of reasons to convince myself that no one can help me. That I’m in this life all alone. Some days I feel just that.

    Other days, I sit in my doctor’s office ready to make myself vulnerable one more time looking for support that I’ve been unable to give myself. Hoping, fingers crossed, that maybe this time I’ll be seen, heard, and cared for.

    When the doctor walked in, I was writing a note on the depression screening form justifying why I feel sad some days. I know it’s normal to feel sad doing the work I do as a mental health therapist. Working with people’s sad can be sad. I wanted to be upfront.

    And also, I’ve been focusing on healing the trauma in my body that injured my nervous system starting in infancy. Actively inviting my body to retrieve its pain to set it free and regulate my system to a state that is considered normal. Except I don’t know what normal feels like.

    Her very first questions to me: “Are you getting back what you put into your work? Is it worth it?”

    I blink, unsure if I heard her correctly.

    “Are you asking me if the work I’m doing is more depleting than rewarding? Am I receiving as much as I’m giving?” I ask.

    “Yes,” she responds assuredly.

    I exhale.

    She sees me. She actually sees me. I ask myself this very question every day.

    This one question cracks me wide open. I know I can trust her.

    I hear words pouring out of my mouth explaining the work I’ve been doing with myself. My intention to heal my nervous system and my body, how hard it’s been to feel all the emotional pain that’s come up and the subsequent physical pain that comes and goes to remind me just how deep all this stuff runs.

    I shared with her my most recent discovery—my earliest known physical trauma at nine months old, when my mother gagged me to make me throw up to “protect” me.

    When her behavior was discovered, she was admitted to a hospital for psychiatric services for over a month. My brother and I were placed in the care of anyone who was available to watch us.

    At the most important time for healthy attachment and trust to form, I was taught that survival meant staying clear of those who are assigned to protect you. They can hurt you. And the world was not a safe place.

    This was the first of many experiences in my life that would drill in the same belief. My body spent years trying to protect me by tensing up, shaking, or wanting to flee when I sensed any kind of danger—being trapped, pressured, controlled, or trusting authority figures was high on my list of subconscious nos.

    To me, there was no logic to the way my body reacted to what seemed the smallest threat, so I shamed myself for it.

    I couldn’t understand why driving on the highway put me in an instant state of hypervigilance. Why I would wake up in the middle of the night unable to breathe. Why the bright lights and enormous amount of stimuli in the grocery store made me freeze the moment I walked in. Why perceived conflict made me want to curl up into myself or attack and bail.

    All I knew was I was not “normal,” and I felt like I had no control over it.

    I recall the first infomercial that serendipitously came across the screen during a sleepless night while I was traveling in my early twenties. At the time I always slept with the television on to drown out the noise of my thoughts in the silence of night. A woman talked about her struggle with anxiety and the way it internally took over her life. I immediately tuned in.

    She was talking about me. She was talking about so many of us. I couldn’t believe someone understood what I desperately tried to hide and despised about myself.

    It was the first of many books, programs, methodologies, and practices I would try. It was the first time I felt seen and sought help.

    It wasn’t that I didn’t want help. I just didn’t trust it, nor was I comfortable with being vulnerable enough to ask for it. Particularly because I had proof that when I did rely on people, they could turn on me, or even worse, leave.

    And then there was the cultural push to just “suck it up” or accept that “it is what it is.” Key words to encourage us to abandon ourselves.

    Sucking it up is exhausting, and it doesn’t help. It doesn’t change what’s hard, and from what I can tell, years of sucking it up never made me stronger. Just more certain I was stuck in this mess of myself alone.

    Even though I help people for a living, and fully understand that I am the help I encourage people to seek, I forgot that I, too, was able to ask for help.

    This meant I had to have the courage to let my guard down. To let go of the feeling of burden I was afraid to put on another. To remember that every single one of us has our hardships, and we actually want to be needed and helpful to another when we have the space.

    It’s why we are here as humans. To give love and receive it. When I give someone the opportunity to love or support me, it gives them the chance to feel the fullness of my gratitude. To receive love back from me in return and feel needed and wanted as well. It is also the most solid reminder for both of us that we are never actually alone.

    We need each other.

    It is a practice for me to remember this. It’s also a practice to remind myself that I have been cared for far more often than I’ve been hurt. That those who have harmed me or left me had their own burdens to bear that I was not meant to be a part of. And that every time I do ask for help, like in my doctor’s office, and receive it wholeheartedly, I am able to keep myself filled and balanced to be able to help the people I care about even more.

    I exhaled when my doctor acknowledged me. I knew it was safe to let her in, yet I still swallowed tears while I did so. Her validation of my challenge felt comforting; her support, the extra oxygen I needed. Knowing the value of support has never made it easy for me to ask, but it has made it easier.

    As humans we are regularly encouraged to give, yet it is equally important to learn to receive. We need both to keep ourselves balanced and in flow so we can be the love we want to feel. To give is a powerful feeling, while receiving can make us feel a little vulnerable. That’s okay. The more courage we use to ask for help, the more strength we have to give out in return.

    If you are feeling resistance to seeking help, ask yourself where your fear lies. Is it a current concern or is it one from the past? Does vulnerability make you uneasy or bring up insecurities you have around being judged or feeling like a burden? Or do you feel it’s hard for you to let your guard down and trust another?

    When resistance lingers, choose people who’ve been loyal and consistently supportive in the past. If you don’t have any relationships like that, or if involving your personal relationships feels too uncomfortable, consider professional support. There are affordable and even free resources available, if money is an issue.

    The key is to remember that you, too, deserve a place to be you and invite in the help that everyone needs at times. To release your burdens so you can stand back up and move forward with more ease and a lighter load. So you have the strength to be a support for others and also for yourself.

    When feeling weighed down, ask for help—whatever that looks or feels like for you. The past may have taught you what you don’t want, but you have the power to choose what you do want in the present. There are people out there who you can rely on and who want to be there for you. They are simply waiting for you to ask.

    So go ahead and let someone in. No one needs to or is expected to navigate this wild life alone. Not even you.

  • How I’m Coping with Grief by Finding Meaning in My Father’s Death

    How I’m Coping with Grief by Finding Meaning in My Father’s Death

    “Life has to end, love doesn’t.” ~Mitch Albom

    Before we dive into the dark subject of death, let me assure you, this is a happy read. It is not about how losing a loved one is a blessing but how it can be a catalyst to you unlocking big lessons in your life.

    Or maybe it is—you decide.

    To me, this is just about a perspective, a coping mechanism, and a process that I am personally employing to get over the loss of a loved one.

    My dad and I were best buds till I became a teenager. Then my hormones and “cool life” became a barrier between our relationship. I became busy and distant, and so did he. It continued until recently.

    My dad’s health went downhill fast in a couple of months.

    I could see him waning away, losing himself, losing this incessant war against so many diseases all alone. We (my family and friends) were there for him, trying to support him with whatever means possible.

    But maybe it was his time

    The last time I saw my father he was in a hospital bed, plugged into different machines, unable to breathe, very weak. It felt like I was in a movie—one of the ones with tragic endings. And the ending was indeed tragic.

    I clearly remember every single detail of the day my dad passed away. I remember how he looked, what the doctor said, who was around me, how my family was, and how fast it all happened.

    It shattered me. Losing a parent is something you can never prepare yourself for, ever.

    I was broken. I had people around holding me together, but I could only feel either of the two feelings: anger or sadness.

    Where did he go? How fragile are we humans? Did he want to say something to me that day? Was he in pain? Was there something I could have done for him? Why is death so bizarre? Why do people we love die and leave this huge vacuum in our lives?

    It’s been four months since he passed away. And now, I think I see why.

    I have come to the realization—due to the support of my therapist, my family, my partner, and my friends—that death is meaningless until you give it a meaning.

    Let me explain that.

    Usually, after experiencing the loss of a loved one, we go through a phase of grief. How we deal with death and experience grief is a very personal and subjective experience.

    I cannot outline tips for all; maybe your therapist or a mental health professional can guide you better on this.

    But, in my experience, grieving and dealing with death come with a bag full of opportunities. I don’t mean to give death a happy twist. To set the record straight, I believe death sucks.

    Losing a loved one feels like losing a part of yourself. It is a difficult, painful, deeply shaking experience that no one can prepare you for.

    However, in my experience, grieving is a process with many paths. A few common paths are:

    • I experienced losing a loved one, so I will now respect life even more.
    • I experienced losing a loved one, and it was awful, everything is awful, and I wish I was dead too.
    • I experienced losing a loved one, and I don’t know how to feel about this yet.

    I was on the third path.

    I constantly felt the need to be sad, to grieve, to lie in bed and cry all day

    But interestingly, there were also days when I felt that I needed to forget what had happened, live my life, and enjoy it as much as I could, because #YOLO (You Only Live Once).

    I felt the pressure to behave and act a certain way. Now that my dad was no more, I needed to act serious, mature, responsible. Now that my dad was no more, I needed to stop focusing on going out, partying, and taking trips with friends and instead save money, settle down, and take better care of my family’s health.

    I did not know how I was supposed to feel or to grieve.

    Then one night, the realization hit me. (Of course, all deep realizations happen during nighttime, you know it.)

    Maybe death is meaningless until I provide it a meaning—a meaning that serves me to cope, to grow, and to let go.

    After reading several books, sharing this with loved ones, talking to my therapist, and journaling about this realization for several days, I realized another significant thing.

    The process of finding meaning in death is like any other endeavor—you try several things until one works out.

    So, I laid out all possible meanings that seemed logically or emotionally sound to me.

    And here came the third great realization: Our loved ones want nothing but the best for us. Honoring yourself, investing in yourself, making yourself a better version of yourself is the best way to honor your lost loved ones.

    No matter how complicated our relationships with them were, people who genuinely loved and cared about us would want us to love and take care of ourselves.

    My dad cannot say it to prove me right on this, but I am pretty sure all he wanted was to see his family happy. See me working on myself, getting better at taking care of myself, and growing into a better human being.

    So, after this perspective shift, things became simpler.

    Now, death is no longer meaningless to me.

    My dad’s death brought me the golden realization that it’s time to upgrade myself, make myself better, and maybe implement some of his best values into my value system.

    I have reflected upon this for weeks. I have started working on this too.

    On a micro level, I am aware and conscious of how sucky death is. I saw it pretty close, but I now grasp the value of life. I am grateful for this newfound respect for life, however cliched that might sound. And on a macro level, I also know that even my death can also serve a purpose to someone’s life; it could help them ponder, reflect, and probably set things right for themselves.

    The moral of the story is that death is dark and sad but can also be beautiful. It is just a matter of perspective.

    It can be the storm that rocks your boat and makes you drown, but it can also be the light that guides you back to your purpose.

    This last section is for people who are grieving right now. I am aware that I cannot fathom what you are going through; losing a loved one is personal and subjective. But I wish to help you out in whatever little capacity I can.

    Here’s a quick list of things that are helping me. If you do decide to give these things a try, please share your experience in the comments.

    Write everything down—your memories, your frustrations, your feelings.

    Every time you think of that person, pull that thought out of your mind and put it onto the paper, even if it is just in one line. When faced with a loss, we often shut down and avoid our feelings instead of acknowledging how the trauma of losing a loved one is affecting us. Putting your feelings onto paper will help you work through them so you’re better prepared to handle the next set of challenges life has in store for you.

    Seek professional help in whatever form you can.

    Why? Because a professional is much better equipped than your friends and family. You can see a therapist and reach out to your friends for help too.

    Do what you feel more than you feel what you do.

    There will be times when you feel like doing something unexpected and fun, but once you start doing it, you will feel guilt, shame, and self-judgment. Doing what you feel like doing and not overthinking about how you are feeling while doing it allows you to let go. Read this again to understand it better.

    Keep track to remain patient.

    Grieving and getting over a loved one’s death requires a long process for many of us. It can get frustrating to constantly and consciously work on it. But if you can maintain a log of your progress— your tiny steps like making an effort to socialize, sitting with your feelings, or writing about your thoughts and sharing this with someone you trust—this can keep you aware, grounded, and patient for the long ride.

    Lastly, live your life.

    Circling back to the original theme, your loved ones just want you to be happy. So do things that make you happy. This could be as simple as getting an ice cream from the same place you used to visit together and reminiscing on the good times. Or as radical as getting your ducks in a row, showing up for that job interview, taking care of your body, joining the gym, and working on your mental health as well.

    At the end of the day (or life), we are all going to be floating in a pool of our memories, so make memories and enjoy life.

    And try finding the meaning of death. Ensure that meaning makes you rise one step above and closer to the person your loved ones imagined you to be. #YOLO

  • Are You Pathologizing Normal Emotions? It’s Not Always a Mental Illness

    Are You Pathologizing Normal Emotions? It’s Not Always a Mental Illness

    “Don’t believe everything you think.” ~Unknown

    Society is becoming more accepting of mental illness. That’s great, but there’s a downside that we need to talk about. Not everything is mental illness. We need to stop pathologizing every single thing that we feel.

    What I mean by pathologizing everything is jumping to diagnosing yourself after every tough feeling you have. It’s great to be self-aware, but I think we are taking that a little too far, and it’s causing more depression and anxiety.

    Yes, I said we are taking self-awareness too far. I stand by that, but I’ll explain the reasoning behind my belief. We are supposed to feel a range of emotions. It is normal to experience sadness, anger, irritability, anxiety, grief, or any of the feelings that exist from time to time.

    Since society is more accepting of mental health issues, we now want to label any uncomfortable feeling as mental illness. We diagnose ourselves with whatever mental illness we believe we have at the first sign of emotional pain.

    That leaves us feeling like we are so screwed up. We don’t need anything additional to make us feel like we’re screwed up! Most of us already feel this often enough as it is.

    Before you start listing all the reasons I’m wrong or how my view could be damaging, let me give you some examples. If you read them and agree, this could help you see that you and your feelings are more “normal” than you may think.

    Recently, I was talking to somebody who was in the process of buying a house for the first time. He was telling me that he was having a lot of anxiety related to the process and everything that he needed to get done.

    I could see the stress in his body and face.

    He has a history of generalized anxiety disorder, so when he feels even a little anxiety, he starts fearing that his disorder will return in full force.

    That’s a logical and valid fear. Anybody who has ever experienced clinical anxiety knows how scary it is to consider its return.

    However, he was missing something incredibly important. Buying a house, especially your first house, will always come with some “anxious-type” feelings.

    We need to learn how to normalize feelings that most people would have in the same situation. Panicking at the first sign of difficult feelings can turn those feelings into something much larger than they actually are.

    Just a couple of weeks ago, I slept twelve hours straight one night. I woke up with no energy or motivation whatsoever. I still didn’t want to get out of bed after twelve hours of sleep.

    That is incredibly abnormal for me. Typically, I wake up at about 4:00 am to write and do stuff for my other job. This gives me time to work while my family is asleep.

    That morning I woke up when my husband did, a few hours later than my normal. I told him I was just so tired and didn’t feel like doing anything, which is uncharacteristic of me.

    I felt “blah” and just wanted to stay in bed all day doing nothing. So, thirty minutes after waking up, that’s exactly what I did.

    My husband had to convince me to eat because nothing sounded good to me. I didn’t even want my normal glass of wine that evening.

    The next morning, I woke up feeling blah again and couldn’t shake it. I forced myself to function and play with my baby.

    He seemed to be feeling like me. That concerned me because he is so incredibly intuitive. I even thought maybe he was picking up on my feeling down and blah.

    When I got back in bed after lunch, I started worrying that I was depressed. From childhood and throughout my twenties, I was severely depressed. I did a lot of work to heal and haven’t had symptoms of depression in about ten years. A little bit of panic started rising with my negative self-talk.

    “What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just get out of bed? Maybe you should do some yoga instead of being so damn lazy.”

    I started telling myself that my depression was coming back, and in full force. Thankfully, I was able to put a stop to those thoughts pretty quickly.

    For some reason, my mind and body needed to rest. I just needed to allow myself to do that. Just because I was tired and didn’t feel like doing anything for a couple of days did not mean that I was depressed again.

    It was hard for me to acknowledge that I might actually have been sick, that there might have been a medical reason that I was so exhausted and didn’t feel well.

    The next morning, I went to an urgent care office. Well, what do you know? I had an ear infection in both ears and a fever, and my throat looked awful according to the nurse practitioner.

    Immediately my mind was put to rest. Major depressive disorder hadn’t reared its ugly head again. I was physically sick. My body was fighting an infection.

    For any of you who have experienced mental illness, you may also have this fear that one day it might return to say, “Hello. Remember me? I’m back!” Any time we get a hint of a difficult feeling, we jump to the conclusion that our anxiety, depression, or whatever we had is returning.

    This happened recently for a friend of mine. She has a history of major depressive disorder that plagued her for many years. She went to therapy and has been doing really well the last few years.

    She is an introvert who works in sales. Her company had a week-long meeting with all the managers and sales representatives. If you’ve ever been in sales or know somebody who has attended a company-wide meeting for several days, you know how much extroverted energy that takes.

    A few days after her meeting, she and I were on the phone. I asked her how her day was going. She told me that she just felt down and not motivated to do the things she needed to do.

    She had even scheduled an appointment with her psychiatrist for the next week to see if her medications needed to be adjusted. She was labeling herself as depressed and feeling scared.

    After we got off the phone, I started thinking about how I just didn’t think that she was depressed.

    I know her well and knew that being around a bunch of people for a week was exhausting for her, since she’s an introvert. I texted her about this and asked her if she thought her “depression” could simply be her needing to rest after having to be “on” for a week at her meetings.

    Quickly, she responded that she agreed and that it probably wasn’t her depression coming back to haunt her again. She recognized that she needed time to decompress from having been around so many people for several days.

    That’s just another example of how we pathologize feelings that are normal. We want to immediately label what we’re feeling as “wrong” or “unhealthy” and catastrophize it when it’s not actually a catastrophe. It’s often just a normal reaction to what we’ve experienced.

    It’s wonderful that society is becoming more aware and accepting of mental health and getting help. However, not everything is a symptom of mental illness. We need to stop diagnosing ourselves with mental illnesses based on social media memes or things we read or see.

    Also, we need to realize that it is perfectly normal to experience sadness and anxious feelings. That does not mean that we are suffering with mental illness.

    When we jump to diagnosing ourselves or others, we’re actually causing harm because we aren’t allowing ourselves to experience our feelings or normal things. Instead, we are trying to find a pathological reason we feel a certain way so we can eliminate it as soon as it pops up.

    That is not healthy. What is healthy is allowing ourselves to experience the feelings that come up, learning how to navigate those feelings in a healthy way, and choosing not to shame ourselves for having feelings that aren’t “positive.”

    So, the next time you’re going through a difficult time and you’re tempted to label it as mental illness or something that has to be stopped and “fixed” immediately, pause and ask yourself a few questions.

    Is this something that many people experience? If yes, then give yourself some grace and time to recover.

    Are the feelings I’m having normal based on my circumstances? If yes, then you don’t need to label them as mental illness or something that you should be gravely concerned about.

    Is this preventing me from completing the tasks I need to complete? If so, is it lasting for more than a week or two? Mental illness diagnoses require alterations from “normal” functioning.

    Have other people noticed me struggling, and are they concerned? If not, then you are probably experiencing normal feelings for the experience you’ve had.

    Use these questions as a guide and give yourself a little more grace when you have appropriate feelings and reactions to difficult experiences. Also, keep in mind that most of what you read that tells you that you have a mental illness probably isn’t truly qualified to do so.