Tag: husband

Life After Abuse: A Story of Hope and Healing

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

Growing up, I learned early on how to be aware of the little things that spoke volumes. My mom wasn’t just an alcoholic; she was also bipolar, and I never knew if I’d come home to a mom who was cheerful and loving or to one who would say hurtful things and obsess over cleaning.

I grew up in AA, surrounded by people trying to rebuild their lives. My parents were both recovering alcoholics, and while I didn’t fully understand it at the time, it made sense later in life. The environment made it easier for me to fall into drugs.

When I was fifteen, my first experience with meth came at the hands of adults who, in hindsight, should have known better. At the time, I couldn’t understand why they would lead me down that path. However, as I’ve gone through my healing journey, I’ve come to realize that those individuals were deeply broken themselves. They were trapped in their own struggles, in a place of darkness and pain, and they simply didn’t know any better.

For six years, meth controlled my life. My addiction led me into a toxic, abusive relationship with my now ex-husband.

He was supposed to save me. He was my knight in shining armor, my prince, the person I thought would protect me, love me, and help me heal. He was once my best friend, someone I trusted more than anyone else. But all of that changed.

I remember the first time he hit me. It was a moment I’ll never forget. I had broken his picture on purpose, trying to send some sort of message, trying to make him feel the anger and hurt I had inside me. But in return, he punched me in the face.

I went down, stunned, but then I got up. I hit him back. He hit me again, and I got up again, hitting him back in an attempt to defend myself. This went on a few more times before I couldn’t get back up anymore. He stood over me, telling me, “Stay down, stay down,” and in that moment, I felt broken.

It was the first time I truly saw how deeply our relationship was damaging me, but even then, I couldn’t see a way out. There was something inside of me that had already started to shatter, piece by piece. It was as if the very foundation of who I was was crumbling, but I couldn’t figure out how to rebuild it. I had spent so much time in survival mode that I couldn’t recognize the destruction.

The abuse had taken its toll on me, eroding my sense of self, and I didn’t know how to escape the cycle. I had once believed in this person, believed that he would protect me, but in that moment, I saw that he was the very one hurting me. Yet, I was still stuck in the relationship, still hoping for a change that would never come.

Trauma has a way of blurring the lines between love and pain, and in that moment, I couldn’t see that the person who was supposed to be my protector had become my abuser.

It was a crushing realization, but at that time, I didn’t know how to fight my way out. I was trapped in a world of emotional and physical turmoil, and it felt like a prison I couldn’t escape from.

I don’t know why I ever allowed it. I know that the person in that relationship was not me. The things I did and the things I allowed were not who I truly was. I was not weak because I was in that relationship, and I was not weak because I stayed.

Abuse and trauma do things to you that you would never imagine. It’s not just the emotional scars that leave a mark—it’s physical, too. Your body becomes so attuned to constant stress, to the fight or flight that never stops, that it begins to break down.

The tension, the fear, and the anxiety all build up and stay with you. Your heart races, your muscles tighten and stay that way, your sleep is restless, and your body is in a constant state of exhaustion. Trauma doesn’t just affect your mind; it takes a toll on your body, making you feel physically sick, tired, or overwhelmed without knowing why.

You are so broken down, piece by piece, that you are just stuck. Every part of you—your body, your mind, your soul—becomes conditioned to expect pain. Your sense of self diminishes, and you start to believe that this is the way things will always be.

But it’s not weakness. That’s strength. That is survival. The strength to keep going, even when every part of you is begging to give up.

Trauma rewires you. It changes how you see the world and how you see yourself. It takes away your ability to trust, to feel safe, to love without fear. It leaves you questioning your worth, but deep down, there is a flicker of strength, a small voice telling you that you are more than the broken pieces. It tells you that you are worthy of healing, worthy of peace. And eventually, you start to listen to that voice, even though it feels so small. That voice, that strength, is what ultimately pulls you out of the darkness.

Our relationship was destructive on both sides. His hands were violent, and my words were sharp, cutting deep into both of us. It wasn’t just the abuse—it was the shame, the hopelessness, and the feeling that things would never get better. But there were also moments of love, moments that reminded me of the three beautiful kids we brought into the world. They were my light, the reason I kept going even when everything around me seemed to be falling apart.

I couldn’t bear the thought of them growing up in that environment, witnessing violence, and believing that it was normal. My son, only eleven, had to hit his dad with a broom to get him off me—it hit me harder than anything. It wasn’t just about me anymore; it was about their futures.

If I stayed, I knew my daughters were going to experience the same kind of abuse. They would believe that they deserved it, that this was what love looked like. And my son—he was learning that this was how men treat women. The cycle was being set. It was a terrifying realization, and I couldn’t let it happen.

That day, when my son stood up for me, it was as if I saw the future laid out in front of me—a future where my children, like me, would be broken.

That was the moment I knew I had to leave. I knew that getting out was the only way I could protect them—and heal myself in the process. If I didn’t, I would be condemning them to the same broken, destructive life I had lived, and I couldn’t allow that. They deserved better, and so did I.

We stayed together for twelve years, but eventually, my ex took the kids. I was too scared to fight for them, too broken to believe I could do better. For a long time, I carried the weight of that loss, feeling like I had failed them. But I’ve spent the years since working to repair the damage, to rebuild the trust, and to be the best mom I can be for them.

After my ex took the kids, I spiraled into a place darker than I ever thought possible. My heart ached, not just from the loss of my children, but from the emptiness that consumed me. I turned to alcohol, a familiar crutch that numbed the pain for a little while. But the numbness never lasted, and the deeper I sank, the more I made terrible choices. My life became a series of bad decisions, one after another, and every one of them felt like a reflection of how broken I was inside.

My ex-husband used my kids to hurt me. He told them I didn’t want them, twisting the truth to create more distance between us. He took any money I sent them, using it to make me feel powerless, like I had no control over anything, not even the small ways I tried to help.

When they called to talk to me or I called them, the name “incubator” was what they saw on the phone—it was the name my ex had saved for me. Every time they called, or I reached out, I was reminded of how little I seemed to matter, how distant and cold I had been reduced to in his eyes.

For a long time, I only saw my kids for six weeks in the summer. The summers were nice, but I didn’t have a car or money, and I couldn’t offer them experiences or fun. I wish I could’ve done more; I wish I could’ve been better for them. I wanted to give them everything, but I couldn’t. It was heartbreaking, knowing I was limited in so many ways, knowing my kids deserved so much more. I felt like I was failing them every single day.

I finally reached a point where I couldn’t just keep wishing I had done better. I had to take action. I knew I had to work to rebuild the relationship with my kids and show them that, despite all the mistakes I made, I could still be there for them. I started finding ways to improve, to create a stable life, even if it meant small steps forward. I realized that as long as I was trying, I wasn’t lost. And if I could get myself to a place where I was better for them, then that was all that mattered.

I was diagnosed with complex PTSD, and dealing with it has been a long and painful journey. I still deal with flashbacks and nightmares that take me back to moments I wish I could forget. There are times when I still don’t feel like I can make my dreams come true. I struggle with the feeling that I don’t deserve it, that I’m not worthy of a life beyond the pain I’ve known. Sometimes, I continue to live in fear, afraid of failing, of being stuck, of letting the past define me.

But I don’t give up. I keep pushing forward. I started with therapy. I began looking inward, facing the things I’d been avoiding for so long. But therapy wasn’t enough. It wasn’t until I started seeking something deeper, something spiritual, that I began to feel like I was truly healing.

I began exploring meditation, shadow work, and candle work, and these practices began to offer me more than just a temporary escape. They became tools to reconnect with myself in ways I had never imagined.

Healing wasn’t just about working through the pain—it was about building a deeper connection to something beyond the physical. It was about tapping into a power greater than myself, learning to trust it, and surrendering to the process.

These spiritual practices helped me find peace and clarity, but more than anything, they helped me rebuild my sense of self-worth.

For so long, I thought I was just a broken, empty shell of a person. But I wasn’t. I was a strong, loving, and amazing person. I just had to find her again. And that’s what I’ve been doing—slowly but surely. It hasn’t been easy, and it hasn’t been quick, but with each step, I’ve been reconnecting with the woman I was always meant to be. And through it all, I’ve realized that I am enough, just as I am.

I worked for years, digging into the deep, dark stuff. I thought it all stemmed from my broken marriage, but I soon realized it was much deeper than that—it was rooted in a lifetime of struggles, traumas, and wounds.

It was years of healing, and there were times when I wanted to quit. The weight of it all felt suffocating, and the journey seemed too long to keep going. But I couldn’t quit. I had to heal for others—more than for myself. I had to show my kids that we could overcome anything, that we could build a new life despite everything we’d been through.

And as I healed, I also worked on healing my relationship with my kids. I knew I had to be present for them, not just in the physical sense but emotionally and mentally as well. I made sure to show up as the mom they deserved, someone who could be there to listen, to support, and to love them unconditionally.

The spiritual practices I had learned gave me the tools to create these deeper connections with my children, helping me become the mother I had always longed to be. With time, the bond between us grew stronger, and I began to see that the love we had for each other was unbreakable, no matter what had happened in the past.

I got a job. I started paying my own bills. I dug myself out of the hole that I had created, a hole that was shaped by both my actions and what I had allowed to be done to me.

It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t happen overnight. But each day, I became a little more independent, a little stronger. I took responsibility for my life, for my choices, and for the changes I needed to make. And though I still have moments where I struggle, I know I’ve come so far, and I’ve proven to myself that I can rebuild.

And then, I went back to school. I knew I had finally figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I started working toward a degree in psychology, a field that had always fascinated me and a way I could help others the way I had helped myself.

I realized that my own healing journey had sparked something inside me. It wasn’t just about recovering from my past; it was about using my experiences to make a difference in the lives of others. I knew this was my path, and it felt like everything I had been through had led me here.

I will continue to work on myself, healing the parts of me that still need to be healed. We are always working to be better, always continuing to heal, and we are not alone in this world. So many people have stories like mine, stories of pain and survival, and I know we can all rise above it together.

March 5, 2025
How My Ex and I Created a Beautiful Friendship

When my ex-wife and I separated in 1999 and divorced two years later, I never imagined that we would one day spend a week together as friends.

Over the past quarter century, our lives had rarely crossed, except on the day our divorce was finalized and at our daughter’s wedding in 2012. Yet here we were, sitting across from each other, talking not just about the past but about the paths that had brought us here.

It wasn’t just nostalgia. It was an excavation. Over the course of our week together, I realized that my memories of our twenty-year relationship had become skewed over time, focused on the fractures that led us apart rather than the ties that had bound us together.

Through conversation, we began unlocking memories from our youth. She reminded me of the nine months we lived with my father after both of us contracted mono during our first year of college. Her stories filled in missing pieces and added new depth to my memories.

We also revisited the challenges and events we’d both experienced during our time together—moments of joy, struggle, and growth that had shaped us in ways we didn’t fully understand back then. Time and distance gave us the clarity to piece these moments together in ways we couldn’t have before.

For me, the first step back to friendship came about three years ago. I needed her permission to restructure an old pension, which required a detailed financial agreement. I sent her a carefully crafted proposal. Her swift response caught a mistake I had missed, but what stood out was her immediate assurance: “I trust you implicitly.”

That moment—her trust, so freely given—meant the world to me. It marked the beginning of a slow rebuilding of the mutual respect that had once been the cornerstone of our relationship.

Since then, life has brought us together in unexpected ways. Two years ago, our daughter asked for financial help, and I was the one who reached out to her mom on our daughter’s behalf. That conversation, the first in over a decade, felt like opening a door that had been closed too long.

More recently, I’ve been there to support her through her father’s passing and the end of a long-term relationship. In turn, she has listened as I’ve processed the unraveling of my second marriage and found my footing in a new relationship.

This week together felt like clearing away the rubble of a collapsed house to find that its foundation is still solid. We talked about the ways we had both changed, the lessons we had learned from failed relationships, and the new awareness that comes with time.

In helping each other process our shared past, we laid to rest ghosts that no one else could have exorcised for us. These were moments only we could give one another—unspoken truths we now had the tools and perspective to understand.

I’ve come to realize that healing isn’t always about finding closure—it’s often about finding new ways to hold the past with compassion. It’s a pattern so many of us fall into—hoping things will improve instead of addressing the reality. Recognizing this in ourselves isn’t easy, but it can be the first step toward living more authentically.

At sixty-three, I’ve come to see that life is rarely black and white. It exists in shades of grey. Relationships—whether marriages or friendships—are rarely all good or all bad. I carry immense gratitude for what we shared in our youth, the growth we’ve both achieved, and the chance to rediscover the friendship that lay beneath it all.

Reconnecting with my former best friend has been a gift. As the years pass, those who share our early chapters become rarer, making these connections all the more vital—not just as a link to our past, but as a reminder of how far we’ve come. These shared histories remind us who we were and help us understand who we’ve become, anchoring us in ways that feel irreplaceable.

We’ve already begun planning the next chapters of this friendship. She’ll visit me in the US soon, meeting my current partner, and doubtless, we’ll spend more time together when I’m next in the UK. What we’re creating isn’t just a rediscovered connection—it’s a living, evolving bond that carries us forward.

Sometimes, healing doesn’t mean repairing what’s broken to its original state. Instead, it means clearing away what collapsed and discovering something new in its place—a friendship that can stand the test of time.

In clearing the rubble of our past, I found a friendship that could endure. I wonder how many of us might discover the same if we found the courage to begin.

January 30, 2025
How to Reinvigorate Your Relationship with New Experiences

“After a while, every couple will get bored. That’s why trying new things together is key.” ~Unknown

When life gets busy with work, kids, and the steady hum of daily responsibilities, it’s easy for relationships to fall into a familiar rhythm. Routines are comforting, but they can also lead to a kind of autopilot in love—a state where everything feels predictable and, eventually, a bit uninspired.

My partner and I have a strong bond, but we’d both noticed that something felt… different. It wasn’t bad, but we missed that spark of excitement that had defined our early days together. So we decided to shake things up with some new, shared experiences.

We didn’t make grand plans or book an extravagant vacation. Instead, we chose to weave newness into our relationship in small ways.

We started trying little things that felt unfamiliar, even a bit challenging, to see if we could rekindle the thrill of discovery we’d had in the beginning. And what I discovered was that novelty—no matter how small—has a way of bringing you closer, helping you see each other in a new light and reminding you of why you fell in love in the first place.

Here’s what I learned as we explored together and how these simple shifts helped us reconnect.

1. Reigniting Passion Through Novelty

One of the first things we did was something simple but unexpectedly refreshing: We talked about what made us attracted to each other. I don’t mean the usual compliments but a real conversation about the things we loved, admired, and found endearing about one another.

It felt strange at first—like a conversation we might have had in the early days of dating rather than years into marriage. But as we each shared what made us feel drawn to one another, it brought a sense of excitement back into our connection.

Hearing my partner describe the little quirks and qualities they loved about me was like seeing myself through fresh eyes. It reminded me that attraction isn’t just about the initial spark but about the ways we keep noticing each other.

Psychologists say that novelty can trigger the release of dopamine, the same brain chemical that floods our brains during those early, intense stages of love. For me, this little exercise felt like a reminder of why we fell for each other in the first place.

Since that conversation, we’ve made it a habit to try new things together—whether it’s a different recipe, a walk in a new part of town, or even a conversation about something we’ve never discussed before. These little moments of novelty keep things exciting, reminding me that sometimes, all it takes is a fresh perspective to bring back the thrill.

2. Seeing Each Other in a New Light

One evening, we decided to make a simple dessert together, but we turned it into something a bit more intentional. We dimmed the lights, put on some music, and treated the experience like a date night. At first, it seemed like an ordinary thing to do, but the way we slowed down, paid attention, and enjoyed the process made it feel special. Without our usual distractions, I found myself noticing things about my partner I hadn’t appreciated in a while—their laugh, their patience, the way they enjoyed small details.

It’s funny how easily routine can make us forget the qualities that first made us fall in love. That evening, I felt like I was seeing my partner with fresh eyes. It reminded me that relationships are not only about supporting each other through life’s responsibilities but about genuinely enjoying each other’s company. After that night, I found myself feeling more connected, holding onto those little things I had seen in them that night, like a renewed spark in our relationship.

3. Building Connection Through Silent Presence

One of the most surprising experiences was the time we spent just sitting in silence, holding hands, and focusing on our breathing. We’d decided to try it as a way to calm down after a busy week, but it turned out to be a much deeper experience than I expected. In that quiet moment, without any words or expectations, I felt a connection with my partner that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

At first, it felt strange—like I was supposed to be doing something, saying something. But as I settled into the silence, I realized that sometimes, just being present together is enough.

This kind of non-verbal connection has become a powerful part of our relationship. It showed me that we don’t always need to communicate through words or actions; sometimes, just being fully present can say more than anything. This experience taught us to find peace together, even when the world outside feels busy and overwhelming.

4. Rediscovering Vulnerability Through Playfulness

One of the most fun moments came when we decided to share some of our most embarrassing stories with each other—things we hadn’t talked about in years. We laughed so hard that night, feeling a kind of lightheartedness that was rare amidst our usual routine. It was like peeling back layers and remembering the silly, imperfect parts of ourselves we don’t usually show.

Sharing these vulnerable, sometimes awkward moments brought us closer. Studies show that vulnerability can strengthen trust in relationships, and that night, I realized that it’s not only deep conversations that build intimacy but shared laughter, too.

That lightheartedness brought a fresh sense of joy into our relationship, reminding me of how much fun we have together when we let go of the serious sides of ourselves.

5. Finding Calm Together in Nature

One of the most grounding experiences we’ve tried together has been spending time outdoors without any real agenda. We decided to take a walk in nature one day, moving slowly, letting ourselves relax, and just talking (or not talking) as we went along. It was peaceful, freeing, and a perfect escape from our busy lives.

Being outside, away from everything, reminded me of the simple joy of just being in each other’s presence. Studies show that spending time in nature lowers stress and increases well-being, and sharing that time with someone you love amplifies the effect. After that walk, I felt calmer and more connected. I realized how powerful it is to break away from our usual environment and share a quiet experience in a place where the world feels a little slower.

Final Thoughts: Rediscovering Each Other Through New Experiences

These experiences taught me that novelty doesn’t have to mean grand gestures or expensive trips. Often, it’s the small, intentional changes that bring the biggest rewards. By stepping out of our comfort zone in little ways, we found ourselves rediscovering each other and reconnecting in ways I didn’t think possible.

Trying new things together isn’t just about keeping boredom at bay; it’s about creating shared memories, strengthening your bond, and reminding each other of the excitement that brought you together.

So, if you’re feeling a little too comfortable in your relationship, take a small step outside the usual. Try something different, have a conversation you’ve never had, and see what it does. Sometimes, all it takes to reconnect is a willingness to explore each other from a fresh perspective.

December 19, 2024
5 Unexpected Ways to Find the Right Mate
“Your new life is going to cost you your old one. It’s going to cost you your comfort zone and your sense of direction. It’s going to cost you relationships and friends. It’s going to cost you being liked and understood. It doesn’t matter. The people who are meant for you are going to meet you on the other side. You’re going to build a new comfort zone around the things that actually move you forward. Instead of being liked, you’re going to be loved. Instead of being understood, you’re going to be seen. All you’re going to lose is what was built for a person you no longer are.” ~Brianna Wiest

Over a transformative two-year period, marked by deep inner work and self-discovery, I stumbled upon a series of steps that helped me find a fulfilling partnership—steps that go far beyond attachment theory.

My life essentially followed the cycle of the phoenix: First, it went up in spectacular flames before emerging more aligned than ever. I had to step into total darkness before seismic shifts brought me back to lightness.

I hope that my story helps you navigate your own journey on the quest for love and a long-term partner. This journey is highly personal for everyone, so while this blueprint might not be the exact match for you, I hope it points you in the right direction.

Before we dive in, I’d like to explain what attachment theory is and why I never found it helpful for me personally.

What Is Attachment Theory?

Attachment theory, developed by psychologists John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, explores how our early relationships with caregivers shape our behavior in adult relationships.

According to attachment theory, there are three primary attachment styles:
- Secure Attachment: Comfortable with intimacy and independence, secure types can express their needs openly without fear of rejection.
- Anxious Attachment: Anxious types crave closeness and fear abandonment, often seeking constant reassurance and becoming hyper-vigilant to signs of disconnection.
- Avoidant Attachment: Avoidant types prioritize independence and may distance themselves emotionally, feeling suffocated by intimacy.
Attachment theory is often used to explain why certain people seem drawn to the same relationship patterns, particularly the classic anxious-avoidant dynamic. Anxious types seek reassurance, which pushes avoidant types to withdraw, reinforcing each other’s deepest fears.

But here’s the catch: While understanding your attachment style can help you make sense of your relationship patterns, it may not offer the practical solutions you need, especially in the long term.

While it was helpful learning that I was an anxious attachment type, even five years in therapy was not enough to encourage me to choose someone secure. Ultimately, while attachment theory offered clarity on why I repeated certain patterns, it wasn’t the key to finding the fulfilling relationship I craved.

Things finally began to shift when I let go of the life that no longer fit. Each unexpected event was like a domino, toppling the old version of myself to make room for something new. Interestingly, it all started with a journal.

How Writing Reveals What You Really Want

Most of us know we should get clear about what we want in a partner, but how many of us have actually written it down? I certainly hadn’t.

That changed when, on a complete whim, I picked up a workbook called Single Is Your Superpower. It struck me as cheesy, but there’s something about using pen and paper that taps into deeper, subconscious thoughts—far more effectively than just thinking things over in your head.

Flipping to a random page, I came across a prompt asking me to write down the top five qualities I wanted in a mate. At first, I rolled my eyes. It seemed too simple to be “deep” and transformative, but I did it anyway.

I thought I already knew what I was looking for: humor, spirituality, shared values, ambition. But what surprised me was the number one quality that surfaced: emotional availability.

That insight was a game changer. I realized my previous focus on finding someone ambitious had been attracting people with demanding careers—partners who often leaned toward avoidant.

That’s not to say you need to avoid ambition in a partner. Far from it! What matters is getting clear on the qualities that truly matter to you so you can see beyond surface traits. I began to ask myself different questions:

Are they ambitious but still present?

Do they carve out time for things they enjoy?

Or do they use ambition as an excuse to stay emotionally distant?

These questions became the new lenses through which I viewed potential partners.

That’s when things shifted. With this clarity, I started attracting emotionally available people, and for the first time ever, I wasn’t fighting with my partners. I wasn’t caught in the anxious-avoidant tug-of-war.

And it all started with pen and paper. So even if you think you know what you want in a partner, I challenge you to get out a piece of paper and write it down. Find some powerful journal prompts and let your desires unfold in ways that just might surprise you.

Don’t Let Other People Judge or Belittle Your Desire for Love

As my dating life began to shift for the better—less conflict, more meaningful connections—I still hadn’t found someone that I wanted to commit to long-term.

By the time I hit thirty, the pressure around my biological “window” to start a family became more tangible. Sharing this with two close friends, however, often left me feeling unsupported. Comments like “You have plenty of time” or “Why are you so afraid of being alone?” dismissed the real emotions I was grappling with.

The truth was, I wasn’t afraid of being alone. Sure, loneliness can be uncomfortable, but I had already done the inner work to address those feelings. My desire for a partner came from a much deeper place—a calling to build a family, to share my life with someone who shared that vision.

What I realized is this: When you’re being vulnerable and communicating your true desires, and you still feel the need to defend yourself, you’re not in the right environment.

It’s vital to surround yourself with people who not only respect your journey but understand that your longing for love is a strength, not a weakness. Trust yourself, trust your desires, and never let others make you question your path, especially when it aligns with your core values.

This shift in perspective laid the groundwork for me to make some difficult but necessary decisions later on. It taught me that we need to be selective about the voices we allow to influence our most vulnerable desires.

Pursue Any Type of Self-Discovery Work That Calls to Your Soul

A year prior to these struggles, I participated in a robust coaching program centered around identifying my core values, mission, and life purpose. I never expected to articulate what became one of my more important, guiding core values: being supportive of others and feeling supported by others.

The truth was, I no longer felt supported in those friendships I mentioned before.

While this was happening, I was also considering a career pivot. I consulted with an astrologist to see if my birth chart had any implications for my career. On this adventure, another unexpected steppingstone emerged.

My astrologist told me that I was well-suited for a career in leadership. She also could not help but divulge, “You also have a very strong calling toward motherhood, and you will find a unique way to balance work and family.” Woah.

I found this enormously validating because it affirmed what I already knew to be true: I didn’t want a mate just to fill the void or because I feared being alone. Rather, I was feeling pulled by a deep calling: to start a family.

On one level, this was merely an affirmation of what I already knew to be true, but when we’re on a journey of self-discovery that’s peppered with occasional self-doubt, supportive modalities can be enormously helpful.

For me, it was values-centered coaching and astrology. For you, it might be therapy, tarot, journaling, or some other form of self-discovery. Follow your intuition and lead with curiosity.

Start with Subtraction, Not Addition, to Manifest the Right Partner

As my two close friends increasingly filled my life with judgment and subtle criticism, I began doubting myself around them. Our paths and values were diverging (or was I simply gaining clarity on what was already happening?) making our interactions more draining than enriching.

Despite my distaste for loneliness and the fact that I don’t have many close friends to begin with, I knew it was time to make a hard choice. With intentions of honoring my values and boundaries, I decided to distance myself, intentionally creating a significant void in my life.

This void was both authentic and, at times, filled with panic. During low moments, I’d catch myself thinking, “What have I done?!”

However, in moments of true alignment, I knew letting go was the right decision. This newfound space in my life led me to ponder, “Who do I know that emanates positive energy? Who do I want to surround myself with?”

The first person that popped into my head was a colleague that I had worked with remotely for a little over seven years. He lived in Canada while I lived in California, so I sent him an email asking if he wanted to hang out virtually. He enthusiastically obliged, and we became fast friends.

Then, one day, he hopped on a plane to California, and we became best friends. Little did we know, that was the beginning of forever—because now we’re married.

While I didn’t know it at the time, manifestation often starts with subtraction. It’s easy to assume that attracting the right mate is about addition, but manifestation is as much about creating space as it is about filling it.

Trust That Each Bold Step Is Preparing You for What’s Next

Looking back on the choices I made, I’m profoundly grateful for the voids I dared to create in my life—despite the panic they caused sometimes. Aligned decisions aren’t always easy, but by staying true to my core values, I knew I was making the right choices.

In hindsight, the path seems almost simple: Get clear on your desires (with pen and paper!), cut away what no longer fits, and trust that your life will unfold with each intentional step. But while you’re living it, it can feel like an endless, clumsy fumble.

The truth is, at every step of this journey, I was filled with doubt, yet I kept moving forward. And each step prepared me for the person I was becoming.

In the end, the empty spaces we create by letting go of what no longer serves us aren’t just voids—they’re opportunities for transformation. These spaces inspire us to take aligned action and build something brand new.

Remember, your new life may ask you to leave behind more than just old habits—it may cost you comfort, approval, and the familiar sense of who you used to be. But on the other side of that transformation is something far greater: relationships that truly see you, a life that deeply fulfills you, and a future that you were always meant to step into.

Follow your intuition, embrace the unknown, and allow yourself to build a new life from the ashes of the old one.
October 31, 2024
Embracing Rejection Helped Me Love Dating and Meet My Husband

“Every time I thought I was being rejected from something good, I was actually being redirected to something better.” ~Steve Maraboli

I think most single people these days dream of meeting someone “in real life.”

The fantasy is that in “the real world” it’ll be easier.

I dated BA and AA. Before apps and after apps.

The sad truth is that technology changed the game whether you’re on apps or not.

The life skill of walking up to someone in a bar and starting a conversation out of thin air has vanished. The ability to be the receiver of that conversation without the safety net of a screen followed close behind.

I’m from a small town where everyone says hello to everyone, but do that in the city, and people jump back like you’re an apparition.

Dating apps are hard, but meeting someone in real life just might be harder.

You need to be confident enough to walk up and chat with anyone, let everyone know that you’re single and want to be set up (even your work colleague Sue from accounting), and be ready to be rejected to your face.

It’s a classic “grass is greener” scenario.

The reason people hate apps so much is because of the rejection, the sheer volume of it.

You’ll get rejected less in real life simply because you’re probably rarely meeting anyone to get rejected.

Reframing rejection helped me meet my husband.

I’d been single for years after leaving a toxic relationship. Sure, there were a few relationships here and there, but like a sitcom with low ratings, none of them lasted too long.

I worried I’d be swiping left and right forever. I was stood up at 10 a.m. on a Saturday at a Melbourne landmark, I’d been ghosted, and I was constantly rejected.

I felt the need to bend and shift myself and rewrite my Bumble bio just to be chosen.

I was born with intuitive abilities, meaning I can see, hear, sense, and know things that others can’t. I always wondered at what point should I share with someone that I know they have a strained relationship with their dad or their boss at work can’t be trusted.

Obviously, I’d never word it this way. But essentially, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. People don’t love the idea of dating a human lie detector.

You might wonder, why tell people? Well, these abilities are my work; they are a massive part of who I am. So it’s pretty unavoidable. It’s like Chad not telling me he works in finance. Or trying to hide the fact I have brown eyes.

I tried sharing about my abilities early on the apps, or on first dates, or third dates. All to avoid rejection. Thinking I could somehow change the outcome as to whether someone accepted me or not.

I hated the feeling that something that was a big part of me was being made fun of, or deemed weird, or even that it just wasn’t ‘for someone.’

This fear of rejection was preventing me from meeting the right person.

I was wasting SO MUCH time trying to please the wrong people, cloaking myself, and not being authentic. It meant that anyone interested in who I really was would never find me. The real me was nowhere to be found.

When I shifted my perception of rejection, dating became so much easier and, dare I say, enjoyable!

I almost encouraged rejection. I put my true self out there and held nothing back—not in a creepy share-every-intimate-detail-about-yourself-on-a-first-date kind of way; I just wasn’t filtering or scared to scare anyone off.

I had the new mindset that rejection saved me time and energy for the right ones. Rejection freed me up. Rejection was a normal part of dating; it wasn’t a ‘just me’ thing.

Cut to: I met my husband. Our first date was non-stop talking about everything from J Cole to Arrested Development, to exploring life’s big questions like Where do people go when they die? We got married two years later.

Just the other day over brunch at our local café we reflected on how embracing rejection changed everything when it came to dating.

My husband has a disability and could have let that hold him back from putting himself out there. I could have been completely discouraged from countless ‘failed’ dates. But thankfully, we kept going.

If you’re reading this and you feel deflated by the dating process, but you really want to meet someone, my hope is that you don’t give up.

Someone out there is looking for you, just as you are, and what a shame it would be if you were nowhere to be found.

June 14, 2024
Love Shows Up When You Do

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

After six months of being single after my divorce, I wanted to date again. I was still afraid of failure and rejection, but I wanted to try. I felt the best way to get over it was to dedicate my time to finding someone new.

I didn’t know where to begin, but I knew I had a clearer understanding of what I wanted in a relationship. I definitely knew what I didn’t want in a relationship. I thought if I could just find someone with the right qualities, happiness would follow.

I made a long list of qualities I desired in a man. I signed up on internet dating sites and asked friends to set me up on blind dates. I thought I could get what I wanted by playing the odds, like sending out 100 resumes for a job hoping one company would call back.

I felt I had learned from my past mistakes and was impatient to find true love. Six months later, after a string of bad dates, I was no closer to finding the love I desired and the whiff of desperation seeped from my pores.

I started to feel like maybe there really wasn’t anyone out there for me. So, I decided to stop chasing. I began to take care of myself. I decided to be the person I was looking for while at the same time, creating a way for the right man to find me.

I decided to remove all the clutter from my home and my mind. I threw out boxes and bags of clothes and objects that represented the old me. I wrote daily gratitude lists and stopped thinking about what I didn’t have.

I started going out to movies alone. I found new restaurants to try. I took long hikes in the woods.

Once I took my focus off finding the right person, I started to find myself. I could sit for hours on my back porch reading a novel. I would buy myself chocolates and flowers for Valentine’s Day.

Once I was providing for all of my own needs, I started to smile again. This wasn’t a race—it was my life. I intended to enjoy every moment of it, with or without someone by my side.

Around this time, I started to think about finding some new friends. I lost half of my friends during my divorce. I was looking for positive people to hang out with that would be interested in the same things I liked to do.

I started joining book clubs and meetup groups. I went to exercise classes and asked coworkers out for drinks. I started accepting invitations to parties.

Meanwhile, I still meditated. I still read on the porch and I stopped looking at internet dating sites. I just wanted to have a good time and find some friendly people my age.

I wasn’t having a lot of luck in the friend department, though. It seemed like I was in a strange age group. When I joined clubs, most of the members were either a decade older or younger than me.

I wondered why no one my age seemed to go out. I reasoned they must be busy with parenting and working a lot like most people in their thirties and forties. I just wasn’t finding people my age.

Then one day, sitting around the house doing absolutely nothing, I had an epiphany—I would start a group for people my age to meet and find friends!

At the second meeting of my group, my future husband walked in the door. I knew I would marry him the second I saw him. And yes, he has most of the qualities on that original list.

If you’re looking for love and feeling like time is running out, slow down. Breathe, go buy yourself some flowers, and stop trying so hard. Love comes to those who are at peace with who they are.

Here are some tips for cultivating love while you wait for it to find you:

1. If you build it, they will come.

If you can’t find what you’re looking for, create a way for it to find you. I created a meetup group for people my age so I could meet friends in a casual atmosphere.

2. Be the person you’re looking for.

The best way to find love is to love you. Spend time exercising, meditating, and cultivating your self-esteem. When the right person does show up, a calm confidence will be far more attractive than fear and anxiety.

3. Stop and smell the roses.

It’s not a marathon. You’re looking for the best person to show up, not the first person to show up. When’s the last time you found someone who seemed panicked attractive?

4. It’s okay to dine alone.

Many people are afraid to do “couple” things alone. Try going to a play by yourself. You can really have a good time just enjoying your own company.

Take action toward your dreams, but then step back and let those conditions manifest. Enjoy life and give yourself what you need instead of waiting for someone to give it to you. Meet each day with gratitude and joy in what you do have, and what you wish for will find its way to you.

Love image via Shutterstock

August 10, 2014
Encourage, Don’t Criticize; Help Instead of Trying to Fix

“You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.” ~Thich Nhat Hahn

When you think you’re an evolved and conscious woman and your partner tells you in no unclear terms that you’re “hard to be with,” it does a number on you.

Those words landed like a well-aimed boulder, smashing the immaculate vision I’d created of evolving myself: an exemplary girlfriend who was “doing the work” to grow, to become generously loving, spiritually awake, and to wholeheartedly support and encourage her beautiful partner to open to his fullest potential.

We met under messy circumstances. Both just weeks out of intense breakups and deeply embroiled in “processing” our respective experiences, I had a laundry list of emotional baggage to shed, patterns to break, and new nonnegotiable standards for anything and anyone I’d allow into my intimate space.

I pinned the badges of Emotional Consciousness and the Evolved Feminine on my heart. I journaled, meditated, and prayed to the Goddesses: Quan Yin. Kali. Durga. Sati.

And as I learned, dove deeper, sailed higher, I held fiercely to his hand. I wanted to do this together. I begged him: join me. Rise. Dig. Excavate your stagnant places.

It’s the only way forward.

I believed it. And I think, to a certain end, so did he.

Then encouragement, collaborative growth, and tough love turned to jagged criticism. Instead of holding one another in our struggles, we sat on opposing sides of some false fence. I saw only his flaws and I believed I needed him to fix them.

I saw his potential. He was brilliant, deeply spiritual, an intuitive outdoorsman and incredible teacher. He had promise, gifts to bring to the world. I wanted him to reach for it—without fear.

And when he didn’t, when he paused to rest, when he stumbled, I saw failure. I saw an unwillingness to try. I saw a man gripped by fear, clinging to safety.

I used those words.

Why couldn’t he just work as hard as me?

It’s easy to say this now. To see where my ardent desires for his evolution—to shed the excess weight and step into his highest self—so quickly became toxic. How it clouded my vision of who he was, in the moment, without the changes I thought necessary.

Wrapped up in my own work and redefining of what it meant for me to rise, I transposed my journey onto his.

All I saw was his shining potential, his shadowed present, and the moments he wasn’t up to the challenge. When the stones the universe hurled at his foundation bested him.

And I ignored the brilliant light already standing in front of me, showing up in his wholeness, wounds and all. So he learned to try and hide it, for fear that I would criticize the tenderest parts I saw to be flawed.

Nobody is perfect.

The funny part is that I’m a coach and a yoga teacher. I write about every angle of perfectionism, I preach about loving your tender and dark parts, I read endlessly about the divinity of this eternal growing process.

Stretching is uncomfortable. Peeling off the layers hurts. It’s a messy, messy adventure, this evolution. Blah blah blah. My brain knew all that. But that’s different from living it—and dammit if I wasn’t a full-on hypocrite.

So… nobody is perfect. Right?

His imperfections became my teachers. And as I crumbled, defeated in my epic pursuit of New Age Girlfriend Perfection, he taught me what it is to hold someone you love to their highest potential, with grace, love, and honor.

Your journey is not their journey. It seems straightforward, but it requires a humble and gracious heart to resist imposing your own standards of evolution on another.

Just because you’re in love with transcendental meditation and it has blown your ego to pieces doesn’t mean your partner will find it moving in the least. And while you’re deeply questioning the meaning of “self,” the qualities of nonattachment, or the truth of your suffering, your partner might be doing battle with self-acceptance. Or body image. Or what it means to be masculine.

And that’s all perfect.

See the potential. Celebrate the present. That’s where I went wrong; I missed the second step. And he gently, kindly told me that he wasn’t feeling seen. Really seen—in his work, in his accomplishments, in the steps he’d already taken.

Spend more time celebrating the positive elements of how far your partner has already come—and then encourage them to keep going, because you see such beautiful potential and brightness within.

Let go of perfect. You know from your own excavations that the work never ends. There is always growth, always evolving, always new spiritual/emotional/soulful expanses to be explored.

When we think “highest self,” it sometimes feels like an end point—a “point a to point b” kind of goal. It’s not, and living from that mentality makes the experience of evolution feel hurried and time-sensitive.

As Osho says so simply, “Slowly, slowly.” Let that be your mantra, and honor each slow step your partner takes. Even more so, honor the pauses. The deep breaths. They’re part of the work, too.

It is not yours to push. You’re not his life coach. You’re not her personal trainer. You’re not Mom. Position yourself on the same team—encouraging, supporting, celebrating, yes. Demanding? No. That creates a power dynamic that eventually becomes toxic and corrodes the integrity of your relationship.

When you find yourself becoming the teacher, check your motivations and rephrase. How can you encourage with tenderness and love?

Your love will become freedom. You have this one role in your partner’s evolution: to hold the space, to fill it with love and safety and, simultaneously, the encouragement to expand—and your love will become their freedom.

Freedom to be exactly where they are on the path and to take the journey that is right at that moment and in that time. Freedom to fall. To screw up. And to try again, with unflinching faith in their own potential.

And that freedom, ultimately, is the only path to the highest self.

November 21, 2013
How to Maintain a Happy Relationship: The Desired Things of Love

“Once you have learned to love, you will have learned to live.” ~Unknown.

Desiderata is Latin for “desired things.” The original and famous Desiderata poem, penned in the 1920s by Max Ehrmann, gives general advice on living well.

It begins, “Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence,” and ends, “Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.”

The overwhelming message of Desiderata is to be kind and honest, and to keep faith in all our business and personal affairs. When it comes to love, it counsels us not to grow cynical, “For in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it (love) is as perennial as the grass.”

Some years ago, a relationship I was in ended after an exhaustingly rocky year. The break-up left my partner cynical and me arid and disenchanted. Exactly what Ehrmann cautioned against.

But our cynicism and disenchantment were understandable because on the surface, our relationship was perfect. We had hobbies and friends in common, two incomes, two cars, a lovely house. But while the bones of our relationship were there, the flesh was missing, eaten away by neglect.

Part of the reason, I believe, is that we had stopped eating meals together. I was vegan and he was not, so we ate different foods. I arrived home from work earlier than him, so I ate earlier, too hungry on my faddy diets to wait.

When we did sit at the table together at the end of a demanding workday, browsing Facebook seemed easier than the effort of conversation. When not at the table, I was upstairs writing while he was downstairs catching up on work email.

Nothing was overtly wrong with this; we got on well and were both happy living in our own little parallel worlds. And we did find time to do some things together—but when we did, our business mindsets rattled along beside us. (more…)

March 31, 2013
30 Questions to Ask Yourself If You Have Doubts About Your Relationship

“Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer.” ~William S. Burroughs

When I was in college, I could only afford to visit my family during summer and Christmas breaks. While I was at home, I particularly enjoyed spending time with one dear friend. We had known each other since junior high school, and I considered her the younger sister I never had.

During my sophomore year in school, she contacted me and revealed she had romantic feelings for me. She wanted us to start dating.

I was completely caught off guard. I had no idea she felt this way. Sensing my conflict, she asked that I think about it and said we would talk when I saw her that summer.

For the remainder of that semester, I agonized over what I should do. One night, when I was alone in my dorm room, I took a deep breath and asked myself some very important questions that I needed to answer but had been avoiding. Did I share the same feelings she had for me? Did I want us to begin dating?

By being still and questioning myself, I gained access to my inner voice, which I had been drowning out in my panic.

It revealed that while I did love her, I wasn’t in love with her. Pursuing a relationship primarily out of fear of losing her would have been unfair to both of us, and it would have caused us to not live in truth. (more…)

February 14, 2013
Why Relationships Fail: 4 Tips to Make Love Last

“Happiness mainly comes from our own attitude, rather than from external factors.” ~Dalai Lama

If you get married today, there is a 60% chance that your relationship won’t last. Is finding true love really that hard or is there something else going on?

A research group from the Heriot-Watt University found that many people have a “warped sense of the perfect relationship” and “unrealistic expectations from their romantic partner.” They concluded that they got these unrealistic expectations from Hollywood love stories.

These movies have us longing for a Cinderella or Prince Charming who will sweep us off our feet and make us happier than we have ever been. But can we really expect our partners to make us happy? Is that even fair to them?

When I figured out this wasn’t the right approach to a relationship, I had already been in two failed ones. “Failed” may not be the right word, because I don’t regret them and I’m still friends with both of my exes, but these relationships were based on needs, from both partners.

After the second relationship, I was single for a long time, and that’s when I started working on myself.

When I started to see some changes in myself and in my life, I felt the desire to have a girlfriend again. I mentioned this to my mentor, and he said, “It’s not the girlfriend you want; it’s what you think she can give you.”

This was a real eye opener for me.

I realized that this desire was my ego telling me there was something missing in my life and that I needed to find someone else to fill this gap for me. I didn’t have a person in mind yet, but I was already being unfair to her by expecting so much of her. I was demanding love.

Demanding Love Vs. Sharing Love

If you expect your partner to make you happy, you are demanding love. If you were happy when you were single, you’re more likely to be happy in your relationship. And when you’re happy, you can focus on “sharing your love” instead of “demanding happiness.”

Do you see how this can make a world of difference in your relationship? When you go from “needing” love, affection, and support to fill a hole in yourself, to “sharing” love and happiness from a place of fullness, your relationship (and life!) will blossom into something truly amazing and lasting. (more…)

February 13, 2013
10 Ways to Love the People in Your Life
“At the end of life, our questions are very simple: Did I live fully? Did I love well?” ~Jack Kornfield

We all grow up with some healthy stories about love and some unhealthy ones. I learned some beautiful, life-giving ideas about love, ideas like these:
- Loving people means believing in their potential.
- Love means treating people with kindness and gentleness.
- Loving the people in your life means celebrating their successes and cheering them on.
But I also grew up with some stories about love that I came to see weren’t so helpful. Those ideas about love bred problems in my relationships.

One of those stories was: Loving someone means always being available to them. (Turns out, it’s not true, and living as if it is breeds resentment.)

Another was: Loving someone means always having space for what they want to talk to you about. (Turns out, not true either!)

Another myth about love: If you love someone, you do what they are asking you to do, out of love, even if it feels difficult. (I can tell you, that doesn’t work so well.)

I’ve developed my own guidelines for loving the people in my life, guidelines that express how I want to relate to the people around me.

These are some of my guidelines for loving: (more…)
July 24, 2011