Tiny Buddha

Tag: insecurities

  • The Art of Being Flawed in a Perfectionist World

    The Art of Being Flawed in a Perfectionist World

    “Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection, we can catch excellence.” ~Vince Lombardi

    Okay, let’s be real for a second. As I sit here trying to write this perfect essay about embracing imperfection, the irony isn’t lost on me. I’ve rewritten this opening paragraph about five times now. Old habits die hard, right?

    Picture this: It’s 2:37 p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. I’m pacing the lecture hall, watching my law students furiously scribbling away at their exam papers. Their furrowed brows and white-knuckle grips on their pens remind me of, well, me, not too long ago.

    Flashback to my own law school days. There I was, the quintessential overachiever. Nose perpetually buried in a casebook, surviving on a diet of coffee and sheer determination. Perfect grades, perfect internships, perfect career trajectory—these weren’t just goals, they were my entire identity. The pressure I put on myself was so intense, I’m surprised my hair didn’t turn gray by graduation. (Spoiler alert: It’s starting to now, but I digress.)

    Fast-forward to my transition from practicing law to teaching it. I thought I had it all figured out. Professor Kalyani Abhyankar, the flawless legal mind, here to shape the next generation of lawyers. Ha! If only I knew what I was in for.

    It was during one particularly “memorable” lecture that my perfectionist facade began to crack. I had spent hours preparing what I thought was a flawless presentation on constitutional law. I was on fire, if I do say so myself, rattling off case citations like a human legal database. And then it happened. I mixed up two landmark cases.

    The horror! The shame! In that moment, I swear I could hear the ghost of Justice Brandeis weeping. I stood there, frozen at the podium, waiting for the ground to swallow me whole.

    But then something unexpected happened. A student raised her hand and asked, “Professor Abhyankar, are you okay?”

    And just like that, the dam broke. All my insecurities came flooding out in front of my class. My fear of not being good enough, the crushing weight of always needing to be perfect, the anxiety that one mistake would unravel my entire career.

    To my utter shock, instead of judgment, I was met with… understanding? Empathy, even? One of my students actually said, “Wow, Prof. We always thought you were this untouchable legal genius. But this… this makes you human. It’s kind of inspiring, actually.”

    Inspiring? Me? The one having a meltdown in front of her class? But as I looked around the room, I saw nodding heads and relieved faces. It was as if by showing my own vulnerability, I had given them permission to be imperfect too.

    This was the beginning of my messy, often frustrating, but ultimately liberating journey toward embracing imperfection. And let me tell you, it wasn’t a smooth ride.

    At first, I tried to schedule “imperfection time” into my day. Yes, you read that right. I, Kalyani Abhyankar, recovering perfectionist, tried to perfect the art of being imperfect. The irony is not lost on me, I assure you.

    There were setbacks galore. I’d resolve to be more laid-back in class, only to find myself obsessively color-coding my lecture notes at 2 AM. I’d promise myself I wouldn’t overthink my students’ questions, then spend hours agonizing over whether my off-the-cuff answer about tort law was comprehensive enough.

    But slowly, oh so slowly, things began to shift. I started to pay attention to my classroom with new eyes. I noticed how the most engaging discussions often arose from questions I couldn’t answer right away. I saw how students learned more from working through mistakes than from memorizing perfect responses.

    Here are some of the changes I stumbled my way through:

    1. Practicing self-compassion

    Instead of berating myself for every perceived failure, I tried to treat myself with the same kindness I’d offer a struggling student. This meant acknowledging my efforts, regardless of the outcome. And yes, sometimes it meant looking in the mirror and saying, “You’re doing okay, Kalyani,” even when I felt like a total impostor.

    2. Setting realistic goals

    Rather than aiming for an impossible standard of perfection, I learned to set challenging but achievable goals. This allowed me to celebrate progress and maintain motivation. Novel concept, right?

    3. Embracing the learning process

    I started to view mistakes—both mine and my students’—not as failures but as valuable teaching moments. Each setback became an opportunity to deepen understanding and foster critical thinking. Who knew that “I don’t know, let’s figure it out together” could be such powerful words in a classroom?

    4. Cultivating a growth mindset

    Instead of seeing legal aptitude as fixed, I began to emphasize to my students (and myself) the capacity to develop skills through effort and practice. This made us all more willing to tackle challenging legal problems, even if we didn’t always get it right the first time.

    5. Letting go of comparison

    I realized that constantly measuring myself against other professors or legal scholars was about as productive as trying to teach constitutional law to my cat. Instead, I focused on my unique strengths as an educator and mentor.

    Now, don’t get me wrong. I still have days where my inner perfectionist rears its meticulously groomed head. I still occasionally find myself up at midnight, agonizing over a single word choice in my lecture notes. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and recovering perfectionists aren’t cured overnight.

    But here’s the kicker: As I’ve learned to embrace my imperfections, I’ve actually become a better professor. Free from the paralysis of perfectionism, I’m more creative in my teaching methods, more willing to tackle controversial legal topics, and more open to feedback from students and colleagues.

    My students seem to prefer this new, slightly messier version of Professor Abhyankar. They’re more engaged, more willing to take risks in their thinking, and—dare I say it—they seem to be having more fun. Who knew that constitutional law could actually be enjoyable?

    To those still caught in the grip of perfectionism, whether in law school, legal practice, or any other field, I offer this hard-won wisdom: Your worth is not determined by flawless performance. There is profound strength in vulnerability, in admitting that you’re still learning and growing.

    Embrace your imperfections. They’re not weaknesses to be hidden but unique aspects of who you are as a professional and human being. Let go of the exhausting chase for perfection and instead, chase growth and authenticity.

    In doing so, you may find that you achieve things far greater than perfection—you achieve a life that is fully and beautifully lived. And if you happen to mix up a few Supreme Court cases along the way? Well, you’re in good company.

  • The Reality Is, a Great Partner Will…

    The Reality Is, a Great Partner Will…

  • The Gift of Self-Acceptance: Goodbye Filters, Hello Authentic Self

    The Gift of Self-Acceptance: Goodbye Filters, Hello Authentic Self

    “Beauty doesn’t come from physical perfection. It comes from the light in our eyes, the spark in our hearts, and the radiance we exude when we’re comfortable enough in our skin to focus less on how we look and more on how we love.” ~Lori Deschene

    Swiping though the various filters available, I saw my face go from mine to someone else’s—to someone with better skin, bigger eyes… Oooh look, I think this one makes my face look slimmer. Hello, cheekbones!

    As someone who hated having her picture taken and was utterly convinced that she looked beyond awful in photos, I suddenly saw an easy fix to look good on camera.

    When I first started showing up online for my business in 2020, Instagram Reels had just been launched. It was declared an absolute must to record content as a business owner, and filters were simply a part of it. Harmless fun designed to inspire and create.

    However, as someone who had worn a lifelong “introvert” badge, and with more insecurities than I cared to admit at that point in time, the discomfort I felt showing up in these videos was beyond excruciating.

    As a child raised in an extremely unstable environment, without ever hearing the words “I love you” or feeling in any way that I belonged, I had somewhat unsurprisingly grown into an insecure young woman who had come to rely on validation through physical appearance. A pattern that I was most certainly repeating from my own mother, who was never seen looking anything less than.

    Also, a series of  events in my chaotic childhood had left me with a severe abandonment wound, and I had struggled deeply with “not enoughness” for as long as I could remember.

    And though I had since spent years doing the work to heal myself through the teachings of incredible women such as Louise Hay and Brené Brown, showing up online was about to open a wound that I thought had long healed.

    In my early twenties I used makeup as a mask, refusing to leave the house without an immaculately applied full face of war paint, and never under any circumstances taking it off in front of anyone. So utterly convinced that I was unlovable, with a desire to look perfect for approval, I had inadvertently created a reality in which I had to look a certain way, all the time.

    It was exhausting.

    After spending years working hard to cultivate a deeper connection with myself and striving to detach my self-worth from my appearance, I have since enjoyed a much healthier relationship with makeup.

    I now see my body as a temple, to adorn as I so wish, because I desire it and not because I feel I have to for acceptance or validation. Makeup has now become a creative ritual that brings me joy, an extension of my personality, creativity, and individuality.

    I felt as if I‘d reached a healthy turning point of this chapter in life—until I started creating content.

    As  mumma and stepmumma to a blended family of five, then in my early thirties, I felt daunted stepping out into an online world in which everyone appeared to be a flawless twenty-two-year-old yoga instructor dancing a “how to” tutorial to the latest trending audio.

    There was absolutely no way I was dancing, but using a filter? That I could do.

    I carefully selected one that didn’t dramatically alter my features but undeniably made me look younger, with the same clear, smooth skin as the aforementioned twenty-two-year-old. I then proceeded to use the exact same filter for three years for every single photograph and video. Over and over again, until I wasn’t just using it for online purposes; I was using it as standard practice in my day-to-day life.

    It wasn’t until a couple of years later that I realized something quite sinister had been subconsciously at play.

    Initially, I tried convincing myself that filters were effectively digital makeup, designed to enhance a video the way a photographer does a photograph. But it began to feel different, and yet all so familiar.

    It felt like hiding.

    My first indication that the use of filters was clearly affecting my well-being was when I refused to have a photograph taken without one.

    Red Flag Number One

    More feelings of discomfort began to tug at me after attending a festival as a speaker one summer and meeting people whom I’d developed connections with online. Only I had the awkwardness of not fully recognizing them. I found myself searching for something familiar in their faces, almost cartoon like, squinting my eyes and slightly tilting my head to one side as I saw them approaching from across the room.

    I realized that they didn’t quite look like themselves, at least the version of them I had become accustomed to seeing online. This quickly was followed by a nervous feeling as I pondered the question “What if I don’t look like myself?!”

    Red Flag Number Two

    While the obvious solution here was to stop using filters, I felt trapped in a web of my own making, and old feelings of insecurity and the fear of not being good enough began to creep in. I deeply struggled to marry these feeling up with my own values as a staunch advocate for empowering women to develop self-love and self-belief.

    How could I possibly align these actions with my deepest values? How could I record videos trying to encourage women to believe in themselves when the whole time I was too scared to hit “record” without a filter?

    The hypocrisy was not lost on me. I knew in my heart that my values would have to defeat my vanity, and that it was only a matter of time before I had to change my approach and show up as myself, unfiltered.

    Red Flag Number Three

    This was to be my final red flag—misalignment of values.

    With my thirty-seventh birthday approaching, and a little voice inside saying ”It’s time” getting louder, I gave myself the greatest gift I could have possibly given myself.

    The gift of true self-acceptance. The gift to show up online as the most authentic version of myself.

    The gift of finally healing that old perfection wound and fully detaching my self-worth from my physical appearance.

    The gift of showing up filter-free.

    To some, this may seem insignificant. But to me, the girl who had struggled so deeply with insecurities for as long as she could remember, the girl who had worn these filters as a mask and for approval, this was a monumental breakthrough and a big fat tick in the box marked “be yourself.”

    One step closer to me, and a whole lot closer to being in alignment with my own core values.

    I had anticipated a period of feeling slightly awkward, perhaps a little vulnerable to start with. But what I hadn’t in any way prepared for was a new wave of confidence, self-love, and self-acceptance.

    I felt liberated.

    As if unlocking a level on a video game, I felt as if I’d reached a brand-new level in my life. I began to get curious about why ditching filters had been such an issue. And then one day I asked myself a question that might just be one of the most important questions I’ve ever asked myself:

    Where else in my life am I wearing a filter?

    Where else in my life am I keeping my most authentic version at bay for fear of judgement, rejection, or even ridicule?

    Where else in my life am I hiding?

    There is much power to be found in the questions we ask when seeking answers that lie within.

    For me personally, such questions have led to a surge in my personal growth and self-acceptance along with my overall happiness and well-being. And with each question, its answer brings me closer to a version of myself that feels more and more like me with each passing day. From the clothes I wear, to the way I show up for myself and others, down to the energy I bring and my newfound freedom to create from the heart.

    It’s also been a beautiful reminder that the healing journey is exactly that, a journey. Not a destination. So I will continue to ask myself these questions. I will endeavor to remain curious and compassionate, not only in the pursuit of my most authentic self, but to also honor the practice of self-acceptance along the way.

  • How I Learned That My Pain is Valid and Worthy of My Own Empathy and Love

    How I Learned That My Pain is Valid and Worthy of My Own Empathy and Love

    “Sit with it. Sit with it. Sit with it. Sit with it. Even though you want to run. Even when it’s heavy and difficult. Even though you’re not quite sure of the way through. Healing happens by feeling.” ~Dr. Rebecca Ray

    It’s July 2022 and I’m in the middle of a red tent at Shambala Music Festival in British Columbia.

    I sit elbow to elbow, knee to knee, heart to heart with a group of women who I am meeting for the first time.

    It’s hot and we’re sweaty.

    A teacher is leading a healing womb meditation, and she prompts us to identify a person that has caused us pain, so that we can release that person and the power they wield over us.

    I am coming up short, thinking…

    “No one has caused me any real pain.”

    “I don’t have any real trauma.”

    “The pain I have experienced isn’t bad enough.”

    So I directed my healing energy to two friends who I believed were in need of more healing than me.

    I instantly realized what I was doing. I was defining my friends by their perceived abundance of pain and trauma and defining myself by my supposed lack of pain and trauma.

    I knew in that moment that this was probably not fair to my friends or to me, but this way of thinking had been familiar to me throughout my thirty-two years of living.

    Over and over again, I have found myself feeling guilty for the fact that I don’t think I have any “real” trauma.

    I come from a stable home with parents who love and support me. Growing up, I had everything I needed and most things I wanted. I have a big brother who is one of the best men (best humans) I know. I grew up in a middle-class part of Maryland. I have white skin in America. I can see, hear, and move my body.

    I used to constantly wonder how the challenges I have experienced could possibly stack up against those of my friends. She who experienced the deepest sexual trauma at a young age; or she who had an alcoholic father who was physically and emotionally abusive; or she who is regularly profiled when she walks home to her apartment because of the color of her skin.

    Or how my challenges could stack up against students I’ve mentored…like a ten-year-old boy from Syria whose legs are decorated with shrapnel scars; or a fifteen-year-old boy from Eritrea who was a child soldier; or a sixteen-year-old young woman who is the caretaker for her sick mother and five younger brothers and sisters.

    Luckily for me, and for you, I have detached from my struggle story that my pain is not enough. I have learned quite a few things and shifted away from this unhealthy way of thinking about pain and trauma.

    First, I have learned, and will continue to re-learn, that there is no competition for who has suffered the most. Trauma and pain are not a comparison game. 

    All experiences, emotions, and feelings are valid. And we all get to practice empathy for and awareness of the experiences and heartache of others, and of ourselves.

    I have also learned that people are not defined by their trauma. 

    And I am deeply sorry to the people in my life who I have ever defined in this way.

    My final learning is that the things I have experienced are valid and enough to warrant my own empathy, healing, and love. 

    Like…

    The countless times having sex with a previous partner, even though I didn’t want to, because it was just easier to go along with it. Which resulted in a period of my life where I really didn’t like sex. I told myself, it’s not that big of a deal, it’s just sex.

    The pressure from a friend to mess around with her boyfriend while she watched. Even though I said, “I don’t want to.”  I told myself I was just being a prude. This should be fun. What’s wrong with me?

    The grabs and gropes on the street, in the club, at the bar. I told myself this just came with the territory of being a woman.

    The unwanted touch and advance from a friend. I told myself I’ll just forget this and move on.

    The shame of one-night stands, even though I knew he, whoever he was, felt not shame but something more akin to glory. I told myself it was my fault for having a one-night stand. I brought this shame upon myself

    All of these experiences, and more, have been buried deep within me for years and I had barely been aware of them, until recently, as I have embarked on a very intentional journey of self-excavation.

    For me, this journey has included meditation, prayer, journaling, somatic healing, and experiences like the one in the red tent.

    I embarked on this journey thinking I would unpack a few insecurities and move on with my life with relative ease.

    But what has actually happened is that I have uncovered so many hidden treasures in myself.

    These treasures are sometimes in the form of past pain. Other times they take the form of nuggets of ideas that I buried long ago for a rainy day. And yet other times, they are in the form of things that I used to love as a child but forgot about as I grew up and was told by the world what I was supposed to love and who I was supposed to be.

    And now I get to excavate even further to see what each of these treasures is here to teach me. For the ones I shared above, there is a clear theme of sexuality, and that theme has led me to deep dive into this space with myself. This looks like self-pleasure, dancing naked in the mirror, loving every part of my body, and speaking my desires out loud to my partner.

    This journey has plunged me into the depths of my own darkness. And in that plunge, I have been reminded of my own strength—of my ability to bask in the darkness, all while knowing I will be okay.

    I also get to remind myself that I am enough. My pain is valid. I am worthy of taking up space.

    Guess what. The same goes for you, love.

  • It’s Not Your Responsibility

    It’s Not Your Responsibility

  • Why Judging People Is Really About You (Not Them)

    Why Judging People Is Really About You (Not Them)

    “It’s easy to judge. It’s more difficult to understand. Understanding requires compassion, patience, and a willingness to believe that good hearts sometimes choose poor methods. Through judging, we separate. Through understanding, we grow.” ~Doe Zantamata

    “Why doesn’t he say something?”

    I was sitting at the dinner table with my partner and friends. Everyone was interacting and talking to each other, except my partner. He was just sitting there quietly. I had to admit, this situation made me very uncomfortable.

    Why was he so quiet? We had been dating for over six months and normally, when it was just the two of us, he was very talkative, we had vivid discussions, he knew his opinions and was not afraid to speak his mind. But now, at a dinner with friends, he was a shadow of his normal self.

    To be honest, I felt a bit embarrassed. What would my friends think? Did they quietly judge him too? Did they think he was boring and uninteresting?

    When we got back home, I was irritated and annoyed. Have you ever had that feeling, when all you really want is to be brutally honest with someone? To explain exactly what they did wrong and explain how they should behave instead? I wanted to lecture him. To tell him this: “It’s rude not to interact at social gatherings. It’s weird. Can’t you behave? It’s sloppy! What’s wrong with you? What’s your problem?” 

    I didn’t say those things to him. Instead, I allowed what had happened to sit with me for a few days. Slowly, I started turning that finger I was pointing at him toward myself. Maybe this wasn’t all about him, maybe it had something to do with me?

    That’s when it struck me. He wasn’t having a problem. I was!

    I realized that my upbringing had given me certain values and “truths” about relationships and social interactions. This is how you behave: You actively participate during conversations, anything else is considered rude. You ask people questions and share stories during social gatherings; otherwise, people will think that you’re uninterested. That’s what I learned growing up.

    Because my partner wasn’t acting in accordance with what I had been taught, I judged him. Instead of asking myself why he was behaving the way he was, I put labels on him. When we came back home, I had, in my mind, labeled him as rude, boring, self-conscious, and not living up to the standards I wanted in a boyfriend.

    Now, eight years later, I know that my husband was quiet during that dinner because he needs more time with new people before he’s fully comfortable. He didn’t do it because he was rude. On the contrary, I know he cared deeply about me and my friends, he was just showing it in a different way.

    When I understood this, I knew that my judgment really had nothing to do with him—it was all about me. In judging my partner, I realized that I most of all judged myself. My judgment was never about him—it was about me.

    This insight did not only bring me more compassion, less judgment, and more closeness in our relationship, it brought me a new perspective and new values that made my life better.

    Below you’ll find the steps that I followed:

    1. Identify: What judgment do you make about someone?

    The first step is to be aware of the judgment(s) you make about other people. In my case, it was thoughts like “He’s rude and awkward,” “I’m better than him at interacting socially,” and “Maybe we’re not a good match? I need someone who can interact socially.” Often judgments include a feeling of you being superior, that you know or behave better than other people.

    Just become aware of the judgments you’re making (without judging yourself for having them). This is the first step in transforming the judgment.

    2. Ask yourself: How should this person be instead?

    In the specific situation, ask yourself how you think the other person should be or act instead. According to you, what’s the best behavior in the situation? Be honest with yourself and write exactly what comes to mind, don’t hold yourself back here.

    In my case, I wanted my partner to be fully involved in the conversations. I wanted him to be talkative, interested, and curious about my friends.

    3. Go deeper: Why is it important to be this way?

    Be curious and ask yourself, why is it important to be or act in the way that you prefer? If a person doesn’t act that way, what does it signal about the person? What is the consequence of not being or acting in the way you desire?

    For me, social skills translate into good manners and that you can behave appropriately. I used to think that people that weren’t behaving in the “right” way, according to my viewpoint at the time, weren’t taught well by their parents. I labeled them as uninteresting and not contributing to the group. (Now, I know better, but more on that soon).

    4. Spot: What underlying value is your judgment coming from?

    Ask yourself what underlying values and beliefs that are fueling your judgments. What’s the story you’re telling yourself about the specific situation? Be brutally honest here.

    In my case it was the following: Being unsocial is negative and equals weakness. Not being socially skilled is awkward and weird. It means that you are less—less capable, less skilled, less smart/intelligent, and ultimately less worthy. (Just to clarify, this was my judgment and insecurity speaking, and it’s obviously not the truth).

    From my upbringing I had learned that social skills are highly valued. I was taught to be talkative, to engage in social interactions, and to articulate well. If you didn’t live up to these expectations, you felt inferior and less worthy.

    5. Make a choice: Keep or replace your values?

    When you have defined your underlying values and beliefs, you have to make a choice: Either you keep or replace them. And the crucial questions are: Are your values and beliefs serving you or not? Are they in line with your moral standard and aspirations?

    I chose to replace my values. Instead of valuing people based on social skills, I chose to replace that value with acceptance, respect, curiosity, and equality. As much as I didn’t want to judge someone for their skin color, gender, or ethnicity, I didn’t want to judge someone based on how they behave socially.

    Instead, I made a conscious choice to accept and respect all individuals for who they are. And to be curious and kind, because in my experience, every person you meet can teach you something.

    Transforming Judgment to Your Benefit

    Looking back at that dinner with my partner, I was so close to falling into the trap. To get into a fight where I would hurt my partner badly and create a separation between us. It took courage to turn the finger of judgment I was pointing towards him and to turn it towards me instead.

    I realized that my underlying values and beliefs had consequences, not only for the people close to me, but also for myself. They implied that if someone has a bad day and doesn’t feel like interacting, that this is not okay. That others and I are not allowed to be ourselves and to show up just as we are (talkative or not).

    I realized that the values that my judgment stem from did not only make me judge my partner, they also made me judge myself. I was not allowed to just show up. I realized that my upbringing had given me a sense of insecurity and uncertainty. Sure, I had learned how to interact and be the center of attention. But the underlying painful feeling was there. I had to be an entertainer. I had to always be smiling and in a good mood. I had to be curious and ask other people questions.

    If not, I’d be excluded. I felt that I was only accepted when I was happy, outgoing, and enthusiastic. That was stressful and it didn’t make me feel safe.

    Also, to my surprise, once I stopped judging my partner, he became more social and talkative at social gatherings. Why? Because previously he’d probably felt my judgmental look, and that made him even more uncomfortable and introverted. When I stopped judging he felt acceptance and respect. And that, in turn, made it easier for him to be himself, even at social gatherings.

    The bottom line is this: When you judge someone it always comes back to you. What I discovered was that because I judged others, I was also very hard on myself. The more I have worked on this process, the more forgiving, accepting, and loving towards myself I have become.

    Next time you find yourself judging someone else, stop and reflect. Follow the five steps and remember: it’s key to be honest, vulnerable, and curious.

    Free yourself from the chains of judgment and allow acceptance, compassion, and liberation to enter—both for yourself and others. You got this!

  • Rethinking Masculinity: Why I Want More Than Bachelor Parties and Football

    Rethinking Masculinity: Why I Want More Than Bachelor Parties and Football

    “Patriarchy is the expression of the immature masculine. It is the expression of Boy psychology, and, in part, the shadow—or crazy—side of masculinity. It expresses the stunted masculine, fixated at immature levels.” ~ Robert Moore & Doug Gillette

    Seventy eggs, packs of bacon, and multiple types of beer filled the fridge. On the counter lay handles of liquor and energy drinks. The dining table was lined with snacks galore: chips, Cheese-its, popcorn, Oreos, Doritos, and dozens of Fireball nips.

    I’ve been to many bachelor parties, and it’s not surprising that health is never a priority. Yet this time, things felt different, or at least they should have. Most of the men present were fathers approaching forty. Everyone was married, had highly respectable careers, and lived in nice homes across the US.

    It was clear that this weekend wouldn’t be a free-for-all of strip clubs. We no longer had the beer guzzling metabolism of our twenties or the naivete of our youth. But if not late-night revelry, what would it be? Accepting that we were older and in a much different place in life seemed to be in tension with what this weekend was supposed to be all about.

    The expectations, unspoken and unexamined, were looming over each of us. We were supposed to act as if we were decades younger back in college. The story we were unconsciously telling ourselves was that honoring a man’s last single days was to be full of drinking and debauchery.

    We didn’t come here to be emotionally vulnerable and eat salads. We came together to get rowdy.

    The question on my mind is whether there is space in our current paradigm of masculinity to do both?

    * As grown men, do we have to revert to childish ways of interacting?

    * Do we have to reduce ourselves to the lowest common denominator of health and wellness to have fun together?

    * Are there not other ways of being together that better fit our present realities as mature, adults?

    Still more questions drifted through my mind:

    * Can we take a responsible approach to caring for our body and still make room to party?

    * Can we find a balance between celebrating our friend’s last days of being single without making marriage out to be a ball and chain?

    * Can we eat salads together and still be “manly enough”?

    I believe we can do all of these things, but first we need to unravel some deeply held social norms about how men are supposed to interact together in groups.

    The Undiscussed Rules of Bachelor Parties

    The unspoken rule of bachelor parties is that there are no rules. Go wild. Get f*cked up. Have as much fun as possible because you’re about to lose all your freedom. Or at least that’s how the story goes.

    But where did this story come from?

    How did all of us guys end up with this template of bachelor parties as a drug-fueled escape from responsibility?

    What’s more, how did we end up with this notion of marriage as impending shackles or the stereotype of men running away from long-term relationships?

    Movies?

    Media?

    Watching older generations go through their failed marriages and broken relationships?

    Probably all of the above and more.

    The stereotypes of men acting like boys is a sad reflection of our present reality. We have strayed from the mythic stories of men as responsible, powerful actors in the world and settled on a version of manhood that seems woefully incomplete. 

    Perhaps the most noteworthy archetype framing masculinity is that of a hero’s journey. It is the quintessential growing-up quest where men discover their strength through adventure and adversity. Endless movies from Star Wars to Harry Potter rift upon this classic template of human development.

    Yet what is notably missing from all these sagas is the hero as a family man, caring for himself and his world responsibly as an adult. We are obsessed with heroic journeys and completely unenthusiastic about domestic life.

    I get one makes for a much better motion picture, but it is this void in our present mythology that leaves men hanging on boyish and incomplete ideas of what it means to be a mature man. How does the hero turned father integrate into society, build a family, connect with other men, and take responsibility for doing good in the world?

    If the hero’s journey is the fundamental process by which a boy becomes a man, the question of how to actually enact manhood remains.

    This void is exacerbated when groups of men come together. The expectation is that of unhealthy behavior. The bachelor party is just one manifestation of this—groups of men acting like teenage boys… hedonistic, rebellious, and immature.

    Yet the world doesn’t need more rowdy teenagers. It needs strong, healthy men. Men, it’s time we grow the f*ck up. The problem as I see it, is that we don’t know how.

    No Models, No Vision, No Manhood

    When I look around for good templates on how to spend time together, all I see is sports, fraternities, and bachelor parties. There is nothing inherently wrong with any of these, but as the only models for men to exist together, they leave a lot to be desired.

    Sports teams and bachelor parties may be suitable for the single twenty-something, but where are the role models for men trying to be a good husband or trying to make ends meet?

    I want more meaning and depth than our current cultural templates afford. I want to hang out with other men in a way that calls upon our higher qualities, not our lower ones.

    Yet I fear that the little boy in me so badly wants to be accepted by the other guys that I will continue to squeeze myself into outdated beliefs and unhealthy ideals that have me ripping shots of fireball just feel accepted—the policing of the proverbial “man box.”

    As men we must deconstruct this box and give ourselves permission to act differently. This includes

    * Learning to have drink without being irresponsible to our body, our friends, or our partners.

    * Learning to talk about our feelings as much as we talk about football.

    * Allowing ourselves to strive professionally without feeling like our self-worth is dependent on our ability to provide.

    * Feeling comfortable sharing our struggles with other men, so we don’t unconsciously accept that suffering alone is an inevitable part of being a man.

    Creating New Templates for Men to Be Together

    Loneliness is an epidemic. And for men, the feeling that you’ve got to “man up” and deal with all of life’s challenges on your own is a legacy of patriarchy that needs to be released.

    We need each other. More importantly, we need to learn how to be together in a relationship without feeling like beer and sports are the only way.

    Can you imagine a world where men hang out and actually come out stronger, healthier, and more sound in mind and body?

    I can. It’s not only possible, it is necessary.

    I can imagine the eye rolling among some guys. “That’s why there’s men’s groups. Don’t take away my bachelor parties or Sunday football.”

    To be clear, I’m not at all against bachelor parties. The “wild and free” mindset makes sense as a time-bounded final hurrah.

    I’m not advocating for less fun. I’m advocating for more opportunities for men (and women) to gather in a way that challenges the scripts and roles that have kept us prisoners to immature ways of interacting. 

    The current social pressure not only makes it difficult for men to be emotionally available, it also squashes so many of the joyful parts of our inner child—the playfulness, adventure, and energy of boyhood. It’s keeping us from our embodied selves.

    But we need to grow and integrate that into new rites of passage that allow men to avoid blindly accepting patriarchal norms.

    I don’t want to have to hide my softer, more vulnerable parts. I believe we can discuss how our social conditioning as men impacts our body and mind alongside discussing our fantasy picks and favorite cars. There’s room for it all if we can let go of outdated notions about how men can spend time together.

    If we can help each other evolve into a more integrated expression of what it means to be a healthy man, everyone will benefit—the boys who are coming of age, the men who are struggling to find their place in the world, and the partners who deserve men that are nurturing and generative, not hostile and destructive.

    Learning to be a better man, together.

  • Why I’d Rather Be Vulnerable with People Than Pretend I’m Perfect

    Why I’d Rather Be Vulnerable with People Than Pretend I’m Perfect

    “Give up being perfect, for being authentic. Give up the need to be perfect, for the opportunity to be authentic. Be who you are. Love who you are. Others will too.” ~Hal Elrod

    I’m not perfect. Not that this would come as any kind of surprise to anyone who knows me. But I often feel pushed in the direction of trying to represent myself as someone who has it all together. Especially because of the nature of my work as a coach and facilitator. What about you? Do you ever feel like you’re putting on a show for others?

    The more I find myself trying to represent a perfectly put-together person, the less confident I feel in who I am because I know I am being inauthentic. It’s a big part of what took me off social media a few years ago.

    I don’t like that social media has the ability to mold what you think about yourself by way of comparison and encourage posturing. It’s a slippery slope, as we’re hardwired to yearn for love and connection as part of our survival. For me, it didn’t feel like the kinda place I wanted my love and connection to come from.

    Having the ability to talk about our flaws, what’s going wrong in our lives and where we’re getting stuck, is a huge part of human evolution that we often forget about. If we don’t have an environment to talk about our vulnerabilities, the wounds never get a chance to heal.

    Before getting into therapy, my life was a bloody mess because I pretended like these wounds didn’t exist.

    I don’t remember a period in my life without depression. Even as a teen it followed me around like a shadow.

    I believed the world would be better without me. I felt worthless—like I shouldn’t even have a seat at the table with other humans. I should have been in an alley eating scraps of food with sewer rats. No matter what I did or how hard I tried, the shadow mocked me for dreaming of a better future. My unwillingness to unpack those thoughts meant the infection spread to all areas of my life.

    I grew up in the nineties, when no one was talking about mental health. You struggled in silence.

    I battled demons in high school. I only lasted till eleventh grade before dropping out. I couldn’t stand the thought of spending another day being somewhere that made my life hell—but really, hell was inside me.

    The voice inside my head was (and still is at times) vicious. Every day it was like the Vikings raided and settled into my thoughts to destroy my existence. Those thoughts have left scars that would look like battle wounds of lobbed-off arms if you could see them.

    The voice inside my head was a reminder that I sure as hell would never do anything my parents would be proud of. It was easier to do nothing so that nothing was expected of me. I didn’t feel stupid if I didn’t try, so it made my reality an easier pill to swallow.

    I did graduate and made my way to university, but my life became increasingly dysfunctional. My love for being black-out drunk on Sailor Jerry rum became the perfect way to cope with a chaotic mind I didn’t understand.

    This comes back to not treating open wounds. Everything I resisted continue to persist.

    I had next to no insight into what I was going through because I wasn’t willing to share that I was struggling.

    At the time, my problems took on the weight of the world because I didn’t let people stand by my side to support me. I burned through relationships like a brushfire. I had no idea how to be in an open and communicative relationship because I barely had a relationship with myself.

    Once the wounds became visible through therapy, I could stop the infection from poisoning my ability to think and function. Vulnerability saved my life. I have no doubt that if I didn’t get that support, I would not be here today.

    We forget that our survival depends on being vulnerable. Author Brad Stulberg talks about this in his book, The Practice of Groundedness. He writes, “Our ancestors who survived weren’t those who were the strongest by traditional measures, but those who were most effectively able to share their weaknesses with one another and work together to overcome them.”

    If I didn’t share what I’ve been through, would you still be reading this? Probably not. It would be just another fluff piece on embracing your vulnerability.

    Without openness, there is no love and connection.

    Without openness, you and I wouldn’t be sharing this moment.

    Without openness, you and I can’t heal and grow together.

    The idea of being vulnerable scares the sh*t out of most of us. No one wants to be perceived as weak or admit they have flaws. We’re afraid that the lions of the world will sense our weaknesses and pick us off one by one.

    Except I’ve never actually been mauled by a wild animal when I’ve asked for help, or taken responsibility for a mistake. It’s actually had the opposite effect. Through my writing and vulnerability, I’ve connected with people on every continent of earth.

    It becomes impossible for me to pretend my vulnerabilities are mine alone if people from all over the world have said I’ve captured what they’re struggling with.

    This idea is backed up by research from The University of Mannheim, in Germany, that Stulberg references in his book.

    He writes, “They repeatedly found that the individual doing the sharing felt that their vulnerability would be perceived as weak, as a negative. But the person on the other end of the conversation, the listener, felt the exact opposite: the more vulnerable the sharer was, the more courageous they perceived him or her to be. The listener viewed vulnerability as an unambiguously positive trait.”

    And I think this is why a lot of us continue to feel stuck. We’re so damn wrapped up in worrying about what others will think of us when we open up that we miss the chance to connect.

    When we feel we need to be perfect, it becomes impossible to grow because we’re not being honest with ourselves about how we’re struggling and what would help. My life couldn’t move forward if I refused to see the reality that partying, substance abuse, and pleasure chasing was an attempt to escape depression.

    When you choose the illusion of perfection over vulnerability, you become a stunted version of who you’re capable of becoming.

    The first place you get to take the armor off is when you’re staring at the reflection you see in the mirror.

    Are you willing to be vulnerable with the person staring back at you?

    Are you willing to admit that life is not going the way you want it to?

    Are you willing to put aside judgment so you can get the help and support you need?

    We all want changes, but are we willing to make the choices that give us that change?

    These questions have the potential to shake the core of your foundation free from all the bullsh*t that accumulates over the years. It’s bloody liberating to let go of stories that no longer serve you—stories about who you need to be and what you need to do or have in order to be happy and loved.

    I didn’t need to achieve a promotion or drive a sports car to receive love from my parents. I didn’t have to do anything to show the world that I mattered. I needed to ground myself in vulnerability, rather than an image of perfection, so I could show up as my authentic self and make a difference for other people by being the real, imperfect me.

    Pretending to be somebody you’re not is exhausting work. Not to mention it does the complete opposite of what you want it to do. If vulnerability gives you the power to connect, lead, and grow, that means the inverse is also true. A lack of vulnerability means you end up feeling disconnected, a fraud, forever stuck with a fragile version of what you’re capable of because your ego is afraid of getting hurt.

    Putting a name to what you’re facing puts the power back in your hands. So recognize that you too may be pretending to be perfect to avoid admitting you’re struggling and feeling vulnerable. That single choice to embrace vulnerability could be the most important decision you ever make in your life. And it just may give you the confidence to know you can face anything and rise above it.

  • Why I Despised My Skin Color & 5 Strategies That Improved My Self-Image

    Why I Despised My Skin Color & 5 Strategies That Improved My Self-Image

    “Beauty begins the moment you decide to be yourself.” ~Coco Chanel

    I believed I was ugly and blamed it on my dark skin. I hated my skin color. Looking back, I realized it’s because I didn’t fit in with the white kids, nor did I fit in with the black kids.

    I am mixed race. I have a black father and a white mother. Until I started school, I never considered myself different. My family and I were close, and I felt love and acceptance.

    When I started second grade, I developed a crush on a boy, who never noticed me and fawned over the pretty blonde girl in class. She was beautiful, with springy blonde curls and a soft, feminine voice. She wore colorful dresses that enhanced her beauty. I felt drab and plain next to her. Thus, began my dislike of my dark, frizzy afro.

    As I grew older, the name calling occurred. I was called zebra, Oreo, and n*gger. I spent a lot of my youth in tears.

    I wish I could say that it got easier as I grew older. I grew envious of the blonde girls, who caught the boys’ attention. I even envied my two sisters. One had no trouble getting boys to like her, and the other had beautiful hair that fell naturally down her neck in wavy curls.

    However, entering the seventh grade solidified my hatred of my skin color and frizzy hair.

    I sat in the back of my math class working on my assignment, while passing notes to my friends. Exhibiting a form of bravery, I tossed a note to my secret crush named Mike. He wrote back which pleased me.

    In one particular note, I asked him why he didn’t like me. As I handed it to him, I hoped with all my might that he’d tell me I was wrong. When he gave me the note back, he smiled, and I grew hopeful. I opened it and tears formed in my eyes. My heart plummeted to my stomach and bile rose to my throat. His words seared my brain as if he said them aloud.

    “Because you’re ugly.”

    Devastation enveloped me. I crumbled up the note, but the words couldn’t be as easily destroyed like the piece of paper. It sat in the back of my mind as an explanation to me why boys didn’t like me.

    In ninth grade, I was called a dog and had spitballs spat at the back of my head. I left them there, too embarrassed to even rummage through my thick frizzy mass to find them.

    “Why did you let them throw spitballs at you?” the substitute teacher asked me after class, as she removed the wet globs from my hair.

    I shrugged and left the room thinking, “Why didn’t you stop them?”

    By the time I graduated from high school, I pretty much gave up on finding somebody to love me for me. I did go on dates, but I had to do the asking. Even as I went out with them, I could tell that they’d have preferred to be anywhere else but with me.

    I struggled with my self-esteem but hid it all behind a smile. I decided to just be myself, be friendly, be kind, and smile. In private, I would cry as I wrote my feelings in stories and journals.

    Then one day at the college computer room, I met Rick. He spoke to me and showed an interest in me. When he asked me out, I accepted. Unfortunately, my life never went like I had hoped. I got pregnant. He left me.

    Deciding to keep my baby, I raised him with the help of my parents and went back to college to get my degree. I decided then to focus on myself and my little boy. Naturally, obstacles surfaced, but I chose to be myself and incorporated five strategies that slowly helped me start liking myself.

    1. I practiced self-care.

    Although self-love needs to come from within, I knew I’d feel better about myself if I put more effort into my appearance, so I bought new clothes and changed my hairstyle. This reinforced that I was worth the effort. Wearing flattering clothes and makeup enhanced my skin tone and body shape.

    I also took care of myself mentally by reading books that centered on personal growth and following steps to keep my thoughts positive, such as reciting positive affirmations and being more aware of my negative thoughts so I can reframe my thinking patterns.

    Taking care of my mind and body really helped me see myself differently. When I felt more comfortable in my skin and more at ease in my own mind, my self-confidence grew.

    2. I stopped worrying about what people thought.

    I had always been shy and introverted, and I was afraid of being judged. Being in college helped me break out of that shell. I spoke up in class and asked questions. I stopped worrying what people would think about me because I knew this was holding me back. My entire focus centered on what I wanted to learn and get from the classes I took.

    My best friend at the time told me that I should walk with my head up and back straight. She taught me that with my shoulders back and my head held high, I’d appear confident, and when I felt confident, no one’s opinions could hurt me. I adopted that form, and believe me, it felt great to walk with extremely good posture and feel the confidence exude from within me.

    3. I focused on the positive.

    Being positive had always been hard. I would wallow in self-pity and then wonder why I didn’t have many friends or couldn’t get a date. I changed my mindset and focused on the good things in my life and positive changes I wanted to make.

    I spent a lot of time with my son and worked on my writing skills, because being a writer was very important to me, and still is! I learned everything I could about business management and continuously developed my skills. I also started hanging out with positive people with healthy self-esteem and emulated their free spirit and vivacious personalities. Spending time around people who see the world through a positive, empowering lens has helped switch my mindset and feel better about myself and life.

    4. I started smiling more.

    By smiling more, I felt positive and happy more often. I wanted people to view me as someone approachable and friendly, so I smiled and showed my courtesy to those around me. It’s amazing what a smile can do for yourself as well for others. Smiling at someone in passing could touch that person and ease whatever pain they’re enduring. It could brighten their day and, and in turn help you feel good about yourself.

    When I was on my way to work one day, after picking up a hot chocolate at a nearby food court, I walked down a few steps toward the exit. An unkempt man entered and held the door open for me. I flashed him a smile and thanked him. He did a doubletake and then smiled hesitantly at me. It was then that I realized the power of a smile. It made me feel good to acknowledge this man because of a courteous gesture on his part.

    By being kind and grateful, I shared a moment with a complete stranger and it felt good.

    5. I found the courage to be myself.

    After practicing the steps above, I was no longer afraid to be myself. I broke out of my comfort zone and even spoke in public at church and seminars I took. Being myself freed me from living in a shell, where the walls I had built at a young age came crashing down.

    Today, my skin color no longer bothers me. I still hate my hair, but that’s beside the point. The fact is I realized that it wasn’t my skin color that was stopping me from making friends and finding love. It was me all along. I need to love and take care of myself first before anyone else could love me.

    I now have a wonderful, gorgeous husband who treats me the way I’ve always wanted to be treated by a man. He values me and loves everything about me—flaws and all!

    Exercising these five strategies created a life for me that I’m quite proud of. In retrospect, I wish I could tell my teenage self that life will get better, just be patient, and enjoy your naturally built-in tan.

    I’m proud to be half black and white. It is a blend of both my parents, who I love very much. Without them, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.

  • Why I Stopped Measuring My Self-Worth and Trying to Prove Myself

    Why I Stopped Measuring My Self-Worth and Trying to Prove Myself

    “You alone are enough. You have nothing to prove to anyone.” ~Maya Angelou

    How do you measure your self-worth? By the salary you make each year? By the length of your resume? By the number of people who follow you on social media?

    Now what if you never had to measure your self-worth again? That is what I want to do.

    I grew up as a gifted kid with high expectations to boot, always pushing myself to meet them. I earned the best grades I could, secured a full-ride scholarship to a local university, and soon enough ended up at one of the top law schools in the country.

    Thanks to all the achievements, my self-worth was high. I believed I was outshining my peers, boosting my ego. I felt safe in this comfort zone I’d created. 

    Law school drastically changed my perspective of the world. My peer group became some of the smartest and most talented people in the country. I tried competing against them to prove myself, but I struggled more than ever to stand out and feel accomplished.

    In just a few months, my ego began crumbling apart, taking my once lofty feelings of worth down with it. I was out of my comfort zone and felt invisible.

    I turned to strangers online in an attempt to put the pieces back together and resurrect my worth. I relied heavily on social media to put myself out there for superficial likes and comments. I turned lifelong hobbies into side hustles, trading content I cared about for bits of validation here and there.

    I was desperate to find some new measure of success on which I could rely. But I never noticed the damage that desperation was doing to my psyche until it had already taken its toll.

    My ego had protected me for so long from doubt that as soon as it was gone, I never felt good enough. Once I believed I was a failure, I only kept confirming my demoralizing feelings by pushing myself to excel immediately in new areas. I compared myself to the best of the best and treated myself like the worst of the worst.

    I was trapped in a downward spiral leading to worthlessness. It was only when I slowed down to reflect on my mental health that I realized my life looked like an endless rat race to find some proverbial cheese. I strained to earn my worth and ended up empty-handed.

    If you always chase after self-worth, you never stop to see if you have found any.  

    How is it so many of us believe our worth is conditional? I believe it is a long, grueling process.

    Many of us learned growing up to associate self-worth with achievement of some kind. As we discovered authority figures gave us the most positive feedback and attention when we were doing a great job, we linked our worth to excelling. Without that encouragement, we were lost.

    The world around us exploits this correlation on a daily basis. To some extent, it makes the world go round.

    Western culture, in particular, thrives on permanently tying worth to achievement: the more people pursue success in what they do, the more productive they are and the more money that flows. Accordingly, society constantly tries to push the idea that hard work is sacred and will ultimately lead us to a life of achievement, ergo worth.

    Western culture does not reward those happy to just be. Instead, we are expected to keep laboring away until we can do something well. Even then, some types of work are highly valued over others, so we have to find the right work to do just to get by. 

    So, if you do not feel happy and fulfilled, do you not just have to work harder?

    Yet, not all hard workers reap the benefits. After all, achievement requires meeting a certain standard, inevitably doing better than someone else. Only significant time and effort may lead to a worthy triumph.

    There will inevitably be haves and have-nots because the system at play rewards a limited number of people who play the system best, who achieve the most success. The more limited the rewards, the more everyone forces themselves to try harder day in and day out.

    Unfortunately for us, the reward is merely the validation we apparently need to go about our lives. If our worth is dependent solely on our achievements, we have no choice but to compete with one another over a limited, essential resource. Achievements are only as valuable as they are rare.

    But this competition cannot be won. There will always be more to do. And someone will always do more.

    External validation never makes you content. It only keeps you hungry for more.

    In my struggles, I have had a difficult time understanding how to view my worth.

    How much worth do I have? How does it compare to other people’s worth? Does it go up and down?

    When am I finally worthy once and for all?

    To answer these questions, I vehemently tried to attach a number to my worth whenever possible. After all, a number is a concrete, self-explanatory concept. I could tell when I had more or less than someone.

    Thus, using numbers allowed me to measure my worth and other people’s worth with ease. This gave me a way to understand my place in the world.

    Using numbers also allowed me to gauge how my worth was changing. For example, if I received more likes than usual, I was happier than usual since I must have been doing something right. If I received less, I was in need of quick improvement.

    Except numbers are hollow. They have no value unless we agree to give them value, but our obsessive nature often gives extraordinary value to the benign.

    We use shortcuts like numbers to explain concepts we have a hard time comprehending. Self-worth certainly seems to be one of those trying concepts, always just out of reach like an elusive fruit hanging above us or a receding pool of water.

    Breaking away from society’s expectations provided me the room to realize self-worth is only as complicated as I make it.

    If self-worth need not exist conditionally, it can exist inherently. In fact, it exists now without exception.

    Your worth cannot be assigned a value. It simply is. 

    By virtue of the fact that you are alive, you are just as worthy as anyone else who has lived before, lives now, or will live after.

    We all come into the world the same, and we all leave the same way. Our lives may differ widely in content, but not in value. Nothing separates us at the most fundamental level.

    And none of us start out deficient in worth. We need not go on a lifelong journey to earn our worth by moving up in the world. Our worth remains steadfast regardless of how our lives take shape.

    Work does not shape our worth. No matter how you decide to share your skills and talents, the world will be better off, even if you alone trust the value in what you do and who you are.

    Society may try to tell us how we should view and feel about ourselves, but we are not obligated to listen. Fighting those ingrained ideas of what others think we should do is never an easy battle, but it is worth the independence.

    No matter how one does or does not measure worth, it does not vary, and it does not waver.

    We are all enough as is, right now.

    There exist millions of ways to compare ourselves to others, but we owe it to ourselves to make light of differences and revel in our shared humanity.

    So how do we move forward knowing that we cannot improve or reduce our worth?

    Well, the possibilities are endless. The doors open up to a life where you can be you unabashedly. And more importantly, you can be a part of something bigger than yourself without feeling small.

    Waiting for others to prove you are worthy is time better spent sharing your true self. 

    After spending the last few years of my life trying to prove myself without ever reaching the level of success I wanted, I realized my definition of success kept changing until I made it impossible to feel fulfilled. I stopped myself from being happy unless I was universally revered.

    I lived thoughtlessly, spending what free time I had attempting to make myself look accomplished rather than enjoying the time. I conformed to what I thought people would like rather than let myself flourish.

    My true self was suffocated. Receiving even the most primitive criticism felt like being stabbed in the chest. I was more distanced from others than ever before because I did not feel like I deserved to be liked anymore.

    But I do deserve to be me, to take up space, to contribute to the world in my own way. And you do too.  

    Knowing that what you do cannot change who you are promotes freedom in how you want to live, freedom not just from others, but also from expectations and doubt.

    Knowing you always have worth allows you to connect with the people around you more deeply, empathize with them, and support their journeys through life.

    It is with this knowledge you can find and share true joy.

    You can pursue what you love instead of what you feel you ought to do. You can work at your pace to be the person you want to be. You can stay present knowing neither praise nor disapproval affects your worth.

    Many will struggle to agree with you, though, that you can exist in peace without having to fight to prove your value. Even I still struggle to keep not just naysayers, but also my inner, learned uncertainties at bay in regard to whether I offer anything worthwhile.

    Learning more about your inherent worth means unlearning those harsh, ingrained principles of life as we have known it. These principles will never fade away completely, but we can make a choice every day to drown them out.

    Take it from me, your life will not immediately change in discovering your own worth, but it can improve a little day after day the more you take your discovery to heart. As is the case with any transition, there will be ups and downs. I still have doubts creeping in when I least expect them.

    But the more you live openly and share yourself with others, the more those principles will take hold and the stronger you will be in challenging what life throws your way. Instead of seeking achievement and improvement, you will be content, one with the universe.

    You will be free.

  • How I Recognized My Fear of Failure and How I’m Mindfully Overcoming It

    How I Recognized My Fear of Failure and How I’m Mindfully Overcoming It

    “The only way to ease our fear and be truly happy is to acknowledge our fear and look deeply at its source. Instead of trying to escape from our fear, we can invite it up to our awareness and look at it clearly and deeply.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

    My daughter began taking tumbling classes a week before her eighth birthday. She had been dancing since the age of three, and those classes included instructions for cartwheels and roundoffs. The harder stuff, like the back walkover, required tumbling or gymnastics classes, and she wanted the chance to be able to show off those moves during the annual dance recital.

    My wife wasn’t interested in watching our daughter repeatedly and blindly dive backward in a bendy arch, each time hoping her hands met the ground firmly enough to slow down the momentum of her trailing head and torso. But I was interested.

    Her dancing wasn’t exciting to me at that point because the skills involved weren’t physically challenging yet. That would come later. But each back walkover was a potential catastrophe, and that made them fun to watch.

    Tumbling classes aren’t cheap, and it was apparent to me that a single class a week was a slow way to acquire a skill. So we came to an agreement that we would try to spend at least a little time each day practicing things she was learning in class. This would be like quality father-daughter coaching time except I had no background in tumbling, coaching athletics, or not being an overbearing control freak. I would be the one doing most of the learning.

    A YouTube Tumbling Coach

    Obviously, there’s no technical challenge too complex that it cannot be mastered by watching two or three related YouTube videos by experts whose credentials you have not bothered to verify and are not qualified to assess.

    That’s where my training began—with good intentions and numerous short videos of young girls in leotards plunging backward into smooth backbends while their lead legs fluttered up and over their bodies and their trailing legs followed seamlessly after in a graceful full-body hinge.

    The cheaply produced clips became a source of embarrassment when my YouTube account synched with my work laptop. I remember stammering through an explanation to my students for the video recommendations that followed a TED Talk I had shown them on a classroom projector. They collectively grimaced.

    Not being aware of any of the finer points of the movements only fueled my coaching confidence and my daughter was soon mastering bridge kickovers, then backbend kickovers, and then, a short time later, the back walkover. She would appear at her weekly class suddenly able to easily perform a skill that was out of reach the week before. I loved that.

    Within months, I had assembled a trampoline in the yard without consulting my wife or daughter first.

    The basement’s piles of assorted clutter were repositioned to make room for a large gymnastics tumbling mat. A smaller one was added later as some of the clutter was donated to area charities. A third would eventually stretch the combined mats the length of the room diagonally with the last section rising vertically against the far wall as a protective barrier against my daughter’s growing gymnastics awesomeness.

    With the basement a de facto shrine to her hobby, I was emboldened to live vicariously through my only child’s growing list of technical accomplishments. Which I’m to understand is always completely healthy and never a problem…except when it is.

    Mindful of Being Way Too Much

    Relatively early in our collaboration, I treated my daughter to the sort of pep talk that makes eight-year-olds cry and not want to learn anything from you. It would not be the last.

    She kept working with me though. Even if I occasionally barked at her about her attitude like a stereotypical high school football coach, she still wanted to practice and improve. That willingness to endure my nonsense quickly became important.

    The back handspring was not conquered as easily as the previous dozen or so skills, and that was frustrating for the both of us. We tread water for months, her arms refusing to support the weight of her backward springing body, and she seemed to enjoy our practice time less than before. That was true for me as well.

    It was great being a successful inexperienced, unqualified tumbling coach. The less successful version just felt painfully aware that he wasn’t experienced or qualified to know how to address a repetitive breakdown in form. Do I yell at her arms? Can you motivate an appendage like a drill sergeant? It was a mystery.

    I cannot recall how many YouTube clips, message board recommendations, poorly described alignment changes, and conditioning drills I subjected her to over that time. It was too many and our shared frustration made me harder to be around. But I was confronting the reality of my coaching limitations one failed experiment after the other.

    With hindsight, this was the most important period for our collaboration and my growth as her coach. Nothing was working, progress was invisible, and the only thing I could do was to behave in a way that encouraged her to continue.

    Thankfully, my mindfulness practice was helping me develop my own skills. And those mindfulness skills would help me recognize the detrimental role fear was playing in my coaching.

    Noticing the Fear of Failure Is a Win

    Our time in the basement became a laboratory for my own mindfulness practice. Barely six months after beginning our collaboration, my daughter had lost faith in herself and the process. Just bringing my full presence to her in that atmosphere was a challenging spiritual exercise—especially when I assisted her with repetition after repetition of back handsprings and every part of me wanted to shout at her bending elbows for failing us both.

    The first move for this practice was to go into the basement with the intention to practice mindfulness.

    Yes, if you are a mindfulness maximalist like me you are usually trying to practice bringing a deeper level of attention to whatever you are doing. But more challenging situations can benefit from clearer intentions.

    My next move was to deconstruct the reactions I was experiencing.

    Those reactions consisted of mental images, mental talk, and emotional body sensations. Noticing the sensations that arise when I am frustrated gives me a handhold for dealing with the reaction skillfully.

    The third move was to bring my attention to prominent sensations.

    In those practices, thinking is a sensation, and I would try to get a clear sense of my inner chatter and visuals. Fixing a reactive sensation in attention while supporting your daughter’s lower back as she leaps backward is a bad idea, so I would consciously pause between repetitions.

    The frustrated thoughts and emotions expressed by the body could be embarrassingly dramatic. I was occasionally angry at reality for not honoring my efforts. Did reality not understand how much time I had spent on YouTube?

    Importantly, I didn’t dismiss or dispute the content of my thoughts. I practiced acceptance and non-engagement. The assumption here is that resisting your emotional resistance only creates more resistance, like trying to smother a brush fire with dried leaves.

    That was my fourth move: to have equanimity with what I was feeling.

    Except when I couldn’t. Then I tried to have equanimity with my inability to have equanimity with what I was feeling. Failing that, I tried to have equanimity with my failure to have equanimity with my lack of equanimity. It was equanimity all the way down.

    My fifth and final move was to recognize insight.

    It is easy to dismiss some insights as common sense or something you should have already known about yourself. But that might lead to a missed opportunity to learn and grow, especially if you are already experiencing emotionally immature reactions in response to reality being mean to you.

    The insight that emerged from my mindfulness practice during that period of stagnation was that I was afraid of failure.

    I was afraid that I would fail as a coach and my daughter would fail as a gymnast. And there was nothing I could yell at her elbows to change that.

    I was maybe most afraid that I was teaching an eight-year-old hard work doesn’t always pay off, your best isn’t always good enough, and it isn’t always worth the time and effort to learn how to do hard things.

    Those lessons aren’t entirely wrong, they’re just beside the point. My greatest fear should have been for her to no longer enjoy doing something she wants to do…because of me.

    I knew from the season I ineptly YouTube coached her soccer team a couple years earlier that young children have an incredible ability to still enjoy the things well-meaning adults are accidentally making less fun. But this was different.

    My fears weren’t just making me less effective as a coach; they were sending the message that our time together could only be enjoyable if she was making clear progress. I didn’t believe that and didn’t want her to believe it either. I committed to change my approach.  

    By the time the back handspring became another easy skill, coaching had become a deliberate practice of being present with my daughter. I would encourage her to explore her boundaries and to celebrate her efforts even when they did not represent visible progress.

    Several years later, I still offer myself the same encouragement when my own practice of being present falls short of my expectations, as it often does. To be fully present for the other, even for a moment, we cannot habitually neglect to offer the same openness to our own difficult features. And fear can make those features particularly hard to view with compassion.

    Each time we descend the stairs to the basement, we do so as different versions of ourselves. It is wise to be generous and assume the well-meaning tumbling coaches in all of us are trying their best. There is nothing broken in us that patience, consistency, and the right YouTube video cannot fix.

  • The Most Important Questions to Ask Yourself If You Want to Be More Authentic

    The Most Important Questions to Ask Yourself If You Want to Be More Authentic

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

    Have you ever just wanted to relax, let go, and let yourself be?

    Why is this so challenging for so many? Why don’t we just live naturally and allow our authenticity to be felt, expressed, and seen?

    Well, when many of us were little, being authentic was not okay, so we focused on trying to do things the “right way” according to what others had to say, because our survival was at stake. The more we did this, the more we disconnected from our true essence.

    We’re not bad or wrong, we needed to do this in order to be loved and accepted instead of rejected, because to a child, being rejected is like death.

    The more we were shamed for how we were feeling, what we were doing, or how we were being, the more we learned that being true to ourselves was not okay. This was the beginning of self-abandoning—disconnecting from our authenticity and believing that there was something wrong with us.

    When I was growing up, if I did or said anything that my parents didn’t like, they would punish me, scream at me, or give me the silent treatment; that was the worst one to me.

    I used food to comfort myself because no one validated my feelings or comforted me. This was the consistent trauma I experienced as a child—not being seen, heard, or acknowledged for how I was feeling. This was especially hard when I was afraid or crying.

    I would often hide in my closet and under my bed with food. Eating was how I self-soothed and how I created my own safety.

    Eventually I would have to come out and interact with my family and society, which made me anxious and afraid because I was always trying to figure out the “right things” to do and say.

    And even when I thought I was doing and saying the right things, my father often screamed at me and said, “Damn it, Deb, you never do anything right.”

    Soon enough I became so afraid of speaking, sharing how I was feeling, and asking for what I wanted or needed that I suppressed that energy and turned into a people-pleaser. Then, when I was thirteen my doctor told me to go on a diet, and at age fifteen I became a full-blown anorexic, living in severe deprivation.

    I created a shield around me to protect myself. And no matter how much I tried to let go of the anorexic behaviors of depriving and denying myself of everything that was nourishing—even after twenty-three years of going to therapy and being in hospitals and treatment centers—I still held on tightly, or maybe “it” held onto me for survival and safety.

    This is what happens with our coping mechanisms, they serve at a time but then keep us in a bind; we want to let go but something inside says no.

    How did it keep me in a bind? I judged myself and got mad at myself for doing the eating/starving/exercising routine, and then I judged myself and got mad at myself for not being able to stop, which created even more self-hatred and feelings of hopelessness.

    I also had severe anxiety and depression because I was suppressing my true feelings. I wasn’t allowed to be me; instead, I had to be how everyone else wanted me to be. I resisted this internally and then needed relief from all that conflict, which the eating/starving/exercising routine gave me.

    Eventually I got so tired of fighting against my own biology and not being allowed to be me that I became suicidal. I thought that if I took my life, I would finally be free, but all those attempts just made my family even more mad at me, and they put me in another hospital for “not behaving.”

    I felt so lost, lonely, and confused; trying to fit into a mold of other people’s opinions, putting all my attention on trying to be the right person, which created fear in my system and a sense of separation from my true essence; my authentic expression.

    Being authentic in a world where social consequences are at stake if we don’t behave according to what others say isn’t easy; it takes a lot of courage, strength, and feeling comfortable with who we are.

    Being authentic is being vulnerable and real, sharing how we truly feel. Some of us don’t even know what that may be, because we’ve spent our lives numbing, protecting, or projecting, and/or telling ourselves we shouldn’t be feeling how we’re feeling—just as our parents may have done.

    When people ask me, “Debra, what did you want to be when you were growing up?” I always reply with “I just wanted to be me,” but I didn’t even know who “me” was, I was so disconnected from my true essence.

    It’s been a process to get to where I am today, living in a more authentic way; however, it wasn’t easy. I experienced rejection, pain, and people getting mad and leaving me for not meeting their expectations.

    At the beginning it was challenging to honor and take loving care of myself because it went against my family’s rules and the ways I was used to being. It was challenging to share so openly and honestly, realizing not everyone will agree or like me; however, being authentic is one of the greatest blessings I’ve ever experienced on my life journey.

    It’s helped free me from the eating disorders, self-harming, and depression, and it’s helped me find ease with my anxiety because I no longer hide how I‘m truly feeling—my fears, pain, shame, and insecurities. By embracing them, I started feeling more at peace with myself.

    I’ve “come out of the closet” in many ways. I’ve embraced that I’m gay. I’ve uncovered and am still discovering some of my natural talents, gifts, and abilities. I share openly and honestly about how I’m feeling and about my life journey—the things I’ve learned along the way, the things I’m still learning today. And I flow in my natural, authentic way. In “essence” I’ve come back home to myself.

    If you’re struggling with any type of addiction, an eating disorder, depression, anxiety, or self-harming, please be kind and gentle with yourself. Those symptoms are often responses to our childhood traumas. Those symptoms are not the problem, and neither are you.

    The real trauma isn’t what happened to us; it was a disconnection from our true essence, our authentic expression, and the stories we concluded about ourselves and our life experience that may still be running the show.

    In order to heal and feel at ease internally, so we can shine authentically, we need to heal the trauma and shame we’ve been carrying. We need to make peace with ourselves and what we’re experiencing. And we need to embrace all parts of our being with the understanding that everything we do is meeting a need. Finding healthy ways instead of unhealthy ways to get those needs met is key.

    If you’re like me, you may be afraid of noticing and feeling your deep shame; however, it was in my shame that I uncovered some of my greatest qualities that make me uniquely me—qualities I once needed to hide so I would feel loved, accepted, and safe.

    This was where the healer in me lived. This was where the poet in me lived. This was where the author, writer, artist, speaker, singer, and dancer in me lived. This was where my inspiring, fun, creative, wild and free spirit lived. This was where the honest explorer and curious part of me lived, where the one who knows how to be compassionate and loving with myself and others lived

    This was where I met my authentic self—by going into my shadows and embracing those fearful and tender parts that had been hurting and hiding. By making them feel safe by embracing, understanding, hearing, loving, and seeing them, and giving them permission to express themselves naturally.

    We need to forgive ourselves for abandoning ourselves to be loved and accepted by others. We did what we needed to do at the time, and now we can give ourselves permission to flow with our authentic rhyme—by discovering/uncovering our unique ways of expressing and learning how to meet our needs, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

    To be authentic is to be vulnerable, and to be vulnerable is to soften our heart, to let down the walls of armor and protection and allow ourselves to feel, process, and express how we’re truly feeling; this allows us to have truer and deeper connections with ourselves and others.

    To be authentic is to connect with our inner child. They hold the keys to our talents, gifts, true joy, creativity, and natural ways of being and expressing. This is healing, allowing our true revealing, feeling safe in our bodies and allowing ourselves to fully be ourselves again, blooming from the inside out.

    I love this quote from Jim Carrey: “We have a choice to take a chance on being loved or hated for who we really are.” I would add, or we can suppress who we truly are and just add to our wounds and scars, and never get to experience the sincerity and divine greatness of who we can be.

    When we start to live authentically, we can enjoy life in the present moment because our mind is no longer trying to figure out how we “need to be” or trying to protect us from our pain, shame, vulnerabilities, and insecurities. By embracing them we feel more at ease, and we don’t have a need to numb or suppress with coping strategies that may not be healthy

    Here are a few questions you can ask yourself to help you identify what’s standing in the way of your authenticity:

    • What were you rewarded for as a child?
    • What did you get punished for as a child?
    • How did your parents want you to look, dress, wear your hair, etc.?
    • What were you told that success looks like?
    • What were you judged and criticized for?
    • What were you told not to be like? For example, “Don’t be loud, don’t cry, don’t get angry, don’t do or say or feel…, etc.”
    • What were you told was wrong or bad about you? For example, “You’re too sensitive, you’re too needy, you never do anything right, you ask for too much, you’re not good enough, etc.”

    Here are a few questions you can ask yourself to help you find your authentic expression:

    • What comes easy and natural for me?
    • Who am I when no one is looking?
    • What do I value?
    • What am I inspired to do but my head tells me not to?
    • What did I love to do as a child?
    • What do I truly enjoy doing now?
    • What is real about me, regardless of whether I judge it as good or bad?
    • What are my best qualities? “I’m caring, I’m loving, I’m empathetic, etc.”

    Here are some questions for self-inquiry:

    • Am I enjoying what I’m doing, or am I doing what I think I “should” be doing?
    • Do I always try to find the right things to say, or do I say how I truly feel?
    • Do I pretend to not be bothered when I really am?
    • Do I try to look good to others and create a false self-image, so I’ll be loved and accepted?
    • How do I feel about myself? Do I feel like I’m being true to who I know myself to be?
    • How do I relate to myself when I’m happy?
    • How do I relate to myself when I’m feeling sad or angry?

    Here’s the simple truth I know about beautiful and amazing you: You are inherently good, you’re naturally valuable and lovable, your uniqueness is a gift, you are divinity perfect. You’re worth taking up space, you’re an important part of this human race, you matter. This isn’t about striving for perfection, it’s about embracing your authentic expression.

  • The Relief of Letting Go and Living Fully Despite My Anxiety

    The Relief of Letting Go and Living Fully Despite My Anxiety

    “We only live once, Snoopy.” ~Charlie Brown

    “Wrong. We only die once. We live every day.” ~Snoopy

    I am an anxious person. I haven’t always been though. When I had my first child, fourteen years ago, it was the week after my father died. My son was born and went right to the NICU where he spent the first fourteen days of his life. In that moment, I changed. I’d already had one miscarriage. I couldn’t lose anyone else.

    Man, life is fragile. I spent the next decade making sure he played on the swings at the park, but not too high since he could fall and break his neck. We always took him to the river or the lake, but no swimming. There are amoebas in the water. (Funny and crazy, I know.)

    I now have two children who are fourteen and nine. Just a couple weeks ago, we went to the zoo. I had to talk about not leaning on the railings; you could fall in an enclosure. I am exhausted. The worry never ends.

    I am a mom, a wife, a daughter, anxious, neurotic, controlling, and scared. I never meant to be that helicopter mom. I had great ideas about how I would parent my kids. My husband and I always talked about how we would raise teenagers and what their curfews would be, but being in the middle of it, I’m terrified. I live in a constant state of panic and fear.

    I constantly worry I’m having a heart attack or a stroke. I worry my kids will die. I worry I will die.

    During the early months of the Covid-19 lockdown, we completely shut off from the world. Guess what? We all got Covid-19, except my nine-year-old. My elderly mother (who lives with us) got it too. I even sanitized groceries. We have no clue how we got it. We are all fine. Thank goodness. I know not everyone is as lucky.

    Every pain or sniffle is a worst-case scenario. Have you ever seen the movie My Girl? I am totally Veda Sultenfuss.

    It took several years, trips to the emergency room, shaky relationships, and a whole lot of self-discovery to figure it out. My lack of confidence, yet another sad part of anxiety, made me think I wasn’t enough. It caused my divorce. Thankfully, we are remarried. He sees me, he sees the moments I am fun and carefree, and he helps me work through my anxiety. Old Bob Ross reruns help too.

    So, what is the lesson here? I am not in control of a single thing. (Mind blown, I know.) Life is full of terrible things, wonderful things, heartache, tears, laughter, death of parents, even children. It’s all those moments in between that make life worth living.

    If we hide because of fear, we miss out on those moments. We miss out on a chance to save a memory we could pull out of our little brain file when we’re seventy-three and watching the snowfall on Christmas morning when all our kids are grown up.

    It’s really scary, letting go. It’s like walking on a tightrope. You see what could happen, but you just walk, because you know you’re not fully living if you sit out, and at the end of that walk, you realize how fast it went by. Either way, it will go by. It’s up to you how you spend that walk. Frank Sinatra says it best, that’s life.

  • 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!

  • 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 I Live My Life Purpose Without Doing Anything Big

    How I Live My Life Purpose Without Doing Anything Big

    “You know how every once in a while you do something and the little voice inside says, ‘There. That’s it. That’s why you’re here’ …and you get a warm glow in your heart because you know it’s true? Do more of that.” ~Jacob Nordby

    Mornings running the busy roads with the echo of what this one or that one said, lying in my bed in the middle of sunlit days staring at a bamboo plant on my dresser, seasonal jobs, getting all dressed up for waste-of-time employment fairs, scribbling in my notebook when my spirit demanded I fight back—at the rejection letters, at the no responses, at the feeling that I simply wasn’t good enough—this is what a lot of my twenties was made up of, but that’s not all.

    I had moments in those seasonal jobs that lit my unique spirit and showed me exactly what I loved and cared about.

    In everything I took action on there were hints of a young woman crying out: “This is a puzzle piece of who you are right here. This is important. Take notice!”

    The rejection letters led to setting myself free through concerts, unforgettable trips, and quality time with those closest to me, and they gave me more writing inspiration.

    The time alone, not feeling that I fit in with any of my peers and that my life wasn’t progressing along the traditional trajectory I was witnessing, pushed me to dive into my emotions and think about what I truly value.

    I wrote it all down. It turns out that all the tears and isolated fears pushed me into creating stories and poetry that are all about love and are essentially a quest to understand and care for each other more.

    In spending so much time alone with my feelings and knowing deep down that there must be others who feel this way too, I developed an even more empathetic nature that caused me to want to reach out to others more than ever before.

    But it took me a while to focus less on the destination and recognize the value in the journey.

    The moment I graduated I felt this compulsion and desire, which I believe stemmed from my past imprinted insecurities, to define myself immediately. I needed to figure out right away who I was going to be, lock it all in.

    No one tells you when you’re setting out on your life that no one’s story works that way.

    I thought life would just tick along like checking off items on a to-do list, especially through witnessing the social media highlight reel of my peers. I didn’t make the connection that it was, in fact, their highlights.

    I only saw a part of the character in these peers of mine, and honestly, who would tune into that show? Who would want to see a perfect life played out day after day with no one being challenged to see how they rise to the occasion and come out an even more beautiful form of their unique self?

    I had watched so many soap operas and TV dramas by that time, and yet, I did not understand that this was clearly not the full picture, just as I was only showing my highlight reel. I wasn’t going around telling everyone about the pain and loneliness I felt. I wasn’t posting about the dozens of rejections I had received.

    Maybe if we did post all of these things we would be more mentally at peace, but at the same time, I think that would also cause us to stagnate as we communicated all our troubles and injustices constantly.

    What we want isn’t always what is best for us. If we were able to be so open, I don’t believe we would be propelled into action through having to sit in those feelings and figure out how we’re personally going to step up and out of a situation to create our own unique story.

    I basically played the victim many times when I would see what I thought was my peers so effortlessly checking off milestones on their personal to-do lists. So, what did I do?

    In some indignant notion that I would be missed, I went on and off Facebook more times than I could ever count, thinking when I came back on, things would be different, and I would be validated when joining my community once again. That’s not what I received, and that’s not what I truly needed.

    I believe this loneliness and question of ones’ life purpose can come at any time. This just happened to occur for me in my twenties, and I’m glad I’m beginning to understand why I felt all that I did.

    I believe we are all unique. None of us are replaceable, and we all have the capacity to fulfill many purposes in our lifetimes, through different stages, as our priorities, interests, and values change.

    I am a very different person than the confused young woman of my twenties because I no longer search for my purpose, as if it’s this one big thing I need to figure out. Instead, I follow what I love and fixate on all the good I have in my life.

    I constantly focus in on all that I am grateful for. I keep a record of my achievements. I read my favorite books over and over again. I watch my favorite TV shows, which are still teen dramas, I must confess. I look at art and listen to music that ignites my spirit.

    When I’m feeling stuck, movement is key, whether it’s running or doing household chores.

    I know that I am following my purpose as long as my heart feels that I am being true to myself.

    I still get insecure. I don’t think that will ever go away, and maybe it’s one of those things you don’t want that is in fact good for you. Without my insecurities, I wouldn’t have to keep reaffirming what I am passionate about, and without reaffirming, there’s a chance I could lose myself.

    I found through searching for my purpose in what I refer to as my “crossroads period” in my twenties that it’s not one thing to be achieved, one path to be fulfilled. My purpose is a continuous journey of loving those closest to me and deeply following what my heart tells me.

    I believe in the search for my purpose I was also able to identify the kind of people I want on my team, the kind of people I want in my life. These people are few and rare but as true as can be.

    I know that the overriding purpose of everyone’s life is to discover your people and keep them close. They will be your guideposts and your encouragement to fulfill the passionate enormity your life is meant to embody.

    This family of mine is what keeps me moving forward and holding the belief that I am living a life of purpose simply by loving and being loved by them, regardless of what else I do with the time I’ve been given.

  • My Secret to Overcoming the Painful Trap of Perfectionism

    My Secret to Overcoming the Painful Trap of Perfectionism

    “A meaningful life is not being rich, being popular, or being perfect. It’s about being real, being humble, being able to share ourselves and touch the lives of others.” ~Unknown

    Hello, I’m Kortney, and I’m a recovering perfectionist.

    Like so many of us, I spent the greater part of my life believing that unless something was perfect, it wasn’t good at all. There was really no in-between. If it wasn’t perfect, it was a failure.

    One of the problems with perfectionism is that it’s common to believe it’s a positive thing. In our society, people tend to value it. If you’re someone that aims for perfection, you must be accomplished. Driven. Smart.

    Have you ever had a sense of pride over being called a perfectionist?

    I have.

    Have you ever thought about why?

    Speaking for my own experience, when someone called me a perfectionist, I felt like even though I didn’t believe I was perfect, it meant that they were perceiving me as being perfect. They saw me as being one of the best, or as someone who was talented. It was validation that I was seen as someone who was good at things.

    My rabid thirst for this sort of validation fed the perfectionist machine for years.

    If you’re wondering what it means to be a perfectionist, here are a few traits:

    • Perfectionists obsess over mistakes, even when it’s not likely that anyone else even noticed.
    • Their self-confidence depends on being perfect.
    • They think in black and white—things are either good or bad. Perfect or failure.
    • They have unrealistic expectations and crazy-high standards for themselves and beat themselves up when they don’t meet them.
    • They put up a front that everything is perfect, even when it’s not, because the thought of someone else seeing their imperfection is unbearable.
    • Despite their quest for perfection, they don’t feel anywhere close to perfect.
    • They can’t accept being second-best at something. That’s failure.
    • They spend excessive time on projects because they’re always perfecting one last thing.
    • They spend a lot of time searching for external approval.
    • No matter what they do, they don’t feel good enough.

    At one point in my life, all of those bullet points described me well. I wasted so much time worrying about approval and validation so that I could feel like I was awesome. But I never felt even close to awesome. I never felt good enough at anything.

    Sure, there were times when I felt like I was good at something, but then I had to raise the bar. Just being good at something wasn’t enough. There was always another level to reach. The bar kept getting higher and higher, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing for people who are striving to make improvements in a healthy way, but for a perfectionist whose self-worth hinges on reaching the bar every time it’s raised, it’s not a positive.

    It was exhausting.

    After a lot of struggle in my life, I knew I needed to explore my perfectionist ways and find a way to be more compassionate toward myself. Perfectionism was holding me back from loving my life. And to be honest, I don’t think I intentionally set out to rid myself of the perfectionist mentality specifically. It came as a byproduct of a great deal of other personal work.

    I began to realize that I had many beliefs that were etched into my brain that weren’t helpful. Beliefs that I never thought to question. These beliefs also severely hindered my ability to be happy and to live the life I wanted to live.

    We all have belief systems that we don’t really think to question. We’ve grown up with them. We’ve learned them from the media, culture and society. But if we actually take a step back to notice that these thought patterns that inhibit our ability to grow and progress are there, we can start to question them.

    Some common limiting beliefs that keep people stuck in perfectionism are:

    • People reward me for having high standards. They are impressed and I gain approval.
    • The only time I get positive attention is when I am striving for big things or achieving.
    • If I make a mistake, I’m a failure.
    • If only I can make so-and-so proud with my achievements, he/she will love me, and I’ll be happy.
    • If I fail, I am worthless. Failing is not okay.
    • If I don’t check over everything multiple times, I’ll miss something and look like an idiot.
    • My accomplishments are worthless if they’re not perfect (i.e.: receiving a “B” instead of an “A” in a class is a failure),
    • If others see my flaws, I won’t be accepted. They won’t like me.

    The good news is that thoughts like these are examples of faulty thinking—faulty belief systems that keep you stuck in perfectionism. By identifying the specific thoughts and beliefs that keep you stuck in perfectionism, you can start to build new, more helpful thought patterns and belief systems.

    I also stumbled upon another secret for overcoming perfectionism.

    The secret is that I became okay with being average. I worked to embrace average.

    If you’re a perfectionist, you know that being called average feels like the end of the world. It’s a terrible word to hear. My inner critic was not having it. “How dare you even think average is okay?” it hissed.

    As a teenager, a twenty-something, and even a thirty-something, my world would have come to an end if I had accepted being average.

    But sometimes life has a way of making you better.

    Life has a way of putting things into your path and it presents opportunities for you to grow. Everyone has these opportunities at one point or another, but you have to notice them and choose to take advantage of them.

    There was a time not too long ago when I went through a really difficult time and had to rebuild my life.

    Looking back, I can see that the situation was an abrupt “lane-changer”—a push in a new direction to make a change. I was not living my best life and I wasn’t meant to stay stuck in that lane. I struggled with depression and anxiety, much of which was triggered by perfectionism.

    By working on thoughts like the ones I listed above, and working to accept lowering my standards—the ones that told me that achievement and success were the only way I would be worth anything—I gradually learned to replace my old standards with this one:

    Just be happy.

    Learning to make this my standard led me to a place where I am okay with being average. Eek! I said it. Average.

    Today, I can honestly say that I’m pretty happy with being average. Do I like to do well? Sure. But it doesn’t define my self-worth. While it’s created more space for me to fail, at the same time it’s created the space for me to succeed.

    The difference is that my self-worth isn’t tied to whether I succeed or fail.

    Here’s how I look at it:

    I’m really good at some things, but I’m not very good at other things. You are really good at some things.  And you aren’t very good at other things too. The good and the not-so-good all average out.

    At the end of the day, we are all just average humans. We are all the same. We’re humans trying to live the best life we can. We are more similar than we are different.

    Don’t you think that if we all ditched our quest to be perfect, or better than everyone else, we’d feel a little happier? Don’t you feel like we’d all be a little more connected?

    If you struggle with perfectionism, I invite you to take a look at the list of limiting beliefs above and see what resonates for you. What evidence can you find that can disprove these limiting beliefs? What would you like to believe instead? Try on those new beliefs and build them up with new evidence to support them.

    And along the way, work on accepting that you are enough, even if you’re average.

  • When You Struggle with Being Yourself, Remember This

    When You Struggle with Being Yourself, Remember This

    “Make the most of yourself… for that is all there is of you.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

    Every day, it was more or less the same. I presented an edited version of myself to the world. I felt a deep level of discomfort with the idea of letting myself go. Could I? Should I? The answer was “no” every time, even if it wasn’t always a conscious decision.

    It felt wrong to be myself in a society where we’re conditioned to believe that we have to look and be a certain way to fit in. I believed that no one would accept me as I was. That it would result in my personality being mocked or criticized.

    After all, how can anyone understand someone who’s both quiet and bubbly? The two aren’t said to go together. If you’re bubbly, it means you’re outgoing, fun, lively. On the other hand, a quiet person is likely to be just that—quiet, all the time. At least, that’s what most people think.

    And if you’re both, then there’s something about you that isn’t quite right because you can’t be put into one box.

    As for the side of me that likes to laugh, be silly, and squeal in delight at rainbows, how childish. I need to grow up. I should be more mature like everyone else; play less and get serious about life because that’s how it is as an adult. Less fun, more… boring.

    Those thoughts held me back for years. The “shoulds” I imposed on myself were endless, and they rarely worked in my favor, so parts of me remained hidden like some shameful secret that could never be revealed. It felt like the biggest annoyance to not be able to show all sides of myself.

    As time passed, I started to notice some things about the way I interacted with people. I noticed that on some occasions, I would feel completely relaxed in a person’s presence. Talking to them felt like talking to someone I had known for years.

    There was no tension, no paranoia about what they might be thinking of me, and no unnecessary mind chatter trying to convince me that I looked stupid or weird.

    The second form of interaction was the kind of encounter where I felt judged with every breath I took.

    The vibe was off, a total mismatch, and the conversation was strained. Was it me, and was I the cause of this disconnect? Perhaps, at times, my obvious feelings of awkwardness or self-consciousness left the other person with a feeling of discomfort. Maybe they gave up after hitting the invisible wall I’d built around myself.

    And then, there was and still is the third type of interaction. The kind where I’m happy to talk to someone, but I make a conscious decision to not show all of who I am. It’s not necessarily because I don’t like the person or that I have anything against them. It’s often because I don’t feel a connection with them where I would want to show other sides of myself.

    Sometimes, but not always, I see myself as a prize. The more we get on, the more of me you win. The deeper connection I feel, the more of the prize you get to see, which may come across as pompous to a certain degree. But this isn’t about thinking that I’m better than anyone else or getting to choose someone’s level of deservability.

    It’s the level of connection that matters the most. In my mind, it’s not necessary to show everything to everyone all the time just for the sake of it, and perhaps that’s the introvert in me speaking. But that’s what has helped me to feel more okay with being myself.

    No pressure, no forcing. Just doing it my way and understanding that I get to choose: In interactions, I either reveal more of myself or I don’t. And if my holding back results in my missing out on establishing a deeper connection with someone because they took off due to seeing me as “hard work,” then that’s both of our loss. A loss, however, that won’t break us, unless we let it.

    So, when you struggle to be yourself, remember, you too have a choice. Always. And you don’t need to feel guilty or bad about not being your true self around others, especially when you don’t even want to. Sometimes, it may not even be appropriate.

    Showing up as your full-blown glorious self can feel terrifying, and that’s okay because you’re human. So obvious but so easy to forget.

    As humans, we ride the waves of life every day. Some of the waves are far too tumultuous for us to bear, and we’re left feeling battered, bruised, and shaken.

    We believe that what we’ve experienced is an unshared experience—no one will ever understand; we think that what we’ve done shouldn’t be revealed—people will think ill of us; we presume that what we’ve not done is going to be held against us. That may be the case in some instances, but the rest of the time, we’re safer than we realize.

    Being yourself is important, but forcing yourself to make it happen isn’t. You’re allowed to practice. You’re allowed to take two steps forward and five steps back. You’re allowed to trip up multiple times. You’re allowed to be human.

    So, be patient with yourself and focus on embracing your humanness because that, more than anything, is what we all share. And when we embrace it, we make it easier for ourselves to accept what, who, and how we are.

    It’s the remembering that we’re human and the compassion that we have for ourselves that steer us closer to being ourselves. Trying to be yourself while ignoring your human tendencies and being hard on yourself only leads to more trying.

    It’s time to stop trying, especially if you’ve been trying for years. Instead, spend more time noticing just how human you’re being today. Spend time noticing just how human others are being too. You may not always like what you see, but there’s no getting away from the fact that it all comes back to us being human. Multifaceted humans.

  • If You’re Insecure and Afraid of Rejection Like Me…

    If You’re Insecure and Afraid of Rejection Like Me…

    “How brave the moon shines in her skin; outnumbered by the stars.” ~Angie Welland-Crosby

    I have this reoccurring dream where I am about to teach a yoga class. I stand to teach, and no one is paying any attention to me. They are all distracted or in deep conversation with one another and have no interest in engaging in the class.

    As I begin, one by one the students get up and leave. I am mortified and discouraged, though I continue to teach anyway.

    I wake up from the dream with a sinking feeling in my stomach and heaviness in my heart. Rather than indulge and spiral into sadness, I turn directly toward the aching.

    “Where is this coming from?” This is the question I ask myself as I dive into self-healing. Just as the body has the ability to heal itself on a cellular level when injured, we too have the ability to heal our emotional wounds.

    I have never been fired, from a job or relationship. I have always been the one to leave. This is not something I take pride in, rather I see a pattern that has developed over the course of my life since childhood.

    When I receive criticism, my insecurities are triggered. It must be because I am not good enough, as an employee, teacher, friend, partner. Clearly there is something wrong with me. My instinct in these situations is to run, to leave before anyone discovers my flaws, before I feel more hurt.

    I fear being abandoned or rejected, so at the first sign of conflict I retreat, like a turtle that goes into its shell the moment it senses danger.

    When I look back at my past I am left with overwhelming grief. As I peel back the layers further, I see more clearly the origins. Beliefs deeply rooted in childhood and cemented in adolescence. False beliefs of being replaceable, unworthy, not enough.

    Underneath the protective armor is an extremely sensitive and hurt little girl.

    A girl whose older sister locked her out of her room and refused to play.

    A girl who was teased by neighborhood kids for being weird.

    A girl whose best friend started an “I hate Shannon club” in fourth grade.

    A girl who always saw her friends as smarter, prettier, cooler, and more likeable.

    A girl who was desperate to be accepted.

    These deeply rooted wounds need proper acknowledgement in order to be healed.

    When we feel vulnerable or hurt, we tend to close off our hearts, gossip, turn to anger, or run away rather than address the discomfort. None of these behaviors will heal our emotional wounds. They are only temporary means of alleviating the pain. In order to break these old, conditioned patterns, first we must identify where the feelings are coming from.

    When We Feel Rejected

    Let’s face it, people can be mean. We ourselves can be mean.

    It can be hurtful and scarring to be left out, rejected, or on the receiving end of another’s harsh comments or behavior. But often, it isn’t as personal as we think. Often, others hurt us because they themselves are hurting. Perhaps it isn’t even intentional and the other is unaware they are inflicting pain.

    When we look beneath the surface of rejection, we ultimately discover feelings of fear and abandonment. But we can choose to change how we think about rejection, and consequently, what we feel.

    While we can’t control what other people think, say, or do, we can control how we receive and perceive. We get to choose whether we allow another’s comments to define who we are or how we feel about ourselves.

    There are some situations where walking away is the right thing to do. But not out of fear, spite, or in defense, but rather from a place of surrender and acceptance.

    We can redirect our energy to people and situations that are positive and enriching. Mutually loving relationships and situations where we treat one another with kindness, support, and encouragement. Where, rather than tear one another (or ourselves) down, we lift each other into the highest version of ourselves.

    There are countless situations that can trigger feelings of unworthiness, but I’d like to focus on two specific ones that have been particularly challenging for me.

    When a Relationship Ends

    Whether we chose to leave or not, there is often a deep sense of loss when a relationship ends. These feelings of loss can reappear at any time after we think we have moved on, especially when we witness someone else taking our place. A place that once made us feel special, valued, adored.

    I experienced this as I watched my ex’s new girlfriend move into a home that was once mine. The feeling of being replaceable. Even if ultimately, a relationship isn’t good for us and is no longer what we want for our future, watching someone move on can bring up grief and insecurity.

    Rather than indulge in these feelings, we can choose to be happy for the other. Happy they have found love and comfort in someone else. Happy at their own ability to heal and move forward with their life.

    Not always easy when we haven’t found love or comfort in another, we haven’t healed, and we aren’t moving forward with our own life. What makes it even harder is that we often reject ourselves when we feel rejected by someone we loved. The antidote? Focus on finding love and comfort in ourselves to reinforce that we are still worthy of love, and we don’t deserve to be or feel rejected—by anyone, including ourselves.

    When We Compare Ourselves to Others

    Jealousy is a destructive emotion and can be triggered by an off-hand comment, a sideways look, or a social media post.

    We are happy and content one moment, the next our ex updates their Facebook status to “in a relationship,” or we see a post from someone who appears to be doing better in life, and we are sent into a downward spiral that involves stalking profiles, comparing ourselves to another, anger, questioning our decisions, feelings of regret… the list goes on.

    In order to overcome the green-eyed monster, we must stop comparing ourselves to others and see our own unique gifts.

    Often it is the desire to be someone special that drives unhealthy behavior and thought patterns. Consider this: You already are special. You already are good enough, just as you are. Without having to change or do anything different. You can stop trying to be good enough and allow yourself to just be.

    When I recently experienced conflict in an interpersonal relationship, I was talking with my mom and I said to her in defeat, “I just try so hard to be a good person.”

    She said to me, “Well then stop trying. You already are a good person. You don’t have to try, it’s who you are.”

    The truth is, no one has come before you or will come after you with your exact qualities. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone else or to yourself. The fact that you even exist is a miracle. What a gift. Allow who you are to shine, and allow others to shine, without insecurities, jealousy, or fear. Our true gifts are revealed when we recognize we are each perfect just as we are.

    It’s Time to Write a New Story

    Those old stories from childhood, the hateful words on the playground or rejection from others, they don’t fit any more. They never did. We unfortunately allowed them to mean something about us and replayed the same story over and over again. As adults we have the ability and awareness to see and break these old patterns.

    Just recognizing our old stories is a great first step. The next step is to create new stories that better align with who we want to be and how we want to feel. And the last step is supporting those new stories with our perceptions and interpretations.

    Instead of interpreting a breakup or layoff as proof of our unworthiness, we can tell ourselves there’s something better out there for us—and we deserve it. Instead of expecting people to reject us, we can focus on all the reasons we’re worth accepting, and recognize that if they don’t, it’s their loss.

    We can also help ourselves engrain these new stories by surrounding ourselves with people who support, value, and encourage us.

    As I continue on my own path to healing, I am so grateful for an amazingly supportive boyfriend and network of friends and family (including my sister, who has become my best friend over the years), as well as an incredible puppy who teaches me the meaning of unconditional love daily (I highly recommend a dog for healing emotional wounds). Even when I retreat or fall into old patterns, I continue to be surrounded by people who accept me, challenge me, lift me, and inspire me to be the best version of myself.

    My new dream goes like this: I show up to class to teach yoga and students arrive ready and willing to practice. They are engaged and excited to be there, and so am I. I am no longer insecure and fearful of rejection or abandonment. In this new dream, I give everything I have and allow my gifts to shine. In doing this I give others permission to do the same.

    We are the authors of our own story. The kind of story where we get to live our best life. We can rewrite our story if it no longer fits as we continue to grow and evolve on our path. What will your story say about you?

  • 8 Ways to Stop Worrying About What Other People Think of You

    8 Ways to Stop Worrying About What Other People Think of You

    “You can’t force anyone to value, respect, understand, or support you, but you can choose to spend your time around people who do.” ~Lori Deschene

    It can be paralyzing.

    The worry about what other people think about you, I mean. That worry can hinder you from pursuing your dreams. It can stop you from expressing your true nature and stand in the way of the life you so badly want to create.

    This worry can easily get your mind wandering to dark places and trigger feelings of insecurity, anxiety, and self-doubt. When it has a grip on you, you do anything to avoid rejection, ridicule, and potential embarrassment. Better to be unseen than negatively judged, right?

    You know that you shouldn’t worry about what others think of you. But that’s just easier said than done.

    For a long time, I felt stuck because I was afraid of other people’s opinions. Due to this fear, I was terrified of pursuing a new career path. Eventually, I reached a point where I couldn’t take it anymore.

    I knew I had to deal with the fear and worry of other people’s judgment, or I wouldn’t be able to live the life I wanted. And I was not willing to compromise on that—neither should you.

    To help you move past the fear of other people’s opinions, I’ve put together a list of ideas that have helped me. Use this list as your go-to whenever your worries about what other people’s opinions get the best of you.

    1. Know that you’re not a mind reader.

    I used to assume that I knew what other people thought of me. But assumptions often lead to bad conclusions.

    When I left my corporate job to travel and pursue my own entrepreneurial endeavor, I was afraid of ex-colleagues judging my decision. I thought they would see me as naive, reckless, or foolish for making that decision.

    Turned out I couldn’t have been more wrong. During the following months and years, many of them became my greatest supporters! Some said I was brave for walking my own path, others opened up about their desires to do something similar. The takeaway here is: You never know what people think about you unless you give them a chance to speak.

    2. Understand that it’s never about you.

    This has been a game-changer for me! Hear this: Another person’s judgment about you is never about you—it’s about them. It’s a reflection of their fears, limitations, and perceptions.

    One of the closest people in my life told me that I was making a mistake by quitting my corporate job to start my own business.

    First, I felt that he judged me and didn’t support my decision. Later on, I realized that his reaction was a mirror of his beliefs, fears, and view on the world. For him, staying at a corporate job meant security, safety, and a good life.

    When I realized that he always had my best interest at heart, I felt nothing but compassion and love for him. To make sure you navigate your choices right, ask yourself: What do I want? What is the right thing for me to do?

    3. Stop judging yourself.

    Many times, we’re so aware of what we find awkward about ourselves that we look for others to confirm our beliefs. So, the judgment we fear from others is really a reflection of what we judge ourselves for. Sneaky, right?

    Be honest with yourself, what do you judge yourself for? It can be related to your health, career, relationship status, living situation, or looks. Then ask yourself why you judge yourself for this. What beliefs are driving the judgments? Do you believe it’s wrong to prioritize career over family? Do you believe it’s bad to be the center of attention?

    Once you challenge these beliefs and stop judging yourself, you’ll be able to make peace with who you are and the choices you’ve made, good and bad. Once you’ve reached acceptance, you won’t fear the judgment of others because you stand behind yourself.

    4. Stop judging others.

    The more we judge others, the more we tend to believe that they judge us. It’s a vicious cycle. So, instead of judging others for their choices, character, religious views, ways to dress, or something else, choose to be curious about the differences and diversity.

    Ask yourself what you can learn from this person? Why this person is in a certain way? Maybe there are reasons for it. As Wayne Dyer said, “When you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself.”

    5. Use your worry as guidance.

    What is it that you worry other people will judge you for? Perhaps it’s your job position, living situation, relationship status, insecurities, looks, or intelligence. That worry tells you there’s either something you need to accept and make peace with or something you need to change.

    For example, maybe you can start pursuing a new career path that feels more aligned with your values. Or maybe you can choose to view your situation today as a stepping stone to something better. When you approve of yourself and your life, other people’s opinions won’t matter as much.

    6. Expect reactions from others.

    Instead of trying to avoid getting reactions from others, expect them! If you try a new plant-based diet, change career paths, or decide to go all-in on that geeky hobby of yours, expect people to say something about it. And take it as a good sign because it means you’re doing what’s right for you, even though people will have opinions about it.

    As Aristotle said, “There is only one way to avoid criticism: do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing.” And that’s not you, right? You are here to live to the fullest, follow what excites you, and be the incredible person that you are.

    7. Focus on long-term happiness.

    Judgment and criticism from others can hurt. But it will never hurt as much as regret. Do you know what most people regret on their deathbed? This: “I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.”

    Be willing to take judgment and criticism in the short term, in exchange for what will serve you long term. Focus on living life true to yourself and not on the life others expect of you.

    8. Approve of yourself.

    Acceptance of yourself is what it all comes down to, right? Once you approve of yourself, you stop worrying about other people’s opinions. You have the one approval that matters most: your own.

    Look at your imperfections, flaws, and the choices you wish you had made differently and accept it all. Know that you are enough. Know that you’ve done the best you can, from where you once were. We all want you to be the person you are meant to be—including the quirks, flaws, and imperfections.

    —

    Living with the worry that other people will judge you is hard. It can keep you stuck, paralyzed, and separated from the life you want to live.

    It’s time to take your power back. Use this list, choose one or two points that resonate, and practice them. Then, once you’re ready, come back to the list and choose another point.

    Stop living in accordance with other people’s expectations and start living life true to yourself.

    Now, go out and show the world what you’re made of. We are waiting eagerly.