Tiny Buddha

Tag: job

  • Reframing My Job Rejections: A Beautiful Period of Growth

    Reframing My Job Rejections: A Beautiful Period of Growth

    “When we are kind to ourselves, we create inner conditions that make it possible to see clearly and respond wisely.” ~Dr. Kristin Neff

    Searching for a job can feel like an unrelenting test of resilience—a labyrinth of rejection, silence, and self-doubt.

    When I embarked on my journey to apply for 100 jobs in a single month, I wasn’t prepared for the emotional toll it would take. Each application felt like a precarious act of hope, sent into the void of an indifferent system. Every click of the “submit” button came with a flicker of anticipation, a brief moment of optimism that maybe this time, someone would see my potential.

    Yet, amid the uncertainty, I discovered something unexpected: a way to reclaim my story. This wasn’t just about finding work; it became a practice in resilience, self-compassion, and redefining professional worth. What began as a desperate attempt to secure stability turned into a transformative experience that reshaped the way I saw myself and my place in the professional world.

    Each application felt like a small act of defiance against a system that renders workers disposable, transforming professional aspirations into a landscape of cold indifference. My previous attempts to find full-time work had often been met with silence—an absence more profound and dehumanizing than outright rejection. That silence had eroded my confidence, leaving me questioning not just my qualifications but my intrinsic worth.

    As I ventured deeper into the process, I realized that I wasn’t merely searching for employment. I was navigating something much larger: the contours of the contemporary labor struggle. Job boards became my terrain for resilience, a place where I could declare, with every submission, “My skills, my experience, my potential cannot be erased by institutional indifference.”

    Tracking my applications became more than administrative work. At first, it was a way to stay organized, to ensure I didn’t apply to the same position twice or miss a follow-up deadline. But as the list grew, it took on a deeper significance. It became a form of personal documentation—a way to transform passive job searching into active narrative reclamation.

    Two-thirds of my applications disappeared into digital voids, with no acknowledgment or response. Initially, the silence felt unbearable, like shouting into a canyon and waiting for an echo that never came. But over time, I began to see the act of tracking itself as a quiet form of resistance. The spreadsheet wasn’t just a list; it was a testament to my determination to persist, even when the system seemed designed to break me.

    Reframing became my most powerful tool. I wasn’t a desperate job seeker; I was a skilled professional documenting my own resilience. The act of reframing shifted my perspective in profound ways. I began to see the job search not as a series of defeats but as evidence of my ability to adapt and persevere.

    When I looked at my spreadsheet, I didn’t just see rejections or unanswered submissions. I saw proof that I was showing up every day, putting myself out there despite the challenges. Reframing wasn’t about denying the difficulty of the process; it was about choosing to focus on my capacity to keep going.

    Interviews emerged as spaces of radical authenticity. Early in the process, I felt the pressure to perform an idealized version of myself. I spent time (and money!) trying to craft answers with interview coaches that would make me sound confident, polished, and perfect. But those attempts often left me feeling disconnected, as if I were trying to fit into a mold that wasn’t mine.

    Eventually, I decided to approach interviews differently. Instead of trying to present a flawless persona, I showed up as my complete, nuanced self. I shared my genuine thoughts, admitted when I didn’t know the answer to a question, and focused on building real connections with my interviewers.

    Preparation shifted from trying to memorize the “right” answers to reflecting on what truly mattered to me—my values, my experiences, and the unique perspective I brought to the table. This approach didn’t guarantee a job offer, but it made every interview feel meaningful. It reminded me that my worth wasn’t tied to whether or not I got the role.

    Each small win became a form of self-care. In a process filled with uncertainty, I learned to celebrate the moments of progress, no matter how small they seemed. A well-crafted cover letter. A thoughtful follow-up email. An interview that felt like a genuine conversation rather than a performance.

    These small victories were more than steps toward employment; they were acts of personal and professional dignity. They reminded me that the effort I was putting in mattered, even if the results weren’t immediate. Celebrating these wins helped me stay motivated, turning what could have been a demoralizing process into one of empowerment.

    By the end of the month, I understood that this journey was never just about landing a job. It was about challenging the systemic barriers that render workers invisible. It was about creating alternative narratives of professional worth—ones that extend beyond traditional metrics of success.

    The process taught me that resilience isn’t about never feeling defeated; it’s about finding ways to move forward even when the path is unclear. It’s about reframing rejection as part of the journey rather than a reflection of personal failure.

    To anyone navigating precarious labor landscapes: Your worth isn’t determined by employment. Your resilience, your capacity for adaptation, your ability to maintain integrity in challenging systems—these are the true measures of your power.

    Progress isn’t linear. Institutional systems aren’t designed for our collective flourishing. But our capacity for reimagining our own narratives? That remains infinite.

    The job search, in all its messiness, taught me to be kinder to myself. It taught me that showing up is an act of courage, that persistence is a form of strength, and that my value exists regardless of external validation.

    When I look back on those 100 applications, I don’t just see a period of struggle—I see a period of growth. It was a time when I learned to navigate uncertainty with grace, to reclaim my story, and to find dignity in the process. If you’re in the midst of your own search, I hope my experience reminds you that you are more than the sum of your rejections.

    Because at the end of the day, resilience isn’t about what you achieve—it’s about how you choose to show up, again and again, no matter the odds.

  • The Monumental Trap of Overworking Yourself for Recognition

    The Monumental Trap of Overworking Yourself for Recognition

    “Expectations are premeditated resentments.” ~Unknown

    Yesterday, I found myself sitting across from my boss, fighting back tears as I voiced something that had been eating away at me for three years: “I don’t feel valued enough.”

    The words felt heavy in my throat. As a law professor, I’d always prided myself on being composed and professional. But in that moment, all my carefully constructed walls came crumbling down.

    “I put in extra hours. I mentor people. I’m always available when someone needs help,” I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. “But it feels like nobody really appreciates it. Like all this effort goes unnoticed.”

    Anyone who’s ever poured their heart into their work might recognize this feeling.

    Maybe you’re the colleague who always stays late to help others meet deadlines. Perhaps you’re the team member who takes on extra projects without being asked. Or the person who remembers everyone’s birthdays and organizes office celebrations.

    You give and give, hoping that somehow, this dedication will translate into the recognition and respect you crave.

    My boss listened quietly, his expression thoughtful. Then he shared two insights that shook my understanding of professional relationships.

    “First,” he said, leaning forward, “mastery in any field takes time. But here’s what most people miss—it’s not just about mastering your technical skills. It’s about mastering your relationship with the work itself.”

    I sat with that for a moment, letting it sink in. How much of my frustration came from actually doing my job versus my expectations of how others should respond to my efforts?

    “Second,” he continued, “when we tie our confidence to others’ reactions, we’re building our professional house on shifting sand.”

    That hit home hard. I realized I had created an elaborate scorecard in my head: Each extra hour should equal a certain amount of appreciation; each additional task should translate to a specific level of respect. When reality didn’t match these expectations, my confidence crumbled.

    It’s a trap many of us fall into. We believe that if we just work hard enough, stay late enough, and help enough people, recognition will naturally follow. When it doesn’t, we feel betrayed and undervalued and begin to question our worth.

    Ultimately, we need to learn to validate ourselves, but here’s where things get nuanced—and important. This doesn’t mean we should accept environments that consistently undervalue or exploit our dedication. There’s a delicate balance between developing intrinsic motivation and recognizing when a situation is genuinely unhealthy.

    Let me share what this balance looks like in practice. A few months ago, I noticed I was staying three hours late every day, answering work messages at midnight, and constantly taking on others’ responsibilities. At first, I told myself I was just being dedicated. But then I asked myself three crucial questions:

    1. Is this a pattern of working hard without any recognition, or am I overextending myself because I’m seeking validation?

    2. Are my extra efforts occasionally acknowledged, even if not always?

    3. Do I feel safe expressing concerns about workload and boundaries?

    The answers helped me distinguish between my desire for constant validation and my legitimate need for basic professional respect. I realized that while I needed to work on my own relationship with external validation, I also needed to set clearer boundaries about my time and energy.

    That evening, I opened my laptop and started a different kind of work journal. Instead of tracking others’ reactions, I wrote down what I felt proud of that day: explaining a complex concept clearly, helping someone understand a difficult topic, and making progress on a challenging project. But I also noted when my boundaries were crossed and when additional effort went beyond reasonable expectations.

    This dual awareness—of both internal validation and external respect—changed everything.

    I learned to appreciate my own efforts while also advocating for myself when necessary. I started leaving work at a reasonable hour most days, saving those extra hours for truly important projects. I began setting boundaries around my availability, and surprisingly, this earned me more respect, not less.

    Here’s what I’ve learned about finding this balance:

    1. Question your expectations. Distinguish between needing constant praise and deserving basic respect.

    2. Look for impact, not appreciation. When I did this, I noticed small moments I’d previously overlooked: a quiet nod of understanding during a presentation and a subtle shift in someone’s confidence after our interaction.

    3. Build internal metrics. Define success on your own terms, but don’t ignore red flags in your environment.

    4. Set healthy boundaries. Your dedication shouldn’t come at the cost of your well-being.

    5. Recognize the difference. Know when you’re seeking validation versus when you’re being undervalued.

    Most importantly, I’ve learned that true professional satisfaction comes from a combination of internal confidence and external respect. It’s about knowing your worth while ensuring you’re in an environment that, at least fundamentally, recognizes it too.

    Now, when I catch myself slipping into old patterns—checking for signs of appreciation or feeling resentful about unacknowledged efforts—I pause and ask two questions: “Am I doing this because it matters to me, or am I doing it for recognition?” And equally important: “Is this a reasonable expectation of my time and energy?”

    Some days are still challenging. There are still moments when I wish for more recognition. But I’ve found peace in knowing that while I don’t need constant validation, it’s okay to expect basic respect and appreciation in my professional life. The key is building enough self-worth to know when you’re seeking excess validation and when you’re simply asking to be valued appropriately.

    This morning, I walked into my workplace with a different energy. I felt confident in my worth, clear about my boundaries, and secure in knowing that while I don’t need endless praise, I deserve to be in an environment that recognizes my contributions. Because true professional growth isn’t about learning to accept less than you deserve—it’s about finding that sweet spot between internal validation and healthy external recognition.

  • I Might Fail, but Time Won’t Just Pass Me By

    I Might Fail, but Time Won’t Just Pass Me By

    “It’s not about time, it’s about choices. How are you spending your choices?” ~Beverly Adamo

    You hit a point in life after which choices seem to become less and less reversible. As if they were engraved in stone.

    No matter how many motivational posts about following your own timeline and going at your own pace cross your Instagram wall.

    No matter how much you try to convince yourself that it’s never too late to start a new career, move into a new house, or find the right person. It’s not that you don’t believe it—it just does not work for you. It’s okay for other people to follow their dreams and dance to their own rhythm. But not for you.

    You feel like you’re in school again, falling behind.

    The more you tell yourself that you don’t have to live up to anyone’s expectations, the more you realize the only person you’re afraid to disappoint is the one looking back at you in the mirror.

    I used to listen to this song that goes,

    I wake up in the middle of night

    It’s like I can feel time moving

    And I did. I did wake up at 3:00 a.m., haunted by question marks.

    And to think that I was doing everything right! I had graduated, moved in with my boyfriend, and started working as a teacher. I had a spotless resume.

    Still, I was obsessed with the idea of time moving. Of time unstoppably reaching the point after which I simply would’ve had no choice but to stop seeing my situation as temporary and resign to the fact that no greater idea had come to my mind—and that I was stuck with that.

    With my daily life in the classroom.

    Now don’t get me wrong. I am not one of those people who ended up teaching because they couldn’t get a better job. On the contrary, teaching has always been my passion. It still is.

    The classroom, on the other hand…

    There was not a single day in my four years as a teacher during which I really thought this could be a good fit for me in the long run. Not once.

    There were bad days, good days. “Easy” classes, tough classes. Small victories, daily failures. Parents who wanted to sue me and students who wanted me to adopt them—one of those end-of-the-school-year letters still hangs on my fridge. But each and every one of those days, I knew I wanted this to be temporary.

    I didn’t want to stay in the classroom forever.

    It’s hard to pin it down. All I wanted to do was to be myself and teach something I love. But, as a teacher, you and your students don’t exist in a bubble. You’re very much intertwined with the complicated, emotionally loaded context of the classroom. So, you’re forced to impersonate the role of the Teacher.

    Unlike me, the Teacher was able to come to terms with the pressing matter of relevance. I knew that most of the curriculum I had to teach, and the way in which I had to teach it, was so far removed from the reality of my students that no amount of interactive lesson plans and student-centered methodologies could help me get the point across.

    As the Teacher, I was supposed to feel comfortable in the role, to identify myself with it rather than question it every step of the way. I just didn’t feel at ease. As a facilitator, as a guide, as a tutor, I’d always felt whole—not as a teacher. As much as I admired and respected those who did, I couldn’t do the same.

    I really, really did everything I could to solve my issues.

    I tried to fake it ‘til I made it. I read all the books. Attended all the courses. Shared my thoughts.

    Every time I told someone how I felt, they would reply with all the right things.

    That it’s just the first few years, until you get used to it, and I’m sure it is true—for me.

    That you’re actually really doing something for the kids, that you’re making a difference—and I don’t doubt that teachers do make a difference. Just not me.

    That you need to come to terms with the fact that, no matter what your job is, it is not supposed to be fun or fulfilling. But, as whiny as it might sound, that’s what I needed it to be.

    Maybe not perfect, maybe not idyllic, but please, please, please not meaningless.

    And then the intruding thought: “What, ‘cause you’re special? ‘Cause you’re too good to just get by, day in and day out, like everyone does?”

    I’ve always worried about being difficult, and I really wanted it to work, so that sensation of having to crawl into someone else’s skin every day when I got into the classroom—I just tried to push it aside. To swallow it down and get myself together.

    Still, it was there, and the only way to stop it was to think that it could be temporary after all.

    Just until you find a better job.

    Just until you come up with something else.

    Just until you find out what the hell is wrong with you.

    The only thing that managed to distract me was studying. I would come home and study, trying to keep my mind alive, trying to keep it dreaming, trying to keep it learning.

    I invested time and money, draining all my energies. I was constantly tired from the effort of basically being a full-time student on top of a full-time job. Luckily, I had the support of my boyfriend—later, husband—who had no idea what it all would amount to but could see that I needed it.

    It’s not like I had a project, though. I ached for meaning. I needed to learn something that felt real to me.

    That’s how I started to dig into languages. Here was something that felt relevant, immediate. You could learn it and use it straight away. You could communicate—something I just wasn’t able to do in my classroom teaching.

    I passed exams. I passed more exams. I kept piling up certificates and prayed that one day it would all start to sort of look like a plan. Before it was too late, before I had to admit to just being an overachieving, overqualified teacher.

    I knew the danger—some people, when they’re unhappy, just give up and become passive. Others, like me, do the opposite. They keep spinning their wheels because, as long as you’re busy, you don’t have to face the reality of how you feel.

    That’s what hit me every time I woke up at three am. How much time did I still have to change tracks? How long before it was too late for me?

    It’s like I can feel time moving…

    I wish I could tell you that I finally found my way and that this is a story of success. The truth is, I don’t know if it will ever be.

    Last Christmas I suddenly realized my personal hourglass had run out of sand. I just knew that if I set foot again in the classroom in September, it would no longer be temporary. I felt this was my last chance to try and do something different before giving up for good.

    I stopped waiting for the universe to reveal its mysterious plans and took my fate into my own hands. Teaching outside the classroom was something I had always vaguely dreamed of doing but never dared to.

    What if I’m not good enough?

    What if I don’t earn enough?

    What if it feels even worse than in the classroom—and would that mean that the problem was really just me all along, no matter what I do and where I do it?

    What if I messed up my plan B, too? What then?

    I just finally said, “To hell with it.” There must be a bit of truth in all those Instagram motivational posts, right?

    As of now, I am trying to build a career as a tutor and language teacher for adults, and I have no idea if I am going to make it.

    I closed my eyes and jumped right in, expecting the water to be icy cold, but it wasn’t. I braced myself for the anxiety this new uncertainty would bring with it, just to find that I actually feel at peace.

    There are plans to make, problems to solve, no financial stability, and no guarantee of success—something my perfectionist self can hardly manage. And still, it feels far less daunting and menacing than time slowly gnawing at me.

    I wish I could tell you that this story has a moral.

    That you should stop listening to good advice and common sense and just follow your gut, and that you may be surprised by how much unexpected support you receive or how little you need.

    That you shouldn’t try so hard to be something you’re not.

    That there are many ways to find meaning, and no one can tell you how to do it for yourself.

    That sometimes giving up takes more courage than sticking with something that doesn’t fulfill you.

    But, to tell the truth, I don’t feel like it was brave of me to change paths. It wasn’t about choosing the easiest or the hardest thing—it was about choosing the honest thing.

    I wish I could tell you I no longer wake up in the middle of the night, but the truth is, I do, because I’m so caught up in this new adventure that I really can’t stop jotting down ideas and looking for job opportunities.

    I know I don’t have to prove myself to anyone, and I also know that I can’t help but feel like I should, and that’s okay too.

    I know I might fail, and I’m not so bold as to plainly say I don’t care if I do. I actually do care, a lot.

    But one thing’s for sure—I no longer live in the fear of time passing me by.

  • I Had Enough: What’s Happened Since I Quit My Job

    I Had Enough: What’s Happened Since I Quit My Job

    “Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away from the things that no longer serve your growth or well-being.” ~Unknown

    I’ve always been a very independent person with an adventurous spirit, so no one was surprised when I moved away from my small town in Ontario, Canada, to become a nanny in Spain the second I graduated from high school.

    It was a whole new world with ancient streets, delicious food, and friendly people. I knew that I had made the right choice to adventure away from the place where I was raised.

    I’m someone who has itchy feet. It’s been difficult to stay in one place for any length of time. Over the last twelve years, I’ve lived all over the map, from Spain to Calgary, Alberta, and most recently in Vancouver, British Columbia.

    The town where I grew up is known for its brutal winters, quiet neighborhoods, and having “not much to do” there. So naturally, I spent my twenties looking to live in any place that was as different as possible from that boring town where I was raised.

    The first time I had visited the west coast, I thought: Why would anyone live anywhere else in this country besides here? The mountains, the ocean, the active lifestyle, the endless options for outdoor adventure… I fell in love with it and ended up spending almost a decade of my life as a West Coast girl.

    During this time, I got a university degree and, shortly after, landed a job at a tech company, where I was earning a salary that I didn’t ever think would be possible for me.

    At first, the job was a positive feature in my life: I learned all kinds of skills I hadn’t had the opportunity to develop before. I was given promotions and eventually was put in a position to lead a team, something I ended up really enjoying. But over time, I started to notice little things that made me question whether I was really happy.

    I remember having a conversation with a close friend about a year and a half into the job, where I expressed strong discontentment for my work. My friend, the wise woman she is, immediately validated my concerns and gave her opinion that I should really quit this job.

    I remember thinking, how shortsighted of her. Doesn’t she realize if I quit, I won’t be able to make this salary again? I have bills to pay and people on my team at work who need me.

    Fast forward; another year flew by, and things only got worse. I was working ten-hour days consistently, and I developed stomach pain and started having migraines. My weekends were bogged down by thoughts of the mess I would return to on Monday morning.

    My friends and family continued to call out how this job was not constructive for me and let me know that I wasn’t the same “light” person I used to be. My mother in particular did not like that I was no longer writing or doing anything creative anymore as a result of my energy being sucked away by this job.

    After many nights of sleeplessness due to the nature of this massive decision, I finally decided to act. Now, in case anyone is reading this and is in a similar situation, I want to share just how difficult this decision was for me.

    I wasn’t able to hear feedback from my family and friends and immediately quit my job. No, there were many months in the middle where I would flip-flop. I think leaving a job is the same as leaving a relationship—only you will know when you are truly ready.

    Quitting this job was one of the most difficult things I’ve done in recent years. I had spent countless days and nights weighing the pros and cons of my decision, thinking about the team members involved. Who would I be putting in a tough situation? Would the company be able to replace me? Would I be upsetting team members, my boss, the CEO? Was I a failure for quitting? Did this burnout say something about my value as a worker, as a person?

    When I finally turned in my resignation, I was stunned to learn that nobody really cared. I thought for sure I would hear from the folks I worked with after I left, but it has now been several months, and I have heard from no one.

    In the middle of this decision-making process, I was in close contact with my mother. She is an amazing woman who lives on her own in a quaint, lovely house in the small Ontario town where we’re from. The town that I spent years dreaming about leaving. So, when she heard I was thinking of quitting my job and suggested I could move back home and live with her, naturally, I was offended she would even suggest the idea.

    Move back in with my mom? What would everyone think of me? Thirty-one, jobless, and living at home?

    But over time, to everyone’s surprise, especially my own, I started to warm up to the idea. Living alone in a big city, working a difficult job, and providing everything for myself for the last fourteen years was catching up to me. I was exhausted and lonely.

    So, in March this year, I packed up my apartment in beautiful North Vancouver, fit what I could into my Toyota Corolla (including my border collie mix, Rex), and drove across the country, back to small town Ontario.

    In a lot of ways, being back in my hometown is weird. There is definitely less to do here than in big Canadian cities. Instead of spending my weekends with friends, I usually spend them with my mom’s friends or my siblings. Instead of hiking epic, world-famous mountains, I walk in the trails along the street where we live. It is a quiet life, much different than what I’ve left behind.

    But at thirty-one, after the last decade of independent living and the last few years of this difficult job, I welcome the quiet life with open arms.

    I traded long days and late nights working remotely, feeling stressed and isolated, for sleep-in mornings with my dog and forest walks where I’m not checking my watch because I need to make sure I get back for a meeting at 1 p.m.

    Now, instead of trying to find time in the day to eat a meal, I cook big dinners that I get to share with family and friends. I now get a hug from my mother every morning instead of only once a year at Christmas.

    We’ve all heard the cliches about life being short, time with family being invaluable, money isn’t everything, etc.. But isn’t it true that cliches are cliches for a reason.

    We know that days on this earth are not promised for any of us. I didn’t want to be thirty-one years old, working in a lonely apartment, giving my energy to a company that didn’t care about me for another ten years.

    While the decision was difficult, especially in this economy, I will say it is amazing how many doors open when you free your mind from the mental gymnastics of a toxic job and the decision-making of whether you should leave it.

    My life looks different now: I’ve started writing again (look, you’re reading one of my articles now), I’ve started a master’s program, and I’ve got plans to become a fitness instructor, something I’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the time.

    Of course there are unknowns in my life, and I don’t know if I will live in this small town forever. But for now, it’s given me invaluable time with my mother and family, a place to rest and recover from years of working a very stressful job, and a chance to start a few new projects that make me feel like “me” again.

    If you are in a similar predicament, and if you are lucky enough to have some of the same privileges that I do, I recommend that you allow yourself a break. This doesn’t have to mean moving back in with your parents. It could also mean leaning on your partner for a while if that’s an option. Or utilizing savings for a bit, if you have any, to give yourself time to focus on what really matters and figure out what’s next.

    Family, health, and happiness should always come before the corporate grind, society’s expectations of you, or any amount of money. I hope this serves as a reminder.

  • 5 Tips for Updating Your Career and Life to Match Who You Are Now

    5 Tips for Updating Your Career and Life to Match Who You Are Now

    “All you’re going to lose is what was built for a person you no longer are.” ~Brianna Wiest

    I’ll admit it. I stayed in a failed marriage for five years past its expiration date. I got especially good at faking smiles in public and relegating myself to my laptop most evenings.

    I also sentenced myself to a career that stopped “lighting me up” about a decade before I was ready to wave the white flag of surrender. As in my marriage, I refused to believe its end for ages and tried everything I could think of to keep this dying flame alive. I switched positions and teams, constantly created new goalposts for myself, changed organizations, and even moved to Asia well before I was willing to let my career go.

    And one day, without warning, my sister called from New York to say that our beautiful mother had just crossed over to the other side. On that soft green couch in South Korea, thousands of miles from family, my already deeply unsatisfactory private life imploded. So did the carefully curated and adventurous-looking life that everyone on the outside saw. I was broken.

    Please allow me a “real talk” time out, folks.

    Can we discuss the importance of using our persistent feelings as signals, or guideposts? I’m not suggesting we throw out logic. I’m also not referring to our typically loud and fleeting reactions to everyday stressors. I’m talking about an instinctive knowing, the quiet kind that’s easy to ignore.

    Though I routinely taught this to my own two children and students, my intellectualizing didn’t mean I was actually practicing what I preached. Not by a long shot.

    Not until a powerful wave of grief swept the rug out from under me, that is.

    Deeply empathetic and sensitive, with a mother who was a counselor, I grew up learning how to accept and validate my feelings. I knew to listen to them, to manage them when they didn’t serve me, and to use them to identify opportunities to learn more about myself. So, why on earth would I work so hard to hide them from my own conscious awareness for years when I knew my marriage and career were no longer right for me? I’ve got thoughts on that.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing kept me safely in a socially acceptable family structure.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing made it easy to receive invitations to holiday dinners with other international families while living abroad.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing allowed me to continue to make good money, feel successful as a professional, provide for my children, and travel to new countries a few times a year.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing had predictable, albeit routinely unpleasant, results.

    Perhaps it was because I had no idea who I would be if I wasn’t a wife or a teacher.

    But when my mother passed away, my entire world went dark. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

    Losing my mother was the single hardest experience of my lifetime. It was also the catalyst for my own wake-up call on multiple levels. And perhaps this was what my soul needed to remember how to seek what did matter, and to recognize my own fulfillment as worthy of sitting at the very top spot of that list.

    Layers of grief forced me to experience feelings I’d been bottling up for years. Grief pressed me to listen to my feelings and to ask what there was to learn from the patterns in my life. It begged me to create the space and stillness to finally accept that the career and life I had built were ones I had long outgrown. It also prompted me to finally ask for help.

    I wasn’t happy living a life I had built decades ago because I was no longer that person, and accepting this realization was empowering.

    Eventually, and with the aid of some irrefutable signs from the universe and some excellent coaching, I gave myself permission to pivot from my profession. I could also see that my resistance to change had been the only true thing standing between me and a much more fulfilling life and career. Not anymore.

    Loss is a beast. But on the other side of it, there is inevitably gain.

    If you find yourself at a crossroads in life and crave a pathway for building something new to fit the person you have grown into, I have an annoyingly obvious secret to share. The only person capable of carving this way forward is you. And while this may feel like an impossible and unwelcome challenge, I venture to say that this fact could end up being your greatest gift.

    What if you could see beyond the endings and revel in the endless possibilities ahead?

    What kind of work and contribution to the world would you pursue if none of society’s imposed limits existed?

    If money were no object, what would you spend your time doing.

    What type of life do you want to build for yourself?

    What would future you, nearing the end of their life, look back on and smile contentedly about?

    While I can’t give you any of your answers, my own failures and aha moments have allowed me to compile the following tips for folks like you who may be approaching a career transition.

    If you’ve decided your fulfillment should be at the top of your life list and you’re ready to update your career to match the version of you who is reading this today, try these five tips on for size.

    1. Create some space or spaciousness before life creates it for you.

    Once upon a time, before my whole world stopped with a single sharp loss, my mind loved wasting entire days on unimportant details of daily life. The state of constant busyness I tended to wrap myself in had allowed me to bury the deep feelings of restlessness and dissatisfaction lurking faithfully just below the surface.

    My incessant thoughts were part of my unconscious “living” and were a big part of what prevented me from being aware, present, and authentic in my current reality. I thought my thoughts were me, but I was so far from the truth.

    I may never have stopped this incessant mind-drivel had I not been handed Don’t Believe Everything You Think: Why Your Thinking Is the Beginning and End to Your Suffering by Joseph Nguyen.

    It taught me that if I didn’t choose to actively create internal space by taking up daily yoga and meditation (or another practice), I never would have gotten to know who I truly was. And without that, how on earth would I have created a career shift to match the updated version of myself? (News flash: I would not have.)

    If you choose just one item from this list to try before making a career shift, please let this be the one. Commit to one practice that creates spaciousness in your life and refuse to let go. Because if your new career is going to match the updated version of you, you have got to start with getting to know yourself. And you’ll only achieve this by making space and staying there a while, routinely.

    2. Take stock of the childhood dreams you (mistakenly) labeled as fantasies.

    What did you want to do when you were seven? You may laugh, but this question is so useful in helping us to see what our soul has always been drawn to do (at least, before society stepped in with all of its “shoulds”).

    When we’re young children, we’re not nearly as caught up in our own minds as our adult selves are. As a result, we’re much more easily opened up to our purpose, our desires, and joy-seeking behaviors.

    Make a list of the things you enjoyed doing as a seven-year-old. Do you still do any of these things today? Do any of these things appeal or inspire new, similar ideas? Take stock, and please don’t laugh them off. The key to a glorious, fulfilling future may lie in these former hobbies and interests.

    3. See yourself for who you are now (not for who you used to be).

    Let’s also be sure to get to know the person we have become today.

    If nobody in your family could see into your ballot box for career-choosing, where would your vote go? We no longer need to please our parents! We’re adulting, after all. We aren’t here to please our spouses or our children either (though we can and should darn well love the heck out of them). We are here to please ourselves, and once that’s in place, well, you know the rest.

    For some of us, asking people who are closest to us for feedback can really help to get the ball rolling, too. What do our closest friends or colleagues see as our key strengths and weaknesses? What do they notice us bringing to any room we enter? Keep the feedback that resonates and leave the rest.

    4. Notice what fires you up.

    What do you find yourself getting passionate (either intensely interested or completely annoyed) about? What could you spend your whole day doing (if life wasn’t always “lifing”)? What comes easily to you and allows you to feel in the flow?

    Herein lie clues about your interests and passions, and potentially some of your core skills or gifts. What makes time fly by for you? What conversations do you find yourself drawn to or searching for?

    What do you realize you stand for again and again, regardless of circumstances? What values does this reflect that you hold? Once you’ve answered some of these questions, check to see if the career paths you’re considering would complement, jive with, or fall right in line with at least one of these things.

    5. Test out potential careers before jumping.

    A change as big as a career shift warrants some personal research. And according to professional research, humans are pretty terrible at predicting what will make us happy. We’ve simply got to test our ideas out.

    What if I told you that you could create some ways to test out potential career pivots before making them? Have you considered volunteer work? What about emailing every contact you have to ask if they know anyone working in the field who’d be willing to have a career curiosity call?

    Could you come up with a project that would allow you to test out/try out new skills? What about a job shadow day? Have you considered cold messaging someone via LinkedIn who works in that field?

    Whatever ideas you come up with will inevitably be better than simply jumping at your best guess. Get in there! Get creative. And get started on updating your life and career to match who you are today, not the person you were years ago when you created the life you’re still living now.

  • Lessons from a Late Bloomer Who Wanted to Be Famous

    Lessons from a Late Bloomer Who Wanted to Be Famous

    “You are not too old and it is not too late.” ~Unknown

    I’ve been indecisive since I was a child. When I was small, I wanted to be a ballet dancer. My parents even bought me a ballerina cake topper for one of my birthdays. As I grew a little older, I wanted to be a singer, which led me to go to a performing arts high school. I even learned how to read music notes and play a little piano during my time at that school.

    I believe my desire to be a singer was influenced by my experience being bullied in school. I wanted to feel loved and thought I could get that through becoming famous and gaining fans. This is behavior you’d expect from children, as they have such wild imaginations.

    I couldn’t make up my mind on what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I was certain that whatever career I had, it would be a successful one. I was excited about the day I would become a successful grownup.

    By the time I became a legal adult, however, I no longer wanted to be a dancer or singer. I have scoliosis, so that would have made it difficult for me to become a professional ballerina. Dancing was never really my talent anyway. And I don’t have a bad singing voice, but it’s not exactly professional singing material. I still enjoy singing every now and then, though.

    Despite letting go of my childhood dreams, I still wanted to be well known in some way. I just didn’t know how I was going to achieve this. It didn’t matter to me that I was unsure of what career I wanted to go into. I was still young and had time to decide. Time flies, though, and before I knew it, I was a grown adult, pushing forty years old.

    Being indecisive was cute and acceptable when I was a child, but I was a grown adult who was still undecided about her career. I wasn’t even a young adult anymore. I was definitely not where I thought I would be at this age, and I felt embarrassed.

    By forty, people are usually settled in their careers and have at least a few years of experience under their belts. Many celebrities start their careers early and are retired by forty. Even those who don’t retire around that age could retire if they wanted to, because they’ve earned so much.

    This is what I thought was in store for me. I thought by the time I hit twenty-one years old, I would be making a lot of money and helping my parents. With the way the cost of living has gone up, it was a stretch to think I could be so financially secure that young, but I thought for sure I would be there by forty.

    Today, I am still undecided about my career. I am still doing some soul-searching to figure out what I want to do with my life. And I often feel I’m too old to still be struggling with finding a career.

    Many of my peers have established careers already. This often makes me feel terrible about myself, but then I remind myself that I don’t need to be in the same place as my peers or any of the celebrities around my age.

    It’s okay if I don’t have my career figured out yet, and I know I’m not alone in working on and discovering myself later in life.

    One family member of mine loves art, and she does a lot of research on different famous artists. She often shares her research with me, and one particular artist stood out to me—the Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama.

    Yayoi Kusama was born in 1929. She started to receive a lot of attention for her art in the 1960s, but there was a new appreciation for her art in the 1980s. She started to receive even further recognition during the 2000s.

    Yayoi Kusama’s story shows that a person can become successful at any age, even in their older years. Her story is an example to everyone that it is never too late to live your dream.

    She’s not the only artist or celebrity to become successful in her older years.

    Judi Dench is a household name worldwide, but she only started acting on the big screen in her sixties.

    Comedian Lucille Ball started staring in her iconic show, I Love Lucy, in her forties.

    Morgan Freeman played the roles that turned him into a sought-after actor during his fifties.

    The late, critically acclaimed Toni Morrison published her first book, The Bluest Eye, at thirty-nine years old.

    Singer Susan Boyle became a viral sensation at the age of forty-seven thanks to her time on Britain’s Got Talent.

    Many celebrities found acclaim later in life, and their stories are inspiring to me. But I realize now that success doesn’t have to mean notoriety.

    There are lots of people out there who go back to school later in life and find new paths that bring them joy and meaning, enabling them to touch lives regularly.

    I personally have been dealing with depression, and my therapist has changed my life for the better. She is not world-renowned, but she gets fulfillment in life by helping people with mental illness.

    And though I don’t have a career I feel passionate about right now, I’m often told my smile is beautiful, and that it made someone’s day brighter. Maybe that’s its own kind of success.

    There is nothing wrong with fame or desiring it; however, I now know that becoming famous isn’t the only way to be successful and find purpose in life.

    I’m still discovering what my dream is and what I’m meant to do with my life. However, I’m realizing that is okay.

    I’m also realizing that success can mean different things to different people, and there is no timeline for finding passion or purpose.

    So, if you are a late bloomer like me, know that it’s okay. Don’t compare yourself to others. We all move at our own pace, and we all have our own unique path to meaning and making a difference.

  • Feeling Lost or Miserable? Your Heart Knows the Way Through

    Feeling Lost or Miserable? Your Heart Knows the Way Through

    “Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. It will not lead you astray.” ~Rumi

    My tear-stained face stared back at me in the mirror. Every Sunday evening was the same. I was overcome with the dread of having to get up the next morning and go to a job that, while good on paper, was slowly sucking my soul. I was twenty-seven years old, and I was completely lost, spending my days doing work that didn’t light me up in any way or form.

    Until I was twenty-five, I had mostly followed my heart in life, doing things I loved that came easily to me—namely, a degree in Spanish and Portuguese, followed by a job teaching English in Japan for three years.

    At the age of twenty-six, I decided I needed to do something “more useful” than teaching languages, so I got a master’s degree in a business-related subject and landed myself the aforementioned soul-sucking corporate job.

    This was the first time I’d followed my head instead of my heart in life, and due to my deeply sensitive nature, it caused me a level of existential pain and darkness I’d never even imagined before.

    There was nothing wrong with the job itself: the people were (mostly) lovely, there were lots of fun, young folks, and we had a lively social life on the weekends. But getting up for work every morning with deep, whole-body dread for the day ahead and spending most of the day feeling like a fish out of water at the office were loud-and-clear messages that I was living out of alignment with my true self.

    However, the job was extremely sought-after and well-paid; I’d worked hard to get there, using most of my savings to pay for business school; and I could see no alternative career option for myself in the near future. I couldn’t just leave without a plan B. I felt completely stuck and deeply miserable.

    My Heart Knew the Way Out of the Darkness

    Luckily, my heart kept nudging me to find things that I loved to do, so I tried a variety of different activities, even if just to make me feel better.

    I knew exercise would help relieve the stress of my new job, so in the first months, I’d go for a 7 a.m. swim at the local pool, a few days a week, before I went to the office. It was an effort, but it boosted my mood and helped me start the day with a positive attitude.

    The job had meant a move to Swindon, a town far away from all my family and friends, so I joined a local women’s football team (soccer, for those of you in North America) to meet people outside of work. The training sessions gave me something to look forward to in the evenings.

    Now, I’m no great shakes as a footballer (understatement!), but running up and down a muddy footy pitch chasing after the ball on Sunday mornings with my teammates, come rain or shine, was just the tonic I needed to get me out of my slump.

    When an opportunity came up to take part in the London Marathon with a charity through work, I signed up immediately because I’ve always loved running and it had been a dream of mine since childhood to do the London Marathon.

    I trained with two guys from the office week after week in all weathers, and the endorphins, the camaraderie, and my improved fitness soon helped me to feel more like my cheery self again.

    These physical activities all got me out of my head and back into my body. They helped me make friends, and they uplifted me and silenced my negative mental chatter, turning my thoughts to more positive ones, which brightened my mood and my general outlook on life.

    The Importance of Dreaming Big

    During my first year in the job, in the depths of my what-the-eff-am-I-doing-here crisis, I met a woman who had been chosen to represent the company on a trip to The Gambia in West Africa. (Our company chose one person each year to visit its charity projects in developing countries.)

    When I asked her how she’d managed to get picked out of the 12,000-strong workforce, she told me, “You’d be surprised, Louisa. Most people think they won’t get chosen, so they don’t even apply.”

    There and then, I felt the spark of possibility ignite in me. I vowed I would apply to represent the company on its charity trip the next year, which turned out to be to Tamil Nadu in southern India.

    India had always had a special place in my heart, and I’d always wanted to visit the country with a meaningful reason for being there, not just as a tourist.

    Reader, I was picked! It was the trip of a lifetime and the realization of a dream I’d had since my teenage years. I participated in community groups in inner city slums and remote villages, visited water projects, helped build toilets, and generally learned about the charity’s work in the region.

    Back in Swindon, I still didn’t love my job, and that Sunday night dread cycle never completely disappeared, but slowly but surely, my feelings toward the company I was working for turned to gratitude and appreciation.

    I had chosen this job because it was a large, international company, in the hope that I’d eventually get to travel or work abroad and use my languages. My chances seemed pretty slim, as I was the world’s worst business analyst, and I still hadn’t kicked the fish-out-of-water feeling of being a linguist masquerading as a businessperson.

    But languages open doors that might otherwise remain closed, and after eighteen months of living and working in Swindon (with the sole—and wonderful—exception of my India trip), I finally got transferred to the international division, which meant six months in Paris followed by a two-year move to beautiful Madrid.

    I was now living in Spain, a country I loved, and using my language skills, but I knew I needed to escape the corporate world and find more fulfilling work that I was actually half-decent at.

    Be Clear on What You Want and the Path Will Appear

    The longer I worked in that job, the clearer one thing became to me—that it was of vital importance to me to find work I loved. The anguish of spending day after day doing work that was so far removed from my “zone of genius and joy” brought great clarity on that front, if nothing else.

    After I switched to the international division of the company, I spent plenty of time alone on flights and in hotel rooms in foreign cities, which was perfect for daydreaming up my next move. I started to make plans, and after two years in Madrid, I finally made my escape from the corporate world.

    I had no clear roadmap of what lay ahead, but I knew I had to follow my joy rather than be miserable doing work I didn’t love. I enrolled at a Spanish university and did postgraduate studies in subjects I was passionate about: Hispanic literature and teaching Spanish as a foreign language.

    In the third year of my postgrad studies, I found work teaching English at a Spanish university. Through the university, I fell into work as a freelancer, translating psychology articles for various university clients and academic journals, which I continue to do and love today. I also started bringing together my passion for writing, positive psychology, and languages to write self-led learning materials for language magazines and online publications.

    It’s been a meandering path, but my work has become more deeply fulfilling as the years have gone on. Recently, I’ve seen a dip in my main work, psychology translations, due to the improvements in translation technology. But twenty years of following my heart, not my head, have shown me that the path always appears, even when the future seems uncertain.

    I am staying focused on what I love and what I’m good at, and I am trusting the path will appear, as it always has. And I’m going to answer the following two questions in my journal to gain even more clarity on my heart’s desires going forward. Care to do this with me, dear reader?

    Question 1: Are you clear on what you want?

    Grab a pen and paper and jot down all the “impossible” dreams you’ve ever had. (They can be in any life area: work, love, family, travel, skills, fun, health, creativity, etc.) What does your heart truly desire?

    Now, just allow yourself to daydream a little. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were possible for you to do some of those things, perhaps in the not-too-distant future, and maybe even all of them eventually?

    You may not know how they might possibly come to fruition, but if you don’t even allow yourself to daydream about the things that light you up, you can be sure as anything they won’t appear in your reality.

    Every great thing that was ever created once started off as an idea or a daydream, so don’t underestimate the importance of spending time on this.

    What tiny steps can you take in the direction of those big dreams? Can you take up a new hobby or volunteer in a different field? Sometimes just the satisfaction you get from taking action in the right direction can change your mood, and perhaps it will even open a door to a future opportunity you never thought possible.

    Question 2: Are you being the you-est you possible?

    Ever wondered what makes you you? Write down the answers to these questions, allowing your pen to write freely and express what your heart knows is true, even if you haven’t allowed yourself to reflect on these things for years (or perhaps even decades).

    What makes you come alive? What makes your heart sing? What could you do until the cows come home, even if no one paid you for it?

    If these questions are hard for you to answer, think back to your childhood self and who you were before adult obligations started to weigh you down and tell you who you should be. Journal on these things until you remember what it is you love and how you’re meant to be showing up in the world.

    Go Forth and Shine Your Unique Light

    Now go out there and be the you-est you possible, my darling. Follow your heart and allow the essence of you to shine through in your daily life, in big and little ways.

    Life is a precious gift, and we’re not here for very long. So take baby steps each day (or each week) to do more of what lights you up, and you will light up the world around you in ways you previously only dreamed of.

    Your heart knows the way, dear one. Get still and listen, then be sure to follow its whisperings.

    Now, what’s one step you can commit to doing this week to follow your heart and do more of what you love in life?

  • How I Found the Courage to Leave My Unfulfilling Job

    How I Found the Courage to Leave My Unfulfilling Job

    “‘What if I fall?’ Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?” –Erin Hanson

    Have you ever considered how much you’d be willing to tolerate before feeling forced to leave a workplace?

    In this economy, people wonder whether leaving their jobs to preserve their mental and physical health without another lined up is worth it if it means financial insecurity. So many people feel stuck in their jobs, and I was no exception.

    I told myself any money was better than no money, so I stayed with a job that made me miserable.

    After spending several years with the company, I thought I should’ve been paid more than what I was getting, but I lacked the confidence to bring it up to my boss.

    Also, the working environment grew hostile over time. I thought I had no room for error—it all had to be perfect. I had to get it all right on the first try without asking questions, or else I would feel like my job was at risk.

    I say it was my thinking because that’s important to differentiate—how you feel about a situation versus what others tell you to feel. Everyone has their own perceptions and feelings, but when you feel uncomfortable in a specific role, you have to ask yourself: Do I need to change, or does my workplace need to change?

    Or do I need to walk away from it entirely?

    I had to ask myself: How badly do I want to change? Will it alter my experience at work?

    After confronting myself, I had to recognize whether I felt comfortable confronting my boss about my feelings. Would it have the outcome I wanted? Would it assist my co-workers or future employees in their journeys? Even more important, was I willing to put myself out there for the chance of something different happening?

    Next, I had to consider my own feelings. I tend to avoid confrontation because it often isn’t worth the anxiety it brings. It’s disheartening when no talks yield the result you want.

    So I had to think to myself, and it took a while for me to decide the answer. Did anything make me want to stay at the job, even if the discussion wasn’t fruitful?

    Ultimately, I decided to stay at my workplace. While I didn’t thoroughly enjoy what my workplace offered, I loved what I did. I stayed because I felt like I was making a difference.

    Things were fine for a while—especially once I accepted that “it is what it is.” My supervisor showed me empathy often, but I was still uncertain of their reaction if I addressed that the company culture didn’t work for me.

    Unfortunately, ignoring the problem went exactly as you might think. It didn’t make things easier for me.

    If I could go back in time, I would make different choices. The confrontation may have been worth the potential opportunity to open my employer’s eyes. Standing by only ensured things remained the same.

    Were I to do it again, I would approach my boss with an open mind and an honest heart. In my experience, employers value honesty about certain situations, and my supervisor was more than willing to help me with solutions.

    Still, I always feel nervous when approaching a supervisor because I worry they won’t take me seriously. If I could go back, I would go in with a plan and substantial evidence to support my claims. Having the proof to show something was amiss might have influenced my boss more than my anxious words alone.

    However, looking back on it, it could have been just as likely that my concerns were ignored or dismissed. I’ll never know because I didn’t take the chance for myself. I wish I had—it might have made the decision to leave even easier.

    Over time, I let the problems build and eventually snowball into something much worse—something that affected my self-esteem and my ability to perform well at work. I suffered greatly.

    With over 60% of people saying they’re less productive at jobs they aren’t happy at, I realized I was in good company. It wasn’t a problem with me; I just wasn’t a great fit for this job. I was the puzzle piece that got mixed up in the wrong box, my true purpose lying elsewhere.

    Unfortunately, these issues made me feel even more hopeless. Was there even a point to working? Did the good money I was making justify the environment that made me feel uncomfortable and unsettled all the time?

    Only I could answer those questions for myself, but I did look to my loved ones for guidance. I asked my family and friends what they would do in my situation. Really, I just wanted some form of reassurance that I was doing the right thing.

    Everyone I talked to agreed I should leave my workplace. They’d seen my mental state deteriorate over time and listened to my lamentations. When stress gets to you, it makes you do funny things, including questioning whether obvious decisions are the right ones.

    You are not weak for wanting to remove yourself from a toxic situation.

    Those words took me a while to process, but they’re true. I wouldn’t get a badge of honor for being mistreated at work. People don’t look at several hours of overtime as something to admire anymore.

    It wasn’t worth it. Many workers are putting themselves first. I wish I would have, instead of wasting months before finally leaving the job.

    My mental health mattered. I thought the money was worth it, but that was the only thing holding me back—and I should’ve found another job to serve that purpose. No money will ever make up for a job that hurts my mental health, robbing me of my time and leaving me burnt out beyond belief.

    Looking back, the slippery slope to a lack of self-care happened faster than I knew. I poured more of myself into work, leaving less time for my own needs, and I chose to ignore my hygiene for late nights at the office. I skipped meals and sleep to ensure I met every deadline and still had some time for myself at the end of a demanding day.

    Not every job would drain me the same way. I only realized that after some time of reflection.

    For every bad boss, there are several good bosses. I’ve had supervisors who encouraged me to speak my mind and clearly valued my viewpoint. Though it took some time, I found an environment I belonged in.

    As I healed from my past job and worked to improve my self-esteem, I realized boundaries are essential. I didn’t need to do anything outside of my job description and reminded myself it was okay not to want to work long hours. Having the luxury to say no to more work isn’t something everyone is afforded, but it’s a right everyone should have.

    Not everyone will be in the privileged position I was to step away from a job that was actively hurting me. I was fortunate to be able to heal and identify my worth for a period after I left it, before I was ready to search for a new job. Many folks don’t have the same luxury, as their salary might be the only income for their household.

    One of the worst things about a toxic work environment is just how hard it is to make that first step away. Taking that step, even when unsure where you’ll land, is likely to be worth it.

    For some, that’s taking time off, even if just a little, to find something better. For others, that might be opting for another job—perhaps one not even in the same field—to make ends meet rather than continuing to waste away at their current job. Every job is as temporary as you need it to be.

    This can even be as simple as putting out a first new application. Not everyone can take that leap away from a rotten position without a backup plan in place, but that doesn’t mean they’re without hope. It all just depends on taking that first step.

    There is that turning point, though, and I knew it the moment I hit it. What would my loved ones do if I made myself mentally or physically sick working for a company that didn’t value me? There is only one me.

    I’m not irreplaceable to any workplace. There will always be someone else with a similar set of skills that can take over for me if I leave my job.

    My advice to my past self would be always to look for the job you feel fulfilled in. Too many people go to work depressed and come home burnt out. You may be just another number to a lousy job, but think of how much you matter to your loved ones. There’s only one you.

    Being overworked is the leading stressor among employees. I’m still looking for the best ways to manage my stress, but I’ve actually made it a priority now. With less stress, I’ll also reduce my risk for chronic diseases and ensure I have time for myself whenever I need it.

    One thing I learned was to prioritize myself, especially since I had the privilege of being able to leave my job. I could run fast and far from a situation that hurt me. Thanks to that, I could preserve myself and save people from worrying about my health more than they already did.

    I was the only one who could have made that decision for myself. The “turning point” moment was all I needed to seek out better opportunities. I deserved more than putting myself through unimaginable stress in a subpar working environment, and realizing that was when it all changed for me.

    When the time was right, I found a new job.

    I felt refreshed and ready to tackle any challenge. I felt valued and celebrated by my new team. It made me realize I really deserve to be happy in what I do every day, and it was time I reminded myself of what that feeling was like.

  • 5 Ways to Explore the World and Feel Excited About Life

    5 Ways to Explore the World and Feel Excited About Life

    “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So, throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”  ~Mark Twain

    In 2022, I wanted to quit my job and didn’t know why. I was about to embark on a six-week trip to a country I’d always wanted to visit—New Zealand—to work in sports TV production. I loved the people I worked with, the company I worked for, and the buzz I got from live TV. Still, it wasn’t enough. I needed to explore these feelings further.

    That word “exploration” was the key. It took me back to 2004, when I was in a hostel in Laguna Beach, an eighteen-year-old girl travelling alone. When I was growing up, I didn’t want to follow the traditional route of going to university just to find a corporate job, climb the career ladder, and retire with a good pension. The perfect path for many was not an option that excited me.

    I was travelling around the U.S. West Coast, hoping to find adventure and opportunities, but I knew I’d need to start seriously thinking about my future and next steps when I returned to London.

    I sat on Huntington Beach and spent some time thinking about what I wanted my life to look like. I wanted to work for a reputable company that could offer me travel opportunities. I couldn’t identify what I wanted to do with any precision, but I knew that was a good starting place.

    A few days later, on July 7, I was awakened in the early morning by a fellow Brit who informed me that terrorists had just attacked London. For the rest of the day, I was glued to the BBC, watching the tragedy unfold. In between the journalism, adverts depicted BBC correspondents working all over the world, and that’s when I thought the BBC might be the company for me.

    Several months later, I returned to London and applied to be a production team assistant for a BBC sister company. To my astonishment, I got the job. I was so excited! A new job, new people, and new opportunities.

    During my first week, I overheard my boss speaking on the phone with a friend in the BBC Sport division. She was preparing to travel to Germany to spend six weeks working on the FIFA World Cup. My mind exploded. That was the job I yearned for. I wanted to work in sports and travel to the most spectacular events on earth.

    I asked my boss if she could find out whom I could contact to get a foot in the door in that department. It wasn’t straightforward, but after several attempts and emails to their senior production manager, I was asked to come in for a coffee and informal chat.

    Fast forward eighteen years. I’ve travelled the globe to work on the biggest sporting events, from World Cups in South Africa and Brazil to the London Olympics, Euros in Poland and Ukraine, umpteen Formula 1 and Formula E races on five continents, sailing regattas off the coasts of Australia and the US, cricket in the Caribbean and New Zealand. And that’s just a partial list.

    Travel has shaped my life in so many ways. It has impacted my outlook on life, perspectives, relationships, and goals. It has taken me out of my comfort zone time and time again and allowed me to be inspired by new things.

    I have loved my job and still do, mostly, to this day. So it was a surprise to me when I felt the urge to hand in my notice.

    Truth be told, throughout my career, I’ve always been restless. I have consistently sought out new opportunities within the framework of my role. I’ve moved between companies, permanent contracts, temporary contracts, and freelancing. I’ve trained to become a teacher, left TV to work on sports documentaries, returned to TV, become a tutor as a side job, and set up my own business.

    It wasn’t that I was unhappy in TV production. I just love exploring and presenting myself with new learning environments. That eighteen-year-old in me who never wanted to follow the common path society can push us down still lives within me. And I wouldn’t change her for the world. If I’d never explored different paths, I never would have had the courage to create a lifestyle around my passions, purpose, and skills.

    Exploration is one of the greatest purposes of humankind. Everything we know about the world comes from those who explored before us. Discoveries in medicine, science, technology, religion, geography, space, and philosophy have changed the world for the better. They have led to greater equality of race and gender, alleviation of poverty, advances in health and education, tolerance and peace, and preservation of the environment.

    The world is constantly changing and developing because of our need to explore and continue learning, growing, creating, building, making, connecting, debating, and trying new things.

    So, if you’re feeling stuck and want more fulfilment in your day-to-day, it might be helpful to remember there’s a whole world out there to discover. Our time on Earth is finite. Life should be lived, explored, and enjoyed. Through exploration, you might just stumble across that sweet spot that lights you up and creates a new path for your future.

    Here are three reasons why I believe exploring and discovering new opportunities could be the recipe for a more fulfilled life:

    1. Exploration is a natural requirement for humanity.

    It is as necessary as warmth, love, food, and shelter. Exploration has been the driving force behind humankind since the dawn of time because it is at the centre of everything we do. We explore everything we do from the moment we are born through play, travel, work, speaking, writing, experimenting, singing, and interacting with each other. Let alone the preciousness of exploring the world through the eyes of our children.

    From religion to literature, politics to science, and design to philosophy, we are constantly asking questions and searching for new ways to develop our minds and abilities. There is no end to exploration. It is the driving force behind our survival as a race.

    2. Exploration creates more self-awareness, which I believe is a critical aspect of meaningful living.

    It allows people to understand their strengths, weaknesses, and areas for growth. By becoming more self-aware, you can gain a deeper understanding of your passions, values, and goals, and can make more intentional choices about how you live your life.

    3. Exploration inspires us and gives us hope for a better future.

    There is a vast world outside waiting to be explored. It offers adventures to be experienced, endless possibilities, stories to be created, and dreams waiting to come true.

    Having a curious and hungry mind allows you to discover goals and options that will bring you more fulfilment and happiness. You can chase your dreams with the comfort of knowing that it’s possible to understand almost anything. By constantly learning, you see what’s possible for yourself and others and alter your perspective of the world.

    Exploration doesn’t have to involve big steps such as quitting your job, moving countries, or travelling the world seeking adventure. Instead, we can seek exploration in our every day, and the good news is there are plenty of opportunities to explore and seek purpose wherever you are in life.

    Here are five ways you can implement exploration into your everyday lifestyle immediately.

    1. Look at your passions and interests and find a way to get more involved in them.

    Whatever interests you—art, animals, baking, singing, decorating, driving, teaching, embroidery, music, or sports to name a few—find a way to go and explore how to implement this into your daily or weekly routine.

    This could be interning, volunteering your time, picking up a book, subscribing to a podcast, emailing someone who is successful in that field, or taking a class. Getting involved in this area will open up your creative channels. The key is to allow yourself permission and time to experiment.

    2. Be spontaneous and get out of the humdrum routine and predictability of your daily life.

    Play a different radio station on your way to work, choose a brand new restaurant or cuisine on the weekend, walk a different route around your park, order something completely different off the menu, or choose a different vegetable to cook with each week. There are always surprises and fascinations in store for us if we are open to exploring new ways; we never know what we will discover.

    3. Connect with new like-minded people.

    You never know what conversation might spark a new thought or perspective. You can find inspiration from one word, a smile, or an interaction that can change your outlook on a situation. For example, buying from a local business instead of a corporate chain allows you to get to know the owner and the story behind their product. Their story might just inspire your exploration journey.

    4. Even if you can’t pack a suitcase and fly to far-off destinations, that doesn’t mean you can’t transport your mind to them.

    Movies, documentaries, TV shows, and books can all transport you into new worlds and cultures. Next time you settle down with a good book or in front of the TV, why not choose a new genre and be open to learning new things?

    5. Your clothes are one way to show the world what you stand for and who you are.

    Fashion has a huge impact on your mindset, mood, and confidence. Experiment with different clothing, mix and match what you already have, and play around with what makes you feel most confident so you’ll want to get out in the world and explore.

    —

    We can open the door to exploration in everyday life. After all, the reason for your exploration is not to discover your life’s purpose. The purpose of your life is to live it!

    Exploration is a continuous journey toward self-improvement and personal growth that allows you to live a life that is fulfilling and meaningful to you. Don’t give up on exploring what you want and pursuing your dreams. Your life is what you make it, and it’s worth trying to make it what you want it to be. So go! Explore and discover. Embrace the journey and enjoy the ride!

  • When the Pursuit of Happiness Makes You Unhappy: Why I Stopped Chasing My Dream

    When the Pursuit of Happiness Makes You Unhappy: Why I Stopped Chasing My Dream

    “We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” ~Joseph Campbell

    From as far back as I can remember, I was enchanted with music. One of my earliest memories is of circling a record player while listening to a 45 rpm of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson.” I made my public singing debut in the third grade, performing Kenny Rogers’ mega-hit “The Gambler.” I sang it a cappella at a school assembly, even though I technically didn’t know all the words.

    At home, I devoured my dad’s records and tapes (pop, show tunes, classical, “oldies”), and started building my own collection at the age of nine (early ‘80s Top 40, and hard rock). For fun, I made up my own bits and pieces of songs and wrote the lyrics down in a notebook.

    After much begging, I finally got my hands on a guitar at the age of thirteen and began lessons. Having discovered The Beatles a year or so before, music became nothing short of an all-out obsession. I practiced relentlessly, paying for my lessons with a job I took at a local record store at the ripe young age of fourteen (I was in there so often they eventually hired me), and within a couple of years began my first serious attempts at songwriting.

    My musical heroes provided such joy, comfort, catharsis, and inspiration during my teenage years that it was only natural for me to emulate them and develop an overwhelming desire to have a music career of my own. Performing for my peers in social situations tended to generate lots of positive attention, which fed my already ravenous appetite to succeed that much more.

    Music also became, for me, a way to mitigate the typical insecurities that come with being a young person.

    In college, I would habitually wander around the dorm with my guitar and offer spontaneous concerts for anyone who would listen. It was a great way to test out new material and connect with others, and few things in life gave me as much pleasure as singing and playing.

    I recall a coffeehouse gig I played on campus that received such a positive response, there was simply no turning back. Being so appreciated for doing something I already loved to do was a euphoric high, so I sought out performing opportunities—formal and informal—even more compulsively.

    Somewhere along the line, music and entertaining became not just my passion, but the thing that made me feel worthwhile. The guitar was like a superpower—with it, I could be wonderful. Without it, I was insignificant.

    After college, I moved to Nashville—a mecca for songwriters of all stripes—and dove headfirst into the music scene. I lived frugally, worked whatever day jobs I needed to, and spent the bulk of my energy on making music and attempting to get a career off the ground.

    I wrote new songs, performed at writer’s nights all over town, and befriended and sometimes shared living quarters with like-minded musicians.

    I recorded a studio demo that was rejected or ignored by seventy-five different record companies. But to me, these rejections were simply part of the dues-paying process and made me feel a spiritual kinship with my heroes, all of whom endured similar trials on their way to eventual success.

    My closest songwriter friends and I became our own mutual-admiration-and-inspiration society, and helped each other endure the slings and arrows that are par for the course pursuing a career within something as notoriously difficult and fickle as the music industry.

    One Sunday morning, I received a call from a DJ who hosted a show on my favorite local radio station, Lightning 100. “What are you doing this evening?” he asked.

    Apparently, he liked the demo I had sent him.

    To my amazement, that same day I found myself on the 30th floor of the L&C Tower in downtown Nashville with a king-of-the-world view of the city, being interviewed live on the air. The DJ played two of the three songs on my demo over the airwaves during my visit. I shouted gleefully in the car afterward and headed straight over to my closest friends’ apartment (they had been listening from home) to share my giddy excitement with them.

    Without record company backing or interest, I ended up financing and overseeing the recording and production of a full-blown studio album myself, while working full-time.

    Once the album was complete, I started my own small label to release it, and quit my day job so I could focus full-time on working feverishly to get it heard. I became a one-man record company (and manager and booking agent, to boot), operating out of my bedroom and sending copies of my finished CD (this was the ‘90s) to radio stations, newspapers, and colleges nationwide. I followed up with them by phone (this was still the ‘90s) in the hopes of securing airplay, reviews, and gigs.

    I contacted hundreds of colleges and universities—mostly on the east coast where the concentration was highest—to book my own tour.

    The idea was to play as many gigs as humanly possible at schools large and small, driving myself from one to the next, selling CDs, and building up a mailing list along the way. This would allow me to eke out a living doing what I loved, in the hopes of gaining greater exposure, building a fan base, and ultimately establishing a bona fide career as a musician/performer.

    It was an incredibly exciting time, but also stressful and intense. I did get some airplay on radio stations around the country, and received some reviews of the CD, but not many. I was racking up debt, working obsessively, and putting everything on the line to make my dream a reality. On the practical side, I figured that whatever attention the CD did or did not attract, I would experience life on the road and most likely at least break even, financially speaking.

    After months of relentlessly following up with the 182 schools that gave me the green light to send my promotional materials, things were looking increasingly bleak. My points of contact frequently changed hands (and were often students in unpaid roles), and promising deals fell apart.

    When all was said and done, I ended up with a single, solitary booking to show for all my efforts. One. This would be the extent of my “tour.”

    What I had not anticipated, aside from such dismal results, was the toll this would take on me. I was exhausted in every way imaginable: physically, financially, emotionally, creatively. Most significant, though, was the toll on my spirit. I had believed that if I just worked hard enough, I would succeed, on at least a modest level. These results suggested otherwise.

    I never expected, regardless of the rejections I had accumulated, to ever stop trying, as this was the only thing I wanted to do with my life. But now it seemed I had no choice. I could barely get out of bed.

    I soon learned that even though I had dutifully kept up with my share of the rent, the housemate I was renting from had apparently not been paying the landlord! A notice I found showed that we were many months delinquent and faced potential eviction at any moment. I needed to find a new place to live. And a new job. All of which would have been a nuisance but doable, had I been my normal self. Alas, I was not. I was a wreck.

    On a phone call with my mom, she said, “Why don’t you just come home?”

    In what was perhaps the biggest testament to my desperate state, I could not come up with a better option. I moved back into my childhood home—for me, the ultimate concession of defeat.

    I had completely lost my way, my direction, my purpose, my drive. A huge part of my self-worth had been tied up in my success—both artistically and commercially—as a musician. I had defined myself by this identity and pursuit. What was I, who was I, without it?

    Though I struggled greatly with accepting it, I found that I had no more energy, zero, to invest in my dream. The immediate task at hand was climbing out of depression. And debt.

    It took a couple of years before I felt the urge to re-engage with life in ways that reflected my natural enthusiasm. Even then, the desire to resume the pursuit of a music career was gone. But once I started to regain a degree of emotional and financial stability (a boring office job helped this cause tremendously), I took some tentative steps in new directions. I enrolled in a few adult education classes, including an acting class that was quite fun and led to trying my hand at some community theater.

    Hiking had been a key factor in my recovery, so I joined the Delaware Valley Chapter of the Appalachian Mountain Club and began hiking with groups of other folks rather than just going out in nature by myself. This led to being invited on my first-ever backpacking trip, which proved to be life-changing and sparked an even greater love of the outdoors.

    Feeling better, and finally regaining a sense of possibility for myself, I moved out to California and did a lot more exploring, both inwardly and outwardly.

    In the twenty-plus years since, I have done things I never imagined I would do, broadening my palette of interests and life experiences in ways that no doubt would have completely surprised my younger self. I also met an incredible partner and got married.

    In other words: I made a life for myself, and became a much happier person, despite never having realized my dream of being a professional musician, nor of even having achieved any notable career success in some other domain.

    Though I abandoned my pursuit of music as a livelihood, I never stopped loving music.

    Over the years I have performed in a variety of settings, sometimes for pay but more often just for the love of it.

    I have shared my passion for music with numerous guitar students, played for hospital patients as a music volunteer, been an enthusiastic small venue concertgoer and fan of ever more artists and styles, continued developing my own skills on guitar and even began taking classical piano lessons.

    I will never stop loving music. The difference is that I finally learned to love myself, regardless of any success in the outer world of the music business or lack thereof.

    We all, to varying degrees, seek external approval, appreciation, recognition, and validation from others, and it can be momentarily pleasurable to receive these things. Being dependent upon them, however, (not to mention addicted to them!) is a recipe for persistent unhappiness.

    The Buddha teaches that all our suffering stems from attachment. While it is perfectly normal and human to desire things, our desires are endless and never satiated for long.

    If we make our own happiness or sense of self-worth dependent upon things going a certain way, then we are signing up for misery. The more tightly we cling to our notions of what should be, it seems, the more profound the misery.

    The good news, as I have learned, is that life is so large that it does not need to conform to our meager ideas about what can make us contented, happy, or fulfilled. It is large enough to contain our most crushing disappointments and still make room for us to experience meaningful and satisfying lives, often via things we never would have expected nor could have anticipated.

    My twenty-something self would likely not have believed it, but I lovingly send this message to him anyway through space and time: It is possible to be happy and live a fulfilling life even if your biggest dream fails to come true. Hang in there! I love you.

  • 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 It No Longer Matters to Me If My Job Impresses People

    Why It No Longer Matters to Me If My Job Impresses People

    “Do not let the roles you play in life make you forget who you are.” ~Roy T. Bennett

    Wherever I go and meet new people, they ask me, “What do you do?”

    I love talking about what I do because I love what I do, but It’s not what I’ve always done, and it certainly isn’t all of who I am. It’s part of who I am, but there is so much more.

    When we’re young, we’re asked to decide on a career. You know, the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” The problem is, does anyone in high school truly know what they want to do for the rest of their lives? I’d venture to say that many high school kids don’t even know who they really are yet.

    When I was growing up, I was a straight-A student, a star athlete, a perfectionist, and an overachiever. I learned at a young age that performing well was my ticket to feeling good about myself. My accomplishments garnered the praise and admiration of many and gave me what I needed to feel good.

    Validation.

    As a senior in high school, it was natural that I chose to go to college for aerospace engineering. I was interested in aviation, but more importantly, when I told other people what I had decided on, they nodded their heads in approval. A smart girl should choose a “smart career,” right?

    Validation and approval drove me forward.

    When I got out of college with a BS in aerospace engineering from the University of Minnesota, I went to work for The Boeing Company in Seattle, Washington. I didn’t love it. Part of it may have been homesickness, or the dreary Seattle weather, but a huge part of it was that the corporate cubicle life was not for me.

    I thought there was something wrong with me. After all, I had worked so hard to reach this point in my life. I should love it, right? Hadn’t I finally arrived?

    I struggled with it so much because on one hand, I dreaded going to work. On the other hand, when I told people what I did for a living, they leaned in and listened a little harder. Even my own father was proud to talk about my engineering career and the fact that I worked for one of the top aerospace companies in the world, but I’ve since moved to less impressive pursuits, he has never once asked me about those endeavors.

    My career looked awesome and interesting and impressive on paper, but I was quietly dying inside.

    My husband and I ended up moving all the way across the country to Savannah, Georgia, where I worked for another top aerospace company—Gulfstream Aerospace. I didn’t really feel any different about my position there, until I transferred into a group called Sales Engineering.

    In this area, I was able to interact and collaborate with sales and marketing to create the technical data they would use to pitch Gulfstream’s fleet to potential customers. I enjoyed the challenge, but I really enjoyed the collaboration with other people that weren’t buried in their computers all day. It was here that I first got a glimpse that I loved connecting with other people.

    When my first child was born, I left the aerospace industry. We had just moved cross-country again to Los Angeles, and it made more sense for me to be a full-time mom since I wasn’t the family breadwinner, and we didn’t absolutely need a second income. Plus, I wasn’t enamored with the whole engineering gig either, so in a sense, it was a way out.

    Quitting the career that I didn’t love was, on one hand, so freeing. But on the other hand, without that thick layer of validation that kept getting piled on every time someone asked me “What do you do for a living?”, I felt naked. I felt inferior. I felt like I was a failure who couldn’t hack it in the real world.

    My identity was wrapped up in my career that looked so good on paper but didn’t feel good in my soul.

    My ex-husband is an attorney, and we’d attend events with lots of other attorneys and highly educated people. At these events, I dreaded the question “So, Kortney, what do you do?”

    My response was always a little timid, almost apologetic.

    “I stay at home with our son.”

    There was typically a slow nod, with a bit of feigned interest, as if they weren’t really sure what more to say about the occupation stay-at-home mom.

    Because I also had a side-gig photography business, I’d quickly add, “and I’m also a photographer.”

    That tended to garner a bit more interest.

    “But I used to be an aerospace engineer,” I’d tack on, in a final effort to gain the nod of approval I so desperately sought.

    Bingo. Alarm bells sounded. The crowd cheered. People were reeled back into something more exciting.

    That good, old familiar friend, validation was back.

    I struggled for a long time to find my identity without all the “stuff” on the outside. It wasn’t until I got divorced and had to figure out how I would financially support myself after my spousal support ran out that I even scratched the surface of “Who am I, really?”

    Who am I without my career, the accomplishments, the external validation?

    All those years, I lived with one foot in the world of wanting to love myself for who I am rather than what I did and one foot in the world of doing more, doing better, doing it ALL.

    I lived in between the worlds of self-validation and external validation. 

    I knew I wanted the former, yet I craved the latter.

    In doing the work of figuring out who I really am, learning to love myself fully, and being able to validate myself without any help from the outside, I realized that I was asking myself the wrong questions all along.

    As a society, we ask the wrong questions.

    Instead of asking our kids, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”, I think we should be asking them, “Who do you want to be?”

    I asked my eleven-year-old daughter this, and she looked at me in her quizzical mom-why-are-you-asking-me-such-a-weird-question way and said, “Umm, I just want to be me?”

    Yes!

    Shouldn’t we all just want to be who we are? 

    Instead of pursuing goals that are impressive because they bring us accolades and attention, what if we were to pursue our goals because they lit us up and we were truly passionate about them?

    What if we started asking our kids questions about what lights them up? How do they want to feel? What things do they like to do that make them feel that way?

    Even as adults, we can ask ourselves these questions.

    If you’re in a job that doesn’t feel right, you can ask yourself, “How do I want to feel?”

    What’s authentic to you? How do you want to show up in the world? What jobs or careers would allow you to show up that way?

    This is the work I did after my divorce. I’m in a completely different career now, and believe me, as much as I fought going back to a job in the engineering industry, I had to do a lot of work on my thinking about not having a “smart job” like being an engineer. The validation I craved and was so used to was like a drug.

    Through this work, I learned how I want to feel in my life and that guides everything.

    I discovered that I want to feel freedom, ease, joy, and meaning in my life. 

    Going to a cubicle every day didn’t allow me to create those feelings. I want to show up in the world authentically—I want to be able to be a human being who makes mistakes and can share myself with other people. Corporate life didn’t allow me to be that authentic person that I now so deeply love.

    Some of you reading this may have corporate jobs and love them. You may be able to create the feelings you want to feel and show up authentically with that type of career. That’s awesome!

    The goal is to be able to feel the way you want to feel. The goal is to be able to show up in the world in a way that is true to who you are. 

    Because how you show up to do the things you do in the world is what really matters.

  • One Question for Anyone Who’s Stuck in a Rut: What Do You Believe?

    One Question for Anyone Who’s Stuck in a Rut: What Do You Believe?

    “You become what you believe, not what you think or what you want.” ~Oprah Winfrey

    What do you believe? During the forced stillness of the pandemic environment we’re all living in, this is a question I’ve been faced with more intensely than ever. In particular, I’ve come to question what I believe about myself, and how that impacts every element of my life.

    Coming out of years of self-help for social and general anxiety, a long-standing eating disorder, and several dissatisfying personal relationships, I had to come to question what these external realities reflected back to me. For what you believe about not only your life, but more importantly, yourself, will show up again and again, and yes, again, until you’ve finally addressed the root of the problem.

    In my case, my lack of self-value resulted in many dysfunctions and setbacks in my personal and professional world.

    My deteriorating self-image led to my eating obsessions, a lack of confidence exacerbated anxieties, and the low value I placed on myself was most likely written all over me, judging by the way others showed disrespect toward me in personal relationships.

    Not only was I devaluing who I was, but I also operated from a place of being closed off to others, afraid that if I showed my true self I wouldn’t measure up to their expectations.

    This all came to a head when COVID-19 emerged and led to a global lockdown. Going off of numerous negative relationship experiences, I visited a doctor to discover I had a pelvic floor condition called vaginismus, which results in involuntary vaginal muscle tightening that makes sex and physical exams like pap smears either impossible or extremely painful.

    I spent the next four months going through physical therapy to heal my body from this condition, breaking off a new relationship to focus completely on my own journey. It amazed me how the mind and body go hand-in-hand; my muscle tightening felt like a total embodiment of years of being closed off to others and remaining safely isolated from sharing my true self.

    As I mentioned previously, prior to being diagnosed with vaginismus I’d spent years healing my mental health problems and gaining strength in my career experience.

    After high school, I was lost in my career path for a solid period of time, making lukewarm attempts at artistic endeavors such as acting and modeling, never fully prepared to take a leap and fully immerse myself in any one field.

    Again, this would require a bearing of my true self that would frighten me just to think about. Not only that, it would mean that I had the nerve to believe I was worthy of attempting a profession that’s reserved for an elite group of “special” people, a group I never considered myself to be a part of.

    I did muster up enough courage to move to Los Angeles, however, where I felt I could start a new identity. My Northern California roots felt outdated, and along with some family I sought to better myself with a fresh start.

    One of my first steps toward positive changes was a hostessing gig at a bowling alley, which forced me to get out of my shell and be more social for a change. I still felt very self-conscious, but the more I worked on interacting with customers and coworkers, the more I learned how much I loved people.

    This further developed when, following a chance Intro to Journalism course I took at Pasadena City College in Southern California, I found a new joy that I wasn’t expecting.

    I began to love writing, and not only that, my favorite element of this new career path was interviewing—something I never thought I’d be able to conquer with the severity of my social anxiety, which prevented me from going into grocery stores at its peak

    Deep down, I started to believe that something different could be possible for me. Maybe I could break out of my old mindset and turn into the person I’d always felt I was inside: someone who loved people, longed for and accomplished successful interpersonal relationships, and stood in her power, unapologetically.

    By January of 2020, I had gained a local job news writing in my home base of Burbank and felt optimistic about the future. After the pandemic hit, however, I went through a time of feeling down during isolation. This paired with the vaginismus diagnosis made me become initially quite frustrated.

    “Why is this happening to me?” I wondered. I had done a lot to overcome other personal issues, but now having to do months of diligent, and sometimes extremely painful, physical therapy felt like a punishment that I didn’t deserve.

    After a short bit of contemplation, however, I had a real and sudden shift in perspective. I simply thought, “I’ve been through more than this in the past. I’ll get through it.” I believed I could, and from that moment on dedicated myself to healing not only physically, but emotionally as well.

    Within four months I made enough progress to end in-person physical therapy appointments, I started blog writing and continued with news writing in Burbank, earned a journalism scholarship over the summer, which I contributed toward my studies, and now have just started my own independent journalism writing website.

    The more I believed that I could accomplish my goals, and the more I felt I was worthy of such things, the more I saw everything in the universe work for me, and not against me.

    Today I continue to improve my self-image, and I have a long way to go. But overall, I feel healed from where I once was.

    I’m pursuing my passions, now unashamed to show and share who I truly am.

    I demonstrate a great deal of self-respect in personal relationships, no longer tolerating poor treatment from others who don’t consider my worth.

    My diet and exercise habits are healthier, my vaginismus treatment is complete, and, although I still have to maintain physical therapy exercises, I feel grateful for where I’m at in that regard and in every aspect of my life.

    If you had asked me five years ago, prior to all of this self-improvement, what I believed about myself and my life, I probably would have said I had a promising future ahead, although my actions and interactions continuously showed otherwise.

    This is why I feel I’m at a much more positive place in life at this moment.

    Not only do I propose that I believe positive things about myself, but I now show it through my actions.

    I no longer want respect, I demand it.

    I no longer want to pursue my goals wholeheartedly, I now do it as much as I can every day.

    And not only do I dream of expressing the truth of who I am, I embody it.

    So, if you too feel like you’re stuck in a rut in your life, if you feel that the world isn’t treating you fairly, and if you don’t like what the universe is showing you, then I urge you to ask yourself:

    What do you believe? About yourself? Your worth? Your life? Your potential?

    What do you believe about what you deserve, in relationships and in your career, and what you can accomplish if you try?

    How do those beliefs affect how you show up in the world—the decisions you make, the chances you take, the things you tolerate, and the habits you follow each day?

    What would you do differently if you challenged your beliefs and recognized they’re not facts?

    And what can you do differently today to create a different outcome for tomorrow?

    These are the questions that shape our lives because our beliefs drive our choices, which ultimately determine who we become.

  • How I Found My Place in the World When I Felt Beaten Down by Life

    How I Found My Place in the World When I Felt Beaten Down by Life

    “Some people are going to reject you simply because you shine too bright for them. That’s okay. Keep shining.” ~Mandy Hale

    After I finished school, I was excited about moving forward with life.

    I thought about the career that I hoped to have, where I hoped to live, and the things that I wanted to accomplish.

    After starting off as a secondary high school English teacher and becoming disappointed with the ongoing changes in the public school system, I went to graduate school for law. I thought it would open up a lot of possibilities, but it did not.

    I never had any dream of being an attorney in a courtroom. Instead, I always wanted to work in Europe or South America with people from different cultures, nationalities, and backgrounds. I wanted to make a positive difference in a humanitarian way by working with people personally to implement change and improve their lives.

    Life had something different in store for me, though. I ended up being rejected endlessly, well over a thousand times for every application that I sent out over a period of years.

    Disillusionment set in. There was the feeling of “why even continue to try anymore?” As the rejections piled up, friends that I had known for years began leaving as well. Their calls and visits became less frequent. They moved on with their lives, careers, marriages, and kids.

    I felt left behind and rejected not just by jobs, but by life in general. The hurts and betrayals were leading me to lose my passion and enthusiasm. Then there were the callous remarks from friends, people in the local community, when I asked if they knew of a position, former professors who couldn’t assist in any way now that I’d graduated, college career center advisors, and even extended family members.

    It took time, but I finally came to the realization that those who were endlessly rejecting me weren’t the ones who really mattered. I would keep shining brightly with or without them.

    Here are the four things that helped me to finally “reject” the non-acceptance and rejection that I was experiencing from others.

    1. Realize that “there is no box.”

    Our background, degrees, friends, teachers, families, and the larger culture as a whole try to get us to conform to a narrow set of parameters. If you went to school to be a teacher, you have to be a teacher.  If you studied to be an auto mechanic, you have to be an auto mechanic. And you have to live in this place or this country, because that’s where your family have always lived.

    Someone once told me, “there is no box.” Society tries to “box” us in and to restrict us to defining ourselves within certain narrow limits. However, I realized that there really is “no box,” and that I could apply my skills and talents in other ways and in other places.

    I didn’t have to conform to where I was or seek acceptance from those who were currently around me.

    I started meeting new people and looking at other places and countries, and I stopped trying to seek the acceptance of those who had already decided that they weren’t going to accept me for who I was. The employers, institutions, and agencies told me I was  “overqualified” or that that there were “many qualified candidates” and I hadn’t been considered, or they’d keep my resume on file.

    It was as though no matter what I accomplished and no matter how hard I worked, it was never “the right skill set” or “enough” for the particular place or person that I was submitting to.

    In a way, I came to accept their rejection, because I knew that the answer was getting out of my box and realizing that someone else would be more than happy to accept me for who I was.

    2. Let go of the need for approval by others.

    Letting go of the need for approval opens up exciting new doors. We are finally free to be who we really are.

    I wanted to live up to the expectations of family and society. I think that’s why it hurt so much to receive so many rejections over such a long period of time. I wanted to be “successful” according to society’s expectations. I wanted to follow the path of what everyone told me was a “regular” and “secure” life.

    I’ve since realized that I get to define success for myself.

    Success, for me, means doing what I love—teaching, reading, traveling, meeting and working with people from throughout the world, studying languages, and experiencing different cultures.

    Everything changed for me when I decided to live my life on my terms now rather than looking for a company, agency, government institution, or some other entity to provide me with the chance or opportunity. I wasn’t going to wait for permission from someone or something else.

    I also realized I can use my skills in the world outside of the narrow and limited context of the jobs and people who were rejecting me.

    For example, I can teach, and I can work to help others, but it doesn’t have to be within the rigid structure of the public education system.

    I can use the skills that I’ve acquired to be a global citizen and to learn and grow every day without confining myself to the parameters of one place, country, or culture. I can be an amalgamation of all of them, as I continue to grow as a person, both personally and professionally, but on my own terms, not those that are dictated to be by someone or something else.

    As I let go of the need for others to approve of me, my world expanded, because now I could go after those things in life that I was passionate about rather than just trying to conform and satisfy others.

    3. Start journaling.

    Journaling and connecting with our true selves, and what really brings us joy, can make us value ourselves again in spite of any opposition and rejection that we experience from the world.

    It can also help us reconnect with the things we used to love when we were younger—the passions we lost after going through years of school and trying to do what we thought we had to do in order to be successful in the eyes of society.

    Journaling helped me get back to my uniqueness as a person and was what really motivated and inspired me. It helped me pay attention to what made me happy again and those things that I’d really like to do or accomplish.

    I was inspired by my experiences in the world that were outside of my comfort zone and by the rich and varied cultures and experiences that were waiting out there. As I continued journaling, I also realized I’d always been inspired by the possibility of teaching and helping others, but in an international capacity.

    As a result, I’ve had the opportunity to help students with autism, to teach English to students and adults internationally, and to write for a variety of places abroad that did accept and value my work. However, I would never have explored these aspects of myself if I had been accepted by those who were rejecting me. Which means really, their rejections were blessings in disguise.

    4. Support those who support you.

    “Your circle should want to see you win.  Your circle should clap the loudest when you have good news.  If they don’t, get a new circle.” ~Wesley Snipes

    We can reject rejection by supporting those who support us through both the good and the more difficult times in our lives. Why support those who are only there for you when life is good?

    The hard times made me realize who really was on my side. The people who stayed with me and continued to believe in me supported me through both the victories and the disappointments. There was a tremendous difference between those individuals and others who no longer answered calls or emails, except when I was “successful.”

    Now, I may not have as many friends as I once did, but those that I do have are an important part of my circle and people that I can rely on.

    Someone once told me, “Now I know who the true believers are.” I feel that way about those who have proudly celebrated my successes and have also been there for me during my darkest moments.

    I hope you’re fortunate enough to have people in your life who genuinely support you, even if it’s only one person. If you don’t, try to open yourself up to new people, and stop giving your energy to people who accept you conditionally or regularly disappoint you. Creating a supportive circle begins with that first step of making a little room.

    —

    It wasn’t easy for me to overcome rejection and non-acceptance, and I still struggle with it at times. No one wants to feel left out or like a failure. But I’ve realized I can only fail by society’s terms if I accept them—and I don’t.

    Instead, I’ve rejected the “box” other people tried to impose on me, gotten outside my comfort zone, let go of the need for approval, started rediscovering what excites me, and shifted my focus to those people who have always supported me, regardless of what I’ve achieved. And I’m far happier for it.

  • The Joy and Power of Realizing I Am More Than My Job

    The Joy and Power of Realizing I Am More Than My Job

    “Authenticity is a collection of choices that we have to make every day. It’s about the choice to show up and be real. The choice to be honest. The choice to let our true selves be seen.” ~Brené Brown

    “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

    “It’s so nice to meet you. What do you do?”

    These are the questions we are asked our entire life. When we’re children, everyone always asks about the future. They excitedly ask, “What will you do?” The subtext of this questions is:

    “How will you be productive in society? How will you contribute?”

    Being asked those questions all the time as children turned us into the adults that ask them. We are in the same cycle and do not seem to know to ask instead, “Who are you?”

    For a long time, my focus and self-identity was tied up in what I did. I would tell people, “I am a filmmaker.” When I was young, I knew I wanted to make films. I loved to tell stories. “I want to be a movie director!”

    When I grew up and actually got jobs in Hollywood, I realized that most people are not movie directors. Most people are not even filmmakers. They work in film. It takes many people to make one, but only a handful of people get any recognition or able to consider themselves filmmakers.

    “What do you do?” people would ask. I would struggle to figure out how to explain that I was a production assistant who worked on films. I was basically a glorified secretary, a personal assistant. But I was not a filmmaker.

    I worked on other filmmaker’s films. I personally had not made any art or films for over six years. I was so busy and tired of trying to work in the industry I wanted to work in that I forgot about myself.

    When I could no longer define myself as a filmmaker, I became disillusioned. If I wasn’t one, then what was I? People always got excited when I said I worked on movies. Their eyes would light up, and they would pester me with questions about the famous people I knew or inside secrets.

    They never wanted to know how much sleep I missed or how many friends and family events I sacrificed for the bragging rights of Hollywood. They didn’t want to know what excited me about life or who I was. They only wanted to know “what I did.”

    This discontentment grew. I became angrier and angrier at the film industry as a whole. I felt used. Worthless. The world was nothing but egos and money. I would never be them unless I sold myself and played their game.

    I wasn’t willing to play the game, find the back doors, penny pinch, or be downright cruel. I was beginning to see that the industry was soulless. The art and stories were being dictated by companies that wanted to earn as much as possible.

    The stories were not chosen for their value and need in the world, but by which would make the most money. They profited on these stories and off the handwork and sacrifices of the below-the-line workers that were seen as disposable.

    Celebrities made millions, and I made minimum wage, but I didn’t have the luxury of a free jet ride back home and an apartment for my girlfriend. I was reprimanded for refusing to work on a Saturday after only five hours off.

    Slowly, I began to question if this was who I was. If this “works in the film industry” was really. me. And I felt guilty! I felt like I was being ungrateful. I was working on big movies! How could I not be happy? I had “made it.”

    I could only go up from here. I could get to be the next Stephen Spielberg, the next Tarantino, the next Lucas? Then I worked for one of these types of famous guys. He was just a human. He wasn’t the god I held him up to be. He was flawed.

    Sure, he got the adrenaline rush of making art, but at my expense. I was lucky to have my name in the credits. I wasn’t part of the golden ones, the actors and producers who were the “real” movie.

    If I didn’t want to play the “Hollywood” game I could go independent. But I felt guilty that I called myself a filmmaker when I hadn’t made a film in years! I didn’t even have any desire to even come up with one.

    I had friends who were making films on the weekends. They dedicated every free second to it. All I did was sleep. Then drag myself for dinner or a date and pretend I had a social life before I had to be back at work. I felt guilty and afraid that if left the industry I would be seen as a failure.

    I was afraid that I would be seen as weak or people would think that I couldn’t hack it. The more angst I felt, the more I turned to my unhelpful habit of Googling advice.  There is nothing helpful about hours of reddit and self-help blogs. They are all contradictory.

    This Googling, however, led to some articles with actual facts. This is when I started to read about Americans’ tendency to identify with our jobs. Our self-worth and identity are wrapped up in what we do.

    We say things like, “I am a lawyer.” “I am a physicist.” “I am a teacher.” We don’t say, “I practice law.” “I study physics. “I teach.” We put the emphasis on the job and not the I.

    I started the long, tedious process of separating myself, the me, from the filmmaker and the woman who worked in film. I realized that I was uncomfortable calling myself a filmmaker because I wasn’t one.

    I struggled to define my title to other because I didn’t really believe that it was who I was. I am a woman who enjoys movies and stories. More importantly, I am energized by stories.

    Filmmaking was just a job. The intense zealotry aspect of the film industry had always sat wrong with me. Now I know why. I am not a job. I am more than the work I do.

    Through this process I came to slowly accept that I wasn’t happy with the work I was doing. There was a disconnect between it and the way I saw myself in life. I needed to walk away for a bit and allow myself to heal from the harm I and the toxic industry had infected upon my soul.

    It is not just the film industry that is toxic. American work culture is. We have created an environment where work has to be our passion. Confucius said, “Choose a job you love, and you’ll never have to work a day in your life.” I disagree. Work is work.

    You might enjoy it, but as long as you are giving your time for money you are participating in a business transaction, and it is work. Just accept it as work and accept that you can be a whole person outside of your job. Your job is only a small sliver of the much larger person.

    Our work culture throws around the phrase “We are like a family.” It is encouraged and suggested that your team members and colleagues are family. They aren’t.

    You can get along with them, be friends with them, but by labeling them as family there is a pressure to feel loyal and not let them down. Our alliances are manipulated to be given first and foremost to work. Any time spend doing something for yourself or your actual family is seen as selfish.

    A year after my last film job I still struggle to see myself outside these identities. I am now enrolled in grad school and I want to label myself as a student. But I am not. I am Dia. I study mythology.

    Sometimes I am a storyteller, but that title does not and cannot encompass the whole and vastness that I am as a person.

    Identifying ourselves by our work is like trying to fill a mug with the ocean. At some point the ocean will overpower the mug, and we will be left wet and feeling bad about ourselves.

    The next time you are at a party, after the pandemic, and you meet someone new, maybe don’t ask, “What do you do?” Instead ask, “Who are you?” Create the space to meet the real, whole person; the person who is vast, deep, and full of wonder for the world.

  • I Got Fired for Struggling with Depression, and It’s Not Okay

    I Got Fired for Struggling with Depression, and It’s Not Okay

    “About all you can do in life is be who you are. Some people will love you for you. Most will love you for what you can do for them, and some won’t like you at all.” ~Rita Mae Brown

    The stigma associated with mental illness has improved in recent years, but there is still work to be done.

    I am a certified life coach and a certified personal trainer. As an employee of a major global fitness studio chain, I was once discriminated against for my mental health issues.

    I have always been an athlete, and I love sports. Before deciding to go to college for engineering, I thought I’d take the medical school route with the goal of becoming an orthopedic surgeon—I was always fascinated with the body’s structure and how all of the muscles, ligaments, and tendons worked together. But I chose the engineering path and kept my athletic pursuits and fascination with body mechanics and such as hobbies.

    When I was going through my divorce, I decided to get my personal trainer certificate. I had been a stay-at-home mom and part-time photographer since my first child was born, and divorcing meant I would need to go back to work. However, I was not interested in a corporate cubicle job.

    I studied hard, took the exam, and quickly landed my first training job as a coach for a global fitness studio chain. The classes at this particular chain were basically high-intensity interval based, combining treadmill running, rowing, and strength training. The classes of up to thirty-something athletes were coached by one trainer who timed the intervals and explained the workouts.

    It was a very high-energy workout and atmosphere with loud, pumping music and drill-sergeant-like yellings of encouragement.

    The training for this position was an intense week-long ordeal. I worked my butt off during that week with no guarantee of a job (which they neglected to tell us until the week of training was almost over).

    When I was ready to teach my first class, I was excited and nervous, but I ended up loving coaching the classes. There were many unfit individuals who barely knew how to do a squat, and I loved not only teaching them but encouraging them and helping them believe that they could master these exercises and become good at them.

    I helped many people see themselves as athletes when they went from barely being able to walk for three minutes straight to actually running for three minutes straight.

    We had member challenges, including a weight loss challenge. I loved it, and given my background battling an eating disorder, this was my chance to come at weight loss from a place of healthy living—not losing weight to measure up to some ridiculous standard.

    After each class, members of my team would stay after to ask questions about nutrition, exercise, and recovery. I loved sharing my knowledge with them as well as cheering them on. I knew they could reach their goals, and they did. My team won the challenge.

    During this period of time working for this company, I was struggling with my own personal hell. I would show up to class to coach and put on my high-energy, happy face, blast the music, and yell those firm, but loving words of encouragement for my athletes to give it everything they had during each interval. But inside, I felt like I was dying.

    I lived with a sinking, sick pit in my stomach. I’d often leave the studio and cry in my car before going back to the lonely home that once housed a family.

    During my tenure at the studio, I was hospitalized for severe depression twice. Both times required me to take a short leave of absence—a few days the first time, and nearly a week the second time.

    I also took a last-minute trip on Christmas Day back home to see my family so I would have some family support for that first Christmas without my kids (they were with their dad that year). I got someone else to cover the class I was scheduled to teach.

    When I returned from my trip, I came back to work and taught my scheduled classes. As I was leaving, the head trainer and one of the main investors of all Maryland franchises made me stay so they could fire me.

    They told me that my performance wasn’t up to par and that they had to let me go.  

    Funny, I had never had anyone give me any indication that I needed to improve anything to keep my job. Not even in my evaluation with the head trainer—she gave me some constructive feedback but also indicated that I was doing a good job. There had been zero warning signs.

    After my departure, a large number of my students reached out to me asking where I was and why I wasn’t teaching anymore. When I told them the reason, they were appalled and angry. One or two even canceled their membership.

    They loved my classes and would come because they liked my style of teaching. I asked to see member surveys for my classes, but management refused to show them to me stating that “surveys don’t tell the whole story.”

    Other trainers, including another head trainer who had been with the Maryland franchises since the first location opened, thought the whole thing was absurd and offered that I could come back and teach at his location. As much as I loved coaching, I was still too upset at the way the company had handled my dismissal to take him up on his offer.

    I tell this story because what happened to me was cruel and heartless and should never happen to anyone who is genuinely giving their best effort in a job. It should never happen to anyone without proper warning.

    I was struggling on a level I doubt either the twenty-something head trainer or bougie investor ever had to endure, and they let me go for some made-up reason that, below the surface, really came back to my mental health struggle.

    Authenticity is a topic that is near and dear to my heart, and I feel that authenticity in the workplace is sorely lacking.

    All too often, we feel like we can’t show up as our authentic selves for fear of looking weak or incompetent. We need to be competitive and not show any sign that we aren’t anything but perfect for fear someone else might get ahead because of an incorrect perception (one that is wrongly distorted by mental health struggles) that others have of our ability to get the job done.

    I did my job as a coach and trainer, and I did it well. Ask any of my students. But on some level, management sensed my weakness and decided I didn’t fit the “brand image” of this very popular and trendy international fitness studio chain because I was struggling with mental illness.

    If you asked them, I am quite certain that they would argue their reasoning had to do with other factors, but the facts just don’t add up.

    I had never been let go from a job in my life. This added to my depression and anxiety. I understand that if I had not been able to perform my duties, that would have been grounds for dismissal. But I gave it my all and never received any negative feedback indicative of my job being in jeopardy.

    My struggle with depression at that time was no different than someone struggling with a physical illness.

    If I was undergoing treatment for cancer, I am quite certain this scenario would have gone quite differently. I am certain there would have at least been a conversation about the situation, rather than just flat-out making up an excuse that my performance wasn’t up to par and firing a single mom without another job to go to.

    We have to remove the stigma mental illness has in the workplace. We have to make it okay for people to show up and say, “Hey, I’m struggling right now. I am doing my best, but I’m having a hard time.” That shouldn’t be a weakness. If anything, it’s a strength to admit when you’re struggling and need some help.

    Are strides being made? Yes. But the disparity between the perception of physical illness and mental illness is still too great. This needs to change.

    How could my former employer have handled this differently?

    First of all, if they didn’t think my performance was good enough, they should have given me a chance to improve. They should have told me that I needed to change something, because I’m the type of person that, when given feedback, will do everything possible to nail it. At that point in my life, I was still firmly rooted in perfectionist mode, and the very thought of someone thinking I’m not perfect would have been enough to send me into a frenzied mission to correct that perception.

    If they were not thrilled with the time I had to take off for my hospitalizations and my last-minute trip where I had someone else cover one class, the head trainer should have communicated to me that it was unacceptable and given me a warning. That would have given me a chance to have an honest conversation about the struggles I was having.

    In even a minimally caring environment, it makes more sense to help employees succeed rather than throw them away the moment you don’t like them. It’s much more expensive to go through training a new employee than to try to improve one you already have.

    In the fitness industry in particular, I feel that there is little room for perceived imperfection, and there is even less room for a flawed trainer or coach. The fitness industry perpetuates the lie that trainers and coaches have their sh*t together—that’s why they’re the ones training you. That’s why you can’t get these results yourself—because you’re not perfect and you don’t know how to be perfect.

    Authenticity in any workplace is so important. When we are afraid to show up as ourselves with not only our flaws but also our gifts and talents, that’s where creativity ends. When we aren’t able to exercise our creativity, innovation is thwarted. And when innovation stops, that’s where everyone gets stuck.

    Looking back, I now know that I never want to be employed by such shallow and uncompassionate people, but I also know that just wasn’t the place for me. There is no place I want to be where I can’t show up as my true self and say, “Hey, I can bring a lot to the table, but I’m also flawed and I’m okay with that.”

    The reaction should be “Yeah, me too. Welcome to the club,”

    Because we are all imperfect. And that’s a fact.

  • How Redundancy Can Be a Blessing in Disguise

    How Redundancy Can Be a Blessing in Disguise

    “If you want something you’ve never had, you must be willing to do something you’ve never done.” ~Thomas Jefferson

    To most people, redundancy is a dreaded word.

    It conjures up thoughts of hardship, of scarcity, and of struggling to make ends meet.

    I have twice been made redundant, and at both times, it was difficult to accept.

    Throughout the redundancy process, and for some time afterward, my emotions were all over the place, making it difficult for me to think straight.

    But I’ve discovered that when we’re able to look back, we can sometimes see that redundancy might not have been the worst thing that could have happened to us.

    Redundancy: Was it A Blessing in Disguise?

    The first time I was made redundant occurred when my employer failed to hang on to our most profitable contract. Losing it resulted in my team and me transferring to the contractor that had outbid us.

    Regrettably, my new employer didn’t need another senior manager. So after just a week, they terminated my employment.

    I felt angry and upset.

    I fought back.

    But the truth is, at that point, I needed a break from work.

    My wife of thirty-five years was terminally ill.

    Redundancy meant that for her last few weeks, I could take care of her, 24/7.

    After her passing, I continued to fight the employer until we settled.

    However, I soon realized that grief would have made it impossible for me to perform to my usual high standards.

    My wife often said that everything happens for a reason.

    And I came to see that, in some circumstances, even redundancy can be a blessing. A blessing in disguise but a blessing, nonetheless.

    Six months later, I started a new job.

    Redundancy: Reason Gives Way to Emotional Turmoil

    My second redundancy was due to organizational restructuring.

    I was leading a multidisciplinary team in a national organization, but restructuring meant there were now fewer teams than managers, so my job was at risk.

    I had several new projects underway, and it seemed to me that a change of leadership at that point was untimely and potentially damaging.

    But that didn’t seem to count for much.

    Despite my indisputable performance, I was made redundant.

    Again, I felt aggrieved, upset, betrayed and angry.

    Compared with voluntarily walking out on a job without another one to go to (as I have done several times), being made redundant feels very personal, which it seldom is. And, in my case, feelings of helplessness, and loss of control, made me want to fight back.

    I’ve seen staff display similar emotions when, as their manager, I’ve led them through redundancy consultations. I always tried to soften the blow by pointing out that it’s the post, not the post-holder, that is being made redundant.

    But when we’re on the receiving end of bad news, we’re unable to comprehend the difference; our minds churn with negative and frightening thoughts.

    Restructure: Redundancy and Reluctant Retirement

    By now you’re probably thinking, this guy has anger management issues. I assure you, I don’t. I am usually an easy-going person, but for some reason, the thought of redundancy brought out the worst in me.

    I guess it’s the fight-or-flight response.

    But this time I didn’t fight.

    Even though I dreaded being jobless, I wanted to get on with my life.

    I was beyond state retirement age, but I felt too young to retire.

    • I was in good health and still had a lot to give.
    • I had been working for more than fifty years and couldn’t imagine life without a job.

    In time, I came to recognize this redundancy as a blessing too: the organization’s values were drifting further apart from mine. If I hadn’t left at that point, it wouldn’t have been long before I left by choice. At least, with redundancy, they paid me to go.

    Redundant? Stop the Panic! Reflect and Regroup

    Bereft of my job, I immediately started applying for new positions.

    I applied for two jobs and received an interview for both.

    I felt good: two interviews from just two applications!

    Here was proof that employers were looking for someone like me, with high-level qualifications, skills, and experience. All I had to do was play the numbers game, keep submitting job applications, and sooner or later the right job would be mine.

    The interviews went well—or so I thought.

    I didn’t get either job.

    But instead of being disappointed, I felt such a deep sense of relief that I just knew I needed to think seriously about why I felt that way.

    That was a turning point.

    Gone was the panic of not having a job; I was thinking clearly.

    I decided that if I worked at all, it would be for myself, on my terms.

    So, I stopped searching through job ads and binned my CV.

    Now I could spend time with my pre-schooler grandchildren: another blessing.

    I felt free.

    Redundancy: Impact on Self-esteem and Self-belief

    If your job is at risk, you might think me naive to suggest that redundancy can be a blessing.

    That’s a fair point: I am not commenting on redundancy in general, only on personal experience, and even then, with the benefit of hindsight.

    Your experience is unlikely to mirror mine, and your circumstances will be substantially different. Nevertheless, I’ve tried to be open and honest about my feelings to show you that:

    • Redundancy can evoke intense emotions which are likely to cloud our judgment;
    • Acknowledging and embracing our feelings is better than burying them, or pretending we’re okay when we’re not;
    • We are more likely to feel differently, and to see the best way forward when we are thinking clearly.

    When we’re in a state of shock, our self-esteem suffers, and self-belief goes through the floor. Which probably explains why I immediately started looking for another job. Maybe subconsciously I was trying to prove to myself, and the world, that I still have what it takes to be successful.

    However, once my mind quietened, I could think more rationally.

    I decided to deliberately explore opportunities for which I had little or no knowledge or experience, options that would push me well beyond my comfort zone.  And for that, I needed to learn new skills, which I have done, and continue to do.

    Redundancy: A Chance to Chase Our Dreams

    I acknowledge that not everyone is in a position where they can choose not to seek paid employment, and I’m certainly not advocating it.

    But, regardless of our differing circumstances, redundancy provides time for reflection, time that we might not otherwise have, and which we could put to good use.

    Some of us are so busy that we never stop to wonder if what we’re doing is what we truly want.

    Others might knowingly be sacrificing their dreams rather than risk not having a steady income.

    In either case, it’s good to stop occasionally to think about what types of work would give us the most satisfaction and fulfillment.

    As Thomas Jefferson said, “If you want something you’ve never had, you must be willing to do something you’ve never done.”

    I don’t have many regrets, but I wish I’d pursued some of the things I’m doing now, much earlier. Because I’m discovering that careers like writing and coaching would have been possible even when holding down a demanding job.

    To conclude:

    There’s so much about redundancy that I still don’t like.

    But I did like being given the time in which to think.

    And I saw that I had a choice.

    I could see redundancy either as a disaster or a blessing: I chose the latter.

  • Lost Your Job? Here Are 4 Things That Might Help

    Lost Your Job? Here Are 4 Things That Might Help

    EDITOR’S NOTE: You can find a number of helpful coronavirus resources and all related Tiny Buddha articles here.

    “Life isn’t always fair. Some people are born into better environments. Some people have better genetics. Some are in the right place at the right time. If you’re trying to change your life, all of this is irrelevant. All that matters is that you accept where you are, figure out where you want to be, and then do what you can, today and every day, to hold your head high and keep moving forward.” ~Lori Deschene

    Like millions of people these days, I have lost my job. But unlike millions of people, I’ve now lost the same job twice within a year. Which, strangely, makes me feel somewhat prepared for it. And that’s why I’d like to share with you how I dealt with the situation then, and how I’m dealing with it now. 

    I learned I was being made redundant the first time on March 26, 2019, and this time on the  March 26, 2020, both times due to a “lack of business.” The law in Sweden says the last ones to join a company should be the first ones out, and I happened to be one of the last ones in.

    After being let go the first time—having an uncertain future in front of me and dealing with feelings of unworthiness, lack of direction, and grief—I was told I would be rehired a couple months later due to an increase in the volume of business. 

    What a relief. After all that inner turmoil, I was considered worthy again and welcomed back. Back to a life that I knew well, that I would return to refreshed, after having had a break from it—and having been “on the other side,” looking at what I’d lost, now appreciative for what I’d regained. Not a perspective many have had. 

    It felt like a rollercoaster of an experience that made me braver in the face of abysses. I began to stare down from the top realizing that if I’d felt pushed to it again, I’d eventually fly. Being laid off, after all, was not a fatal fall. Not even a failure. It was a test for my wings. 

    You can have many different reactions to being laid off, depending on how much you like your job, how much you depend on it, and how much you have invested in it. I believe that for most of us there’s a bitter feeling, a sense of betrayal and failure. That after you have dedicated yourself to your company’s mission, day after day, hour after hour, you are suddenly seen as disposable, unworthy. 

    And it’s a strange thing, that even for those who didn’t enjoy their job, there’s a certain nostalgia when they think that they won’t be returning to that place again, and won’t meet the people they used to despise seeing on Monday mornings. 

    Pretty much like one of those breakups when all of a sudden, the person you hated when you broke up, turns into a person you can’t live without.

    That wasn’t the case for me when I got laid off. I enjoyed my job and wasn’t happy about the news. 

    However, I have done enough personal development work to help me to take what happens in my life with a grain of salt, and just enough distance to handle the situation gracefully. That’s why I want to share my perspective with you.

    Here are some of the thoughts that have helped me through being laid off, both times.  

    My job is not my life.

    I have always strived to create a routine that would remind me that my job is a part of my life, but not my entire life. 

    It’s easy to get immersed in all that’s happening at work—all the personal dynamics, all the challenges, victories, projects, meetings, trips, etc.—to such a deep level that we perceive our work as our entire life. After all, many times work is what we do, what we talk and think about, the whole day, every day.

    But I noticed that every time I would feel most frustrated with work, I was doing precisely that: looking at work as if it was my entire life. And if things were not going well at work, I’d feel as if my whole life wasn’t going well. Every time I put things in perspective and saw work as just one part of my life, my frustrations would soften.

    At the moment, after being laid off, this kind of strategy is absolutely essential. We need to see our employment as one part of our life (an essential one, of course), and we need to see what our lives are beyond our job. Now is the perfect opportunity to see what’s there, beyond that big chunk of time and energy we call work. 

    And if you feel like nothing is left, pay more attention. Who do you have around you? What are the things that interest you the most? What are the things that you’re happy to do even without a paycheck? And what gives you some pleasure or relief when you’re feeling down? This is a time to pay attention to yourself and discover who you are under the veil of old routines.

    My career doesn’t define me.

    To a certain extent, you might feel your career defines you, especially if you feel that your job defines your life, or if you have spent most of your life building a career that aligns with your interests. However, the status of your career doesn’t make you a better or worse person, or a more or less valuable person to society. And this is a crucial point to take in.

    Losing our job might make us feel that we’re no longer useful in the community, and that can give a deep sense of unworthiness. But, how the world is being shaped right now, hopefully, we’ll return to work that is more conscious, relevant, and less harmful to all. 

    If you feel like you lost your sense of identity when you lost your job, work on finding your identity in this crisis. Aren’t these the times that truly define us? How we deal with uncertainty and tough times?

    It’s okay to grieve.

    With so much advice on positivity everywhere, it’s not surprising that we feel bad for feeling blue or lacking energy and patience, and we think we should somehow be instantly productive. When we’re struggling, it’s helpful to stop and ask: Is it reasonable what I’m demanding of myself? Is it reasonable today? Can I take a break? Can I be a little kinder? 

    No matter how well you take losing your job, you’re still going through a massive life change. The people you used to meet, the places you used to go, and what you used to do every day will all change. That’s massive. So it’s okay to grieve that loss. Give yourself space to experience the pain, without judgment and unrealistic expectations.

    The unknown is the birthplace of possibility.

    Every time I took a leap of faith in my life, I was met with both tough times and gratifying achievements. And life has always felt sweeter in the face of those setbacks and victories because it was then I felt truly alive.

    Sure, it’s great, and necessary, to have security in life, but our true nature is wired for uncertainty. In reality, every morning, no one knows what the day will hold. You might fall in love that day or lose a loved one. You might be promoted, or maybe lose your job. That’s the nature of life, unpredictable. But it’s also that unpredictability that holds space for great things to happen. Or else, why would you buy a lottery ticket, take a trip to an exotic place, or start a new relationship with a stranger you fell in love with?

    Can we rewire our thinking to see this tough time through the lens of possibility? I believe so. 

    We just have to have faith in the unknown and be patient and kind to ourselves. We can believe the world is ending, or we can believe the world is transforming. We can cry because we have lost our job or smile because we have gained an opportunity.  

    After all, the universe is always hiring, and you’re only a short time away from being rehired. 

  • How to Move Forward When You’re Out of Work and Feeling Lost

    How to Move Forward When You’re Out of Work and Feeling Lost

    “My attitude has always been, if you fall flat on your face, at least you’re moving forward. All you have to do is get back up and try again.” ~Richard Branson

    Let’s face it, losing a job sucks! Over the last couple of months, I have been chatting with friends who have recently been affected by organizational changes resulting in being out of work involuntarily. This is a situation all too familiar to millions of people, frequently through no fault of their own. Often it’s a result of an economic downturn, restructuring, acquisitions, and cost savings.

    A couple of years ago, while I was on a business trip, I found out my role would be coming to an end. It wasn’t completely unexpected, and I was actually relieved. However, as an expat it was overwhelming.

    Would I have to move back to my home country? Would I have to leave the place where I’d started to build a life? What about my volunteer commitments? This and so much more spun around my head.

    Thank goodness for re-runs of How I Met Your Mother. Upon finding out the news, I spent hours obsessed with the saga of Ted and Robin while indulging in cookies and ice cream. After a few days, (and before my jeans got too tight), I picked myself up and started moving forward. I was reminded of some valuable lessons along the way.

    Feel the feels.

    Likely you will experience a range of feelings. Allow yourself to sit in it. You may find yourself grieving. This is natural; after all, something that was a significant part of your life has come to an end.

    Elisabeth Kubler-Ross made famous the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Recognizing these stages can help with the coping process.

    Breathe. Do yoga. Meditate. Write in a journal. Create a vision board. This will help ground and center you and soon enough, you will start having clarity about how to move forward.

    Your tribe will always be your tribe.

    Connect with friends and family. Let people know what’s going on. Your tribe will rally and embrace you no matter where in the world they are—or you are. They will love you, encourage you, help you, and still think you’re great, even when you don’t. They will drag you out of the house, drink a cup of tea with you over a video call, and make sure you get to that yoga class. As tough as it is, talking about it helps.

    Ask for help.

    As a fairly independent person, I find asking for help uncomfortable. In the spirit of “be comfortable with being uncomfortable,” I reached out to my network and asked for help.

    One particular situation will always stick with me: I called someone I’d met at an event and told him the news. He asked me to call him back the following week so he could think about suitable connections. Sure enough, the next week, he was ready with a list of ten people that would be valuable to connect with. This blew my mind. He spent time in the following weeks crafting up personalized emails and making introductions. This was a reminder of the human spirit. People want to help—ask!

    Create a routine.

     Not having to wake up and be somewhere messed with my routine. Having a routine can help anchor us, while providing structure, building good habits, and creating efficiency.

    I found it helpful to design a new routine.

    I woke up at the same time every morning, did an hour of physical activity, meditated, and created a to-do list for the day.

    I found a neighborhood coffee shop that became my “office.” When I was not out meeting someone, I would go to the coffee shop and work on applications, networking requests, learning modules, goals, and volunteer projects.

    I ended my “work day” around the same time daily and would have an evening activity lined up. This helped me have structure, kept my mind engaged, and ensured I was making connections.

    Set goals.

    When a job loss hits, it is easy to feel as though your purpose has been lost too. A way to counter this is to set goals and reflect.

    Setting goals helps provide clarity and gives focus, motivation, and accountabilities. Examples of goals could be setting up a meeting or two per week, fixing up your CV, applying to two jobs weekly, or getting involved in volunteer work.

    Goals give you something to work toward, and at the end of the week you can take stock of what you’ve completed and feel a sense of accomplishment. Taking the time to reflect allows you to see your progress and be grateful for the support you have received, and it also gives you something to build on.

    Create a personal board of directors (PBOD). 

    This was a concept introduced to me a few years ago by one of the members of my own PBOD. They’re a trusted group of people who you can turn to for advice, who will share helpful resources and offer different viewpoints.

    As Lisa Barrington explains in her article, Everyone Needs A Personal Board Of Directors, “Your PBOD exists to act as a sounding board, to advise you and to provide you with feedback on your life decisions, opportunities, and challenges. They provide you with unfiltered feedback that you can’t necessarily get from colleagues or friends.”

    Companies are careful to select their board of directors, and you should be too. Some roles you may want to consider are: an accountability partner, someone who will ask the tough questions, one of your biggest fans, a connector, and a mentor.

    Your PBOD does not have to meet all together. You just have to stay connected to all of them regularly. I speak with at least one member of my PBOD weekly. It helps keep me on track and provides pushes me to think differently.

    Play.

    This can be a time filled with high highs and low lows. Take time to play. Laughter and play release endorphins in the brain. As stated on NPR’s podcast All Things Considered, adults play for many important reasons: building community, keeping the mind sharp, and keeping close the ones you love.

    Explore the city you’re in—check out all of the free things you can do. Spend time outside. Go on a vacation for a few days. It can help you gain perspective and reconnect you to what’s important.

    According to Dr. Stuart Brown, Founder of National Institute for Play, “What you begin to see when there’s major play deprivation in an otherwise competent adult is that they’re not much fun to be around.” Put yourself out there. Talk to strangers. Say yes. Have adventures.

    Celebrate.

    Yes, this sounds counterintuitive. You’re walking into the unknown, what’s there to celebrate?

    It’s not every day you get to put life on pause and recalibrate. Be grateful for the downtime. Think of this time as a gift. Be thankful for the experiences the job gave you. Celebrate the success and the struggles. Embrace the lessons—you will take these with you as you move forward. Be thankful for the relationships you formed and the people who helped you and will help you.

    While this period in life may sting, remember, it’s temporary.

    Take this opportunity to hit the pause button, reflect on what’s important, renew and build your network, and set new goals.

    Trust the process—this journey will add a richness to your life, give you empathy, and will build your resilience. The turbulence might shake you, but space is being created for new opportunities, and chances are it will work out better than you thought. Keep moving forward and enjoy all that this time will bring.

  • How I Stopped Feeling Trapped in a Life I Didn’t Want

    How I Stopped Feeling Trapped in a Life I Didn’t Want

    “Stop thinking in terms of limitations and start thinking in terms of possibilities.” ~Terry Josephson

    When I was in my early twenties I was lucky enough to spend about a year living just a few blocks from the beach in Virginia Beach, Virginia, but you know what I remember most distinctly from that time? Sitting at a red light on the way to work one day thinking: I feel trapped.

    To put it simply, I felt stuck in a life I didn’t want.

    I had a college degree I wasn’t using. I had a job that I dreaded. I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing, and I certainly had no idea how to get to the next thing, whatever that was.

    By the end of that year, I’d managed to move away from Virginia and was living back in Vermont, a place I’d originally landed at for a few months right after I finished college. The trapped feeling was gone, at least for a little while.

    I was able to go from seasonal job to part-time job and back again for about a year, and that helped me feel not quite so tied down. Eventually I left Vermont and moved to the mountains of North Carolina.

    Over the years, that trapped feeling wrapped its tendrils around my chest and squeezed a number of times, but recently I realized I haven’t felt that way in quite a while.

    What was it that made me feel so trapped in the past? Why haven’t I been feeling that way anymore? For me, I think it comes down to career and identity. I spent much of my life wondering what I wanted to be when I grew up, and went from job to job, often ending up feeling like I was caged in.

    I had a job working at an inn that I really loved. Sometimes I was bored, but mostly I felt at least a little freedom, especially once I was the boss and could make my own schedule.

    After a few years of that, I took a job at an airport that was such an awful fit I can’t even put it into words. I was bored, lonely, and anxious, and caught more colds than I ever have in my life.

    There was some good in that job, though, in that I started expressing my creative side again, something that had been dormant for a long time. Being miserable also forced me to take a look at the choices I was making in my life and career.

    I had other boring jobs after that one, and then one really terrible one that went against just about every moral fiber in my body. The owners made their politics very clear and they were the polar opposite of mine. I was expected to be on call almost all the time; if my work phone rang when I was at home, fear filled my heart.

    Once again, I felt trapped.

    It was worse than ever at this job because I was the sole breadwinner while my husband was in school. I knew it was a terrible fit, but I felt I couldn’t leave.

    Looking back, though, while all of that was going on, I was refining and honing what it was I truly wanted and who I truly was.

    I read a zillion self-help and career books. I took a life coach training program. I started meditating.

    Most importantly, I started listening to myself. Or maybe I should say my Self.

    I started following the things that felt true to me. Being inside an office all day simply was not working, and I wanted to work for myself, not for someone else.

    I needed to be creative. I needed to be able to go outside in the middle of the day. I needed freedom.

    I left that last terrible job nearly four years ago, and visits from those tendrils of terror don’t come very often anymore, despite the fact that I’m much more tied down than I ever have been before (hello mortgage, car payment, husband, two cats, and child).

    The bottom line is that I finally feel like I’m living my life instead of someone else’s.

    I do hold a job again, but it’s super flexible, doing something I mostly enjoy. I create art almost every day, and both the process of putting colors to canvas and earning money from something I enjoy so much bring me big feelings of freedom.

    I also get to be outside in the middle of the day, which brings me more happiness than I ever could have imagined. I get to set big goals and move toward them at my own pace. I get to control my life in ways I didn’t before.

    I feel like me, and it feels so good.

    Here are some steps of the steps I took to get from there to here, and that you can try, too, if you feel trapped in your life.

    Listen to your body. This has helped me more times than I can count. If your chest feels tight, if your stomach is in knots, if your shoulders are up to your neck, or if you feel just plain off, you need to stop and listen to what your body is telling you.

    Your body is the animal part of you, in touch with your deepest needs and desires. It’s your brain that keeps interfering and telling you the kind of life you “should” be living. Try checking in with your body at least once a day and seeing what makes it feel open and relaxed, then do more of that.

    Know you can make progress even if it doesn’t feel like it. For years and years I tried to get out of that cycle of being stuck in a job I hated, trying to do something new but then realizing it wasn’t the right fit, and then starting the whole thing over again. It’s only looking back now that I see I was getting closer and closer and learning more and more each time I did something different—I just didn’t see it at the time.

    Take the tiniest steps possible. When I was in that job that I really hated, it would have created more stress and anxiety in my life if I’d quit, since I was the one bringing in the money and because, about a year after I started the job, I got pregnant and needed the health insurance. So I took tiny steps while I was there: I made art on the weekends, I took an online class about building my own business, I went outside and walked by the ocean a lot.

    If you do anything, and I mean anything at all, that moves you closer to a place of peace or excitement, please give yourself a pat on the back. There is nothing wrong with congratulating yourself and telling yourself what a good job you’re doing. It will keep you moving forward and help you build momentum.

    Look for the positive. There is something good in all of our experiences if we take the time to look for it. That job was a positive for me because I could support our family while I was there, and because I learned what I didn’t want in a job.

    I feel the same about all of my jobs and even all of my past relationships. Even if it wasn’t the right fit, I learned something about myself and what I did or didn’t want out of a job or a partner.

    Every time you experience something, you can learn from it and use it to move away from what you don’t want and toward what you do want. Focus on the good you’re finding, and more good comes. Focus on the bad you’re feeling, and the more you’ll feel bad.

    Learn to live with uncertainty. You just can’t know everything, and that’s okay. I got a life coaching certification, personal training certification, and master’s degree in health education before I realized that none of that would help me feel free. Until I found it, I didn’t know what would give me that feeling, and I was (mostly) okay with that. I was trying new things, seeing what felt right.

    You don’t need to know exactly what’s going to happen to know you’re on the right path. So long as you’re taking chances and learning about yourself, you are.

    Lastly, don’t discount little things that make you happy. I used to think that art was just something that I did when I was a kid that couldn’t amount to much, and the pleasure it brings to me in my adult life, both on a personal and professional level, is tremendous.

    If it feels good, go toward it. If it feels bad, move away from it, even if you have to do it slowly.

    You don’t have to feel trapped in a life you don’t want forever. You can make changes, even tiny incremental ones, and get into a life that feels just right for you.