Tiny Buddha

Tag: honesty

  • What No One Tells You About Setting Boundaries: The Good, Bad, and Ugly

    What No One Tells You About Setting Boundaries: The Good, Bad, and Ugly

    “Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” ~Rumi

    Three years back was the first time I dared to set a boundary and be assertive in a friendship, and guess what? She blocked me on her phone, and we stopped being friends.

    It came as a rude shock because I was quite invested in the friendship. Not only did we have good times together, but I had helped her search for and find a job and even babysat her kid for a long while free of charge. I felt betrayed and hurt. It made me feel like I was the one in the wrong, the bad person, and like I had no right to say what felt right to me.

    I admit that I was early in my journey of being assertive and learning how to set boundaries, so my skill set wasn’t the best. But despite the mayhem and chaos it caused, it was a good thing for me.

    We were similar in many ways, and I knew she was a lovely person. Still, I didn’t particularly appreciate that she always wanted to be in charge, acted as though she knew it all, only wanted her way, and behaved as though she had the world’s worst problems.

    I empathized with her because she shared her struggles with me. But I didn’t share mine back partly because I wasn’t comfortable and partly because I felt there was no place for me; it was only about her. So, one day, when I’d had enough, I exploded and said what I had to say, rudely, and that ended the relationship.

    Three years later, when the dust settled, we started talking. We are cordial, civilized, and respectful now. We share laughs and anecdotes, but it’ll never be the same because we’ve both changed, and our relationship has changed as well.

    After taking this journey, I’ve concluded that being assertive and setting boundaries is not as easy as it sounds. But it’s the only way to regain your sense of self, sanity, and self-love.

    What are the Benefits of Maintaining Boundaries?

    Boundaries are limits between us and other people that enable us to honor our feelings, wants, and needs and take good care of ourselves. We need to set boundaries because:

    • Boundaries offer protection against people who habitually do things that leave us feeling uncomfortable.
    • Correcting troublesome behavior and letting other people know what’s acceptable or not, where we stand, and what we are willing to tolerate drastically improves our sense of self.
    • Setting boundaries helps us trust ourselves and, in turn, trust others.
    • It helps us treat ourselves and others as equal with respect and dignity.
    • It teaches us what’s essential for us and gives us the courage to stand up for it.
    • It builds our confidence as we work on our assertiveness muscle.
    • Boundary-setting is generous to others because it allows them to grow and take responsibility for themselves, their actions, and their issues.

    So, if boundary-setting is such a good thing, what’s the problem?

    The problem is that it’s hard, especially for people who are not used to setting boundaries. It can make you question yourself and your intentions and turn your world topsy-turvy.

    Why Is Boundary-Setting So Difficult?

    Most people with weak boundaries:

    • Are not aware of their needs, and this takes lots of time and practice.
    • Are afraid to stand up for themselves.
    • Don’t believe that they deserve to have their boundaries recognized and honored.
    • Are afraid that people will think they are selfish.
    • Think it is wrong to think about themselves because of various cultural or religious influences.
    • Believe that what they want is unreasonable.

    How Do You Start Setting Boundaries?

    1. Take inventory.

    Have you ever been in a situation where you felt like you were being taken advantage of, taken for granted, or treated disrespectfully? When you feel any of these things, you need to ask yourself:

    • What are you feeling? Is it anger, hurt, betrayal?
    • What brought about those feelings? What did the other person do? Did they disregard your feelings or act dismissive? Did they cross a line you’d rather no one cross?
    • How did you react to the situation? Did you ignore it, make an excuse for them, or get angry and resentful but fake a smile?
    • Why did you tolerate this behavior and respond this way? What were you afraid of?

    So, the first step is being conscious of what happened and what you’re feeling.

    This is essential because it helps you become aware of your needs, wants, and limits; notice when someone is neglecting or violating them; and reflect on how you usually respond—and why.

    2. Be honest and courageous.

    The second step is being honest about what you would like to do in the situation and reflecting so you can find the fairest and healthiest way to respond.

    Then comes the hardest part: finding the courage to act even if it may displease, anger, or irritate the other person.

    Everything inside you might scream that this is a mistake. You may feel scared, anxious, and even unsafe speaking up. But remember that ignoring the issue is not a solution because you will just end up feeling resentful if you continually avoid saying what you really want to say.

     What No One Tells You About Setting Boundaries

    1. You may feel guilty.

    Somewhere down the line, you may have learned that your needs, feelings, and wants are less important than others’. When you start making changes, it may feel like you are embarking on a journey of selfishness and betraying the very core of your being.

    2. You will likely make mistakes.

    You are learning a new skill, and mistakes are bound to happen. You may overreact to minor issues or fail to communicate your feelings and needs accurately or clearly. There’s no right or wrong here, only a learning curve. You can always change your decision or apologize later if you realize that your decision wasn’t the best.

    3. It sometimes feels like you are at war with yourself.

    To some extent, that’s what this is. A war with what you once believed to be true but isn’t anymore, a war against your default responses.

    4.  It is not easy.

    It will sometimes mean wrong turns, slip-ups, and lost relationships. But if you’re honest with yourself, you may realize that those relationships were already dead to begin with; you were trying to nurture doomed relationships because you were afraid to let them go.

    5. It makes you confront demons you didn’t know you had.

    Your insecurity, your feelings of low self-worth, your fear of being rejected or alone—all this and more bubbles to the surface when you get honest about why you’ve struggled with boundary-setting and start pushing past your blocks.

    6. It takes all you have, tears you up, and breaks you down.

    But when it’s all done and over, you build strength, wisdom, and trust in yourself. You learn to give your feelings more credence, knowing they’re an internal signal that something is off and you need to investigate them further so you can decide what’s really best for you.

    So yes, boundaries can be life-changing, but the emotional upheaval that often accompanies them isn’t for the fainthearted. Changing yourself, getting out of your comfort zone, and doing what is right for you can trigger your reptilian brain, which craves safety, making you feel like you are doing something wrong. Arnold Bennett rightly says that all change, even for the better, is accompanied by discomfort.

    Deepak Chopra said that “All great changes are preceded by chaos.” I believe the benefits of maintaining boundaries make the chaos worth it.

  • What I Really Mean When I Say I’m Fine (Spoiler: I’m Not)

    What I Really Mean When I Say I’m Fine (Spoiler: I’m Not)

    “Tears are words that need to be written.” ~Paulo Coelho

    It was lovely to see you today. I haven’t seen you in such a long time. So much has happened since the last time we saw each other.

    You asked me how I was. I politely replied, “I’m fine” and forced a smile that I hoped would be believable. It must have worked. You smiled back and said, “I’m so glad to hear that. You look great.”

    But I’m not really fine. I haven’t been fine for a very long time, and I wonder if I will ever know what “fine” actually feels like again.

    Some days are good, some not so good. I’m doing my best to stay optimistic and to keep faith that tomorrow will be better. Sometimes it is, sometimes it’s worse. I’m never prepared for either outcome.

    I’m doing my best to pretend I’m fine.

    The mask I wear hides my pain very well. I’ve been wearing it for so long now that no one can see through it anymore. It’s my new face, and it smiles on demand.

    Some days I wish I didn’t have to pretend to smile. I long for the day when it will come naturally, sincerely, and genuinely.

    When I say I’m fine this is what I really mean…

    I’m sad. I’m really having a hard time right now. I wish I could tell you. I’d like to think that you might even care. And maybe you do truly care. But I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want to bother or burden anyone with my troubles.

    My troubles are big and ugly. I can’t burden you with them. You are facing demons of your own. You don’t need to be exposed to mine. That would be so selfish of me. To think that your demons are not as important or debilitating as mine.

    So I just tell you I’m fine. I’m protecting you when I say I’m fine. Because I’m afraid my pain is just more toxicity.

    I want to tell you my troubles. I want you to take them away. I wish someone could fix everything that hurts, though I no one else can do that for me. Still, I wonder, does anyone have all the answers to these questions that are pounding in my head and causing me grief and anxiety?

    Anyone?

    There’s a tightness in my chest that won’t go away. There’s a darkness in the pit of my stomach that makes me nauseous. My shoulders feel weighted and my arms long for human touch. A body to wrap around tightly to comfort me and ensure me that everything will be okay.

    My troubles have completely consumed my life.

    Inside, I’m crying all the time. My soul is crushed, and my heart is full of holes that I’m desperately trying to patch up as best I can.

    I’m full of anxiety inside, and no matter how hard I try to find peace, it eludes me. I feel there are a million demons inside of me, and I don’t know which one needs my attention the most.

    So I ignore them all. It’s too much for me to bear most days.

    When I say I’m fine I really wish you could hear my inner voice screaming, “I’m not fine, and I need help. Please stay and talk to me, comfort me, help make this overwhelming pain stop.” I want to say this to you. But I open my mouth, and “I’m fine” comes out instead.

    I’m not really fine. I’m not sure how to handle today, and I fear what tomorrow may bring. It’s constant anxiety. I wish it would go away if only for a day.

    I want to be fine, honest I do.

    One day I would love to sincerely tell you how fine I am. That all my anxieties, worries, and fears are gone, or at least less overpowering. That I walk with a skip in my step and a song in my heart. I want to feel that. I may have felt this once before a long time ago, but I don’t really remember it.

    Every day I’m doing my best to smile and make the day better. I’m thinking positively, I’m taking big deep breaths when I need to. I’m reading inspirational blogs and quotes. I’m even listening to guided meditations.

    Today I went shopping and bought myself something nice. I know, a temporary fix. But it worked.

    It all works. For the moment. And then the moment is gone, and it all comes flooding back. All the turmoil, the anguish, the anxiety, the pain. I breathe deeply again. And I’m okay for a few more minutes.

    But for now, I’m doing my best. I know that everything in life is temporary. The good, the bad. Even life. It’s all temporary. If I can just get through today, I’ll be fine.

    I’m doing my best to see the bright side. I can see it some days. But it doesn’t take away the turmoil brewing inside of me. It only masks it with a Band-Aid. A temporary fix.

    Everything is just a temporary fix until I finally become brave enough to get to the bottom of my demons. I need to face them one at a time. I need to bring them to the surface, dust them off, address them, heal from them, and then let them go.

    This I know. But it’s such a daunting task. Just thinking about doing that is overwhelming and causes me a great deal of anxiety. I know it’s up to me to be able to say, “I’m fine” and really mean it.

    One day I will. When I feel strong enough to do so. Until then, I may say I’m fine when I’m really not. But I will try to find the courage to say, “Actually, I’m sad,” even though I know you don’t have a magic wand to take all my troubles away.

    Maybe just opening up and letting you support me will help. Maybe if I stop painting a smile on my face and telling you “I’m fine, really I am,” one day soon I will be.

  • How I Stopped Feeling Unworthy of Love (And Finally Learned to Receive It)

    How I Stopped Feeling Unworthy of Love (And Finally Learned to Receive It)

    “I hope you find love, but more importantly, I hope you’re strong enough to walk away from what love isn’t.” ~Tiffany Tomiko

    When I was in my early thirties, I briefly dated someone right after my divorce.

    It was one of those fast and furious things that had no label and left me wondering if I made most of it up in my head.

    It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. How many times had I ended up feeling rejected and abandoned? I was trying so hard to impress a partner, but no matter what I did, I only seemed to push them away.

    Tearfully, I shared my pain with a spiritual advisor and psychic and asked for her guidance.

    She suggested I consider the joy that might come out of pleasurable and easeful partnerships. She asked me, “Briana, why don’t you shift your energy and focus to that aim?”

    But it wasn’t so easy. I was attached and hung up on this guy. Why didn’t he love me like I loved him?

    Another thought popped into my head, which I hadn’t realized was there before.

    Before I could voice it out loud, she said, “Oooohhhh, Briana. I can hear you already. You think if you’re not in pain, then your art and other creative works won’t be any good.”

    I burst out into another round of sobs.

    Because it was true. I did think that way.

    I thought I performed at my best when I was at my most miserable, and if you took away my misery, I would not only be common, but worse yet… mediocre. I would truly be the bad artist I always thought I was.

    Every aspect of creative expression would become cliched, trite, and uninteresting. There wouldn’t be anything special about me.

    And so I would become unlovable.

    The drama proved my worth, one way or the other; the drama of performing well enough to earn love. 

    It wasn’t until four years after that conversation that I finally stopped clinging to my pain.

    Because I realized that pain didn’t make something (love) more authentic—it just made it more difficult.

    Maybe you know where I’m coming from. Maybe you feel that you, too, need to “chase” a relationship and suffer for it to really matter. For you to really matter.

    That’s just not true. There is a far better way to build relationships, and that’s what I would previously have called “boring” and “too easy,” but actually is about respecting your own, authentic self and opening up to love.

    Here’s what I’ve learned about letting go of feeling unworthy of love and finally learning how to receive it.

    1. Take off your mask.

    Like me, you might believe that to attract a lover and be worthy of love, you have to pretend to be a perfect partner, through things like making them feel wanted and desired, looking beautiful, and being funny, witty, smart, and interesting all the time.

    All of these tactics might very well appeal to a potential partner. Certainly, it might make them interested enough to get to know you better, and maybe even date you for a while.

    But none of that means it will soften their heart and make them fall into a soul-shaking relationship with you.

    In fact, while I used to think that I needed to pretend that I was something I wasn’t so that I’d be worthy of love, I just kept deterring the other person.

    Why?

    Because while the glitz and glamour are appealing, it also, on a deeper level, left me completely unavailable.

    In the same way, you are pushing away a partner by performing all the time.

    You see, your partner is going to feel as if they have to perform just as well, and while that may be exciting in the beginning, unless the mask comes off, it also gets exhausting very quickly.

    A loving partner will be less concerned about how many degrees you hold or how much you make at your job and more concerned that you’re passionate about what you’re doing.

    A loving partner doesn’t care how many facts you can recite. They may enjoy your company if you’re a great conversationalist, but that won’t necessarily make them feel something for you.

    The way to a partner’s heart is to make them feel safe enough to explore and experience their own authentic self.

    You do that by feeling safe enough to express yourself—without someone else’s permission.

    Because if you don’t communicate that you’re comfortable in your own skin, this partner won’t feel comfortable or safe opening up to you, either.

    And if a person can’t open up to you, warts and all, they can’t fall in love with you. It’s as simple as that.

    When you put on a performance instead of taking off your mask, you unconsciously communicate a fantasy of reality, because that feels safer than vulnerability. And then you energetically and non-verbally tell your partner that you can’t handle their vulnerability, either.

    And isn’t it freeing? You, in all your vulnerability, are the person they want and need in order to be their own, true self.

    2. Get in touch with your own feelings.

    What many of us do when we feel unworthy of love is numb our emotions and pretend we feel something other than we actually do.

    But a loving partner wants to know you’re angry when you’re angry and why you’re angry.

    Guess what happens if you’re acting one way, while feeling something else? That’s right, drama.

    If they think you’re angry, but they are not sure, because you’re trying hard to plaster a smile on your face, say, “I’m fine,” and stuff it down, you’re not really fooling anyone, just confusing them.

    Your energy and your verbal expressions are going to contradict one another, and that is the seed of dramatic conflict.

    And this type of drama is so annoying because you are effectively keeping a partner at bay, and refusing to connect with them, for fear that they wouldn’t like the “real” you.

    But because they can’t access “the real” you, there’s no real glue holding them there, and they wind up leaving you anyway.

    So show them what you feel, while letting go of the fear that they will reject you for doing so. By reconnecting with your emotions, you show up as your authentic self and make it safe for them to love you.

    3. Be open to meeting someone with the same level of consciousness.

    Around the end of August last year, I started dating someone. He wasn’t originally what I would have imagined for myself, but he turned out to be exactly what I need.

    Right from the get-go, things went really well; we talked for hours on end, and I felt an instant connection.

    There were butterflies, yes, but not the kind of gut-twisting, obsessive sensations I have had in the past, which usually means I should run.

    This was more like, “Ah, you fit nicely… and kinda feel like home. What took you so long?”

    He shows up with fresh flowers, texts me “good morning,” and sees the humor in situations like that time my cat got jealous and bit him when he tried to kiss me.

    While before, I would have instantly dismissed this type of relationship as being too easy (and the lack of drama would have shown me that it wasn’t real love), I now see it for what it is:

    A relationship in which partners join together from a place of inspiration, as opposed to a fear-based need to be filled up with the other.

    This is a partner who already has a higher level of consciousness and is looking for purposeful building. There’s no drama, there’s no chasing, and there are no games or acts.

    This is the key to feeling worthy of and receiving love—finding a partner who is open to the same. The criterion for attracting such a partner, however, is that you are ready to meet them.

    I wasn’t ready four years ago. It took me that long to go from believing that relationships had to be a rollercoaster of emotions to opening up to a loving partnership.

    Ultimately, it’s about you finding your authentic self and realizing that this version of you (the real version) is so worthy of love and should be loved. That’s the premise for a relationship that, instead of being soul-sucking and anxiety-ridden, is the perfect space for self-growth and joy.

  • Where My Depression Really Came From and What Helped Me Heal

    Where My Depression Really Came From and What Helped Me Heal

    “How you do one thing is how you do everything.” ~Unknown

    One afternoon, during a particularly low slump, I was getting out of the shower. Quickly reaching for something on the sink, I knocked an old glass off the counter, shattering it onto the floor.

    In most cases, one might experience stress, frustration, or sadness upon accidentally breaking an object that belongs to them. They might feel agitation on top of their already poor mood. But in the moment the glass shattered, I felt instant relief.

    It was an old item I’d gotten at a thrift store, and the image on the glass was all but worn off. In the back of my mind, I’d wanted to get rid of the whole glass set, and the shattering of one of its pieces served as a firm confirmation it was time to let go.

    In that unexpected moment of relief, I realized I was holding on to the glasses out of some strange obligation and a fear that I wouldn’t have the money to replace things if I gave them away.

    I marveled at this interesting aspect of my consciousness I had not noticed before, wondering, “What else am I doing this with? How many things in my life are subtle burdens that I tolerate out of some vague sense of obligation? Does it really make me a “good person” to tolerate so much, to hold on to so much unwanted baggage from the past?

    Suddenly, I remembered something I had recently learned from one of my mentors about depression: We must stop clinging to people, places, and things that no longer deliver the joy they once did. Even more importantly, release things that never delivered joy, even when we thought they would.

    This sacred practice is all too underrated. We must cut the dead weight in our lives, even if it is unnerving. Whether it is a negative relationship, a job in which you are disrespected, a habit that is draining your health, or even some unwanted items in your home that are taking up too much space.

    It is our stubborn unwillingness, our fear of letting go, that keeps us in low spirits, day after day. In these instances, we are waiting for the impossible. We are waiting for things to miraculously improve without us having to do anything different.

    Even though I was in a bad mood, I thanked the glass and the sudden shattering for its lesson. The humbling realization was that I was a clinger—someone who stuck with people, places, and things long after they’d proven they were not right for me.

    As the saying goes, “How you do one thing is how you do everything.” The glasses that I didn’t really want any more were a small symbol of how I was an energetic hoarder. I kept things until life forcefully yanked them out of my hands.

    Often, I clung to subpar situations out of fear. I was afraid of being left alone, with nothing, so I’d gotten myself into the habit of anxiously settling. And as we all know, settling is no way to live a satisfying, dignified life.

    When we settle, the parts of us that aspire to grow are denied respect. We subconsciously tell ourselves it is not worth it—we are not worth it.

    My habit of settling had gotten me into more binds than I could count—low-paying jobs, incompatible relationships, boring days, and restless nights wondering what I was supposed to be doing. Why weren’t things better?

    The simple answer was, I didn’t choose anything better. I didn’t know how.

    When we don’t know ourselves, we don’t know what we want and need. And when we doubt our worth or our ability to make things happen, we hold ourselves back from what would make us happy. This is where depression breeds, along with burnout, stress, and apathy.

    So how can this painful spiral be prevented? And if you already find yourself in this predicament, how can you climb out of the hole?

    1. Assess everything in your life.

    What just isn’t working, no matter how hard you try, in work, your relationships, your habits? These are the areas where you need to make a decision. Either let something go or make a change that is significant enough to transform how you feel about the situation.

    2. Find the hope.

    Hopelessness is a huge aspect of lingering depression. The problem is, people often try to talk themselves into being hopeful about something that actually isn’t going to work (e.g.: a relationship that was meant to end). Instead of clinging, let go and seek out new things that feel truly hopeful instead.

    It’s not always easy to let go, especially when it pertains to relationships, and particularly when you’re not hopeful there’s anything better out there for you. Start by asking yourself, “Why do I believe this is the best I can do, or what I deserve?” And then, “What would I need to believe in order to let go of this thing that isn’t good for me and open myself up to something better?”

    3. Change anything.

    When we are stuck in a rut, it usually means things have been the same way for too long. Routine and consistency can be a poison or a cure, depending on the situation. If you’re feeling stuck, look for how doing the same thing every day isn’t working. Sometimes, making any random change is enough to shake you out of that rut.

    This could mean taking a new route to work or doing something creative when you usually binge watch Netflix. Sometimes little changes can give us a surprising level of new insight and self-understanding.

    4. Lastly, admit to what you really want.

    If you won’t risk being hopeful and taking action toward what you really want, you will default to a life of tragic safety. You will shy away from the truth, clinging to all the things that don’t really resonate with you. Ironically, you have to be willing to risk loss to in order to acquire valuable things in life.

    So start by being brave enough to admit what you really want in all aspects of your life, and perhaps more importantly, what you need. What would make you feel fulfilled and excited about life again?

    —

    We often think of depression as a vengeful disease that robs us of our joy and vitality. But when we begin to look at our lives with more honesty, we can see depression for what it really is: a messenger.

    I like to think of depression as the first phase of enlightenment—a reckoning we must endure to come out the other side with clarity. When we stop pushing negative feelings away, we can discover why they exist and what steps will resolve them.

    For me, this meant letting go of how I thought my life should be and embracing how it was. Rather than lamenting about the past or obsessing about the future, I started taking practical steps to improve the present. This included cleaning up my diet, giving up a job that no longer worked for me, and digging into attachment styles to learn how to improve my relationships. The more action I took, the more hopeful and empowered I felt.

    The road to happiness isn’t nearly as direct as we would like it to be, but this gives us the opportunity to access what we truly wanted all along: self-understanding, self-acceptance, and self-empowerment. Depression isn’t a problem, but a road-sign. The question is, will we ignore it, or let ourselves be guided?

  • Feel Hurt in Your Relationship? How to Get Your Needs Met and Feel Closer

    Feel Hurt in Your Relationship? How to Get Your Needs Met and Feel Closer

    “The less you open your heart to others, the more your heart suffers.” ~Deepak Chopra

    I used to handle hurtful situations in relationships the same way. I’d get angry, shut down, get irritated, or just give my partner the silent treatment. This just led to more of what I didn’t want—separation, loneliness, and frustration.

    So one day I made up my mind. I was going to change my approach and try something different. Cause we’ve all heard that famous saying from Albert Einstein: “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

    I was tired of not getting the level of intimacy in my relationships that I longed for. I was tired of feeling alone, frustrated, and separated from my partner, especially during the moments when I felt most hurt.

    It all turned around in one single moment.

    People think that change happens incrementally over time, but in my experience it’s often a defining moment in time where you make a new decision that changes everything.

    Turning Separation into Intimacy

    Let me take you back to this moment… I was upset, lying in bed next to my partner. Earlier that evening we had attended a birthday party, and my partner’s ex was there. Truth to be told, it made me jealous.

    Looking back, I had no real reason to be jealous, but that’s the innate nature of jealousy—it’s never rational, it’s emotional. On instinct, I handled the situation as I always did when I felt jealous, inferior, or threatened. I shut down, got irritated and cold, and gave him the silent treatment.

    “What’s the matter?” my boyfriend asked for probably the hundredth time that evening. (Have you ever been in a situation where your partner asks you the same question over and over again, and you repeat the same answer over and over again, secretly wishing that he’d read your mind?)

    “It’s nothing,” I replied with a cold tone, and turned my back on him. That’s where I started to ask myself what was really going on. What I realized was this: At the core, I was not really angry, upset, or irritated. I was hurt and afraid. I felt exposed and rejected.

    So I made a new choice there and then. I told him what the situation was really about: me not feeling pretty enough, not lovable enough, scared that he would choose someone else and leave me. And believe me, it was extremely scary to be vulnerable and expose myself in that way. I was way outside of my comfort zone, but it was truly worth it.

    When I dared to communicate honestly from my heart, I received what I needed: love, connection, and confirmation. This shift that I made during the conflict changed everything and made us, as a couple, closer than ever before. It opened up the door to a new level of communication and intimacy.

    Today, instead of pointing fingers at each other, we always try to take responsibility for our own thoughts, actions, and emotions. To stay honest and vulnerable, even when the stormy weather of negative emotions desperately tries to separate us and impose conflict.

    Assuming you’re in a healthy relationship with someone who would never intentionally hurt you, you too can turn conflict into deeper intimacy and not only feel closer to your partner, but also better meet your needs. Here’s the process that I follow to turn hurtful situations into intimacy:

    1. Stop and notice your emotions.

    The first step is to become aware of your emotions. Just stop and catch yourself when you feel hurt, angry, disappointed, jealous, irritated, lonely, etc. Don’t beat yourself up for having those emotions. To become aware of them is the first vital step in the process.

    For me, it was feelings of jealousy, irritation, anger, and separation that came over me.

    2. Ask yourself what story you’re telling yourself about the situation.

    What thoughts and beliefs do you have? It’s often very helpful to write down your story. The story in your head generates the emotions in your body, and it’s therefore crucial to become aware of your specific story.

    In my case, the story was the following: “My boyfriend still has feelings for his ex. He’s mean and doesn’t respect me. I don’t want to be close to him. I want to punish him and make him suffer. Also, I knew it; I can’t trust people, they always leave and hurt me.”

    3. Scrutinize your story.

    The stories that we play in our minds are often influenced by past memories and experiences. And they tend to trigger strong emotions, which makes us blindfolded; we aren’t capable of acting or thinking rationally.

    So, what we need to do is to scrutinize and question our story. Is this really true? Do I know for sure that this is the way it is? What are guesses, assumptions, and projections, and what are the actual facts?

    In my case, I had very few facts. My boyfriend had not left me, nor had he said or done anything that implied that he had feelings for his ex. When I scrutinized my negative and destructive story, I realized that there was little evidence to support it.

    4. Identify the root cause.

    Ask yourself what it’s really about. What are you not willing to see or feel that needs to be seen or felt?

    In my case, the root cause was me not feeling pretty enough, not lovable enough, and scared that he would choose someone else and leave me.

    This can be a tough one, but give yourself some love and credit for being brave enough to acknowledge your shadow. It’s key to be kind toward yourself, because this stage requires vulnerability. Trust me, the reward of doing so is immense!

    5. Reveal your true needs.

    When you know the root cause, ask yourself: “What is the underlying need that is not being met right now?” Is it to be loved? To feel connection? To feel special and significant? To feel safe? To tell what your heart is experiencing?

    Also, separate the needs that stem from fear and the needs that stem from love.

    Instinctively, I would have answered that I needed space and some time alone to think and reflect. That may sound rational and sound, but that was only my ego trying to avoid facing the real issue and pain. That only increased the distance and separation between me and my partner. To help you navigate this and to find the real, underlying need, ask yourself, “Is this need based on love or fear?”

    For me, the underlying needs were love and connection. I needed to feel my boyfriend’s love and presence. What I desperately longed for was a hug from him. A sincere hug that made me feel safe and seen. A loving hug that ultimately made me feel loved, significant. and special.

    6. Dare to be vulnerable with the other person.

    “Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it’s having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome. Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage.” ~Brené Brown

    If this is a person that you truly want in your life, that you like a lot or love, then you have to take the risk of being vulnerable. You have to open up and tell the other person what you really feel. But really take time and contemplate this one. Not everyone deserves your vulnerable communication.

    I know that this can be very scary. The first time I did it, I stumbled on my words and I wasn’t able to look my partner in the eye. That’s how scared I was. But I did it anyway. And the reward was huge.

    So take a deep breath and speak your truth, tell the other person how you’re experiencing the situation right now, and dare to express your real underlying need(s).

    7. Take responsibility and own your thoughts and feelings.

    See the situation as an opportunity to acknowledge what you need to work on in life. See it as an opportunity to get closer to yourself and other people. Most importantly, don’t expect others to fix you.

    On my side, I realized that I have a hard time loving myself. But that was not my partner’s problem to fix. At the end of the day, I had to find a way to love myself, with or without his love.

    —

    Next time you are in a situation where you feel hurt, stop and reflect. Use the steps outlined above to move from separation to intimacy with the people you love.

    And remember to be loving and kind to yourself while you do it. No one is perfect, and you show courage by even wanting to look at the situation from a new angle. So stay curious and compassionate toward yourself and others. You got this!

  • How a Numb, Phony Zombie Started Singing Her Own Song

    How a Numb, Phony Zombie Started Singing Her Own Song

    “Alas for those that never sing, but die with all their music in them!” ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

    Six years ago, I came across a line from an old poem that punctured my present moment so profoundly it seemed to stop time.

    On an average Tuesday, there I was, sitting at my desk, ignoring the stack of papers I was responsible for inputting into a spreadsheet and procrastinating as usual on the Internet instead.

    At this particular time, Pinterest was my drug of choice—anyone else?

    As I was aimlessly scrolling through wacky theme party ideas and spicy margarita recipes, suddenly, here came this old-school poet Oliver Wendell Holmes with these words that leapt off of my laptop screen and stung me like fourteen different bee stings to the heart:

    “Alas for those that never sing, but die with all their music in them!”

    I was floored. It was as if Oliver’s invisible hand had reached into my day and popped the protective bubble of my well-established comfort zone, sending me crashing down to the ground of an uncertain reality that I had so expertly managed to hover above for years.

    When I landed inside of the truth of my life for the first time in a long time, here’s what I saw:

    A recent college grad whose dad had died in the first few weeks of her “adulthood,” who took a job in the marketing department of a reputable company because it “looked good,” who spent her time outrunning looming fears of growing up and grief by seeking refuge in extraneous purchases, greasy slices of pizza, late nights under laser lights, and the bottoms of bottles of wine.

    A numb, phony zombie in red lipstick who had forgotten her own song.

    As a little girl, effortless music oozed from my pores. I could laugh, cry, dream, question, create, and believe in magic, and other people, and myself, with such abandon; it was like I was a tiny conductor leading a spontaneous orchestra of full self-expression, always unrehearsed and totally freestyle.

    And I didn’t just speak, I SANG! And I didn’t just walk, I DANCED!

    Had I put no soundproof walls up around my being then? I could recall what it was like to feel that free. But the memory of my smaller, wilder self marching proudly to the beat of her own drum felt so distant from where and how I was living.

    So instead of continuing on with the endless spreadsheet that I was responsible for completing that afternoon, I decided to take a break. A long break. I found a sunny bench outside of my building where I could go to sit and think.

    Then suddenly, The Little Mermaid swam right into my stream of thought. I closed my eyes and saw the scene where Ariel trades in her powerful voice to the evil sea witch, Ursula, for a pair of legs. She is so certain that becoming a part of the human world is more important to her than speaking her own truth and singing her own song. And I wondered…

    In what ways am I living at the expense of my own inner music? 

    I began to examine the situations in my life where I found myself exchanging an authentic piece of who I was out of fear, in order to achieve a particular outcome in the world. Here are just a few places in my life where I discovered this was so:

    I’d sacrificed my passion, by accepting a job I merely tolerated, because I was afraid of failing and wanted to give the appearance of being successful.

    I’d pushed down my grief, numbing it with shopping, food, and alcohol, because I was afraid of breaking down and wanted to give the appearance of being “fine.”

    I’d sacrificed authentic connection for toxic friendships because I was afraid of being lonely while I found the right friends and wanted to give the appearance of being liked.

    I’d sacrificed my authenticity and ended up living a small life because I was afraid of vulnerability and wanted to give the appearance of being in control.

    That was the moment when I decided I was ready to ditch the legs—everything that was just about appearances—and dive deeply into my own true passion, grief, and longings for connection and authenticity.

    I quit my job and enrolled in a spiritual studies certification and celebrant ordination program.

    I hired a therapist to help me heal and a coach to help me dream; these two women would become some of the fiercest advocates for me and my inner music that I’d ever meet.

    I started taking courses in personal development, joined a business mastermind, and got myself into as many meditation circles and yoga classes as I could.

    I began to play around with my expression again, belting my favorite songs from my childhood, wearing colors that sparked aliveness in me, scribbling lines of poetry till I fell in love with my own heart’s language again, and dipping my fingers in rainbows of paint without a plan.

    It felt so good to seek for the sake of seeking, and to create for the sake of creating!

    I finally started to let some of the people that I loved and trusted in enough to really see, hear, and hold me.

    And I got present, like really, really present, slowing down for long enough to fully inhabit whatever moment I was in. From that place, it became so natural to tap into the very real magic that had always existed within and around me.

    I recognized the miraculousness of my two feet on the ground, the blessing of my breath, and the rhythm of my heartbeat. I started to notice the sound and sensation of my full-body NO and YES. This new level of awareness polished my lens of perception, allowing me to see my life through my child self’s eyes once again—from a place of curiosity, excitement, imagination, and hope!

    My dive has brought me to terrifying places where I’ve wanted to sell myself out to the sea-witch over and over again, but still, I keep on swimming.

    For my song cannot be silenced, and neither can yours, though both of us will spend months, if not years living in fear of what it will take to truly sing.

    There is so much music inside of you and me. And to be the highest expression of who we are here to be, we’ve gotta sing our songs and sing em’ loud! But to live like that, we’re going to have to give ourselves permission to feel, say, and do what’s true.

    So, maybe owning your truth doesn’t look like finally quitting a job or grieving the loss of a loved one. But I challenge you to really take some time to stop and scan through your life with no judgment, just wide-open eyes and a loving heart, and ask yourself:

    What do I desire? What fear arises in the face of my desire? Where am I selling myself out to run/hide from my fear? And what must I do to express the full potential and possibility of achieving my desire?

    Do you remember the fierce and fearless drive that you had as a child to learn and grow? Can you imagine how many times the little you tried and failed and tried again at mastering the skills you needed to really engage with life—walking, reading, writing, using your words to ask for what you want, feeding yourself, tying your shoes, wiping your own bum, etc.? Where does that invincible tenacity go?

    The answer is: YOU’VE STILL GOT IT!

    It has been and always will be within you. You and I have the capacity to thrive in any and all areas of our lives. How? By becoming brave enough to stop and listen to our own music, then allowing ourselves to be truly guided by it as we go!

    Belt out your song like your life and the lives of future generations depend on it, because they do. And if you miss a beat or sing a note or two out of tune, don’t be afraid to own it. It’s all just a part of the dance. 

    If you’re looking for me, I’ll be here, diving deep into the depths of my being, tuning into my own music, swimming through fear, and daring myself to sing. Over and over and over again until my very last breath.

    And you? It is my hope that you will have the courage and the willingness to go deep and begin unleashing the divine music that only you were born to sing.

  • The Signs of a Strong Friendship (and an Unhealthy One)

    The Signs of a Strong Friendship (and an Unhealthy One)

    “Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down.” ~Oprah Winfrey

    “How on earth am I supposed to survive? I have no friends whatsoever!”

    These were the thoughts that ran through my mind then when I first set foot in London five years ago. I felt raw and vulnerable in the beautiful new city that I had to make my new home, alone, with my two kids, while my husband was overseas. I wondered how I was supposed to do it all.

    Well, I had J, a friend I’d met on my honeymoon in Bali, but we had only kept in touch occasionally, so I didn’t expect much from her. I couldn’t really call her my friend, maybe a pleasant acquaintance, but surprisingly she turned out to be my much-needed rock-solid support system and guardian angel.

    Every Saturday after work, she came over to my place, and we hung out. Sometimes we would walk to the park. Other times she would encourage me to drive (something I resisted). She visited my daughter when she fell and was in a cast and made my four-year-old daughter’s birthday memorable. She even helped me put up my garden table and chair. To say that I was grateful for her kindness would be an understatement.

    I was grateful—one, because the help and friendship she offered was unexpected. Secondly, because she did it with a great and open heart. And lastly, because she accepted me for who I was and what I could offer at that point.

    For the first time in my life, I was a ‘receiver’ in a friendship. Until then, I was always the giver.

    But with J, things were different. Her generosity touched me so much, so I thanked her often and told her how much I truly appreciated the trouble she took. But she always shrugged it off. One day as I was thanking her for the millionth time, she said, “Lana, the friendship goes both ways. I too appreciate hanging out with you and your little kids. They add a lot of joy to my life also!”

    She then proceeded to tell me that she lost two of her friends to cancer in the last few years, and the sudden losses left her feeling devastated. She said spending time with us helped her through that. I was shocked to hear it but was also pleased to know that my kids and I could fill that void for her in our imperfect selves.

    Her honesty and generosity taught me some essential lessons on friendship and helped me differentiate between a healthy and unhealthy one. So, let’s unpack them.

    The Tell-Tale Signs of Healthy Friendship

    1. There is an equal amount of give and take in the relationship. Both people’s needs are considered essential, and the friendship doesn’t feel lopsided.

    2. You’re both honest and transparent with each other. When J honestly opened up to me, it cemented our friendship because it made me feel equally important. Till then, I thought I was the vulnerable person in need of her, and I was surprised to know that she needed me as well.

    3. You’re both kind and compassionate, and you completely accept each other. Whenever J arrived, she was always considerate of how overwhelmed I was. She was happy to have an overwhelmed, scared, and disoriented friend and accepted me for who I was.

    4. Good friends don’t try to control, dictate, or tell you how to live your life. Though I was new to many things, she didn’t try to control me. She offered suggestions and sometimes pushed me out of my comfort zone but never crossed any boundaries. She gave me the space I needed.

    5. Good friends are generous—with their time, resources, or whatever they have to give. J was generous with her time and company and took me to various places. I was happy to have another adult with me as I visited new locations with my girls.

    6. Good friends appreciate each other and don’t try to take advantage of each other’s vulnerabilities.

    7. Good friends don’t try to manipulate the other for personal gain. They may help each other, but they don’t use each other. They spend time together because they care for each other and enjoy each other’s company, not because they want something from each other.

    Whenever there is an equal amount of give-and-take in a relationship, honesty, respect, and empathy for one another, you can be sure it is a keeper.

    Through J, I learned that friendship is a two-way street. Before that, I had no standards and welcomed anyone and everyone in my life as friends. Even the ones who walked all over me and took advantage. J upped the bar for me.

    So, what are the signs of an unhealthy friendship?

    1. It feels one-sided. The other person dominates the friendship and prioritizes their needs and wants over yours.

    2. They’re insensitive to your needs—they don’t consider them essential, or they trivialize them as unnecessary, either by joking or making your needs sound insignificant.

    3. They subtly undermine you, implying that you aren’t good enough, can’t do what you want to do, or shouldn’t bother pursuing your wants, needs, and interests.

    4. They see you as a means to an end, meaning you are useful for some specific purpose. Maybe you can help them move forward with their career, or you’re a bridge to connecting with someone else.

    5. They do not respect you—they ignore your boundaries, talk to you in a condescending tone, and/or treat you like you’re not a priority.

    6. They don’t respect or appreciate your time or effort.

    7. They’re demanding and think everything rotates around them.

    8. They have numerous issues that they can never sort out on their own. They never ask about you; you’re only there to listen to their problems and service their needs.

    9. They’re always competing with you, and everything is a game where they want to be the winner.

    10. They don’t want to know about you—your past, your feelings, or your interests.

    11. They repeatedly bail on you unexpectedly, as if they don’t value your time together.

    Walter Winchell says that “A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.” Here’s hoping you find that real friend who understands you, lifts you, and brings out the best in you!

  • 7 Reasons I Was Scared to Take up Space and How I Boosted My Confidence

    7 Reasons I Was Scared to Take up Space and How I Boosted My Confidence

    “You are allowed to take up space. Own who you are and what you want for yourself. Stop downplaying the things you care about, the hopes you have.” ~Bianca Sparacino

    I deserve to take up more space. Plain and simple. By taking the space I deserve, I further build the confidence I need to live a rich life that resonates with who I truly am.

    Over the past several years, I’ve had to navigate a new life after hard breakups, difficult career transitions, and moving back home. I’ve had to face the feeling that I’m not doing enough. That I am not enough. That I don’t deserve to take up space. To be seen, felt, and heard with all of the faults that scatter among all my strengths.

    I know I owe it to myself to show up. I know I owe it to myself to be present as I am. I know I owe it to myself to finally come out from the back curtains and take center stage where my heart can shine.

    I deserve to take more space in my presence around others and to be truly seen.

    I deserve to take more space in my voice in a loud world and to be truly heard.

    I deserve to take more space in my heart and take care of my needs first.

    Because I know these things, I now try not to make my voice small when I want to speak so loudly that it hurts.

    I try not to be apologetic for taking the time to express what I feel to others when the person I should be accommodating first is myself.

    I try not to bottle up my emotions because the longer I do, the longer it will take to get past ignoring them.

    After taking moments to pause and breathe, I gently remind myself again that I am enough. That I deserve to speak from the heart and to be heard. That my thoughts, opinions, and voice matter.

    Over time, I’ve recognized the reasons why I lacked the confidence to take the space I deserved, and I’ve also identified what I need to do to change.

    7 Reasons I Was Scared to Take up Space (And How I Changed)

    1. I lacked confidence in my communication and overused apologetic terms, which minimized my opinions.

    I used to say sorry a lot in my interactions, if I thought I’d made a mistake or I interrupted a conversation, for example.

    Research shows that when you say sorry, people tend to think less of you. I may have thought that I was displaying myself as a nice and caring person, but I was actually sending the message that I lacked confidence.

    “Sorry” isn’t the only word I needed to watch out for. These 25 limiting words diminished my statements. For example, with the word “just”—if I was “just wondering” or telling someone it will “just take me a minute.”

    There’s no need to use minimizing words. My needs and opinions are as important as others’. I built more awareness and confidence by flipping the script and being firmer in my conversations. I started saying phrases like “Thanks for pointing that out” or “Here, let me get out of the way” or “It will be a minute.”

    2. I thought it was unkind to say no, even if something didn’t align with my priorities.

    By consciously saying no to one area, I am confidently saying yes to another more important one. I don’t want to give my space away without consideration of what the true cost is. I need to protect my time like it is my most valuable commodity.

    Saying no is not a natural response for many of us, though. We often feel nervous about creating conflict with others and tend to value others’ needs more highly than our own.

    At least for me, I have learned to please others by being kind and helping those who ask for it. I tend to say yes because I want to be seen as caring, selfless, and generous. I didn’t realize that the ability to say no is closely linked to self-esteem.

    So how did I start to say no without feeling bad about it? I kept my responses simple and to the point. I learned how to strengthen my delivery and not over-apologize.

    Sometimes, when I provide too many details, I get caught up in the why behind my decision to say no. I’ve learned that there’s no need to overanalyze, and that I have the right to say no as much as yes. I just need to remember that I’m not saying no to the person, I’m saying no to the request. Also, I’ve learned not to take someone else’s no personally. Sometimes their no means “no for now.”

    3. I didn’t realize my thoughts can contribute to a richer conversation.

    Sometimes, it’s been easier for me to keep quiet and listen to the entire conversation without saying a word. I’ve learned that I have a seat at the table, and with every word I speak, the more confidence I gain.

    I know I have many valuable thoughts that could add a new perspective to the conversation at hand. Whether it’s in a work meeting or hanging out with friends, I consciously remind myself not to hold back my voice.

    The world benefits when we all find our voice. Whether it’s to elevate good ideas or discuss alternatives to bad ones, speaking up is how we arrive at the best outcomes.

    4. I struggled with being vulnerable because I worried about what people thought of me.

    Vulnerability is consciously choosing not to hide your emotions and desires from others.

    Being vulnerable with others is scary and uncomfortable for me because it’s letting go of what people think of me. When I’m not afraid of what other people think, that’s when true confidence begins to grow.

    Vulnerability bridges connections and helps me build confidence in the relationships I am creating. Vulnerability frees me up to share personal stories that others can relate to. Vulnerability sparks conversations that allow me to move beyond fear to a place of shared experiences.

    Connecting with others by being vulnerable—as opposed to overcompensating and trying to get everyone to like you—will result in some of the best interactions and relationships of your life.

    5. I felt insecure about sharing my dreams and achievements along with my mistakes and failures.

    I needed to let myself be excited and proud in order to build confidence in what I’ve accomplished. Sometimes I have to be my own cheerleader to keep the confidence going and be okay with that.

    By sharing my successes, I hope to inspire others and kickstart them in a direction that helps them on their journey.

    By sharing my failures, I accept the mistakes I’ve made along the way. I’ve built confidence by taking the lessons learned and continuing to strive toward my dreams.

    6. I felt uncomfortable asking for help.

    It’s hard to ask people for help. Like most people, I’ve been taught to carry all the weight on my own. To be independent. To be self-sufficient. When you ask for help, people may say no, but it doesn’t hurt to simply ask. Each ask will give you confidence for the next.

    Most people like helping others by sharing their time, knowledge, and experiences. I realized I am in a village where others look to help me, which in turn helps the entire village.

    Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s a sign of strength. Asking for help is uncomfortable because it’s a behavior I wasn’t used to. But it gives me the confidence to know others are there along the way to support my dreams and goals.

    7. I didn’t realize how much I have to offer.

    There are times I thought I didn’t have much to offer to others, but I now know I do. I possess a wealth of experiences that can help others live a brighter, more confident life. Whether it’s sharing how I aced a job interview or how I created a fine-tuned budget, there are people out there seeking my help.

    As I started to offer my knowledge to others, I was surprised by how many people I began to help. By being of service to others, I built confidence that I have more to give than I realized. I am a wealth of knowledge and experience that can help others build their own confidence.

    —

    I’ve learned that my thoughts and needs matter—that I matter. That I can speak up unapologetically, say no when I need to, share my successes and failures, ask for help when I need it, and make a real difference for other people. I just need to let myself take up space, knowing I deserve it, and the world is better off because of it.

  • How to Get Through Your Darkest Days: Lessons from Addiction and Loss

    How to Get Through Your Darkest Days: Lessons from Addiction and Loss

    “You are never stronger…than when you land on the other side of despair.” ~Zadie Smith

    In the last years of my twenties, my life completely fell apart.

    I’d moved to Hollywood to become an actor, but after a few years in Tinsel Town things weren’t panning out the way I hoped. My crippling anxiety kept me from going on auditions, extreme insecurity led to binge eating nearly every night, and an inability to truly be myself translated to a flock of fair-weather friends.

    As the decade wound to a close, I stumbled upon the final deadly ingredient in my toxic lifestyle: opiates. A few small pills prescribed for pain unlocked a part of my brain I didn’t know existed: a calm, confident, and numb version of myself that seemed way more manageable than the over-thinking mind-chatter I was used to.

    At first the pills were like a casual indulgence—I’d pop a few before a nerve-wracking audition or first date, the same way other people might have a few drinks before going out on the town. But my casual relationship to opiates was short-lived: soon the pills were no longer reserved for awkward dates or nerve-wracking auditions, and instead necessary for any type of outing or interaction.

    I knew I’d crossed an invisible line when I began to feel sick without a “dose” of medication. The physical pain they’d been prescribed for had long subsided, but they’d created a need that only grew with more use. Soon I became sick if I didn’t take any pills, which is when I began going to any lengths to get more.

    I wanted so much to stop but felt trapped on a terrible ride: I’d wake hating myself for what I’d done the day before, and with deep shame I’d vow earnestly to quit—then afternoon would come and with it, withdrawal symptoms. As my stomach would turn and my head would spin, I’d lose the resolve to stop and begin searching for my next fix. With that fix would come a few hours of relief, followed by another cycle of self-loathing, a vow to quit, and more failure.

    It was a spin cycle that likely would have killed me had life not intervened in ways that at the time felt devastating; in a span of two weeks my “normal” façade collapsed and, with it, most pillars in my life. Like a house of cards toppling, I lost my job, car, relationship, and was evicted from my home.

    It felt like a cliché country song where the singer loses everything, except in those songs that person is usually likeable and innocent—but in my story, I felt like the villain.

    As I watched my entire life crumble around me, I felt no choice other than to return home and seek the shelter of the only person who had always been there for me—my mom.

    The mom who had raised me with morals like honesty, accountability, and kindness, although I hadn’t been living them for a while. The mom who had struggled raising two kids alone, gotten us off food stamps by going to nursing school, and who watched helplessly as I descended into the same cycle of addiction that had taken the life of my father.

    She told me I could stay if I was sober; I vowed to try, though I’d stopped believing my own promises long before.

    In the recovery program I found soon after, there was an oft repeated saying on every wall: “it’s always darkest before the dawn.” If taken literally, it makes you think about how dark the night sky is before dawn breaks… how heavy, looming, and consuming. Before the light returns, it can feel like the darkness will never end.

    That was how my early days sober felt.

    But as I cobbled together a few weeks and then a few months, I began to feel the faintest bit of trust in myself. Through abstinence and therapy, mindfulness and a sober community, the hopelessness that had seemed so all-consuming began to crack open and let in some light.

    I moved out into my own apartment, returned to school to complete a long-sought college degree, and had a waitressing job that I loved. Then, just after I achieved one year sober, I got a phone call from my brother that would change everything.

    “Melissa, you need to come home,” he said, his voice thick with tears. “It’s mom.”

    My stomach dropped as I gripped the phone, suddenly feeling about five years old. I’d find out later it was a heart attack.

    I felt the darkness descend again.

    —

    In the days that followed her death I felt like a dependent child that was unable to care for myself. I dragged myself through brushing my teeth, dressing, and arranging her funeral; it felt like my heart had stopped along with hers.

    The same thought kept circling the drain of my head—how can I live the rest of my life without my mother?

    I couldn’t imagine not having her at my graduation, wedding, or when I became a parent. Her disappearance from my future brought up a dread much worse than that of the previous year— but as I began to settle into my grief, I realized I had a path through this moment, if I were willing to take it.

    The tools I’d forged in sobriety would prove to be useful in the dark days that followed. I share them below as an offering for anyone who travels through a dark night of the soul: simple steps to keep in mind when you can’t see a path forward.

    Take things one day at a time.

    In sobriety, you learn that imagining your whole life without another drink or drug can be so daunting that you just give up and get loaded. So instead of borrowing future worry, you learn to stay in the week, the day, and the moment.

    I didn’t have to know what having a wedding without my mother would be like—I just needed to eat breakfast. I didn’t need to imagine my graduation—I just needed to get myself through one more class. As I pieced my future together one moment at a time, I found that I could handle the emptiness in bite size pieces. I didn’t have to figure it all out—I just had to keep going.

    Allow feelings to come and trust that they will go.

    Much of what I’d been running from as an addict was the discomfort of my feelings. I didn’t want to feel rejection, so I contorted myself to be liked; I didn’t want to feel sadness, so I busied myself with the next activity. In recovery I learned that we can run from feelings all we want, but eventually they catch up to us in some form. Instead of running I’d learned to allow; instead of busying myself I’d been taught to turn toward pain and trust that it wouldn’t last forever.

    Though this was easier said than done, some part of me knew that running from the grief of my mom’s death would only snowball into a freight train later. I’d scream in my car as I seethed with the unfairness of it all; I’d rock with sobs on my couch when the sadness became too much. It wasn’t pretty and it felt terrible, but when I let the grief shake through me. I found that there would always be an end… that at the bottom of my spiral a thread of mercy would appear, and I would be able to go on.

    Tell the truth.

    From a young age, I felt much more comfortable in a mask of smiles and jokes than sharing how I was actually doing at any given moment. Though getting sober had helped me shed layers of the mask, I still found myself trying to likeable, approved-of, and “good.” But as grief zapped my energy and ability to make myself palatable, when people asked how I was doing I started to be honest.

    Sharing the pain I felt after my mom’s death was like standing naked in the middle of the street—I wasn’t used to crying in front of people and didn’t think they’d like me when they found out I wasn’t always “fun and easy going.” But it was exactly this type of vulnerability that allowed true friends to materialize, old connections to deepen, and the support I longed for to appear.

    Allow yourself to be forever changed.

    In recovery from addiction, I began to think of my sobriety date as a second birthday—the start of an actual new life. Though the way my former life had burned to the ground was painful, I welcomed the chance for a new start.

    But when my mom died, I didn’t realize that losing her would again scatter me into a thousand unrecognizable pieces—pieces I kept trying to fit back together but weren’t ever going to be the same, because I wasn’t.

    Once I allowed my life, relationships, and priorities to be changed by my grief, I found a self that was stronger, more resilient, and somehow more tender. I never would have chosen the form of this lesson, but I came through these experiences a more authentic version of myself… an overarching goal of my life.

    *

    It’s now been seven years since my mom’s death, and I’ve been sober for eight. As my journey continues to unfold, I never lose sight of how broken I once was and how dark things seemed. I also know that the struggles of life aren’t over; they’re part of being human and living a full life.

    But something I now keep in mind is that it’s always darkest before the dawn—I know I don’t have to always see the light…

    I just have to keep going.

  • How to Set Difficult Boundaries in a Compassionate Way

    How to Set Difficult Boundaries in a Compassionate Way

    “We can say what we need to say. We can gently, but assertively, speak our mind. We do not need to be judgmental, tactless, blaming, or cruel when we speak our thoughts.” ~Melody Beattie

    When I first learned about the concept of boundaries, I imagined how freeing it would feel to finally be able to say an empowered “no” at every turn. I imagined myself turning down drinks from leering strangers at bars, denying eager clipboard-carriers’ requests for money, and rejecting requests to do more than my fair share of work projects.

    “‘No’ is a complete sentence” would be my anthem.

    Eventually, though, I began to understand that boundaries are more complicated than simply saying no to strangers. Sometimes setting boundaries meant having awkward, painful conversations with loved ones about dynamics in our relationship that no longer served me.

    For example: I needed to ask a friend to leave more space for me in our conversations. I needed to ask a family member to please stop complaining to me about another family member. And I needed to have a talk with my partner about my dissatisfaction with the division of emotional labor in our relationship.

    And the thought of having these conversations filled me with discomfort.

    Intellectually, I knew that I had every right to set healthy boundaries with my loved ones. Emotionally, though, the thought of actually having these conversations elicited anxiety—and a great deal more of fear than I originally imagined.

    Within the past decade, conversations about boundary-setting have taken center stage in mental health discourse. Being able to set boundaries around our time, space, and bodies is a critical skill for maintaining mental health, recovering from addiction, and building healthy relationships with others. But boundary-setting can also prompt very real, very intense discomfort for both the boundary-setter and boundary receiver.

    As I contemplated my discomfort, I wondered: How can I set boundaries authentically when I’m afraid of hurting someone I care about? How can I simultaneously set boundaries while letting the recipient know that I really, truly care about their feelings? 

    These questions inspired me to consider an approach to boundary-setting that made these difficult conversations a little less… difficult.

    —

    In my experience, most boundaries can be divided into two distinct categories: Shield boundaries and sandbox boundaries.

    Sometimes boundaries are like shields: moments of verbal self-defense that protect us from others’ unwanted behavior. Shield boundaries ward off unwanted physical touch, defend against others’ anger or cruelty, or protect our time, belongings, and material goods.

    Shield boundaries might take the form of “Don’t touch me like that,” or “I’m sorry, but you can’t borrow $20,” or “I can’t volunteer at the phone bank next week.” Generally, they’re simple, short, and clear-cut—variations on saying “no.”

    Some boundaries feel less like self-defense and more like letting go: detaching from old patterns, feelings, and relationships that no longer serve us.

    Imagine a sandbox that is filled with various things belonging to various people. You reach down and pick up only the items that belong to you. You avoid picking up your mother’s guilt, your partner’s debt, your boss’s anxiety, and your friend’s insecurity. They are not yours to carry.

    Having healthy sandbox boundaries means that you only carry your “stuff” out of the sandbox—nobody else’s. They distinguish your emotions and responsibilities from others’ emotions and responsibilities.

    Of the two, sandbox boundaries are especially challenging for recovering people-pleasers because we are accustomed to carrying everyone’s stuff out of the sandbox—not just our own. Historically, we’ve assumed responsibility for others’ happiness, health, finances, relationships, addictions, and so on. (By the same token, many of us have probably under-assumed responsibility for our own health, happiness, and beyond.)

    When we set sandbox boundaries and break these patterns of over-giving, we literally rewrite the status quo. We let go of the roles we’ve played in our relationships for years or even decades. We may have become so accustomed to acting like others’ caretakers, fixers, or de facto therapists that letting go of these roles can bring a great deal of fear.

    We may wonder, “Will he still love me if I’m no longer willing to caretake?” or “Will she think I’m selfish if I ask for more attention?” We might think, “What will she like about me when I’m not fixing her problems?” or “What if they don’t care what I have to say?”

    In order to set boundaries that allow our relationships to continue in new and healthy ways, we need to face these fears head-on. In fact, these fears can be gateways to authentic and meaningful boundary-setting. Here’s how:

    Radically Transparent Boundary-Setting

    Radically transparent boundary-setting gives you permission to honor your feelings in the moment, fear and all, and invites the boundary-recipient in instead of pushing them away.

    You don’t have to pretend to be cold, stoic, or flawlessly confident in order to set a successful boundary. In fact, by acknowledging that boundary-setting is unfamiliar or even scary, you can create a vulnerable container that invites the boundary-receiver in for a meaningful, compassionate conversation.

    Radically transparent boundary-setting includes three key ingredients:

    1. Acknowledge your fear or discomfort around setting the boundary
    2. Express the “why” behind the boundary
    3. Set a clear, direct boundary

    Imagine, for example, that you have a dear friend who regularly consults you to process her family drama. You’re beginning to feel frustrated that your conversations revolve entirely around her, and you realize you’re no longer willing to assume the role of her therapist. In this case, you might use the Radical Transparency approach like this:

    Example 1: “It’s hard for me to say this, but I want to be honest with you: I feel upset that so many of our conversations revolve around your family trouble because it makes me feel less like a friend and more like a therapist. Can we practice making our conversations closer to 50/50?”

    Example 2: “I know that in the past I’ve offered advice and support around your family issues, but I’m trying to take better care of myself now, so I can’t continue to be the person you come to with your family trouble. I need our friendship to be more balanced.”

    Example 3: “I’m afraid of hurting you, but the health of our friendship is important to me, so I want you to know that I can’t continue to be the only person you come to with your family trouble. Our friendship has begun to feel imbalanced, and it’s important for me to have friendships in which I feel seen and valued.”

    Example 4: “I’m nervous to say this, but I’m making an effort to communicate more authentically with those close to me, so I need to tell you that I’m feeling sad about how imbalanced our conversations have been. I feel like you don’t make an effort to ask me about my life. Can we discuss how to fix this?”

    Radical transparency has two key benefits.

    First, by naming your fear or discomfort around setting the boundary, you acknowledge that you’re initiating a difficult conversation that can elicit mixed feelings⁠—for both of you. This also helps the recipient understand that you’ve taken into account the impact this boundary could have on their feelings.

    Second, by expressing the “why” behind your boundary, you remind the recipient that your boundary isn’t an attempt to control their behavior, but rather an attempt to protect yourself, be it your body, integrity, mental health, time, resources, or material goods. You might also emphasize your desire for honesty, authenticity, or openness in the relationship, each of which conveys a genuine intention to keep your relationship healthy.

    Radically transparent boundary-setting gives me permission to be fully authentic while helping my loved ones feel considered.

    Of course, this approach isn’t appropriate for all scenarios. I use this method to set difficult boundaries with close friends, family, and partners⁠—individuals with whom I generally feel safe, have a certain degree of emotional intimacy, and have a vested interest in continuing our relationship. (I don’t use this approach when I’m setting boundaries with casual acquaintances, with folks who make me feel emotionally unsafe, or when I’m enforcing a previously established boundary that the recipient has ignored.)

    Ultimately, we can’t control how others respond to our boundaries. Even if we state them with the utmost compassion, the recipient may still feel hurt, insulted, or confused—and that’s okay. If we avoid these critical conversations, we create conditions in which resentment, anger, and frustration seethe and boil over, unaddressed⁠—which is almost always more devastating to the relationship than the boundary conversation would have been.

    It is not only our right, but our responsibility to set healthy boundaries in our relationships with loved ones. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it’s scary. It’s our responsibility to communicate our needs and limitations in our relationships because, if we don’t, we leave others with the burden of mind-reading our needs⁠—a burden no person should have to bear.

    Like marriage and family therapist Vienna Pharaon writes: “You cannot stay quiet and expect people to show up the way you need them to. Your words are the gateway to your needs getting met.”

  • If You Think You Have to Be a People-Pleaser to Be Kind

    If You Think You Have to Be a People-Pleaser to Be Kind

    “I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better.” ~Plutarch

    People-pleasing can seem Iike a way of connecting with others. We believe that if we keep people happy, then they’ll like us and want us around. While it may be true that pleasing others will win us approval and a place in their lives, changing and editing ourselves can’t create the connection we long for.

    We confuse people-pleasing with kindness. After all, aren’t we, as people-pleasers, described as too nice? People-pleasing can be seen as giving of ourselves to put others first, but people-pleasing isn’t the kindest way to treat ourselves or the people around us.

    Honesty is Kinder than People-Pleasing

    My friend, Amy, would occasionally invite other people to join us without letting me know. I’d arrive at the park or the coffee shop and find myself unexpectedly part of a group.

    To Amy, this wasn’t a big deal. She was generous about introducing me to new people and for her it was genuinely the more the merrier. I, however, prefer one-on-one interactions to groups, and I really dislike being surprised in social settings.

    The thing is, she never knew it bothered me because I never told her. I was so worried about making sure she liked me that I pretended to be happy about these surprise additions to our outings. I told myself I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

    Unfortunately, the result was that I resented the other people and didn’t give them a fair chance to see if we might also become friends. It undermined my trust that Amy really saw me and valued my friendship. It reinforced my belief that I wasn’t good enough for someone to want to spend time with just me.

    When I wasn’t honest about how I felt, it wasn’t kind to anyone involved. I knew Amy to be a caring and thoughtful person. Most likely she would have been glad to let me know when she was extending additional invitations and to check in about what I wanted for a particular meet-up if only I’d been honest about how I felt.

    When we people-please, we say and do things that aren’t really true for us. We may accept an invitation that is inconvenient or agree to do a favor we resent doing. We might claim to want to eat at a certain restaurant or do a certain activity even though we’d actually prefer something else.

    We may keep our opinions and beliefs to ourselves unless we’re sure they line up with those of the person we’re trying to please. We might base our decisions—from what clothes we wear to what jokes we laugh at to what career we pursue—on what we think will win approval. We may hide how the other person’s actions are impacting us.

    None of these things are honest. We’re not being kind to others when we try to manipulate them into liking us instead of letting them really see us.

    We get tripped up because honesty can feel unkind if we think it will disappoint someone or make them unhappy. Of course, honesty can be used in an unkind way. People will say intentionally hurtful things and then justify their cruelty under the guise of honesty, but we can be honest with kindness.

    When we are honest in our relationships, we give others a true representation of who we are. We are clear about what we will and won’t do, what we do and don’t want. When we are honest we build trust with others that they can take us at our word and learn to see ourselves as a person who can be trusted.

    Presence is Kinder than People-Pleasing

    When I spent time with Amy, I worried a lot. I watched to see how many cookies she ate before helping myself to another. I worried about whether she was offering tea just to be nice or whether she’d actually be disappointed if I didn’t want to try the new blend she’d been sent as a gift.

    I avoided conversation topics where I wasn’t sure we’d agree. I was cautious when answering her questions about what I was up to. I’d offer only a glimpse and then try to gauge her levels of interest and approval before sharing the next little bit.

    The thing is, I wasn’t able to relax and just enjoy spending time together. It was obvious to her that I was trying to do things the way I thought she wanted me to. She tried to reassure me that it was okay to be myself, which was embarrassing for both of us.

    I appreciated Amy’s ability to ask thoughtful questions and how encouraging she was about anything I did share with her. The main things I remember about the time we spent together, however, don’t tell me much about who she is. I remember more about what I said and did because my focus kept turning to how I was measuring up.

    When we engage in people-pleasing behaviors, we watch the people we hope to please for cues about what they want and need and who they expect us to be. It can seem like we’re being very present with them because we’re paying such close attention.

    Too often, however, our attention is strategic—we’re using it to meet our own ends instead of really engaging with them as people. We watch for how each thing we do or say is received and use that data to continually adjust ourselves to be more pleasing.

    What if, instead, we approached our time with another person with curiosity—seeking to know them for the joy of knowing another human being? Curiosity requires presence—being open and welcoming to what is there instead of what we expect to find. One of the kindest things we can do for someone is to set aside our expectations and see them for who they are—and that includes ourselves.

    Trust is Kinder than People-Pleasing

    It didn’t matter how kind and encouraging I believed Amy to be, I didn’t trust that she would want to be my friend if I ever let her really see me. I didn’t trust that relationships could survive disappointments, differences, or disagreements. I struggled to believe that anyone really wanted to know me and that I would deserve their friendship if they did.

    When I didn’t trust that Amy would want to be my friend unless I went out of my way to please her and I didn’t trust that I was worthy of her friendship, it made for an uneven relationship. I saw her as better than me and was trying to control her perception of me so I could keep a place in her life. Our interactions were based on my striving to please instead of on two humans seeing and supporting each other.

    People-pleasing is characterized by a lack of trust. We people-please because we don’t trust that we are good enough to be wanted just as we are. We don’t trust others to see the value in us and treat us well unless we always give them what they want or stay within the parameters of who they expect us to be.

    A kinder approach is to cultivate trust. As we unhook from people-pleasing, we build trust in ourselves. We develop trust that we can meet our own needs and that we can express our preferences with kindness. We learn to trust that we will be okay if not everyone likes us and that there are new opportunities even after disappointment.

    There is also kindness in trusting others. When we choose to trust someone, we give them a chance to see and support us. We open up the possibility for a mutual relationship.

    Trust others and trust yourself to build a relationship that is genuine and satisfying for you both. Some relationships will not survive if we cease people-pleasing, but those relationships were not built on true kindness to either person. Invest in relationships that are based on kindness instead of control—where you can know and be known.

    Consider your closest relationships. Are they a space where you are honest, present, and trusting? If not, what gets in the way? How can you bring a little more honesty, presence, and trust into your relationships this week?

  • Why You Have to Share What You Really Feel and Want in Relationships

    Why You Have to Share What You Really Feel and Want in Relationships

    “Any relationship that could be ‘ruined’ by having a conversation about feelings, standards, or expectations wasn’t really firm enough anyway, so there isn’t much to ruin.” ~Unknown

    So many of us believe that not expressing ourselves is a noble thing to do. We get to feel stoic and in control. Others get emotional and overwhelmed while we can keep it together. The idea that we are strong because we don’t express our feelings is also socially reinforced, so we keep doing it because it’s the right thing to do, right?

    Not quite.

    In my previous blog post “The Negative Impact of Not Feeling Your Feelings,” I explained how feelings are not problems or evidence that we are broken but merely there to guide us toward greater well-being. They are a reflection of our state of mind, and they try to alert us when we engage in unhelpful or even harmful thinking. We then have the opportunity to realign with what’s good, healthy, and nurturing for us.

    Based on the many questions and messages I received following that article, I now want to explore what happens to our relationships when we withhold our truth and inhibit our feelings.

    So, first of all we need to look at what is required to create a healthy and loving relationship.

    Relationships thrive in an environment of emotional safety, openness, and authenticity. This means that both people involved need to feel safe with each other, be safe for each other, and be willing to express themselves openly and authentically.

    Many of us did not grow up in households where this was allowed or possible. We learned that expressing ourselves can lead to humiliation, shaming, and rejection. This kind of distress can be unbearable for a child, so we learned to inhibit ourselves.

    But what keeps us safe as children usually negatively impacts our lives as adults. Inhibition now stops us from creating healthy relationships and developing true intimacy, something most of us value more than anything else.

    We inhibit ourselves every time we do not speak up or stand up for ourselves. In relationships, we often inhibit ourselves by hiding our feelings and therefore withholding what is true for us. We go along with what the other person wants whether we really want to or not.

    This is a direct block to intimacy. When we are not open or honest with what we are feeling and what is going on for us, we deprive others of the opportunity to really get to know us.

    However, we only do this because we believe that this is the way to be in relationships. It’s part of our relationship blueprint, the model of relationship we’ve inherited and internalized. In our eyes, we do what is right and what is required to maintain a connection. It is, after all, the very thing that allowed us to maintain our attachment bond during childhood.

    We learned that in order to have a relationship, we must not express ourselves or share our feelings. We believe that our feelings are problems for others and expressing them would threaten the relationship, and that’s the thing we don’t want to lose. So, by that logic, inhibition is the way to go.

    And that is true for unhealthy, superficial, or unfulfilling relationships. It just doesn’t work if you want to have healthy, intimate, fun, and overall life-enhancing relationships.

    I learned this the hard way …

    All my life I struggled to express myself in relationships. I struggled to ask for what I wanted and express how I felt. I didn’t communicate or set boundaries but felt betrayed if they were disrespected or violated. I had lots of different expectations that I never shared but felt absolutely heartbroken if they weren’t met.

    In my eyes, I was easy to be with because I didn’t ask for anything. I didn’t complain and I wasn’t demanding. I didn’t nag. I kept my feelings to myself and avoiding confrontation and conflict. But I could only believe that because I was not aware of the consequences of my behavior, which in the end would lead to the breakdown of my relationships.

    Not expressing myself in my relationships meant that I did not consider myself. This in itself is a disastrous starting point because a relationship requires two healthy participating individuals. There simply is no relationship if one person is pretty much non-existent.

    But not considering myself also put pressure on my partner to consider me in a way that was highly unrealistic. Knowing what I know now, this was never his sole responsibility. It was always mine. It is my job in a relationship to stand in my truth and express it so that my partner and I can co-create a relationship that works for both of us.

    It is also pretty impossible to consider someone well enough when you don’t know what they want or how they feel because they simply don’t share that with you. So this was a strategy that was never going to work. However, at that time in my life, I believed that my partner should know what I wanted or how I felt without me having to express it. A fatal lie of the mind.

    In healthy relationships, we teach each other about ourselves. We teach each other as we continuously grow and change by expressing what is going on for us. We tell each other what we like and what we don’t like. We share our feelings and how we impact upon each other. We are open to each other’s feedback so we can adjust if we choose to do so.

    This is how we create an environment for ourselves and each other that is nurturing, respectful, and loving. It is a perfect environment for well-being and growth, but it is one we must create ourselves by expressing what is true for us. There simply is no other way.

    We often stop ourselves from expressing what is true for us to keep the peace and maintain the relationship, but a relationship that cannot handle your truth is not a relationship you should be in.

    As adults, we are not dependent on any one person the way we were dependent as children. Our survival is no longer dependent on a caregiver. We now depend on ourselves. Our well-being depends on us making wise choices for ourselves, and that includes the people we choose to have in our lives. Those people should be people who are safe for us and who love the full version of us.

    I used to believe that withholding my truth by inhibiting my feelings and desires meant that I was a good partner and easy to be with. I felt good about the role I was playing. I thought I did the right thing. It also allowed me to keep relationships going.

    But I kept relationships going that weren’t meant for me (and quite possibly not for my partners either). I presented a version of myself that was inauthentic. I did not contribute myself—not fully, not authentically. I withheld my truth and in doing so, I deprived my partners of truly choosing me. They got the superficial version of me. A Stepford Wife version that was a lie. It was dishonest.

    I didn’t understand that a healthy relationship requires openness, authenticity, and honest self-expression. That was something that has never been part of my relationship blueprint. It was not something that had ever been allowed or encouraged in the past.

    And so, I followed my pattern. I desperately wanted a healthy relationship, but it looked like it just wasn’t going to happen for me.

    I couldn’t have what I wanted because I didn’t ask for it, and others didn’t consider me because I didn’t provide them with anything to consider. I relied on their guesses, which were usually wrong. I put my responsibility for my own well-being onto my partners and made myself dependent on their best guesses, which was never going to work out well for anyone.

    I am now a fierce advocate for self-expression. Self-expression as a way to well-being and healthy connections. Self-expression as an expression of self-care, self-respect, and self-love. Self-expression as the gateway to real, raw, and deep intimacy.

    Maybe, like ‘old me’, you believe that censoring yourself and inhibiting your feelings is good for your partner or your relationship. Maybe you feel stronger or tougher for doing so. Maybe you’ve never given it any thought before, and that’s okay.

    But please know that you are worthy of expressing yourself. You need to take up space. Your feelings and desires matter. They can’t matter to anyone if they don’t matter to you first.

    A healthy relationship requires you to be in it. All of you. You cannot experience deep connection and intimacy if you are not there for it. You cannot make good partner choices if you’re not honest with yourself or consider yourself.

    It is time to free yourself from old patterns that stop you from getting the love you want. It’s time to finally let yourself be heard and be seen. And all of that starts with you. Say yes to self-expression! Get honest with yourself about how you feel and what you want and don’t want.

    That is how you become safe for yourself and safe to be in a healthy relationship with.

  • A Person Becomes Ten Times More Attractive, Not by Their Looks…

    A Person Becomes Ten Times More Attractive, Not by Their Looks…

  • Why We Need to Stop Hiding and Share the Beauty in Our Brokenness

    Why We Need to Stop Hiding and Share the Beauty in Our Brokenness

    “Out of perfection nothing can be made. Every process involves breaking something up. The earth must be broken to bring forth life. If the seed does not die there is no plant. Bread results from the death of wheat. Life lives on lives. Our own life lives on the act of other people. If you are lifeworthy, you can take it.” ~Joseph Campbell

    Head on my pillow, tears in my eyes, a list of to-dos in my brain, I felt unable to move my body. I’d worked so hard to leave behind this person who stayed in bed avoiding life. But someone’s angry words had pierced my soul, and I once again was a prisoner to my bed, my thoughts, and my anxiety.

    It wasn’t so much the disagreement that stung, but the chuckles and snide “You can’t really believe that?” More than “mansplaining,” he was patronizing and questioning my intelligence.

    I tried to stop the personal attacks by “setting up boundaries,” as they say. No doubt I did not express myself in a calm, clear manner, as my blood was boiling. However, I tried to protect my integrity during the argument for the first time in this particular relationship.

    What now, though? Concern for the future of this relationship was what was now spiraling out of control in my head and overwhelming my thoughts.

    In retrospect, the fight hadn’t left me paralyzed with anxiety; it was the new way of dealing with belittling behavior that I had allowed myself. This was unchartered territory.

    I had dared to make a change in a relationship. Now, I was awash with the resulting questions about what came next and if I’d done the right thing.

    Without leaving my bed, I catapulted myself out of yet another comfort zone by reaching out to a group of supportive people. Phone in hand, I scrambled to type the message before I could think myself out of it.

    A few days before, a friend and I had heard author and activist Glennon Doyle speak. She encouraged the audience to speak our truths, “Blow shit up, and walk away like Wonder Woman.” So, that morning, as I licked my wounds, I told my truth to a safe audience.

    Like a dog offering up his belly in a display of vulnerability, I spoke the truth of where I was. I pulled back the curtain and said life has knocked me down. Can I get a hand up? The responding support was worth the risk.

    Not long after, I heard the song “This Is Me” from the movie The Greatest Showman for the first time. I rushed home and looked up the lyrical version on YouTube. I sat and absorbed the rising beat.

    I read the words as Kesha belted them out. Words like “Today, I won’t let the shame sink in,” and “I am bruised. I am who I’m meant to be. This is me.”

    My soul surged. I sucked in the words and rhythm like air. I marinated in the meaning, replaying it over and over.

    I wanted to announce my bruises too. I’ve battled depression my entire adult life; “this is me.” My latest psychologist diagnosed me with generalized anxiety disorder; “this is me.” No one knows about my battles with bulimia, but “today, I won’t let the shame sink in.”

    I headed off to the gym with my new warrior anthem playing in my head. I’m pumped. I greet everyone with a huge smile on my face. This is my happy place.

    I got to an exercise requiring balance, which I lack. My arms are flitting around being more comical than helpful. The lady next to me says, “See? You’ve worked it out!”

    Wait, what is she seeing? I’m flailing around like a fish out of water, and she sees “worked it out?” This sends me back in my head thinking about the song and my story and my struggles.

    I rushed home and wrote the truth about all the messiness that lies beneath what people see. I wrote about how I “worked it out” through my battles with mental illness, not despite them.

    I started telling my truth and in doing so, embracing it. With every scribbled word, I accepted my wounds a little more.

    I wrote about all the things that I thought I had to keep hidden in order to be presentable. My struggles had been my flaws, my “dirty little secrets.” I wanted to tidy up the pieces of my broken world before I could let anyone in.

    I had it all wrong. Our scars are the proof that we are living and growing. Our strength is that we have battled with demons and are still standing.

    Just look at the natural world. It transforms flaws and mistakes into beauty all the time.

    The pearl starts as an intruding piece of sand. Protecting itself from the intruder, an oyster creates a thing of value.

    Quartz is naturally colorless, but if iron mistakenly mixes in, it turns a beautiful purple, resulting in amethyst. The bodies of long-extinct creatures are now our fuel.

    The power of the universe is on display when it turns decay into value. There are no wasted failures in nature. They are simply transformed and renewed.

    What if beauty begins when the imaginary ideal is broken? What if the universe needs the messy, broken, and failed to demonstrate its power to make the defective whole? What if we have that same power to turn our battles into our beauty?

    I’m convinced now of the inherent beauty of the damaged parts, and that we must resist the temptation to air brush our lives as if they are cover girls. Hiding robs us of our divine power to turn our broken pieces into something wondrous.

    The broken bits don’t go back together the same way as before, though. We may have to mourn that fact. For example, life after divorce will never look the same. Mourning that loss is healthy, but shouldn’t forever immobilize.

    The caterpillar has no choice but to transform into a butterfly. We, however, can impede our transformation like I did through shame, guilt, denial, and hiding. There is so much value that can come from our damaged, defeated souls if we open them up to the light.

    To courageously tell our truth allows others to see the beauty and hope in the battlefield before them. We are so much more than what life has thrown our way. We are the warriors who are still standing no matter how many times we had to get off the ground. When we become vulnerable enough to illuminate our brokenness, we harness the power of the universe to create beauty out of failure.

  • Our Shame Does Not Have to Silence Us Unless We Let It

    Our Shame Does Not Have to Silence Us Unless We Let It

    “Empathy’s the antidote to shame. The two most powerful words when we’re in struggle: me too.” ~ Brené Brown

    There is so much power in giving yourself a voice, in choosing to use that voice for truth, in giving life to the secrets, judgment, and shame you keep hidden away. “Me too” can change someone’s life.

    I learned this firsthand almost a decade ago. It changed my life, and it’s changed countless others around me.

    I gave my shame a voice, and she was loud, strong, and bold. She brought light to a secret others would have preferred I kept. She brought comfort in my struggle. She brought wisdom in my pain. She began what would be a lifetime of courage, speaking up, and going first. She started it all.

    My Secret Shame

    Let’s go back to what started this story of shame to begin with. Rewind nine years. I was sixteen at the time, and there I was, standing in only lingerie and a pair of incredibly high and uncomfortable heels, applying makeup to make me look older…braces and all.

    Nine years ago I was a prostitute. I was legally allowed to have sex, yet I was illegally standing in a high-end brothel hours from home, trying my best to pretend I knew what I was doing—read as: I had NO idea.

    Why on earth was I there, you may ask? I made a choice. A misguided choice, but still a choice. A choice my mother supported because we’d both gotten caught up in the glamorized story her friend, also an escort, had created and manipulated us into seeing.

    “I just see men as money,” she told me, which sounded appealing given that we had little at the time. I was stronger than my mum, and we both knew it. So I chose; it would be me.

    At an age where I was supposed to be exploring what being in my body felt like for me, I was being passed around like an object so others could explore my body.

    Night after night I would go numb. I would silence the inner voice screaming to leave with Valium, alcohol (because I was nineteen, according to my forged birth certificate), and sleep deprivation. I was in all-out survival mode, and I was experiencing guilt, shame, and invasion again and again. The longer I stayed silent, the stronger it all became.

    I was a good little girl and kept my mouth shut, doing what I thought I had to do to survive. Be quiet. Say nothing. Just oblige. Don’t rock the boat.

    So I didn’t.

    I stayed a few weeks and spent many hours, sleepless days, and countless showers trying to wash away the shame I was carrying. Until I couldn’t keep it quiet anymore. I couldn’t not speak. I couldn’t not vocalize how I felt. I couldn’t not say no anymore.

    So I said no and began taking my life back.

    Many people will blame my mum. Some always will. Many can’t understand how I let the blame go. But I spent many years condemning her, and the world of victimhood sucked me in deep. In order to heal and move on, I needed to accept the decision we had both made. And I needed to accept that, like all humans, she did the best she could with what she had at the time.

    Please know there was anger there, and at times there still is. Sometimes I feel hurt, let down, and all the rest. But I choose to rise above it, and I choose a new future for myself by letting go of the need to be a victim in any of this. Because I never was, and never will be.

    Owning my past and releasing my shame is the most empowering decision I’ve ever made for myself. It all started with empathy. I had to stop believing that I was ultimately flawed because I had been a prostitute. I had to recognize that I too was doing the best I could at the time.

    I could not be living the life I am now, in the relationship I’m in with myself right now, without seeing the sixteen-year-old me with utter love and compassion, dissipating all judgment.

    I need you to know that speaking up about my shame was scary. I was outing a secret that impacted many more than just me. Yet I never hesitated in doing it. Why? Because I had a deep desire to let others know that they are never alone, and I knew there was a deeper meaning to all of this. There had to be; it’s what got me through.

    I couldn’t let my shame silence me. I never will again.

    The Gift of Voicing My Shame

    It was through experiencing shame and sharing it that I learned the power and freedom voicing our shame brings. And the understanding of what binds so many of us. How many people are walking through life silenced by shame? Unable to find their voice for fear of judgment? As a result, what kind of life are they living? In stuffing down their pain, they end up blocking themselves from joy.

    How fortunate was I to be able to experience shame and then release it? Yes, fortunate.

    I now appreciate that I was able to learn something early in life, at an age many others wouldn’t, that freed me from the chains that bound so tightly and weighed me down so deeply.

    Sharing my shame created a beautiful opportunity for me to look at my life so far through a totally new lens. I came to appreciate that my most painful experiences had gifted me the insight and heightened awareness I now have.

    What unfolded from me speaking was a declaration to myself, and to the world, that we do not need to stay silent with our shame. I publicly shared my experiences, as well as the self-harm and self-destruction that followed, and a sea of “me too’s” flooded in.

    People reached out thanking me for letting them know they aren’t alone.

    People reached out acknowledging me for being inspiring and giving them the courage to do the same.

    One woman even contacted me, saying she left the sex trade after my story went public, because… “me too.”

    All of this came from the courage to speak up.

    Lives were changed, and mine was never the same.

    Our shame does not have to silence us. Unless we let it.

    To anyone experiencing their own secret shame, this is what I want you to know.

    Whether you’ve experienced something traumatic or feel shame about not having it all together, speak up. Shame cannot exist if you have empathy, a voice, and acceptance.

    We all experience shame, for different reasons, at different times. It’s okay.

    There is no shame in being you. Please reread that again and again. You are not your worst decisions. No matter what you’ve done, you deserve love, empathy, and understanding. And you are never alone.

  • Honesty Is a Gift, So We Don’t Have to Hide Our True Feelings

    Honesty Is a Gift, So We Don’t Have to Hide Our True Feelings

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

    I’ll never forget my progress report from third grade: “Jennifer shows disappointment when she’s not called on.”

    This must have been a bad thing, because my mother sat me down to talk about it. Apparently, when I raised my hand and wasn’t called on, I frowned. I was to work on that, to try to stay neutral, to not show I was upset.

    I also clearly remember the day my dad came over to my mom’s house to tell me his father, my grandfather, had passed away. I was twelve, and I started crying. My father told me to stop crying because it was going to make him cry.

    Once again, I felt as if I was being scolded for having feelings and showing them.

    Years later, when I was very stressed out at a high-pressure job, I was crying in my own private office. The CEO of the tiny company walked by and then came in to talk to me for a few minutes, then left.

    The next time I had a performance review, I was told, in not so many words, that crying was not allowed. If I had emotions to express, I should go outside and walk around the building until I felt better.

    All of these incidents made me feel embarrassed and ashamed. I shouldn’t show my emotions of disappointment or sadness. I shouldn’t allow myself to feel stressed out, especially if it meant shedding tears.

    These experiences seemed to be the world showing me that it was my job to stay still and quiet, and that I should smile even when I didn’t want to, and that I should prevent my messy emotions from ever impacting anyone else.

    The trouble was, and is, that I have a terrible time hiding my emotions. I’m an emotional person, and if I’m sad or overcome with emotion, I cry. If I’m disappointed, I frown. If I’m happy, I smile or laugh.

    Still, I’ve gotten good at trying to moderate my emotions, especially in social or work situations, in order to present myself a certain way. A way that does not allow me to be my true self.

    Luckily, though, something happened that made me realize that trying to mask my emotions was ultimately taking me out of alignment and out of touch with everything I’m here to learn and experience.

    One day, I heard the author and spiritual teacher Martha Beck talking about her “integrity cleanse,” and something clicked in me.

    She said that a couple of years ago she started attempting to live in complete integrity—always telling the truth (in a kind way, of course)—and that it has changed her life in profound ways. She said for her, even if the expression on her face doesn’t match up with how she’s feeling in her body, she’s out of integrity.

    Boom! That’s exactly what I needed to hear.

    I finally realized that showing and expressing my emotions was actually a good thing, probably one of the most important parts of my healing journey and time on this planet.

    Instead of walking through this life pretending I’m okay when really I’m heartbroken, or acting like I’m not offended by a racist joke, or smiling when someone says something that makes upset, I need to honor and express my feelings.

    I’m going to tell you a secret, though: It’s freaking hard. As much as I say I don’t want to hide my true feelings, in many ways it’s a habit.

    Who wants to upset their parent or spouse? Who wants to ruffle feathers at work? Who wants to walk away from a boring conversation and worry about being perceived as rude?

    The thing is, any time we’re hiding our emotions or pretending we do or don’t feel something in order to protect ourselves or someone else, we’re lying. We’re lying to ourselves, and we’re lying to the other person.

    And lying? It’s bad for the body, mind, and spirit. It breaks you down and stresses you out. It causes rifts and gaps in your family and with your friends.

    Here are some things you might want to keep in mind if you decide to allow your true feelings to show no matter who you’re with or what the circumstance.

    Sometimes you’re going to upset people. The thing is, if you always tell the truth, some people are simply not going to like it.

    There are some people in your world who likely want you to stay small, or to stay emotionless. If you are going to start expressing what you feel, know that some people will end up exiting your life.

    You’re not going to be immediately good at this right away, and it’s going to take time to feel comfortable expressing yourself in every situation. I am so, so not there yet. I still find myself smiling politely when really I want to run away, or answering a question in a way that doesn’t feel true to me.

    Yet, in many other ways I’ve created beautiful relationships where I don’t have to say “I’m fine” when they ask me how my day is going. I can tell them the real, scary feelings I’m having.

    I believe the best way to approach this is notice and acknowledge to yourself when you’re denying your emotions, even if you’re not ready to say it out loud. At least you’re telling the truth to yourself, and that’s an incredibly important first step.

    This is going to be very scary. If you’ve been hiding your real self and real emotions for a long time, or if you hide them from a large number of people, this is probably going to be the most frightening thing you ever do.

    Take it slowly. Practice not smiling at that coworker who always insists you smile. Tell him or her “No thanks, not right now.”

    Allow yourself to cry in front of a friend, even if you’re normally too embarrassed to do something like that.

    Let yourself express anger to someone who says something offensive or dishonors you in some way. You can do it.

    If you have kids, start teaching them to express their true emotions as early as possible, as it will make their own emotional lives much easier.

    My daughter is three, and though I sometimes catch myself trying to distract her from negative feelings, she responds so beautifully to me sitting down at her eye level and acknowledging her angry or sad feelings.

    I believe it’s a gift to allow others to feel what they feel, and that it creates honest, open humans.

    Ask for help in being absolutely true to yourself. Ask a friend or your partner to support you in your journey. If it’s in line with your belief system, ask a higher power for help in being open and honest with your feelings.

    Set the intention each morning that you wish to honor your own feelings, emotions, and truth, but that you also wish to do so in the kindest, most loving manner possible.

    You can do this. You deserve to do this, and the people you interact with deserve to know you in your truest form.

    This is not easy, but it does get easier, and I believe it’s the greatest gift we can give to ourselves and each other, even if my third-grade teacher would disagree.

  • Honesty Saves Everyone’s Time

    Honesty Saves Everyone’s Time

  • If You Want To Know Love, Stop Lying

    If You Want To Know Love, Stop Lying

    young couple in love outdoor,illustration,digital painting

    “Lies may make people feel better, but they do not help them to know love.” ~Bell Hooks

    I was once a liar. I didn’t know I was a liar at the time. I didn’t consciously tell an untruth. Instead, my entire being did.

    Lying isn’t just something that is done with words. We can lie with our actions. We can lie with our silence. We can lie with our complicity. We can lie by pretending to be who we aren’t.

    I was the lie.

    I played dress up for most of my life. It didn’t happen all at once. I didn’t walk into someone else’s closet and come out with a new wardrobe. It happened slowly, over time.

    Each time I said or did something that didn’t get approval from the world around me, I chose to pull a garment from the imaginary closet of people who are lovable. By the time I was twenty, my true self was so far hidden that even I didn’t know where she was.

    It first began by disappearing. I felt rejected by my peers in grade school. It felt like so much work to be liked and popular. So I decided to give up trying. But instead of just being myself, I decided to hide away. Being unnoticed seemed easier than being seen for who I was.

    College was my opportunity to reinvent myself. But when I got there I found out I couldn’t force myself into being outgoing or easily likable. So I turned awkward. I was hyper self-conscious that I was not being myself, but I didn’t know how to let myself just be. So my body got stiff, my movements fidgety, and my voice uncertain.

    I began to watch other people and would, in the slightest ways, begin to mimic them. I’d adopt someone’s laugh, another person’s style, and someone else’s slang. This mishmash of what I thought it meant to be likable only kept me further away from the truth of who I really was.

    I had friends, but no one really knew me. I was lost and lying about who I was. I pretended like I had it all figured out because admitting that I was clueless would mean my world would come crashing down.

    When we build identities for ourselves we can’t risk allowing them to crumble. So we lie. We create more masks to wear and keep ourselves further from the truth. Our egos know that if one brick loosens, everything we’ve worked so hard for will be ruined.

    When we choose to deny who we truly are, we are lying. Lying is a choice, one that deeply harms ourselves and oftentimes, those around us. And even though it is a choice, it’s one that is very easy to hide from. In our search for love we will do almost anything to attain our goal even if it means denying ourselves the truth.

    The irony, though, is that love itself is impossible without honesty. If you find yourself desperate to know what love really is, take a deep breath and look at how honest you are about you.

    Do you really know yourself? Do you share who you are with the world? Are you overly concerned with what other people think about you? Will you change yourself to be accepted by others? These are all great questions to help you recognize how comfortable you are with your true self.

    Uncovering yourself is part of the path. It’s okay to share with people that you don’t know. That you’re confused. That you’re lost. That you feel pain. That you’re in the process of getting to know yourself.

    You don’t have to use all your energy to put on the facade that you’ve got it all figured out. It’s okay to not have it all together. When you begin to open up and communicate with others about who you truly are, you begin the opportunity to discover what love is.

    The people who open their hearts to you will create a beautiful container for love to grow. Those who are triggered by who you are will move their own way. Let them go. Stay connected to your truth and keep sharing with the people in your life.

    As I began to test the waters in my friendships I started to open up about my feelings of shame and guilt.

    I have one memory of sitting at the kitchen table with a girlfriend and telling her something I had never told anyone. I could feel the space opening between us as she acknowledged my feelings and matched them with her own experiences of similar feelings.

    Sharing ourselves allows us to know love. Love makes us feel safe and wanted. It makes us feel connected and like we belong.

    We often lie when we’re afraid of the truth. When we lie about who we are, we tend to be afraid that who we are isn’t lovable. If we show our true selves and we aren’t loved and accepted, we don’t know how we’ll recover.

    We recover by loving ourselves. But you can’t love yourself if you don’t know who you are. You can’t love yourself if you’re using all your energy to put on an act for everyone else. And other people can’t love you when they don’t know who you are.

    So if you want to know love, show yourself. Take off the mask. Let go of all the energy it takes to be someone else and use it to discover who it is you truly are. Love that person up and watch as the world loves you back.

  • A Simple Way to Really See Each Other and Be Seen

    A Simple Way to Really See Each Other and Be Seen

    Kids at a Table

    “Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals.” ~Pema Chodron

    Growing up, my family ate dinner together nearly every night. It was a given. My mom also created a tradition called “go around the table,” in which everyone in my family would take turns sharing the details of our day.

    I often think back on this memory with awe at the impact this simple yet profound activity has had on my life.

    While I do not yet have a family, I have introduced “go around the table” to friends at dinner parties and colleagues at work events, and have experienced the benefits of this practice in the classroom, support groups, and spiritual groups.

    Sitting around a table with others and sharing is an experience that allows you to see and be seen, and if you have not done it lately, I suspect it could change your life.

    With the guidelines below, you can introduce this activity to your family, colleagues, or any other trusted group that seeks to nurture and improve communication, confidence, leadership skills, and community.

    1. The table is for sharing, not discussing.

    In my family, going around the table meant sharing about the events of our day. Sometimes this meant also sharing how these events made us feel, but we never used this time to plan a family vacation, talk about chores, or discuss “business” of any kind. This is especially important if your table exists in the workplace.

     2. Talk about your day (or week, depending on how often your table meets).

    You will find yourself wanting to pose specific questions or otherwise shape the way your table shares, but it’s important to keep it very simple.

    The focus of the activity is for each person at the table to tell his or her story in this moment in time. Why? Mostly because my mom said so, but also because having an audience to witness our stories as we tell them is extremely validating and empowering. It also gives us the power to own our stories.

    “Go around the table” also begs us to learn the art of storytelling—as a kid, my siblings and I quickly learned how to engage each other as we went around the table.

    When it was my turn to share, I always began, “I woke up,” and everyone would kind of grumble but also smile. I was funny (and a total hack). I was also learning that I like to make people laugh and humor is a good way to get my message across.

    As you share, you will find what type of communication works best for you.

    3. Just listen.

    When it’s not your turn to talk, you don’t talk. Period. When it is your turn to talk, you do not respond to another person’s story; you simply tell your story.

    Once you learn how to not interrupt others with your speech, you can begin to learn how to not interrupt others with your thoughts. When someone else is speaking, try not to plan what you are going to say. Just listen.

    Learning to really listen to what others have to say makes us better family members, friends, employees, managers, and people.

    4. No one is in charge.

    You will need someone to facilitate the sharing, but this does not make them the boss. The facilitator simply calls on someone to share first, and then rejoins the group as you “go around the table.”

    The table is a group of peers offering compassionate listening to each other. Avoid viewing one another through hierarchical dichotomies like teacher/student, counselor/patient, healer/wounded, or even parent/child. These relationships have purpose in other settings, but in this exercise, everyone is equal.

    If people begin to speak out of turn or abuse the sharing time in any way, each member of the group is equally responsible for maintaining decorum.

    When there are very few rules, you may be surprised at how steadfastly your table members adhere to them, even if they are very small children.

    5. Allow yourself to be heard.

    Talking out loud in a group setting is really scary. It is not something that comes easily or naturally to most people, and cultivating this ability to be heard is one of the best ways to live in a more awakened state.

    When you are talking, and people are listening, you are yanked into the present moment.

    When you learn to share in this way, you will have terrifying yet beautiful moments when you notice that everyone is listening to you. Breathe and continue your story in this moment, and eventually you may enjoy it. This is true for introverts and extroverts alike.

    Learning to be heard will grow your confidence and give you power.

    6. Be vulnerable.

    Sometimes you will come to the table carrying a heavy burden. One benefit of this practice is that talking about your fears, anxieties, or challenges will lighten your load.

    Be vulnerable and share and you will find peace as you allow yourself to be supported by the others at your table.

    7. If you don’t want to share, don’t.

    You may come to the table feeling something that can’t be articulated. When it’s your turn to talk, you can always pass.

    Don’t ever feel pressured to talk about something that you don’t feel ready to talk about and don’t make something up just so you have something to say. This activity demands authenticity or it doesn’t work.

    Additionally, the more you put into the exercise, the more you get out, so even if you decide not to share, don’t check out. Be present and listen to what others say.

    8. The table is free.

    There are a lot of groups out there that offer this type of experience to members, and most of them are wonderful, healing places. If you decide to join a new group or meet-up, do your research and trust your intuition.

    Everyone at your table should feel free to come and go as they please. If someone at your table wants you to offer something that does not feel right to you, whether financially, sexually, emotionally, energetically, or otherwise, walk away and find a new table.

    If you feel scared to leave or do not know how, find someone outside of the group to talk to. You should never be asked to give more than you are willing or able to give, and you should never be made to feel guilty for walking away from the group for any reason. This is true even if the others at your table are your family.

    My mom is a really incredible woman who taught her children compassion from a young age and above all else. Going around the table is an exercise in compassion, and my hope in sharing this practice is that her wisdom will continue to affect positive growth in others.

    Happy kids cartoon via Shutterstock

  • When You’re Afraid to Speak Up and Be Yourself in Relationships

    When You’re Afraid to Speak Up and Be Yourself in Relationships

    Upset Woman

    “Your fear is boring.” ~Elizabeth Gilbert

    It has taken me eighteen years of marriage, two kids, and twenty-plus years of healing to realize I have been afraid of being myself with my husband.

    It has taken me decades to step into my power and become the fiercely alive, joyful, and creative expression I am today.

    I often think about the guy I met at the bar on the beach and wonder about things like fate, purpose, and “The Grand Plan,” meant-to-be sort of stuff. I stare at my two gorgeous children and part of me knows that every morsel of pain was worth it. But I am sad and tired.

    I have everything I am supposed to have, I have done everything I was supposed to do, and I have achieved so much, but still there is a hole in my soul.

    Am I afraid to bring the bigger love into my life, to feel joy? Am I meant to suffer? Do I have the nerve to stick this out, face the mirror, and do the vulnerable work it might take to get where I want to be?

    I have lots of unanswered questions.

    Yet, when I slide out of my confused mind for a bit, into the now of me sitting in the little sanctuary I created, where I sort out my dreams, I am truly at peace.

    The meanings and troubles, the disagreements and polarized values that plague my marriage with tension and keep me from deeper love disappear in a poof of sunrays through my big window.

    I realized, after many years of searching, that I have been afraid to be me, but the me I have been afraid of expressing to my husband isn’t the same me he married.

    I don’t remember feeling afraid when we met, all glistening and sandy on the beach, giving each other those “You’re sexy” and “I dig you” kind of smiles.

    Standing there, gazing into his adoring eyes, at the beginning of my life, my career, and my marriage, I hadn’t arrived yet. The divine, creative, fiercely alive woman and healer would emerge many years later, so now I wonder, who the heck got married?

    And so it goes—the people we marry, the family we grow up with, and the friends we have adventures with are growing, shifting, changing, and transforming, each in their own way, each on their own path, navigating life by our sides for a while until we don’t recognize each other.

    I look up at my husband after he screams at our son for making his sister shriek by sitting on her, and I cower into the three-year-old little girl I have been fighting for forty years to not be. Who is that little girl, and why is she so afraid all of a sudden?

    I am in a place in my life and marriage now where I can no longer tolerate what I feel when the three year old shows up.

    I am braver and have cultivated the awareness it takes and the practices necessary to be with people who are on a different path, who may not be growing along with me, or worse, who criticize me for the way I live.

    It seems like it took forever to get to the place where I am not willing to compromise my self-worth, but the rewards have been great.

    These are the practices that allow me to stay and be me in this relationship.

    1. Get clear about who matters to you, and why.

    It is easy to stay confused about life; confusion doesn’t require making a choice or taking action.

    I had to acknowledge that my marriage meant everything to me before I could commit to staying the course and devote to energy required to do that.

    2. Get help with learning how to move through your fear and speak up for what you want in your relationships.

    You can’t expect the people you love to read your mind, so express yourself, even when you are afraid. I received much help over the years to do this simple thing.

    My rituals and practices have included therapies that opened my heart and energy, enhanced my awareness, and helped me discover my self-worth, such as:

    • John F. Barnes Myofascial Release
    • Acupuncture
    • Meditation
    • Breathwork
    • Emotional Freedom Technique
    • Life Coaching

    A little work on my throat chakra didn’t hurt either. When I opened up the blocks and the fear that kept me from expressing my voice, a whole new world opened up to me.

     3. Discipline your mind.

    Challenge the negative thoughts that sabotage your efforts to speak up, and fight for what you want in your relationships.

    Your fear voice will come up with all sorts of reasons not to speak your mind. Some of them may be valid concerns; if you fear that speaking up may rock the boat, know that it possibly will. Unless you want to repress your true self indefinitely, it’s a risk worth taking.

    As I recognized my fear voice more and more, and got comfortable differentiating her from the me that was the intuitive, joyful healer, I was able to give her a name: Martha.

    Now, whenever that voice pipes up, I call her out. That separates me from the noise going on in my head and the meanings I give to the situations that make me feel powerless. When I notice Martha doing the talking, I detach. With awareness, I choose to believe and act differently in my conversations with people.

    There are many ways to discipline your mind and detach from the negative thoughts that control you.

    • Therapies and books that focused on the mind/body connection were important for my transformation, such as Eckhart Tolle’s book A New Earth. Other authors that changed my perspective and boosted my awareness include Dr. Wayne Dyer, Rhonda Byrne, John F. Barnes, Anthony De Mello, Peter Levine, and Bruce Lipton. The key is to find the resource that wakes you up to the connection between your thoughts and your suffering.
    • Therapeutic writing and journaling helped me sort things out. This is a powerful tool that you can use to reflect and move the thoughts and energy from the inside to the outside, where it’s just words on a page.
    • Talking and connecting with other people can also be powerful. Sometimes a conversation about relationships or the mysteries of life will give you new perspective, and if you are paying attention, they might also provide a mirror to look at your own beliefs and attitudes.

    4. Recognize when you feel fear, and use it as a compass.

    Feel fear as a bodily sensation, keeping you small or preventing you from expressing the you that you desire to be in your relationships.

    Fear can be your compass, giving you an opportunity to move through it and speak your truth.

    To be myself with my husband meant I had to do this over and over again, and I did, learning along the way as the triggers got quieter and my confidence grew. Now, when I feel that tightness in my chest, I know it means I have a chance to express myself and do a tiny bit of healing.

    5. Decide which relationships to let go of and which ones to nurture.

    This is the choice that matters the most. Most days it was easier to just stay confused about this, playing out the foggy drama of my fears. Martha sounded something like, “I just don’t know what to do about this,” or “I just can’t make a decision,” or, my favorite, “I am just not smart/good/strong enough to make this happen.”

    Getting clear about what I wanted, staying awake to my fear, and loving myself enough to make a choice was way more complicated and difficult than being confused. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth it.

    I am going to nudge you gently now and ask you to take action on your dreams for big love.

    Get clear about what you want. Start making choices, be aware of your thoughts, and move through the fear by speaking your truth to the people who matter most to you. The simple act of expressing yourself to the world is where the magic begins.

    Upset woman image via Shutterstock