Tiny Buddha

Tag: insecurity

  • 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 to Love Mindfully When You’re a Socially Anxious People-Pleaser

    How to Love Mindfully When You’re a Socially Anxious People-Pleaser

    “It’s okay to care about what people think. Just know there’s a difference between valuing someone’s opinion and needing their approval.” ~Lori Deschene

    My date—an attractive student in her twenties—talked away excitedly, but all I could think of was this:

    “How can I make her like me?”
    “How can I impress her?”
    “How can I make her laugh?”

    I agonized over every word that I said, every response from her, every moment of our interaction, and I poured every single detail that I could find—or imagine—under the microscope of my mind… and all of a sudden, the date was over!

    As we said goodbyes and as I walked out of the cafe, I recalled the conversation. Wait. What did we talk about? What did I say?

    To my horror, all I could remember were my anxiety-filled thoughts. I said the wrong thing! She frowned! I mumbled! It got even more awkward!

    At that very moment, I felt trapped in a hell of my own. And I had no idea how I’d ever get out.

    For years, I would remain stuck in the seemingly eternal loop of social anxiety and romantic failure.

    I was mostly unsuccessful in sparking new romantic connections. Even if there were sparks of chemistry, they fizzled out by the end of the first date.

    And when I did have a girlfriend? I sacrificed my needs to please her in any way possible, which led to me eventually resenting the relationship and lashing out (which I’m not proud of at all).

    Desperate for change, I embarked on a multi-year journey of learning and reflection.

    I read dozens of books on relationships and communication. Took multiple mindfulness courses. Journaled and meditated daily. Sought advice from a therapist.

    After four years, here are the four things I’ve learned about loving mindfully, with less worry.

    Loving mindfully is about accepting your insecurities.

    Whether it’s feeling not successful enough, not rich enough, not smart enough, or not attractive enough.

    What’s your biggest insecurity?

    That might just be at the heart of your social anxiety. And when you’re socially anxious, you’re more sensitive toward judgment—especially if it’s about your deepest insecurities.

    For example, if you’re feeling insecure about your looks, a passing comment on your pimple might feel like they are critiquing your entire appearance. The anxiety amplifies the criticism, making it a lot louder and stronger in your mind.

    The stakes? When you aren’t aware and accepting of your insecurities, they can shape the entire dynamic of your romantic relationship. When you don’t feel worthy of love, you might engage in excessive people-pleasing and even hide your true personality.

    Tara Brach, a celebrated clinical psychologist and meditation teacher, calls this the Trance of Unworthiness. In her words:

    “Basically, the familiar message is, “Your natural way of being is not okay; to be acceptable, you must be different from the way you are.”

    When in this trance, we are living in an imprisoning perception of who we are. When strong, our beliefs and feelings of deficiency prevent us from being intimate and authentic with anyone; we sense that we are intrinsically flawed and others will find out. Because the fear of failure is constant, it is difficult to lay down our hypervigilance and just relax. Instead, we are consumed with hiding our flaws and/or trying to be a better person.”

    My biggest insecurity was—and still is—that I’m not successful enough. As a result, I’d say and buy things to please my partner, since I felt that I had to “win” their affection and make up for my inadequacy. When I shared this with Raz, a close friend of mine, she said something profound:

    “You can still date while becoming more successful.”

    The power of what she said is psychological flexibility: accepting your insecurity and your desire to improve without shying away from romance. Rather than an “either or” story, you focus on a  “this and that” story instead.

    Loving mindfully is about accepting disagreement and disappointment.

    For socially anxious people-pleasers like me, disagreement and disappointment can feel like relationship-ending threats. If your partner or date disagrees with you, you might see it as a sign that they dislike you or that you need to change your opinion.

    For example, if you love dancing and your date says, “Nah, I would never try dancing,” you might start thinking, “Are they hinting that we aren’t a good match?” You might even backtrack on what you said: “Actually, I don’t like dancing that much.”

    As a result of your fear of disagreement and disappointment, you avoid conflict, and you often become overly accommodating. Over time, you lose your sense of self in a relationship. You’re no longer the full, vibrant you, and that’s a tragedy, isn’t it?

    I know all this too well, because this was my default mode of interaction for years. Rather than being an equal romantic partner, I became a servant to my partner’s needs and preferences. Now, I’m learning to be okay with letting others down and accept that I will feel bad doing so.

    The truth is, even the best relationships experience disagreement and disappointment. And the reason is simple: no one can 100% agree with each other or meet each other’s needs all the time.

    Loving mindfully is about accepting and respecting their choices.

    Here’s how Hailey Magee, a codependency recovery coach, defines codependency:

    “Codependent relationships exist between partners who rely predominantly on each other for their sense of value or purpose. People in codependent relationships tend to neglect themselves while overprioritizing their partners’ values, needs, and dreams. The result? A painful and tangible loss of self.”

    Sounds kind of like people-pleasing, if you ask me.

    In fact—based on my experience, at least—there’s a lot of overlap between people-pleasing and codependency. When you’re a people-pleaser, you put your romantic partner’s needs above yours, and your happiness depends on their happiness.

    In my case, I took excessive responsibility for my girlfriend’s feelings and problems. If anything wasn’t going right in her life, I tended to assume fault and went out of my way to make her feel better.

    Over time, I learned that love isn’t about helping your partner solve their problems or feel good all the time. Support and encourage them as needed, but never become their babysitter. What does that mean?”

    • Not ‘fixing’ their feelings, as Dr. Aziz Gazipura, a clinical psychologist, would say. (I highly recommend learning from him, by the way.)
    • Not giving unsolicited advice (a telling phrase is “you should…”)
    • Not making their decisions on their behalf

    Loving mindfully is about accepting the possibility of a breakup.

    When your partner breaks up with you, it can feel like a blow to your ego—that you’re not as desirable or lovable as you thought. To many, it’s the ultimate form of rejection. You might be so afraid of a potential breakup that you spend all your time with your partner looking for signs it might be coming and trying to prevent it—and then you might end up creating a self-fulfilling prophecy,

    You might also end up settling for a good-but-not-great relationship. As Eliora Porter, a University of Pennsylvania psychologist, suggested:

    “Socially anxious individuals may be more inclined to stay in a less than optimal relationship for fear of having difficulty finding a new partner if they were to end the relationship.”

    So how do you accept the painful possibility that your relationship might end one day? Accept that a relationship doesn’t have to be permanent to be successful. Even if it doesn’t last forever, you can enjoy each other’s company and help each other learn and grow. Adopting this mindset will enable you to get out of your head and appreciate the relationship for what is in the moment.

    Also, see the silver lining in heartbreak. When a relationship ends because you weren’t a good fit, it gives you another chance to find a better match.

    In the past, I stayed in unsatisfying relationships for much longer than I wanted to, as I was scared that I’d never find someone else. So, what changed my mind? Going on Tinder when I was newly single and getting more matches than I thought I would. That made me realize that, “Hey, I’m not that unattractive after all.”

    To sum it all up, mindful love is about:

    • Accepting your insecurities.
    • Accepting disagreement and disappointment.
    • Accepting and respecting their choices.
    • Accepting the possibility of breakup.

    And above all…

    Mindful love is a dance between your needs and your partner’s.

    While you balance both with empathy, you’re always acting from a foundation of self-awareness and compassion—and that’s what gives you the strength in any relationship.

  • All the Wrong Reasons I Slept with Men Before and Why I’m Changing Now

    All the Wrong Reasons I Slept with Men Before and Why I’m Changing Now

    “We think we want sex, but it’s not always about sex. It’s intimacy we want. To be touched. Looked at. Admired. Smiled at. Laugh with someone. Feel safe. Feel like someone’s really got you. That’s what we crave.” ~Anonymous

    I have not had sex in years. I was meditating one day, and my mind was silent (an extremely rare event), then I heard “Do not have sex until you are married.” Something I heard often growing up as a southern Baptist.

    I started breathing fast, and my thoughts immediately started racing. I am pretty sure I cried, if not in that moment, later on. I felt I had been given clear instructions on what to do to take my life to another level.

    The problem was that marriage was not on my to-do list. I do like the idea of monogamy, but I don’t like the idea of being legally bonded to someone for life. Then, if for whatever reason that does not work out, I have to go through the legal system for my breakup.

    I also thought that would mean I would never have sex again, so my mind was all over the place. Fear had taken over. But then I actually listened to that message.

    The first thing I became clear about was how, on a subconscious level, I was having sex with men before I was ready because I lacked the confidence to say no. I had a fear that if I did not have sex with them, they would not like me or stick around. 

    I also learned that I was using sex to get my needs met. Sometimes I was just lonely and wanted to cuddle or be held, but I would not communicate that. I felt that no one would give me that, so ultimately, I would end up knocking boots with someone.

    I learned that I had a belief that my value was tied to my sexuality. I also learned that when I have sex with someone, I develop a strong attachment to them. I was not able to think clearly. It no longer became about growth or love but about ego. Are they going to call me? Do they like me? I never asked myself if I liked them.

    Although I have no clue as to when I will be sexually active again, I do know this: I have redefined my definition of marriage to one of a spiritual partnership. A union, not legally bound but soulfully bound for whatever time period it flows. And that’s what I’m waiting for now.

    To me, this non-legal marriage is about growth. It is a safe space to evaluate whether or not the relationship should continue. Maybe with a weekly or monthly check in. If it feels right, you keep going forward; if someone decides it’s not working for whatever reason, you move on. People grow and change. Sometimes you grow together, sometimes you grow apart. There is not this underlining pressure to stay bonded to someone your twenty-year-old self attracted.

    A spiritual partnership is a place where it is safe for us to be our authentic selves. We encourage each other, support one another. Explore our sexuality. There is a comfort in telling the other person what feels good and what does not. It is safe to say and share what we think and feel. I think we may find this type of spiritual partnership ends up lasting much longer than most marriages.

    Another lesson I have learned since I received the message about not having sex is that I always thought sex was something that you had to do. I didn’t think a person could function without it. Turns out you can. I have become more familiar with my body and what I like and what feels good to me. I have become more confident and learned that my worth and value is not at all related to my sexuality.

    I have also learned patience, trust, and surrender. We have a tendency to settle because of fear. This is something I want to challenge.

    I want to see what it is like to wait. To be patient and trust that I will form a meaningful relationship in time if I don’t jump on anyone who shows interest in me because I’m afraid of being alone. I have a feeling it will be much more rewarding than I can imagine. 

    I have learned that my body is sacred, that I want to share this with one person and give this to them as gift. I want to wait to have sex until I am in a spiritual partnership not because someone told me to but because that feels right for me. Not having sex helped me learn to love my self, develop my own set of beliefs outside the religion I was raised in, and flourish into someone that I like and respect.

    If you find yourself having thoughts like “Men are always taking advantage of me” or “There are no good men out there” or maybe “I feel like I am being used,” I highly recommend getting quiet with yourself and asking yourself: What role am I playing in this? What am I doing to create this reality for myself? What can I do differently to get different results?

  • Why Codependents Don’t Trust Themselves to Make Decisions and How to Start

    Why Codependents Don’t Trust Themselves to Make Decisions and How to Start

    “Slow, soulful living is all about coming back to your truth, the only guidance you’ll ever need. When you rush, you have the tendency to follow others. When you bring in mindfulness, you have the power to align with yourself.” ~Kris Franken

    Codependency previously created a lot of pain and agony in my life. One of the ways it manifested was in my inability to trust myself. I would overthink decisions to death, fearful that I would choose the “wrong one” or upset someone if they didn’t agree or were disappointed by my choice.

    I was terrified of “making a mistake,” and I exhausted myself trying to collect everyone’s opinion (to ensure they would be pleased with me) before finally settling on a choice.

    As annoying as it was, for me and everyone around me, I couldn’t seem to stand firm in my decisions. I longed to be more confident in my choices but couldn’t understand why it was so hard for me.

    Growing up with an authoritative, controlling parent, I didn’t have the opportunity and support I needed to feel my feelings and let my intuition guide my choices. I didn’t get to learn from my mistakes. When I made a mistake, it felt like death. I was often blamed, shamed, and criticized, all too much for my empathetic system to bear.

    I learned that if I placated and pleased, others were happy. And because I became so others-focused from such an early age, I never learned how to build my muscle for good decision-making.

    Feelings and emotions were not welcome in my world, so my only way through was to disconnect from feeling at all—though I felt responsible for others’ mood swings and feelings. I learned that sharing my needs or opinions was triggering for others, and I didn’t have the skills to navigate the weight of that. All this combined felt mentally paralyzing, so I began to look outside of myself to others for advice and guidance eventually.

    When you’re reliant on other people’s opinions and guidance, you’re much like a feather in the wind—susceptible to any small or big gust that comes along. You aren’t in control of your life, and you give others way too much power over how you feel.

    One of the best ways to begin to build self-trust and heal from codependency is to begin feeling your feelings again, living from the neck down as I like to say. Moving from our cognitive thinking brain (because I know you know making decisions shouldn’t be this hard) to the wisdom of our bodies.

    I believe that in order for us to really build this self-trust muscle, we have to learn how to trust our feelings. And that requires us to build a sense of awareness around why we might be codependent in the first place.

    Perhaps, like me, you were programmed from an early age not to trust your inner knowing, or intuition. This results in low self-worth. And this happens for a number of reasons.

    • You were abused or neglected (physically and/or emotionally).
    • Your feelings and needs were minimized.
    • You were judged, shamed, or mocked for your feelings, maybe even being called “too sensitive.”
    • Your feelings and needs weren’t as important as other people’s.
    • You didn’t have at least one parent or caregiver validating your feelings and sense of worth. You didn’t have someone mirroring back to you your value.

    If you experienced any amount of neglect, or had emotionally unavailable parents, like me, you probably learned to suppress your feelings in order to survive. And what we resist persists, so those feelings that we try to shove down only intensify.

    3 Tools to Build Self-Trust

    These three tips might help you learn to trust your inner wisdom so you can make decisions from an empowered place.

    TOOL #1: Do a daily check-in of your feelings.

    When we check in with our feelings regularly so we can meet our needs, we learn to trust in our ability to do what’s best for ourselves.

    When I first started doing this, I would set four alarms on my phone. When the alarm went off, I would do a quick check-in by asking myself, “What am I feeling? What am I experiencing right now?”

    Often, we run through life, not checking in to see how we are doing and feeling (especially if we struggle with people-pleasing and codependency). We do a lot of things every day, all day—go to work, make decisions, parent our kids—but we often don’t check in with ourselves and ask if we need to shift something.

    This is a big part of self-love, checking in and asking, before I have this conversation with my child, my partner, my boss, or customer service rep for my computer, what’s going on with me? Oh, I’m feeling ornery or hungry; here’s how I can address that before I have this conversation.

    You can also do this by journaling. Keeping track of your feelings in a journal can be a beautiful way to understand, process, and look back on your experiences.

    Here are some journaling questions to help you get started:

    • What do I need to hear from myself?
    • What do I need to do for myself to feel my best?
    • What do I love about my life right now?
    • Today I woke up feeling (fill in the blank).
    • Am I living a life aligned with my values?

    TOOL #2: Reparent your inner child.

    Reparenting your inner child is a beautiful way of giving your inner little one the things that he or she needed and never received in childhood. You become the parent you needed when you were a child. And, by giving to yourself what you didn’t receive then, you free yourself from the past.

    So much of reparenting yourself is about making choices every day in your own best interest. It’s becoming aware of your patterns and behaviors, understanding why you do what you do, and carving out time to give yourself what you really need. When you give yourself what you need, you start worrying less about other people abandoning you because you know you won’t abandon yourself.

    One of my favorite ways to reparent myself is to give myself the words I never got to hear as a small young child.  Words like:

    • I love you.
    • I hear you.
    • You are perfect and complete.
    • You didn’t deserve that.
    • I see that really hurt you.
    • What do you need right now?
    • That must have been very difficult for you.
    • I’m so sorry that happened to you.
    • You are smart.
    • You did your best.

    TOOL #3: Practice creating safety within.

    Because we, as codependents, were raised by either emotionally unavailable or narcissistic caregivers/parents, we developed what I refer to as “a hole in the soul.”

    Our parents’ responsibility is to mirror back to us our worth and value, but when they fail to do that, we will look to someone or something outside of ourselves to show us our worth and, in essence, feel safe.

    It’s an endless battle of trying to fill that hole. Low self-worth, self-value, self-esteem, and self-regard are typical for codependents. We look outside of ourselves for safety and approval, becoming dependent on that next hit or rush. That safety might last for five minutes, five hours, and if we’re lucky, a whole day.

    One of my trusted and reliable systems for safety was shopping. I would spend frivolously, buying things we didn’t need with money we didn’t necessarily have. This created a lot of stress and conflict between my husband and me, and further decreased my self-trust.

    He couldn’t understand why I had this insatiable push to spend, and I didn’t either. I just knew that my system felt safe and relaxed once I made my purchases—until the excitement wore off, which usually happened quite quickly, and I was back in the store, searching and spending, trying to get my next fix.

    I had a lot of stress and guilt because I knew what I was doing wasn’t healthy. Yet it was compulsive. I couldn’t stop.

    I longed for the connection and safety that I never received as a child but didn’t know how to get it in healthy ways. So I suppressed my needs in relationships and tried to fill that hole with shopping.

    It didn’t happen overnight, but once I learned how to create that feeling of safety within myself (with lots of support through trauma-informed coaching, therapy, breathwork, meditation, and proper nutrition, and after learning to speak up for myself), my codependent strategies (shopping, relationship addiction) slowly seemed to disappear.

    I no longer needed to rely on my old strategies because I knew how to trust myself and offer myself what I truly needed.

    I invite you to try this: Close your eyes and imagine something that makes you feel at ease, calm, and safe (maybe your favorite forest or beach, perhaps a little cabin nestled in the woods). Notice where the sensation of ease lives in your body. Be with it for a moment—just sit with and experience it. That feeling you just created was created by you. It is yours.

    Every time you do this exercise you release the belief that you can’t create this feeling alone. That you can’t be trusted, and that you must rely on things outside of you to create safety.

    When I first started this practice, I had to implement it every time I entered a store. I took a few moments while I sat in my car and created that feeling of safety within. That way, I felt a sense of calm and ease as I was shopping, keeping my prefrontal cortex online so that I could make rational purchases that I felt confident and good about.

    I started to build evidence that I could, in fact, trust myself to make healthy decisions. It was incredibly empowering and freeing to walk into a shop and simply admire the textures, patterns, scents, and products without feeling an overwhelming compulsion to put things in my cart that I simply didn’t need.

    Every time we connect with ourselves this way, we prove to ourselves that we can create safety within. And every time we make healthy choices from that place of internal safety, we deepen our trust in our ability to discern and do what’s best for us.

  • 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!

  • A Simple Guide for Introverts: How to Embrace Your Personality

    A Simple Guide for Introverts: How to Embrace Your Personality

    “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

    The world has a preference for the extroverted among us. In school we learn public speaking, and we are expected to raise our hand and participate in discussions. We act as if what we hear and see from a person can tell us everything there is to know about them. But what about the unspoken, that magical light that lives within us?

    Here’s what I’ve learned about being an introvert that has helped me embrace, value, and honor myself.

    1. It’s okay not to love small talk.

    As an introvert, I grew up sometimes wondering why I was different. Quiet time felt like sustenance for my soul. I would relish in the serene morning glow, breathing in the fresh stillness in glorious solitude.

    Then I would go about my day. Often, I could get lost in my thoughts, which were then suddenly interrupted by small talk and chatter from those around me. It took me a while to learn how to do small talk in a way that felt comfortable but still authentic to who I am.

    It’s not that I don’t have a personality or don’t enjoy (meaningful) conversations with other people; it’s just that there is a rich, inner world inside that needs tending, like a garden needs water.

    2. Don’t feel pressured to change who you are.

    “You’re really funny when you come out of your shell!” my classmate told me. Wait? Does that mean I need to change? Should I try to be funny more often? It’s not uncommon for these types of comments to be directed at introverted personality types, like me.

    My classmate had the type of personality that was loud, boisterous, but also charming at times. A much more outgoing personality type, definitely. Luckily, the world has room for all of us, I learned. Not only that, but it needs all of us.

    “Why are you so quiet?” a new acquaintance asked. I tried to make some conversation but felt an awkward pressure to find just the right thing to say.

    I now know there’s nothing wrong with being quiet. It’s just the way I am, and I don’t need to analyze or defend it.

    3. Sometimes silence is best.

    A friend was telling me about the death of her father. Unfortunately, I know this kind of pain and loss myself. No words could change or take away those emotions for her, so I simply sat with her in the silence, just existing and letting it be.

    “I know this is hard,” I said. “Thank you,” she said. There was no more to say at that moment. Only the silence could speak just then. It said enough, and there was no need to interrupt it.

    Introverts don’t shy away from silence, which makes us well equipped to hold space for other people when others might attempt to talk them out of their feelings.

    4. A quiet presence can be powerful.

    While in training to become a teacher, I was told to “be more authoritative” and commanding. At the time I felt hurt by this comment. Now, years later, I look back at that and realize that who I am at my core is not in line with that type of persona. And that’s okay.

    It’s not even a bad thing. It’s just a misunderstood thing. Introversion is not good or bad. It’s just an orientation. The world doesn’t need only extroverts or only introverts. We need each other.

    Now, rather than feeling ashamed of my quiet presence, I know that the world values and needs my good listening skills. I’m good at making observations about people and the world around me. I think deeply and carefully craft what I say.

    5. Choose your environment and your people wisely.

    In college, I spent some time working in a busy restaurant that required a lot of juggling, constant interaction with many different people, and multi-tasking. I learned quickly that this was not the type of environment I could thrive in. It would take me an hour or more after coming home to just feel myself come out of the overwhelm.

    Now, I know that that was a good learning experience about the type of work atmosphere that isn’t compatible with my long-term happiness. I like working with people, but if I fully deplete my battery at work and then use my free time to recover from that, it’s an exhausting way to live.

    The time that we spend at work, at home, and with friends is precious. Choose where you spend your energy and invest wisely. Understand what overstimulates you and where you thrive. Keeping that balance helps to protect you from too much stress and overwhelm.

    6. Be kind to yourself.

    As an introvert, I spend a lot of time with my thoughts. Sometimes these thoughts can feel self-critical. We all have this tendency to be down on ourselves at times. It can feel easy to do this, especially when people are telling you to be more outgoing.

    Rather than being down on myself and self-critical about my skills, I try to leave more room for self-compassion and awareness. I may have a different style or way of being, but there’s just as much room for me in the world as there is for more extroverted types.

    7. Dare to be yourself.

    To my fellow introverts out there, know that you are enough and your rich inner world is beautiful. Don’t let the world pressure you into feeling that you should be louder, more outgoing, or different than you are. It’s the rich diversity of people and personalities that makes the world interesting.

    Also, be sure to take care of yourself so you can be your best. As an introvert, quiet and solitude recharge and energize you—it’s how you’re wired. It’s okay to tend to your need for space and quiet contemplation . Having enough alone time is as important of a need as sleep, food, or other areas of replenishment in your life.

    Sometimes living in a world of extroverted personality types can feel challenging or draining to navigate as an introvert. It’s okay to be different and allow space for that part of you. With time, those special extroverts around you may even get to know you and learn to respect and value you for just the skills and qualities that make you unique.

    “Introverts are collectors of thoughts, and solitude is where the collection is curated and rearranged to make sense of the present and future.” ~Laurie Helgoe

  • A Simple Plan to Overcome Self-Doubt and Do What You Want to Do

    A Simple Plan to Overcome Self-Doubt and Do What You Want to Do

    “Don’t let others tell you what you can’t do. Don’t let the limitations of others limit your vision. If you can remove your self-doubt and believe in yourself, you can achieve what you never thought possible.” ~Roy T. Bennett

    Ahh yes, self-doubt. Something that affects every single one of us at different times and at different magnitudes—even those that seem supremely confident.

    Why do so many of us experience self-doubt, and how can we overcome it?

    On a personal note, I can tell you my self-doubt comes any time I am trying something new. I’ve learned over the years where this stems from, and it may be similar for you. It comes from my parents.

    Although my parents were always encouraging, they’d also say things like, “Are you sure this is the right move?”, “Are you sure you want to do this?”, and “Be careful.” In fact, every time I left the house, that’s what my dad would say: “Be careful.” “Drive safe.” Not, “Have fun,” “Have a fantastic time,” or something along these lines.

    In my twenties I realized that it had been ingrained in me to always be cautious, which then led to me doubting myself in certain scenarios, though I’ve never been someone who shies away from challenges or holds myself back. Over the years, I learned to identify what contributes to my self-doubt and then push through it.

    Now, this isn’t the case for everyone. Other things that contribute to self-doubt are comparing ourselves to others; feeling a lack of means, intelligence, or other things we think we need to succeed; past experiences; possibly being criticized; and the natural fear that we feel when attempting something new.

    When we doubt our ability, we are allowing fear to settle in and hold us back from forging forward and taking a leap. Without trying, we are feeding the self-doubt, which means it will likely compound the feeling the next time we are faced with or offered a similar opportunity.

    So how can we detach from self-doubt and make sure we are not missing out on what could be an amazing opportunity or journey for ourselves?

    First, we need CLARITY.

    We need to first get clear on where this self-doubt is coming from.

    What is striking this feeling within you that makes you think you shouldn’t try it or you can’t make something happen? Is it the fear of the unknown, or is it the feeling of not having the ability, or something else you think you need to succeed? Are you comparing yourself to someone else in the process? Or do you think you couldn’t handle it if you failed?

    Second, we need to recognize the FACTS.

    What do you know to be true? For example, what do you know about yourself that can help prove that you can attempt or accomplish this? Have you had any similar experiences that prove you can do this?

    If you’re comparing yourself to someone else, what are the facts in this? Meaning, are you comparing yourself to someone who has already succeeded? Or are you comparing yourself to someone who is at the same stage you are? Nobody gets from A to B without experience, practice, and even failure. So, try not to compare yourself to others, as you may not know the complete story to their success.

    There was a time when I was contemplating which direction to take my business degree. I’d majored in marketing because it’s a creative field that allows for variety, which aligns with my values. But as I was working in my first couple of “corporate” jobs, I was enticed by sales.

    My father wanted to steer me away from sales. He said that it’s a hard career, it’s mostly male-driven, and it’s extremely stressful and unpredictable. But what I saw was the fun interaction sales teams had with their clients and prospects. How they were able to basically chat on the phone 80% of the time and attend fun events.

    It was a fact that sales is stressful, unpredictable, and male-dominated, but I knew myself. I knew I was different than my father. I knew I was up for a challenge and taking risks, whereas he was risk adverse. I knew if it didn’t work out, I always had marketing to step into or maybe other options, whereas my father was opposed to change.

    I had to recognize that he was from a different generation. That although what he expressed was true, there were other factors to consider. If I compared myself to the majority of people occupying these roles I likely wouldn’t have attempted it and enjoyed a fifteen-year-plus career in sales and business development.

    Finally, GO FOR IT!

    The best way to conquer self-doubt is to put yourself out there, take action, and see what happens. No success comes without failure. If it works out, you’ll be glad you did it, and if it fails you’ll learn and can progress.

    Without acting on it you will never know. At least if you push through the doubt and try you will understand yourself and your ability a lot more.

    There was a time when I was considering making a big move that I had dreamt of for so long. I loved my friends and family, but I didn’t love where I was living or the lifestyle I was caught up in. When the timing was right I decided to take the leap and move to the other side of the county alone, without a job.

    I heard things like: “Do you really want to go?” “It’s so expensive out there. How will you afford it?” And “It rains so much there, and people get depressed.”.

    If I had listened to others’ fear and angst about the move I would’ve likely lived in a miserable cycle. Instead, seventeen years later, I still feel this was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself, for my life, for my soul.

    The move brought me an even greater awareness of how resilient we are when faced with change.

    And if it hadn’t worked out, I would have had an adventure, and who knows where it may have taken me? Maybe it would have led me to something else I didn’t even know I wanted until I opened myself up to new possibilities. New possibilities I would never have known about had I limited myself based on other people’s fears.

    —

    Don’t let others’ doubt or success deter you from going after what you want or trying something new. Recognize that you can either let your doubt leave you with regret or feel the satisfaction of taking action. Who knows, your action might actually inspire others to ditch their doubt and take a leap into a life they’ll love.

  • “Old” Isn’t a Bad Word: The Beauty of Aging (Gracefully or Not)

    “Old” Isn’t a Bad Word: The Beauty of Aging (Gracefully or Not)

    “Mrs. Miniver suddenly understood why she was enjoying the forties so much better than she had enjoyed the thirties: it was the difference between August and October, between the heaviness of late summer and the sparkle of early autumn, between the ending of an old phase and the beginning of a fresh one.” ~Jan Struther, Mrs. Miniver

    As an adolescent, I was always keen on looking and acting older than my age.

    As the youngest amongst three, I always felt that my siblings held more power and their grown up lives seemed more glamorous to me. They would prance off to college or to high school, carrying their own bags and packing their own lunches, while I had to wait for my mother to drop me off, holding her hand as we crossed the street!

    Naturally, I looked forward to my birthday each year, waiting for a sense of “grownup”ness to take me over even as I got giddy at the thought of opening gifts. Yet, over the past few years, my birthday gifts have come wrapped in a vague fear, that of becoming invisible.

    In a society that values youth to the point of insanity, reaching that terrible “middle age” seems like a ticket to the circus of Forget-Me Land!

    As I journal and reflect my way through all this, I wonder why this is a big deal at all. In fact, in many families across nature, growing older is a good sign. It’s a symbol of status and respect.

    Take the example of the silverback gorilla: all that gray hair on their back gives them the authority to make decisions for the group! Wolf leaders, elephant mothers, and older dolphins are all instances where nature favors age.

    Why, then, are humans obsessed with youth? From creams that remove wrinkles to references like “well-maintained” (as if we were a car!), we are told repeatedly that being younger is somehow better.

    Personally, growing older has taught me a few things, and I wish I could go back in time and share them with my younger self. However, that’s not possible unless we invent a time machine, so I’ll list them here and you can take what you will.

    To begin with, don’t obsess over beauty. Or rather, what society tells you beauty is.

    All through my growing up years, I pursued being beautiful even at the cost of my true talents. I underplayed my reading habit, and I acted meek so men would perceive me as “more beautiful.” I have no idea where I received these ideas, but they were debilitating. I wanted to be beautiful so I would be chosen by men, but I never stopped to ask myself: Which man?

    It is sad that I desperately wanted to be chosen by someone even as I rejected myself, day in and out. After battling toxic relationships and severe blows to my self-esteem, I realized that the pursuit of beauty has been absolutely useless.

    What really helped me during difficult times was my sheer bullheadedness and foolish optimism. Surprisingly, being myself, with gray hair, crooked teeth, and a few extra pounds, is easy to do and has also earned me some beautiful friendships, with men and women alike.

    Secondly, age is really just a number.

    My dog doesn’t know how old she is, so she is free to act as she pleases. She jumps on beds, goes crazy over sweets, and gets jealous. She runs if she wants and as much as her body allows. It’s easy for her to do all this and more because she doesn’t have that limiting belief called “age.”

    Ellen Langer, a Harvard psychologist, conducted an unusual experiment where elderly subjects were asked to live like it was twenty years earlier, in a simulated environment. The men who underwent the experiment supposedly showed improvement in memory, cognition, and much more.

    Even if the experiment seems outlandish to you, there’s an important takeaway: How you perceive your age makes a huge difference in how you approach it. So why not approach it with positivity?

    A few months ago, I read a very powerful quote, and it made a huge impression on me: Do not regret growing older; it’s a privilege denied to many.

    How true! My mind immediately goes to my own father, who passed away before he fulfilled many of his dreams. I am sure he would have welcomed many more years with open arms, warts and all.

    For a patient with a terminal illness, each day growing older can only be a blessing, even when the body feels frail. We don’t have to wait for something like this to feel grateful for our age. We have that opportunity each day and in each moment.

    You don’t have to ‘maintain’ yourself.

    You don’t have to look younger.

    You can be thin, overweight, or anything in between or beyond.

    Don’t hold yourself back from things you love just because you feel older/younger.

    Don’t feel the pressure to age gracefully or anything else that society tells you to do. You have the freedom to age messily if you like. Heck, it’s your life, and it’s in chaos that order is born!

    Maybe you don’t have a head full of black hair, but so what? You probably sucked your thumb at six, but you don’t do that anymore, do you? It’s the same thing.

    Nostalgia is only helpful if it uplifts you. If it’s taking you on a downward spiral of “how I wish I was that age again!”, then it’s high time you closed that album of old photos. New sunrises and sunsets await you. Make yourself some frothy cold coffee and move on!

    There’s nothing that you need to tick off by a certain age. We all have our own trajectories and our own truths to learn. Take inspiration from plants and animals. They don’t strive; they just are and their lives pan out beautifully! Be courageous enough to own your messy self and your messy life.

  • Why People-Pleasers Lie and What We Gain When We Share Our Truth

    Why People-Pleasers Lie and What We Gain When We Share Our Truth

    “You’re a liar. People-pleasers are liars,” a friend said to me. I felt like I was punched in the gut. “You say yes when you mean no. You say it’s okay when it’s not okay.” My friend challenged me, “In your gentle way, begin to be more honest.”

    I believed the lie that pleasing people would make my relationships better. It didn’t.

    I decided to take my friend’s challenge to tell the truth. People didn’t have a relationship with me; they had a relationship with another version of someone else. They didn’t know me.

    People-pleasing was safe; it was how I hid and protected myself so I could belong. Besides wanting to belong, pleasing-people is a bargain for love. If I kept people happy, I believed I would be loved. If I took care of others, I believed I would be loved.

    Showing up differently in relationships is like learning a new dance. You may feel clumsy and awkward at first, but the old dance, while comfortable, is unhealthy. The old dance creates overwhelm, frustration, and resentment.

    I am now a recovering people-pleaser. My journey started when I faced the truth that I was a liar. The first step in change begins with self-awareness. Once you are aware, you can learn new dance steps. The new dance looked like saying no, tolerating less, and telling my truth.

    As I told the truth, here’s what I noticed in my relationships:

    First, I experienced true intimacy.

    As I was more engaged in being honest, others began to know me, not a fake version of me.

    In his book, Seven Levels of Intimacy, Matthew Kelly describes intimacy as “In-to-me-see.” I started saying things I’d never felt comfortable saying before—like “I see things differently” and “that doesn’t work for me.” Secret-keeping was killing my soul, so I also started opening up about the pain and brokenness I felt regarding my former spouse’s addiction and how I’d protected him at a cost to myself.

    When we share more of who we are with others, then we are known and loved, which is a powerful need in humans. I was not broken as a people-pleaser but broken open. I allowed myself to receive the love of others as I allowed them to see me. As a result, I experienced intimacy in a new way.

    Secondly, when we stop lying to others and ourselves, it builds trust.

    It is hard to love someone when you don’t trust them. Trust is the foundation of all relationships. When we are real, others trust our words and actions, and we become more trustworthy. We are no longer chameleons, adapting and saying what others want to hear when interacting with us, and trust grows.

    Lastly, when we pay attention to being more real, we are more fully engaged in our relationships.

    We are wired for connection. When we are engaged in bringing a greater depth to our relationships, the investment pays off. It’s like we are making a deposit in the relationship when we allow others to “see us,” and they in turn feel closer to us. As I began to share more in my relationships, it helped others to open up. One friend said, “Keep sharing; it helps us too!”

    —

    Being more honest in our relationships is a dance worth learning. It improves intimacy, trust, and closeness in our relationships. After all, the alternative is being called a liar!

  • The Lies We Tell Ourselves About Our Worth and How I’ve Let Them Go

    The Lies We Tell Ourselves About Our Worth and How I’ve Let Them Go

    “You either walk inside your story and own it or you stand outside and hustle for your worthiness.” Brene Brown

    I was shaking and sweating with fear as I stood in front of my graduate professor for the final test of the semester. I was twenty-two years old at the time and felt like a fish out of water in my graduate program. I dreamed of being a professor, studying, and writing, but deep down I thought, “I’m not smart enough. I don’t fit in here.  No one likes me.”

    When my religion professor announced that the final wasn’t a sit-down, bubble-in quiz, but a one-on-one translation, and I’d need to answer questions aloud, I knew I’d fail it epically, and I did. To add oil to the fire, I ran out of the room in tears.

    I failed it before I even started because my fear was so great. My hands were shaking, and soon my teacher would know the truth: I didn’t belong there.

    My professor was incredibly intelligent, and I was intimidated from our first meeting. The way I thought he spoke down to others, probably because his tone, diction, and vocabulary were academic (whether intentional or not), triggered a deep wound.

    Since childhood I had developed a limiting belief: “I am not intelligent.” This followed me wherever I went.

    In school, at work, and in relationships, I constantly trusted others to make decisions and discounted my own opinion. I looked to others for the answers and then compared myself to them. This left me feeling insecure and dependent on others. Not at all the leader I envisioned for myself.

    It was the root of the shame I felt, and I allowed it to mean that I was stupid, I wasn’t worthy, and I would never succeed. My inner critic was loud and eager to prove to me why I was less-than.

    There are a few memories I have from childhood that I can recognize as the start of this limiting belief.

    I remember my first-grade teacher passing back a math worksheet. I received a zero at the top in red letters. I still remember that red marker, the questions, and feeling unworthy. I didn’t understand the questions or why my classmates got ten out of ten, and I was too shy to ask or listen to the answer.

    This happened throughout my schooling. It took me more time than my classmates to understand concepts. I wanted to ask questions but was afraid I would look stupid or that I still wouldn’t understand, so I just avoided traditional learning all together.

    I always looked around and thought, “If they understand it, so should I.” In other words, there is something wrong with me.

    Growing up in the nineties, I was teased for being blonde and ditzy. I was friendly, silly, and loved to laugh, so I was labeled as a stereotype blonde airhead. It hurt my feelings more than I ever let on.

    Even when the teasing was lighthearted and done by friends who loved me, it reinforced my belief that I wasn’t smart or good enough. This belief made me feel small and kept me locked in a cage because no matter what I achieved and how much love I received, I still felt like a failure.

    This limiting belief even made its way into my friendships because I held this insecurity about myself and felt that I could not be my truest self in front of others. I wanted to please my friends by listening, supporting, and championing their dreams rather than risk showing my leadership abilities and the intellectual pursuits I yearned for deep within me.

    Looking back now, I see that I was capable of excelling at school and in relationships, but due to my misconceptions about my worth, it felt safer not to stand out. Drawing attention to myself was too dangerous for my nervous system, which was always in survival mode.

    I preferred to fly under the radar and pass classes without anyone noticing me. I preferred to focus on my friends’ problems and dreams because it felt safer than vulnerably sharing my own.

    I never attended my graduate school graduation, nor did I complete all my finals. I still passed, but I didn’t celebrate my accomplishment.

    In fact, I wanted to write a thesis, but my guidance counselor (a different professor) discouraged me. She told me how much work it would be and that it wasn’t necessary to pass instead of motivating me to challenge myself. Since writing was always important to me, I actually wanted to do it but never spoke up or believed in myself enough to tell her.

    I have heard from many people like me and know that I am one of many sensitive souls that have been discouraged by a teacher. I mistakenly thought my differences made me less capable than others, but I am happy to say that none of these experiences stopped me from moving forward.

    With time and building awareness I took steps to heal these wounds and to change my limiting beliefs about myself.

    Learning about shame is the biggest step you can take to change this for yourself. Whether the shame you carry is from childhood, a traumatic event, struggles with addiction, coming out with your sexuality, or anything else, there is healing to be done here, and you are not alone.

    At the present moment, I don’t allow this feeling of shame to run my life. I am aware of it when it arises and no longer value its protection. I have done the inner work to heal.

    The first step I took was talking to someone about it. Letting it out. Shining a light down upon it. If we want to heal or change anything in our lives, we have to be honest about what we want and what we’re afraid of.

    Once I did that I realized many other people had the same fear and that it wasn’t true.

    It wasn’t true that I wasn’t smart enough. I had evidence that proved this. I’d been accepted to programs; I’d passed classes; I understood challenging ideas. I liked research and writing and was open to feedback in order to improve. I even had a graduate degree.

    I was able to learn new skills in environments that felt safe and supportive to me and my sensitive nervous system. I realized I did better in small groups and with one-on-one support.

    Knowing that didn’t mean the wound was no longer triggered, but it meant that I had the awareness to soothe myself when it was.

    It meant that it hurt, but I didn’t allow it to stop me from moving forward. Instead, I let myself feel the pain while supporting myself and reminding myself of the truth: that I am unlimited and worthy of love, acceptance, and approval.

    Whenever we believe a lie about ourselves it creates major internal pain for us. That pain is an invitation to dig deeper, expose the lie, challenge it, and adopt a new belief that makes us feel proud instead of ashamed.

    The person that I most longed for approval from was myself. I had to be the one that finally accepted my differences without labeling myself as unworthy. I had to love myself even if I felt unsafe or unsure. Once I did that, it was reflected back to me tenfold.

    We all have fears and limiting beliefs and carry the burden of shame within us. These are human qualities, meaning this is a natural challenge shared by all healthy people.

    Instead of hiding them, numbing them, and burying them deep within, share them in a safe space, shine a light on them so the truth can emerge, and take your power back by feeling the emotions while knowing the truth: No matter what lies you’ve told yourself, you are good enough and worthy of love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    I blink, unsure if I heard her correctly.

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

    “Yes,” she responds assuredly.

    I exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    We need each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Why Other People’s Comments Hurt Us and How to Let Them Go

    Why Other People’s Comments Hurt Us and How to Let Them Go

    “It’s not the events of our lives that shape us, but our beliefs as to what those events mean.” ~Tony Robbins

    Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

    Wow. That one takes me waaay back. All the way to the elementary school playground. A place where I attempted to use it as a shield. As juvenile as this saying is, I would search for comfort in its words for years to come.

    In the end, it doesn’t matter how old we get. It’s good to feel a part of something, to be understood, and to be accepted, and it hurts when we feel we’re not good enough to belong.

    Whether it’s due to the words of a schoolyard bully (with a flat-chested joke), a passing remark from a stranger (“your arms are hairy”), or an observation by a loved one (“you’re too shy), we begin to transform into a guarded version of ourselves.

    Daily interactions with others thicken our skin a bit, allowing some words to roll off our backs. But the ones that stick around change our inner landscape.

    For many of us, the physical pain we suffer come from accidents, adventures, or clumsiness. They are unpredictable events that originate from nowhere in particular. They don’t feel personal.

    Words, on the other hand, always stem from people. And they almost always feel personal. For a species that thrives on connection, acceptance, and love, words are a primary source of information about where we stand within our tribe.

    With words, we define ourselves, find our people, and take a stand. Words reinforce who we are. Words inspire. Words make us giants. With words, we feel pain, loneliness, or betrayal. Words cut us down. Words keep us small. Words plant seeds of doubt. Words deflate.

    Words are powerful. Choose them wisely.

    When it comes to delivering a message, how we say things matters.

    Words can be positive, negative, or neutral. Imagine how using the very same word creates different outcomes.

    “Quiet!”

    Spoken at a surprise birthday party, this gets everyone excited. The guest of honor is coming!

    Spoken to a questioning child, this makes her feel small, unimportant, hurt.

    Even an adult can suffer at this word. Imagine a man watching a football game. His wife runs in to share an exciting piece of news. He shouts “quiet,” and just like that she feels diminished and robbed of joy.

    Words are powerful. But is all the power reserved for the speaker?

    When it comes to receiving a message, we can feel powerless. Just as a spider’s web catches much more than dinner, our minds become cluttered with a lot of word debris. I have spent years unpacking my pain and my past, and the ickier parts are born from comments, passing phrases, and direct attacks.

    So, here’s my question: Why do some things go in one ear and out the other, while others have a way of following us around? Why do some words so profoundly affect us that we give up our joy and opt not to dance, sing, or speak?

    Here’s my revelation. Those who know me have heard me say it before: What we believe matters.

    It seems that words can become seeds planted in my brain. The ones that stick around begin to grow into something messy that tangle with my very being.

    After a lot (and I mean a lot) of soul searching, I have found my common denominator—two actually. My hurt is born from the truth or from my fear of what might be the truth. The pain is my feelings of lack that get amplified.

    Whew. That’s a bitter pill to swallow. None of us want to believe that we think we’re not smart, beautiful, fun, cool, lovable, or funny. But I’ll say it again. Almost all the remarks that have hurt me are ones I thought were true. Or ones I feared might be true. That’s it.

    When our truth is revealed or challenged it is painful. Our truth is often a part of us that we cannot or feel we cannot change. Whether it’s our laugh, our bodies, or our dreams, we are exposed.

    What do we do with this? The only thing we can—accept ourselves. Just. The. Way. We. Are.

    This doesn’t mean we cannot continue to grow and evolve as humans. It means that we are always being and becoming.

    Most of us go out into the world as ourselves and slowly withdraw into our shells as we feel less and less safe to be who we are. We become a watered-down version of our colorful selves to avoid vulnerability.

    But I’m here to challenge the idea that vulnerability has to be painful. Uncomfortable, yes, but maybe not painful. Our best defense is knowing and embracing who we really are so that when someone questions our character or motive it is either true or not true—and if it is true, being okay with that.

    If I find myself ruminating on a comment, it’s an opportunity, a chance for me to know myself better.

    Now, when a word stings, I approach the discomfort differently. I ask myself: Why am I hurt? Is this true? Is this something I can change? Do I want it to be true? If it is me, can I do more than accept it—can I love this part of me?

    I used to think my problem was that I wasn’t enough ‘this’ or needed to be more of ‘that.’ I used to think that if I could just take the best parts of other people and become those things, I would feel secure, confident, and untouchable.

    But it was exhausting, and I would inevitably fall short of my goal. My life was like a house of cards, ready to crash at any moment. Living in fear is draining. I also began to feel like I couldn’t make any forward progress. It was like treading water when I could be swimming.

    It wasn’t until I took a break and developed faith in myself that I found my full energy, optimism, and confidence return. Because in the end, we can never be great at being anything but ourselves. There is no trying anymore, only being. And the knowing that I don’t need to be all things. Just myself. Regardless of what other people have to say about that.

    And you know what? The strangest things have begun to happen. I have found new strengths, new joys, and new opportunities. When I let go of mimicking others’ successes, I have found more of my own. The kind that I’m not afraid to lose. The kind that doesn’t make me feel like a fraud.

    Sharing my voice has gone from scary and nerve-wracking to a way to create connection and joy. The transition feels like nothing short of miraculous. If you would’ve told me all this several years ago, I would never have believed that I could achieve this kind of peace and confidence. But I have come to believe in believing. And I highly recommend it.

  • How My Dad’s Advice to Let Someone Else Shine Created My Fear of Success

    How My Dad’s Advice to Let Someone Else Shine Created My Fear of Success

    “Sometimes what you’re most afraid of doing is the very thing that will set you free.” ~Robert Tew

    Everyone has fears. It is not an emotion that is only for a chosen few. One’s fear may seem irrational to the outside world, but I guarantee to that person it is debilitating. So much so, that it shapes their perspective and how they see the world. My fear is of success.

    I know what you’re thinking. “That doesn’t make sense at all. Who doesn’t want to be successful?” Well, let me explain what I mean.

    You see, I am an introvert, so I don’t really want to draw attention to myself at all. My “success” is a personal gain, not a flashy show of pride to the world.

    I wasn’t quite sure where this fear of success began until this year when I was talking to my wife. Our discussions brought up a memory that I am sure started this fear.

    When I was twelve years old, I loved basketball. It was my all-time favorite sport. You had to be good individually but also as a team.

    Being introverted, I had to work hard at the latter, but it was a challenge I was willing to take on because I loved the game so much. I practiced all day every day. My grandma even brought me a basketball hoop to put in her driveway so I could practice. (This was a big deal because she loved her yard and thought the hoop made it look less appealing.)

    Nonetheless, I got good and made the basketball team. So now I could work more on the team aspect.

    One day I was at my cousin’s house, and we were playing basketball. A teammate lived across the street. After my game with my cousin, she came over and challenged me to a game one on one. I agreed

    As we were playing, I noticed she became more intense and aggressive. I didn’t pay much attention to it and just kept playing. When I won the game, I went toward her to say, “nice game.”

    She threw the ball at me and ran toward her house crying. I was so confused. My dad saw and made me go with him to her house, where she was sitting on the porch.

    He asked her what was wrong. She said, “Why does she have to be so good? She always wins. I’m not even a starter because of her.”

    My dad pulled me to the side and said, “You don’t have to be good all the time. Why don’t you let her win sometimes?” 

    I remember being confused. My twelve-year-old mind couldn’t understand why my dad would want me to lessen myself so that someone else could achieve, even though I worked hard. But he was my dad, and she was crying.

    Later, I found out that the girl was the niece of my dad’s future wife. I guess he was trying to impress her. But that’s a story for a different blog.

    From that time on I questioned the results of my success. If I succeeded would people be upset? Would I be taking someone else’s spot? Would this person hate me? Should I not try my best?

    This fear of success became a big deal in my twenties. At that time, I decided to make good on a goal I set for myself when I was in high school—to become a poet like Maya Angelou and Nicki Giovanni and a writer like John Grisham.

    At that time, I was working at a tutoring center, and there was this nice older gentleman name GW. He always saw me writing in my journal, and one day he invited me to an open poetry mic night that he held on Fridays in a barn.

    I didn’t think much of it. When I went home, I looked up the guy and learned that he was a famous poet. So, I decided to take him up on his offer to attend.

    It was great, everyone was kind and just wanted to share their work. After a couple of visits as a spectator, GW asked me when I was going to share my work. The thought was scary for me.

    It took so much for me to even attend. I told him I was just enjoying being there. He then said something that I hold on to even to this day.

    He said, “When you are a writer you have to become two people: the author Nesha and the regular Nesha. The regular Nesha can be afraid and introverted. But the author Nesha needs to be strong, confident, and want success, not fear it.”

    He then told me he was going to feature me as the poet of the night, where I would do a set of my poems for fifteen minutes for everyone. I reluctantly agreed.

    It took so much for me not to cancel. I had to constantly tell myself, “This is author Nesha.” I had to work on being in a room where all the attention was on me. It was a lot, but I’m glad I did it

    This fear of success is tough to deal with, especially as I continue to pursue my writing career.  I feel as though I have multiple personalities. “Author Nesha” wants success. I want to be a famous writer with people reading my books.

    “Regular Nesha” is introverted and just wants to write because I love it. “Regular Nesha” is afraid. I am afraid that I will get successful, and everyone will criticize my art that I worked so hard on.

    Will people say I shouldn’t be where I am because I am not good enough? Will I be taking someone’s spot? Will people want to meet me, touch me, speak to me?

    This fear of success has also morphed a bit into social anxiety. When I do open mics (which is rare because of my fears) I need to have my wife by my side.

    I remember one time I did an open mic, and as I was speaking, I noticed this woman crying and staring intently at me. My mind began to swirl with so many questions. Why is she staring at me? Does she think my work is bad? Will she want to talk to me?

    When I was done, I walked to my seat near my wife. The woman came and sat behind us. She touched my shoulder, which brought fear to my heart. I turned around. She was still crying.

    She said, “Your words brought me so much joy. I am crying because I recently lost my mom and your poem reminded me of her.” It was happening! Someone was talking to me!

    All I could think was, this is going to spiral into a full-blown conversation. All I could muster up was “I’m glad you liked the poem, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

    That night was difficult and exhilarating. Difficult because so many people came up to me and wanted to talk and shake my hand, and I was so afraid and had so many thoughts flying through my head. Exhilarating because OH MY GOD! People liked me!

    This battle between “Author Nesha” and “Regular Nesha” is something I deal with daily. Not only in my pursuit of being a writer but in other aspects of my life.

    I am an English teacher by day. In my staff meetings, I’m afraid to share my ideas because what if I succeed and some people like them? Will they expect me to always have good ideas? What if others are upset at me or think less of me because of my ideas?

    But then again, I want to share my thoughts because I worked hard on them and feel like they are worthy to be shared.

    I know you’re thinking, how do you survive? Well, first, I had to acknowledge that what my dad did when I was twelve was not right. He may have thought he was doing the right thing, but he should never have told me to dim my light so someone else could shine.

    Second, I try to do things out of my comfort zone. For example, in my staff meeting we were discussing how to improve student motivation. Usually, I don’t speak, but I pushed myself to share what I do in my class, and they loved it.

    Of course, I couldn’t help but question If they really loved it, or if someone was upset about my idea, but I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on what I can actually see and hear.

    Finally, success is relative. My idea of success may not be someone else’s idea of success, and that’s okay. By learning these things, I can now follow through on things that scare “Regular Nesha,” and that is me facing my fear of success.

  • Why Belonging Is So Difficult for Survivors of Domestic Abuse

    Why Belonging Is So Difficult for Survivors of Domestic Abuse

    “Our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance.” ~Brené Brown

    Sitting there watching The Greatest Showman, with tears pouring down my face, I asked myself why does this song, in fact this whole film, make me cry so much? Why does it evoke so much emotion in me?

    “I am brave,

    I am bruised,

    I am who I’m meant to be.

    This is ME.”

    “Look out cos here I come,

    And I’m marching on to the beat I drum,

    I’m not scared to be seen,

    I make no apologies.

    This is ME.”

    I am brave, I am bruised, and I know, after many years of working on myself, that I am who I am meant to be. But if I am honest, I am still not marching to the beat of my drum, I am still scared to be seen, and I am still apologizing.

    The reason why this film makes me so emotional is because it brings up emotional scars that have still not fully healed. It highlights a part of me that still needs work. I watch these people who have lived their lives as outcasts and have never before found somewhere they belong, and I empathize.

    I have never been cast out of anywhere. I grew up in a stable, loving family, but I am familiar with the feeling of not belonging because for many years I have been scared to show the real me.

    This fear or inability to be me started the minute my ex pushed me over for voicing my opinion and trying to argue my point. It grew with every punch, kick, threat, humiliation, criticism, and brush off. It grew as the secrets I was keeping mounted up, as the lies I was telling became bigger and bigger.

    From the moment my relationship became abusive I did not belong anywhere because I was no longer free to be me.

    I hid what was going on, and when it was obvious something was happening because of the bruises, I made light of it and played it down.

    I withdrew from myself, becoming just a shell of a person. When I was at home with my partner, I was who he expected me to be; when I was with my family, I tried to be just like them. When I was at work, I was who I thought they wanted me to be.

    I found some sense of belonging when I gave birth to my first son. As I lay there in hospital with him in my arms this new feeling came over me—nothing else mattered apart from this wonderful little person. However, I quickly learned to be the mum my partner wanted me to be rather than the mum I wanted to be, and that broke my heart.

    Friends disappeared, work colleagues were unsure how to treat me, and on the one occasion I reached out for help (to one of my son’s teachers), I was brushed off. It was a private school, and domestic abuse was not something that was part of their agenda. I did not belong there.

    When I finally left for good, I turned up to a women’s refuge, with my seven-year-old son, in a place that I did not know, miles away from my family and friends. I thought that was it, that all my pain was going to stop. While the physical pain obviously stopped, the pain on the inside has taken much longer to heal.

    Over fifteen years later, after years of inner work and a happy marriage, I still do not feel that I belong in many places. This is because I am still holding myself back from being me.

    My self-preservation tendencies, which were once so vital for my survival, are now holding me back. The fear that kept me on high alert, that helped me to evaluate my words and actions before speaking or acting, to keep me safe, was so strong that even after all these years, it is still there.

    What if I do something to upset my husband, will he leave me?

    If I voice an opinion that is different to someone else’s, will they brush me off and think I am stupid or stop liking me?

    What if I say something and open myself up and no one cares or listens? That will just make me feel worthless and unimportant again.

    If I do what I really want to do and get it wrong or fail, others will think I am useless.

    Why would anyone want to listen to what I say?

    Making decisions that everyone agrees with means I am doing the right thing, even if I am not sure that is what I want.

    This fear has prevented me from finding places I belong.

    Yes, I fit in wherever I go because I speak and act in a way that suits the situation, that ties in with everyone else. I sit on the fence and do my best to understand and accept everyone’s point of view without voicing my own because then everyone will like me, and I will not get hurt.

    But just fitting in is not good for your self-esteem. It just cements the belief that you need to hide the real you.

    Being a good communicator involves adapting to suit the environment and situation that you are in, but it should not be at the expense of your own values and opinions, which are just as important as everyone else’s. Pleasing everyone else at the expense of yourself means that you are not giving them the best of you, because that can only come from being wholly and truly YOU.

    As a result of domestic abuse, I suffer from low self-esteem. It has got a lot better over the years, but it still pops up now and again.

    I go through times when my self-love and self-worth are purely based on what others think of me. One unkind word, one difference of opinion, one moment of feeling ignored has me plummeting into the depths of self-hatred and self-doubt.

    It normally happens when I meet someone new or join a new group. I am overly concerned with what they think of me, so I mold myself into someone I think they want me to be, ensuring that they like me. I still hold back now and again with my husband, preventing a disagreement that could potentially result in him deciding he doesn’t love me anymore.

    The truth is, everyone who meets you genuinely wants to meet the real you. The best you is the authentic, bruised, brave, perfectly imperfect you.

    There are times when I genuinely feel that I belong, when I feel comfortable being my funny, hyper, jokey self, when I can speak up and voice my opinion, when I have the confidence to make a mistake and to listen to and act on my intuition.

    At these times I feel content, my head is not working on overdrive trying to figure out what I should say and do, my heart is open, and I feel safe to be me. And I know that during these times I am able to give the best of me. These are the times when I feel I am just as important as everyone else. When I feel that I am an equal.

    I want to feel like this all of the time! I don’t want to just fit in. I want to belong wherever I go. I want to march to the beat of my own drum. I want to fulfill my potential and be all I can be.

    I know, however, that there is only one place I truly need to belong and feel safe to be me, and that is within.

    I need to know who I am, what I want, what I like, and what I don’t like. I need to be clear on what my values are and what my dreams and aspirations are. I need to be honest with myself about how I am feeling. I need to work on that overpowering self-preservation mode that is still on autopilot by recognizing that I am safe, that I will not get hurt if I open up and let my true self out.

    I need to give myself a break from the ridiculously high expectations I have of myself and treat myself with compassion and respect. I need to love and accept myself for who I am, not just when I have achieved something.

    Only then will I truly belong, will I be able to unapologetically be me and shout from the rooftops “THIS IS ME!”

  • How to Overcome Ultra-Independence and Receive Love and Support

    How to Overcome Ultra-Independence and Receive Love and Support

    “Ultra independence is a coping mechanism we develop when we’ve learned it’s not safe to trust love or when we are terrified to lose ourselves in another. We aren’t meant to go it alone. We are wounded in relationship and we heal in relationship.” ~Rising Woman

    Do you feel like you have to do everything on your own?

    Is it difficult for you to ask for and receive help in fear of being let down?

    Have you ever heard the expression “Ultra-independence may be a trauma response”?

    If this is you, I get it; that was me too.

    Please know there isn’t anything wrong with you. I lived most of my life this way. This way of being was a survival strategy that kept me safe, but it was also very lonely. I lived in a constant state of anxiety, and it wore me out physically because I thought I had to do everything myself.

    We often become ultra-independent because we don’t trust others and/or we may not feel worthy of being loved and supported. Or, we may believe that by denying support from others and doing things ourselves we’ll gain love and acceptance, because we’re not being a burden.

    Maintaining connections and receiving support from others are basic human needs. If we’re saying we don’t need anybody, that’s often coming from a part of ourselves that wants to protect us from hurt, abuse, criticism, disappointment, or rejection.

    If we even consider the possibility of wanting, needing, and/or receiving support from other people, something in us may say, “No way, it’s not safe,” so we keep these thoughts at bay.

    We may think that if we ask for anything then we’re weak or being too needy, and that’s codependency. But we’re not meant to do everything on our own; there is such a thing as healthy codependency.

    Ultra-independence may also be an extreme unspoken boundary, so, what may be important is to learn how to set healthy boundaries so we can feel safe in situations where we thought we’d lose ourselves.

    Sometimes we feel the need to be ultra-independent because we don’t feel safe being vulnerable and letting people in, because if we do, they may see our flaws and insecurities, or they may trigger our unresolved traumas and wounds.

    We may be carrying deep shame, and we don’t want to feel it or have others see it, so we stay away from connecting with and receiving support from other human beings.

    One of the hardest things to fathom is that, although we’ve been hurt in relationships, in supportive relationships we can experience healing and a sense of safety. 

    That didn’t make sense to me, because in my relationships I often experienced criticism, hurt, rejection, and being screamed at for having natural human feelings and needs.

    A part of me wanted support and connections, but another part of me was afraid, because as a child it made my father angry when I asked  for anything. It was hard living in a world where I felt all alone, believing I had to do everything on my own while watching everyone else receive support and connect with their family and friends.

    For me, being ultra-independent eventually led to denying and suppressing my needs and feelings because it got too overwhelming to try to do everything on my own, especially at such a young age.

    At age fifteen I became anorexic, and I struggled with depression, anxiety, and self-harm for over twenty-three years.

    In the midst of that, at age twenty, I let my guard down and got a boyfriend, who I thought loved me because he bought me anything I wanted, but there were strings attached. If I didn’t do what he wanted he would take back the gifts. He became obsessed with me, waited outside of my house when I wouldn’t talk to him, and would draw me in again with gifts and words of seduction.

    This left me confused. “Do I only receive support and things when I’m a slave to somebody?” I wondered. After I finally broke up with him, I made a vow to myself that I would never receive anything from anyone again. 

    I got the opportunity to heal that vow later in my life when I went to Palm Springs with a friend. We were playing the slot machines and he put in $20. I told him “It’s your money if we win.” We won $200 on the first spin, and he told me, “Cash out, you won.”

    When I cashed out, I chased him around the casino, trying to put the money in his pocket. I didn’t want to receive from him because I thought, “Then I owe him, and he owns me.”

    Thankfully, he’s someone I can share anything with, and we talked about it. He told me he knew my struggle, that he didn’t want anything in return, and that it makes him happy to give to his friends and family. This experience helped me see things differently.

    My healing journey really began at age forty when I started learning how to reconnect with myself, my needs, and my feelings and started healing the trauma I was carrying. I also learned how to ask for support, which wasn’t easy at the beginning; some people got mad at me, and some people were happy to fulfill my requests and needs.

    Instead of blaming and shaming myself for believing I had to do everything on my own, I made peace with the part of me that felt it didn’t need anybody. By listening to its fears I started understanding why it thought I needed protecting.

    It revealed to me the pain it felt of being rejected, hurt, and screamed at for having human feelings and needs, and that it didn’t want to experience that pain again.

    As I listened to this part of myself with compassion, I acknowledged and validated the fear and pain it experienced, thanked it for doing what it was doing, and let it know it was now loved and safe.

    I asked it what it really wanted, and it said, “I want to have true connections. I want to feel safe with and receive support from others, but I’m afraid.”

    This younger part of me was stuck in perspective from my childhood wounding and the experience with the guy I was dating. By giving this part of me a chance to speak and tell me its intentions, I was able to help it/me have a new understanding and feel loved and safe.

    I also began to have a more realistic view of who is and who isn’t safe, instead of seeing no one as safe based on outdated neuro programming stemming from my past traumas, hurts, and pains.

    Being ultra-independent did help me heal from all those years of struggling with anorexia, depression, and anxiety. Even after twenty-three years of going in and out of hospitals and treatment centers and doing traditional therapy and nothing working, I finally took my healing into my own hands, and yes, I did most of it on my own.

    However, even doing it on my own, I found it was also helpful to be in a loving and supportive environment with people who didn’t try to fix, control, or save me.

    We’re not meant to be or do life alone, but being alone can be comforting if we fear being hurt by others. 

    This doesn’t mean we should force ourselves to ask for and receive support from others, especially if we’re afraid; it means we need to create a loving and caring relationship with ourselves and understand where the need to be ultra-independent is coming from as a first step toward letting people in.

    A great question to ask yourself is “Why is it not okay for me to receive support?” Be with that part of you, allow it to show you what it believes, and take time to listen with compassion. Then ask it what it really wants and needs.

    Receiving support isn’t about being totally dependent on others, that’s just a setup for frustration and disappointment; it’s also important to learn how to be independent and meet our needs. This isn’t either/or, it’s both.

    Learning how to connect with our feelings and needs and how to communicate them and make requests is also important.

    For instance, if you’re going through a challenge and you would like support from someone, you can say, “I’m having a hard time right now, and I would really like someone who I can talk to, someone who will just listen without trying to change me or my situation. Is that something you would be willing to do?”

    If this feels impossible for you, it might help to repeat some affirmations related to letting people in and receiving support. If some of these don’t resonate yet, instead of using “I am” start with “I like the idea of…”

    I am worthy of being supported and loved.

    I am worthy of having heartfelt connections.

    It’s safe for me to have this experience.

    I am worthy of being seen, heard, and accepted,

    I am worthy of being loved and cared for by myself and others.

    I am worthy of shining authentically,

    I am worthy of receiving help and support.

    There isn’t anything you need to earn or prove. You are worthy because you are beautiful and amazing you.

    —

    If you’re shutting people out because of your past traumas, as I once did, know that you don’t need to do everything on your own just because you were hurt in the past. Some people may let you down, but there are plenty of good people out there who want to love and support you—you just have to let them in.

  • What Creates Anxiety and How We Can Heal and Ease Our Pain

    What Creates Anxiety and How We Can Heal and Ease Our Pain

    “Beneath every behavior there is a feeling. And beneath each feeling is a need. And when we meet that need, rather than focus on the behavior, we begin to deal with the cause, not the symptom.” ~Ashleigh Warner

    Do you ever wonder what creates anxiety and why so many people are anxious?

    Anxiety doesn’t just come from a thought we’re thinking, it comes from inside our body—from our internal patterning, where unresolved trauma, deep shame, and painful experiences are still “running.”

    It often comes from false underlying beliefs that say, “Something’s wrong with me, I’m flawed, I’m bad, I’m wrong, I don’t belong.”

    Anxiety can be highly misunderstood because it’s not just a symptom, it often stems from what’s going on subconsciously as a result of past experiences, mostly from when we were little beings. And yes, the body does keep score and remembers even if the mind doesn’t.

    Anxiety is often a signal/experience that happens automatically from our nervous system. It’s emotions/sensations letting us know that we don’t feel safe with ourselves, life, or the person we’re with or situation we’re in. It’s our inner child saying, “Hey, I need some love and attention.”

    Maybe, instead of blaming, shaming, or making ourselves feel bad or wrong for experiencing anxiety, we can be more compassionate and caring, knowing it often comes from deep unresolved pain.

    Just taking a medication or doing symptom relief may help ease the anxiety, but are we really healing the “root” cause? Are we taking time to understand what the anxiety is conveying? Where it’s actually coming from and what it’s showing us about what we need?

    Many people are living with anxiety but aren’t even aware it’s happening. Our minds and bodies aren’t at ease, and we may try to soothe them by being busy, over-eating, drinking alcohol, scrolling through the internet, smoking, compulsive shopping, over-achieving, or constantly working.

    From my earliest memory I felt anxious. I didn’t feel safe at home or at school. I felt different than the other kids; in a sense I was an outcast.

    I was alone a lot, and food became my companion and coping mechanism. When I was eating, I felt like I was being soothed. It gave me a way to focus on something else to avoid my painful feelings, and it also helped me cope with being screamed at or ignored by my family.

    At age eight I started experiencing dizziness, which was another form of anxiety showing up in my body. My parents took me to the doctor, and they checked my ears and did other tests but couldn’t find anything wrong with me physically.

    That’s because the dizziness wasn’t caused by something physically wrong with my body, it was stemming from the fear and anxiety I was experiencing. I was afraid of everyone and everything—I was afraid of living and being.

    I was experiencing extreme panic. I didn’t know how to be, and no one comforted me when I was afraid; instead, my father called me a “big baby.”

    When I was ten my parents started leaving me at home alone, sometimes at night, where it was very scary for me, and I cried and sat at the door waiting for them to walk in. When they did, there was no acknowledgment. They just said, “Go to bed.”

    They didn’t meet my needs for connection; my needs to be heard, loved, seen, and accepted; or my needs for safety and comfort when I was hurting and afraid. Because of that, I experienced severe panic and anxiety. I didn’t know how to be with myself when those feelings were happening, which was constantly.

    Then, when I was thirteen, my doctor told me to go on a diet. I became afraid of food and started using exercise to soothe my anxiousness. Little did I know I would exercise compulsively, to the point of exhaustion, daily, for the next twenty-three years of my life.

    I couldn’t sit still for a minute. If I did, my heart would race, and my body would sweat and shake. My trauma was surfacing, and I didn’t know how to be. The only way I felt okay was if I was constantly moving and being busy. 

    I was also self-harming and limiting my food intake, so at age fifteen I entered my first hospital for anorexia, depression, cutting/being suicidal, and anxiety.

    Was there really something wrong with me? No, I was just a frightened human being trying desperately to feel loved, accepted, and at peace with who I was. I just wanted to feel safe in some way.

    I didn’t realize what was going on at the time, and the people who were “treating me” didn’t understand true healing. They were just doing symptom relief, which never took care of my inner pain, the trauma my mind/body was stuck in.

    Deep down I was living with the idea that there was something wrong with me, that I wasn’t a good enough human being, I didn’t fit into society. I had a shame-based identity, and I was trying to suppress my hurt and pain.

    I was stuck in fear and worried about the future and what would happen to me. I was trying to make the “right” decisions, but no matter what I did my father called me a failure. No wonder I was so anxious all the time. I couldn’t meet the standards on how I should be according to my family and society, and I never felt safe.

    When I was old enough, I started working and found that when I made money, I finally felt worthy, which temporarily eased my anxiety.

    This became an obsession, and I became a workaholic, basing my identity on my income and trying to prove myself through my earnings.

    I also hid my thoughts, feelings, and needs because I never knew, when I was a kid, if I would be punished for doing, saying, or asking for anything. This left me with many unmet needs and continuous anxious feelings. 

    How can someone live that way? We can’t. It’s not living, it’s running. It’s trying to just get through the day, but then the next day comes and the panic sets in, and the routine starts all over again. Living in proving, self-preserving, and trying to find a way to feel safe—what a life, eh?

    I also had to deal with the anger my family projected onto me for “being a sick puppy.” They said I was ruining the family, not to mention all the money my parents spent on treatment that never helped me get better. That really upset my father and made me feel guilty.

    All that panic, fear, guilt, shame, pain—feeling not good enough, unlovable, and unworthy—was going on unconsciously, and because I was trying to suppress how I was truly feeling I experienced the symptom of anxiety, as well as depression, eating disorders, cutting, and other ways of self-harming.

    Many people have these feelings but do a great job of covering them up through physical means. Internally, they’re at war.

    That’s why I share my story: I know there are other people out there who feel this too. If this is you, please be kind and gentle with yourself.

    Please know that whatever your survival/coping mechanisms, you’re not bad or wrong; in fact, you’re pretty damn smart, you found a way to help yourself feel safe.

    And, if you’re experiencing anxiety, please know it’s not your fault; it’s how your nervous system is responding to what’s happening internally and externally. 

    Sometimes anxiety can mean that we care deeply and we’re in a situation or with a person who means a lot to us. We want to be loved and accepted, so we get anxious about trying to do and say the right things, which makes it hard to express ourselves authentically.

    Anxiety can also be a response from our nervous system letting us know we’re in dangerous situations or our needs for belonging, safety, and love aren’t being met. However, there’s a difference between a real threat and a perceived threat based on outdated neuro patterning stemming from traumatic past experiences.

    Here’s the simple truth: We all have some anxiety—it’s part of being human—but when anxiety shows up in our daily living and it’s extreme like it was for me, it can be helpful to notice it with compassion and loving so we can do some inner healing.

    I started feeling at ease by embracing the part of me that was experiencing anxiety, listening to why it was feeling how it was feeling, and giving it what it needed; this is called inner child healing, loving re-parenting.

    I started feeling at ease when I made anxiety my friend and I saw it as a messenger from within. By taking the time to listen, I saw how anxiety was serving me; sometimes I really needed protection or a shift in perception, or to speak up or leave a situation, and I only knew this by listening.

    When I started loving and accepting myself unconditionally—my insecurities, my imperfections, my wild ways of being, my free, authentic, and crazy expression, the ways I love and care deeply and the things that frightened me—I became truly free.

    We’ve all been conditioned to be a certain way in order to be loved and accepted, and this often creates a disconnection from our soul’s loving essence and can cause us to be anxious with the false ideas that we’re not good enough and there’s something wrong with us. 

    For those of us who experienced trauma too—the trauma of not being heard, seen, or comforted when we were frightened or hurting, or not having our needs met as a little being, or being beaten physically or emotionally—well, it’s understandable that we would feel unsafe and anxious.

    When we’re in situations that trigger our anxiety, we need to take a deep breath and ask ourselves:

    What am I afraid of?

    What is this experience bringing up for me?

    What am I feeling and what am I believing to be true about myself, the other, and/or what’s happening?

    Is that really true?

    What do I need? How can I give this to myself?

    One thing that has really helped me is the idea that it’s not really about the issue or the other person, it’s about how I’m feeling, what I think it means, and what’s going on internally, as we all see the world through our own filters, beliefs, and perceptions.

    We find ease with anxiety when we make it our friend, relate with it, and respond to it instead of from it, and offer ourselves compassion instead of judgment. 

    We find ease with anxiety when we forgive ourselves for betraying ourselves to get love and approval and/or forgive ourselves for past mistakes, seeing what we can learn from them and how we can change.

    We find ease with anxiety by taking risks and making small promises to ourselves daily, which helps us learn how to trust ourselves and our decisions, so we don’t feel anxious when there’s no one around to help us.

    We find ease with anxiety when we realize there’s nothing wrong with us, and we take time to find out what unrealistic expectations we’re trying to meet in order to be a “good enough human being.”

    We find ease with anxiety when we have a safe place to share our fears, shame, and insecurities so we no longer have to suppress that energy.

    We find ease with anxiety when we notice the “war” between our mind and our heart—our conditioning and our true being.

    We also find ease with anxiety when we see it as a positive thing. Because of my anxiety, I’m empathetic and sensitive to my own and other people’s feelings and needs. This helps me understand what I need, as well as what my friends, clients, and other people need and what they’re experiencing internally.

    We find ease with anxiety when we understand what’s causing it internally; express, process, and resolve our anger, hurt, shame and pain; and offer those parts of ourselves compassion, love, and a new understanding.

    We find ease with anxiety when we pause, take a deep breath, put our hands on our heart, and say, “I am safe, I am loved.” This calms our nervous system and brings us back to the present moment.

    We find ease with anxiety when we experience a re-connection with our soul’s loving essence; this is where we experience a true homecoming, a loving integrating.

    If you’re someone who has experienced trauma, please don’t force yourself to sit with your feelings alone. Find someone who can lovingly support you in your healing, someone who can assist you in working with those parts of you that are hurting to feel safe, loved, heard, and seen.

    Oh, and one more thing, please be kind and gentle with yourself. You’re a precious and beautiful soul, and you’re worth being held in compassion and love.

  • How I Developed Self-Worth After Being Sexually Harassed and Fired

    How I Developed Self-Worth After Being Sexually Harassed and Fired

    “Your value doesn’t decrease based on someone’s inability to see your worth.” ~Unknown

    In my early twenties, I was a food and beverage manager at a nice hotel in Portland, Maine. About a month after I started working there, they hired our department director, a man twice my age whom I would report to.

    At the end of his first week, we went out for a “get to know each other” drink at a loud and busy bar. As we drank and chatted, he was physically very close to me. I told myself it was because of the noise.

    His knees were against mine as we chatted facing each other on barstools. It made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t do anything about it. He put his hand on my thigh as we talked. I pretended it didn’t bother me.

    He leaned in very close to my face and ear as he talked about himself and told me how attractive I was. He led me through doorways with his hand gently on the small of my back.

    There was more of this over the next few months. More of him stepping on and just over that invisible line. More of me acting as though I was okay with it and convincing myself that I was.

    A few months after that night, he and I were in a position to fire a male employee who had several complaints against him for not doing his work.

    The morning before the firing, Human Resources pulled me into their office to tell me that this employee had lodged a complaint about my boss and me. He had said that he knew we were going to fire him, and he believed it was because my boss and I were having an affair. His “proof” was that he saw us at the bar that Friday night and saw us “kissing.” There was even a line cook who backed up his story.

    A few days later, both of these employees admitted that they didn’t exactly see us kissing, they just saw us talking very closely together, and it looked intimate.

    HR dropped the complaint but no longer felt comfortable with firing this employee, so he stayed on. A few weeks later after a busy event that went poorly due to being understaffed, I was taken into the CEO’s office, and I was fired.

    The male employee continued working there. My male boss continued working there. The male employee was promoted to take my now vacant position. My male boss was promoted to work at a larger resort at a tropical destination.

    These two events—being accused of having an affair with my married older boss, and subsequently being fired for an event that I wasn’t even in charge of staffing—were the two lowest points of my professional career.

    I honestly rarely think back to this time in my life, but I also recently realized that I never talk about this experience because of my embarrassment that I let this happen without objection.

    What This Story is Really About

    I didn’t think that my boss would hurt me. I wasn’t even worried that I would lose my job if I pushed back. I was afraid that if I acted like someone who was bothered by his comments, I would be seen as a lame, no fun, boring, stuck-up prude.

    I subconsciously believed that my worthiness as a person was determined by people who were cooler than me, more successful than me, smarter than me, or more liked than me.

    I believe that had I told my boss “no,” he would have listened. I’d gotten to know him over several months, and while he was egotistical, dim-witted, and selfish, I think he would have respected my boundaries had I set them. I just never did.

    There are a lot of layers to this story. Far too many to cover in one post.

    But the reason for writing this today is to share what I was so ashamed of. I was ashamed that young, twenty-something me was so insecure and so afraid of rejection that her people-pleasing led to allowing this man to touch her and act inappropriately.

    She was so afraid that if she set a boundary and said “no” she would be seen as too emotional, weak, and a complainer. She would become “less than.”

    I’ll restate that there are a lot of layers to this; from the patriarchal system at this business (and society as a whole), to the abuse of men in power, to mixed messages at high school where girls were not allowed to wear certain clothes because the boys would get distracted, to a lack of examples through the 90s/early 2000’s of what it looks like for a young woman to stand up for herself in a situation like this, and far beyond.

    But the part of the story I want to focus on right now is my insecurity. This is the part of the story that I had the most shame and regret about, because this was not an isolated incident for me.

    Insecurity was a Trend Throughout My Life

    People-pleasing was a huge problem for me in several areas of my life for many years. It’s something that held me back from so much.

    • I didn’t leave a long relationship that I’d dreamt of ending for fear that I would disappoint our families.
    • I let people walk all over me, interrupt me while I spoke, and tell me what I should think.
    • In my late twenties I remember being home alone, again, crying that I had no one who would want to spend time with me or go somewhere with me, feeling sad and lonely, when in reality I was just too scared and embarrassed to pick up the phone and ask, for fear of rejection.

    I wasted so many years and felt a lot of pain, and a whole lot of nothing happened as I was stuck. Stuck feeling worthless, unlikable, and unknowing how to “please” my way out of it.

    I spent years numbing how uncomfortable my insecurity made me feel by smoking a lot of pot. I avoided what I came to realize were my triggers by staying home or finding excuses to leave early if I did go out. I blamed everyone else for how they made me feel. I compared myself to everyone and constantly fell short.

    Until eventually, I realized the cause for all this pain and discomfort was believing my worth was based on what other people thought of me.

    The Emotional Toolbox That Saved Me

    If I could go back in time to give myself one thing, it would be the emotional toolbox that I’ve collected over the years so that I could stop living to please other people, because I know now that I am inherently worthy.

    By my thirties I found myself on a journey to lift the veil of insecurity that hid me from my real self. This wall I’d inadvertently built to protect myself was keeping me from seeing who I really was beneath my fear and anxiety.

    Once I found the courage to start tearing down that wall and opening myself to the vulnerability necessary to truly connect with the real me, I was able to discern between who I am and what I do. I learned to stop judging myself. I learned my true value. And I liked what I saw.

    Finding My Core Values

    I came to realize that it’s hard to feel worthy when you don’t really like yourself. And it’s even harder to genuinely like yourself if you don’t truly know yourself. Figuring out my core values was a crucial part of the puzzle.

    Core values are the beliefs, principles, ideals, and traits that are most important to you. They represent what you stand for, what you’re committed to, and how you want to operate in the world.

    Knowing your core values is like having a brighter flashlight to get through the woods at night. It shines a light on the path ahead—a path that aligns with your true self—so that you can show up in the world and to challenging situations as the person you want to be.

    It helps you decide in any given scenario if you want to be funny or compassionate, direct or easy-going, decisive or open-minded. These aren’t easy decisions to make, but knowing how you want to be in this world helps you make the decisions that best align with your authentic self.

    And when you truly know yourself and act intentionally and authentically in tune with your values (as best as you can) a magical thing happens: You connect with your own inherent worthiness.

    For me, I came to realize that I am a compassionate, kind, courageous, funny, well-balanced woman constantly in pursuit of purposeful growth. I like that person. She’s cool. I’d hang out with her.

    More importantly, I believe she is a good person deserving of respect. Which means I don’t need to accept situations that cross my boundaries. I have a right to speak up when something makes me uncomfortable.

    So how do you want to be? Which of your principles and qualities matter most to you? And what would you do or change if you chose to let those principles and qualities guide you?

    Connecting With Others About My Shame

    Shame breeds in the darkness. We don’t normally speak up about the things that we feel embarrassed about. And that leads to us feeling isolated and alone with how we feel.

    Whether it’s reading stories online, talking with friends, joining a support group, going to therapy, or working with a coach, share and listen. A vital component of self-compassion is learning to connect over our shared experiences. And it takes self-compassion to respect and believe in our own self-worth, especially when confronted with our inner critic.

    By sharing my feelings of insecurity, I learned that a beautiful friend of mine also felt ugly. I thought, “Wow, if someone that gorgeous could think of herself as anything less than, my thinking might be wrong too.” I found out that even talented celebrities from Lady Gaga to Arianna Huffington to Maya Angelou have all felt insecure about their abilities. That somehow gave me permission to feel the way that I did, which was the first step in letting it go.

    Who can you connect with? If you’re not sure, or you aren’t at a place yet in your journey to feel comfortable doing that, perhaps start by reading stories online.

    Coaching Myself Through Insecurity

    Alas, I am only human. Therefore, I still fall victim to moments of insecurity and feel tempted to let other people dictate my worth. Knowing that purposeful growth is important to me, I know that the work continues, and I’m willing to do it.

    So I coach myself through those challenging times when I say something stupid and worry about being judged or I come across someone who is similar to me, but more successful and fear that means I’m not good enough. I’ll ask myself questions as a way of stepping out of self-judgment mode, and into an open and curious mindset. These are questions like:

    • If my good friend was experiencing this, how would I motivate her?
    • Did I do the best I could with what I had?
    • If the universe gave me this experience for a reason, what lesson am I supposed to be learning so that I can turn this into a meaningful experience?
    • What uncomfortable thing am I avoiding? Am I willing to be uncomfortable in order to go after what I want?

    Or I’ll break out the motivational phrases that remind me of my capabilities or worthiness like:

    • I can do hard things.
    • My worthiness is not determined by other people’s opinions.
    • This is just one moment in time, and it will pass.
    • Even though this is difficult, I’m willing to do it.
    • I forgive myself for making a mistake. I’ve learned from it and will do better next time.

    Tools like these are simple, but priceless. They gave me my life. And I can say now without hesitation, I like myself, I love myself, I love my life, I’m worthy as hell, and I’m my own best friend. That’s how I want to live my life.

    Because of this, I have the confidence to speak my truth with courage, and I have the confidence to live authentically and unapologetically myself. And the number one person I’m most concerned with pleasing is myself.

  • Why I Never Fit in Anywhere and the One Realization That’s Changed Everything

    Why I Never Fit in Anywhere and the One Realization That’s Changed Everything

    “Don’t force yourself to fit where you don’t belong.” ~Unknown

    When I was young, I was a real daddy’s girl. He was so proud of me and took me everywhere with him.

    When my parents got divorced and my dad moved away to start a new life with a new family, I didn’t understand why he left, as I was still a child. I thought that he didn’t love me anymore. I felt abandoned and rejected. Perhaps if I’d been better behaved, prettier, cleverer then he wouldn’t have left me?

    Until recently, I didn’t realize the impact that this has had on my adult relationships.

    Because I fear abandonment and rejection, I’ve struggled to fit in and make friends.

    I had a relationship with an older man who was very similar to my dad. I hoped that he would provide me with the love and affection that I didn’t get from my father and would heal my wounds. However, while things started off great and I thought I had found the one, since the relationship felt like home and was so familiar, he was actually emotionally unavailable, just like my dad, and unable to commit.

    When he started to pull away, this triggered my insecurity. This caused me to pursue him more, as I desperately wanted this relationship work.

    I tried to change myself into what I thought he wanted. I became clingy and jealous, which only drove him further away. When the relationship finally ended and he found someone else, I couldn’t understand why he could love her but not me. What was wrong with me? It confirmed my greatest fear, that I was unlovable and unwanted.

    This pattern continued to follow me in my relationships, which left me feeling more unloved and rejected.

    So I threw myself into my career. I had done well academically, however, I struggled to fit in and make friends there too.

    I was good at my job, but I didn’t feel valued or appreciated and I was often ignored, excluded, and ostracized by my fellow team members. My workplace became a toxic environment. I was bullied, which led to anxiety and depression, and I couldn’t face going into work. Eventually I was let go, as they said I could no longer do my job.

    Since my identity was tied up with being a successful career woman, when I no longer had a career, I didn’t know who I was. What was my purpose in life now? I was at the halfway stage of my life with no family of my own and no job. I took everything that other people had said and done to me very personally.

    I shut myself away at home. I didn’t go out or socialize. I was on medication for anxiety and depression, and I just wanted to stay in bed. What was the point of getting up? I was worthless, I had no value, no one wanted me, I didn’t fit in anywhere. I couldn’t love myself, as others didn’t love me. I had no self-esteem and no confidence to try to start again.

    I had therapy, read lots of self-help books and articles, and did guided meditations. Although I could relate to everything, I struggled to apply the things I had learned to myself.

    As I spent time alone, listening to relaxing music, I had a lightbulb moment. I couldn’t see straight before then because I was so emotional. However, I am naturally a very logical and analytical person, and good at solving problems, which is why I was good at my job.

    The idea came to me that if I took the emotions out of my issues, then I could see them in a logical and rational way and try to solve them like any other puzzle.

    And then I thought, what if I saw my whole life as a jigsaw puzzle? It’s a perfect analogy, really, since my lifelong struggle has been fitting in.

    Visualizing Our Lives as Jigsaw Puzzles

    Each of us start with just one piece—ourselves.

    When we start the puzzle at birth, it is easiest to join the first two pieces together—ourselves and our family.

    As we grow up, we try to find other pieces that fit—friends, romantic relationships, jobs. We may be lucky and find other pieces that fit perfectly straight away, but more often than not we struggle to find the right pieces, and in our frustration, we may even try to force two pieces together that don’t actually fit. However, if we do this, we find over time that none of the other pieces seem to work together.

    No matter how much time we have already invested in this ill-fitting piece—be it an unhealthy relationship or a job that doesn’t align with our purpose and values—we will eventually realize that we have to accept reality and remove the piece that we tried to force to work. This is the only way to make room for a new piece that will fit perfectly into place. A piece we won’t even try to find if we’re too attached to the one that doesn’t fit.

    This doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with us, or the other piece we tried to force to fit, which means we don’t need to blame ourselves or them. We simply need to recognize we don’t fit together, and then learn the lessons we need to learn to stop repeating the same patterns.

    This also doesn’t mean that we made a mistake with the ill-fitting piece. Every time we try to make the “wrong” things fit, we learn the value of taking our time to find the right piece.

    Sometimes we learn that we need to focus on another area of the puzzle first—if, for example, we realize we need to take a break from relationships so we can build up our self-esteem and learn to love ourselves first.

    And sometimes when we’re having difficulty with one section of the puzzle, like love, we recognize that we need to focus on a different area instead, where it might be easier to find the right pieces—like our career or social life, for example.

    When we connect with like-minded people who have similar hobbies or interests and enjoy our company, we feel better about ourselves and start to realize how great we truly are.

    If we change jobs to something we love, that shows off our strengths and enables us to succeed, this improves our confidence and helps us realize that we’re good enough and we do add value.

    Once we become happier with ourselves and other areas of our life, we’ll send out more positive vibes into the world and attract the right kind of people. And we’ll have enough self-worth to recognize people who are not right for us and not waste our time.

    If we don’t do these things, we may complete the puzzle, with all the elements of our life neatly in place and find that we have a piece left over. That piece is you or me, and it doesn’t fit because it was in the wrong box and never meant for this puzzle.

    That was why we struggled to fit in—we chose things in all areas of our lives that were never right for us. So the problem wasn’t us, it was where we trying to force ourselves to fit.

    It may feel daunting to start over, but when we find the right puzzle we belong to, everything stops feeling like a struggle because we slot easily into place. We will end up with a different picture than we originally imagined, but it will feel much better, because our piece will finally fit.

    Where Am I Now?

    After spending half my life struggling to fit in and complete my jigsaw puzzle, I have realized that I am the piece left over, and it’s now time to start again and find the right puzzle that I belong to. This time, I’m starting with the most foundational pieces first—self-love, self-confidence, self-worth.

    There was never anything wrong with me. I just needed to recognize my patterns so I could stop trying to force things that weren’t right. I know my pieces are out there. And so long as I let go of the wrong ones, I know, in time, I’ll find them.

  • How I’m Healing from the Pain of Growing up in a Dysfunctional Family

    How I’m Healing from the Pain of Growing up in a Dysfunctional Family

    “Don’t try to understand everything, because sometimes it’s not meant to be understood, but accepted.” ~Unknown

    As a child, I never had the opportunity to develop a sense of self. I had a father who was a drug addict. A mother who was abused by my father. And later, we had my mom’s possessive and controlling boyfriend. It was tough finding a consistent role model in the mix.

    I was one of four kids and we grew up in a trailer, sharing one bunk bed among us all. As children, we often would brutally fight with each other. We all wanted our own space and sense of self, but there wasn’t enough to go around.

    With our mom working so much, her boyfriend would watch us. He seemed to enjoy punishing us. I remember feeling so afraid. I didn’t want to do anything wrong. I wanted to have his love because it felt like the only way to be safe. I never felt good enough, not to my mom, dad, or the boyfriend.

    Starting in my teen years, codependency started really kicking in, and I wanted my mom for everything. I unknowingly was part of her triangulation between me and my sister. We both craved her love and wanted to have her favoritism.

    As a wild child, my sister was stuck with my mom’s negative self-projections, I received the positive. As the years progressed, these roles flipped, and I suffered a sense of rejection and confusion as to what I had done wrong.

    Life was hard and I couldn’t live with the fear and shame, so I learned to unplug from my feelings. At the same time, these unprocessed feelings would cause outbursts of anger. I started feeling entitled to anger. It felt like life had kicked me so hard as a child, why wasn’t it getting easier? Why was it getting worse?

    My learned dysfunction kept me yearning for connection but fearing it and pushing people away at the same time. I wasn’t capable of trusting others in a healthy way. With each loss, I took on more shame and perceived failure.

    As I struggled through life, I was oblivious to the amounts of shame my family dynamic had me carrying. My mother’s triangulation and manipulation created an environment where she was justified in lashing out with no accountability. Everyone else was to blame for her poor reactions to situations.

    As my mom and sister became a team, I became the problem who needed to learn how to accept and love them unconditionally. There was nothing wrong with them treating other people poorly. It was okay for them to deceitfully hide family secrets (e.g.: Mom drove home drunk from the bar and doesn’t remember getting home), because I wouldn’t agree, so they were justified.

    I felt like I was on an island, broken and unable to figure out what was wrong and how to fix myself because the “rules” of justification changed so swiftly, and always in their favor.

    Having no sense of self and being completely enmeshed with my mom and sister, I felt beyond broken each time I was accused of not being able to love unconditionally. I was worthless and a disgusting human being who was incapable of even a basic emotion that everyone else had.

    It took a lot for me to see that love for my mom was making me feel close only when she was going through tough times, making me part of her someday club (our motto: “someday” will never happen for us).

    My sister learned to use her money to express her love. She would take me to dinner and give me her quality hand-me-down clothes. While I was grateful, it also became justification for her to do crummy things toward me, usually when she had been drinking.

    While sober, if she had a problem, she’d choose to “forgive.” The only problem is that she hadn’t really forgiven me because one night while everyone was having fun, I might get tired or I didn’t think a joke was funny or I looked at her the wrong way, and it would all come flooding out—every stored feeling she had been holding back for days or weeks.

    If either my mom or sister hurt me, the expectation was that I should just get over it. There was no need for them to take accountability because “we are human” and “I am happy with who I am.”

    I wanted to be loved and accepted but couldn’t ever really find my place within my family because the dynamics were so volatile. I was suffocating in the conflicting feelings. I felt angry but ashamed. I was unhappy and felt worthless.

    When I hit bottom and I couldn’t see one thing in my life that gave me worth, I knew that I needed to make changes. I reached out and got help from a therapist and joined a local support group.

    As I am separating from the dysfunctional patterns, the things that have helped me are:

    1. Ask for help.

    Dysfunctional family dynamics often create shame around the idea of talking to others. It’s seen as exposing family secrets and going against the unit. Nobody should suffer due to things out of their control. Reaching out helps you find the compassionate outlet you deserve and need.

    I have been in therapy for about two years now. It has been the only time of my life where I have been able to experience consistent, reliable, and healthy direction. It has supported me in learning how to have self-compassion and make healthy, but tough choices.

    I didn’t want to accept the reality that my mom and sister will likely never truly see me for me. My role as a scapegoat is brutally necessary for the emotional “economics” that occur within my family.

    Therapy helped support me in my choice to find myself outside of my family of origin. There was much pain in going from seeing my family every weekend to now living a life outside of them. It required radical acceptance and the knowledge that I am unable to change anyone but myself.

    I was lucky to have a kind, compassionate, reliable therapist to guide me as I dealt with each of the emotions that came up during this time.

    2. Accept others as they are.

    As a scapegoat in a dysfunctional family unit, I have learned to accept my situation for what it is. I have to set my expectations for what others are capable of giving.

    We have no control over others or their view of the world. All we can do is accept a situation for what it is and assess if it is healthy for us. Once I accepted that my mom and sister do not really see the family dynamic as dysfunctional, I was able to free myself of the anger and need for control. They are blind to the ways they protect themselves emotionally and unwilling to have an open mind about it.

    There is sadness, but I see that the relationship dynamic causes so much pain for me, and I cannot fix this on my own. While I am compassionate toward the pain they must be carrying, I see that I cannot continue a relationship that is built on dysfunctional habits.

    3. Know your worth.

    As an enmeshed individual, my worth was defined by external sources. I wanted my mom, sister, brothers, friends, coworkers, and acquaintances to validate me as a good, worthy person. I desperately needed to feel like others liked me enough to feel I had worth.

    I now know that we all have worth, and it’s our individual responsibility to maintain this worth from within.

    I have a tough inner critic, so having a consistent mindfulness practice has helped me establish my worth. It is hard to find worth when you are caught up in your own head, believing the negative thoughts going through it. Mindfulness helps me turn away from these thoughts and label them as just that, thoughts.

    The more we tune out our negative self-talk, the more we can acknowledge our mistakes and learn from them without sinking into a low and getting down on ourselves. With this brings the awareness that our mistakes do not diminish our worth. Our worth is inherent. A mistake is just a mistake.

    4. Learn what healthy love looks like.

    Our family of origin doesn’t always teach us what healthy love looks and feels like.

    In dysfunctional families, each person loves based on their limited capacity to process their own emotions. When someone has to keep reminding you that you are unconditionally loved, ask yourself, how do I feel right now? For me, I felt hated and restricted to being what was easy for my mom and sister.

    Love should connect you with your inner joy. We all feel down at times and cannot rely on others to make us feel good about ourselves at all times. But I do feel that when someone loves you unconditionally, you shouldn’t feel lost. The joy of this love should be consistently present and help carry you through the tough times (e.g.: disagreements, hurt feelings, etc.).

    When it comes to my mom and sister unconditionally loving me, I have had to accept that they love me the best and only way they know how while hiding from their shame. If they lash out, they are not able to carry the shame and embarrassment of their own actions. They cannot validate my feelings or experience in any way. They need me to carry this responsibility for them. This is not unconditional love.

    —

    As you move through the necessary steps to separate from learned family dysfunction, please remember that you didn’t learn these things by yourself and you will not unlearn them by yourself, nor should you.

    Oftentimes things like depression or anxiety are a hurdle. Building a community is scary but necessary. This can be reaching out to a therapist or searching for support groups in your local community.

    For years I struggled thinking that I could fix what was wrong with me on my own. It wasn’t until I reached out and got help that my mind was able to open up, process traumas, and make lasting changes.

  • 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.