Tiny Buddha

Tag: judgment

  • 4 Ways to Deal With Criticism So It Doesn’t Get You Down

    4 Ways to Deal With Criticism So It Doesn’t Get You Down

    Sad Man

    “The final proof of greatness lies in being able to endure criticism without resentment.” ~Elbert Hubbard

    Are you afraid of receiving criticism?

    Even if it’s minor or well-meaning, criticism can feel like a punch in the gut.

    And if you let it, criticism can leave you feeling down and resentful for days or weeks after.

    As the music director at my church, I occasionally receive negative feedback from members of the community.

    After services one Sunday, a congregant came up to offer some critique of my music selections. At first it felt like a full-on attack. I didn’t even have a chance to get up from the organ bench before she began.

    I wish I could say that I responded perfectly, but I didn’t. I immediately became defensive. My breath shortened. I interrupted her before she could complete her thoughts. But at some point in the midst of the barrage, I regained my composure and listened.

    It was hard and painful to just listen without being defensive. On reflection, I realized that my pain had little to do with her criticism. It came from my own fear of being judged. Once I became aware of this, it was much easier for me to recover emotionally and move on.

    If you struggle with the fear of being criticized, here are some things to keep in mind:

    1. Criticism will not kill you.

    The mere possibility of being criticized can fill you with dread.

    When I was being criticized, my fight or flight response was automatically triggered. Though I was in no real physical danger, my mind started to immediately generate thoughts such as: “What if she starts a campaign to get me fired?” and “How will I find work to support my family?”

    In hindsight, it’s easy to see that the leap from criticism to catastrophe was a gross distortion of reality. But in the moment, the thoughts can feel very real.

    Over time I’ve learned to regain control of my thoughts by asking questions, such as: “Are my disastrous scenarios likely to happen?” or “Will this kill me?” I’ve found the answer is often no.

    Criticism can hurt, but it cannot maim or kill. If you struggle with the fear of criticism, know that you too have the resources to get through it and move on.

    2. Giving criticism can be as hard as receiving it.

    It’s hard for people to say what’s truly on their minds. Most would prefer speak ill of you behind your back or let resentment build rather than risk conflict.

    As I struggled to hear the woman’s criticism, I noticed that she was visibly shaking. It dawned on me that this person, rather than simply grumbling to other parishioners or the pastor, had summoned the courage to speak directly to me.

    In that moment, I was able to empathize with her. This profoundly changed my experience of being criticized. My attitude shifted from that of fear to compassion, even gratitude. I no longer perceived her as a threat and my own fears were calmed.

    If you’re facing criticism, try to see the situation from the other person’s point of view.

    3. Not all criticism is created equal.

    Think of the last time you were criticized. Did you find yourself overanalyzing everything the person said?

    In the struggle to articulate their feelings, people often say useless or hurtful things. Somewhere in there is the main concern they are trying to communicate. It’s tempting to let negative comments, often arising out of frustration, get the best of us.

    In my own situation, I chose to address the genuine concern and discard the rest.

    You too can challenge your own tendency to focus on the negative by asking yourself: “What’s is the focus of their complaint?” If the purpose of the criticism is simply to antagonize, give yourself permission to discard it all.

    4. Criticism can fuel your personal growth.

    When we’re in defensive mode, it’s practically impossible to be self-reflective. But once the defenses drop, allow this question to come to the surface:

    Is there any truth to the criticism?

    Entertaining this question will be the starting point of your personal growth.

    Once I’d processed the valid concerns of the criticism, I began taking practical steps to incorporate the feedback into my work and attitude. I also began to process my own fears and general defensiveness. Finally, I worked to drop my resentment toward the person who criticized me.

    How can you effectively incorporate useful criticism into your life? Focus on using the criticism to improve yourself rather than please or appease the person. This will help you let go any lingering resentment toward them.

    Kick Your Fear of Criticism to the Curb

    As long as you are breathing, leading, or doing something that matters, you will be criticized.

    Don’t let your deep, dark fears of being criticized hold you back.

    Instead of trying to avoid it at all costs, expect it—even welcome it.

    You’ll learn to conquer your fears and increase your confidence.

    So next time you’re staring criticism in the face, take a deep breath, smile, and say to yourself, “Let’s do this.”

    Sad man image via Shutterstock

  • When You Want to Judge, Be Curious Instead

    When You Want to Judge, Be Curious Instead

    “Curiosity will conquer fear more than bravery ever will.” ~James Stephens

    Earlier this year I wrote a pretty honest and open article about how I was trying to be less judgmental.

    As with anything new, there’s a learning curve. Letting go of judgments hasn’t become a natural and automatic part of my life quite yet, but a skill I’ve recently learned that’s making a huge, huge difference can be summed up in one word: curiosity.

    Let me explain: I recently finished Brené Brown’s newest book Rising Strong. It’s all about getting up after a hard emotional fall, and what it takes to get through the difficult feelings that come with failure.

    One of the key concepts Brown illustrates is how important curiosity is in this process, and when I read that, something clicked: Curiosity is the key to letting go of judgment, as well!

    I became even more certain of this about a month ago. I had taken my daughter to story time at the library, where there were many other young children with their parents and caretakers. Partway through, my daughter started wandering away from the group, and I stood up to follow her.

    As we left the circle, I noticed one mom, a woman who had two children with her, was not engaged with her kids at all. In fact, she was sitting at a table turned away from the group, playing with her phone.

    I saw this as a perfect opportunity to test out my new theory that curiosity would help me let go of judgment. My old thought would have been “Ugh, look at her! She’s not even paying attention to her kids! What’s so important on her phone that she has to look at it right this second?”

    Thinking that way would have left me feeling annoyed, angry, and a little superior, but definitely not in a good way, so I’m glad I remembered that I wanted to try being curious instead.

    This time, I consciously shifted the direction of my thoughts, trying to be curious about her actions rather than making assumptions about them.

    Could she be waiting for a really important email from a family member or friend?

    Is she using her phone to search for a new job?

    Did she have an incredibly rough morning, and really just needs to zone out for a few minutes while her kids are in a safe environment?

    Is it any of my business if she’s looking at a gossip website or texting her friends rather than being highly engaged with her kids?

    When I did this, I felt so much better. I felt happy and light. I was so thankful that I’d remembered to be curious.

    There’s something so freeing about giving a person the benefit of the doubt and coming up with possible reasons for their behavior that go beyond the obvious. It feels so good to operate this way.

    If you’d like to try, here’s what I’ve discovered so far:

    Always skip over your first reaction and look for something deeper. If someone is tailgating you and you start to feel angry, skip the “That jerk!” response and try imagining what could be going on in their lives.

    Could they be running late for work? Thinking about something else and unaware that they’re so close? Notice how those curious thoughts allow you to simply switch lanes and let them pass, rather than fuming and yelling.

    Put yourself in the other person’s shoes. Maybe a salesperson was short with you, and you started mentally calling them names. Trying putting yourself in their place for a moment.

    Is it possible they’re on their second shift of the day because a coworker called in sick? Or they just found out their kid failed geometry for the third time?

    Your harsh judgments of them won’t help you be compassionate or get better service, so you may as well get curious about what’s going on, which will allow you to be kind and non-judgmental

    Ask questions instead of making automatic statements. Making judgments always involves black and white statements that put you in the right. Shifting to curiosity means shutting off that automatic response and asking thoughtful, insightful questions.

    Even family members and close friends deserve your curiosity and compassion. It’s easiest to practice this new skill on strangers, but once you get the hang of it, remember that being curious rather than judgmental of your friends and family will benefit you both.

    Instead of assuming your sister didn’t call you because she cares about her new boyfriend more than she cares about you, try being curious about what’s really going on. Maybe she’s got too many things on her plate right now and could use some help.

    The bottom line is that judgments are assumptions, not truths.

    They’re about you being right and the other person being wrong. They don’t feel good or serve you. Being curious is kinder and gentler, and creates an environment where it’s clear that we’re all different people, dealing with life as best we can.

    It’s really for you, when it comes down to it. Being judgmental doesn’t feel good, but being curious certainly does.

  • Love Challenge #218: You’re A Lot Like Me

    Love Challenge #218: You’re A Lot Like Me

    Love Challenge #218

    We’re all a lot more alike than we are different!

    (This challenge comes from the upcoming book Tiny Buddha’s 365 Tiny Love Challenges. Pre-order before October 6th and get $300+ in free bonus gifts!)

  • Help Instead of Judging; They May Be Blinded by Pain

    Help Instead of Judging; They May Be Blinded by Pain

    Compassion

    “We can judge others or we can love others, but we can’t do both at the same time.” ~Unknown

    When I was eighteen, my father took his own life. I was just a baby, really, a mere freshman working on my Bachelors Degree at UMF.

    There are times when I feel lost in the pain of missing him, stuck with this empty hole inside. Hovering in between confusion and anger, where the feelings consume me.

    Losing my father in such a traumatic way has shown me just how deeply I can feel, how hard I can fall, how grief can overcome my entire being at times, how forgiveness can heal—and also how I can help others so they don’t need to suffer as my father did.

    A military man who dealt with severe depression and PTSD, he desperately tried to find his place in this world. He tried to find comfort through his adopted family, he tried to find courage through joining the military, and he tried to find understanding by becoming a father.

    He was a quiet soul who was sociably awkward in a sweet, innocent way. He radiated beams of sadness from his eyes and tried desperately to express his love to his family without actually having to verbalize it.

    Monday, February 19, would become the date that measures time in my book. Time would be measured before this date and after this date.

    I awoke that morning, traveled south to a friend’s home, and fell asleep on her couch after arriving.

    Around 9:00pm, there was a knock on the door. There stood a Maine State Trooper and a priest. As I sat up on the couch, they walked into the living room. My heart pounded so hard I felt as if it were outside of my chest.

    As they sat down, I screamed, “What’s happened? Why are you looking at me like that?”

    The state trooper said, “I’m sorry to tell you this Jessica, but your father has died.”

    The priest quickly intervened, “He died quietly, in his sleep, with his cat next to him. He took his own life, dear, by overdosing on medication, but he’s at peace now…”

    Time stopped. My heart stopped. The pounding noise in my ears stopped. I cannot recall what they said next. I don’t remember what I even did next. I remember faintly hearing questions like, “Did you know he was ill?”, “Maybe this is a good thing considering the circumstances?”, and “Do you want to go see your mom now?”

    It was all a blur. We rushed back to my family home, I ran into my mother’s arms, and suddenly the funeral planning began. Life would never be the same.

    I remember feeling awkward and out of control. I worried about the stigma attached to the way he died, along with the potential judgment, the unknown pain, and the unknown future.

    What looks will I get upon returning to the University? How will people act around me? Am I a statistic? Am I a survivor? My mind raced. My feelings cycled through anger, resentment, betrayal, confusion, and hurt.

    How could he do this to me and our family? Didn’t he want to see me graduate college, get married, and have children? Why leave me with all these questions? This guilt? This pain? Why would he do such a thing, take the easy way out and refuse any help? He was such a great father, a strict Catholic, a military man…why would he do this?

    Then I realized that all of my pain and all of my questions were centered around me, not him. My inner victim was loud and self-pitying. And that’s part of the problem. People who are in such pain from deep depression or mental illness aren’t thinking rationally.

    My dad wasn’t thinking about my wedding in the future or the grandkids he would have or his next vacation; he was in pain. Period. Unbearable pain that he just couldn’t escape. He needed help. But people turned away because it can be uncomfortable to reach out, or perhaps because they thought it wasn’t their problem, or that he was just mean.

    We all have the power to recognize pain in others and offer compassion instead of judgment. In doing so, we can help those in need instead of forming mistaken conclusions about them and writing them off.

    Let go of the assumption that the man talking to himself on the street or the person in the straight jacket are the only ones “crazy” enough to take their own life—and that those people aren’t also worthy of compassion.

    Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. And everyone processes loss and hardship in different ways. How much you can handle will vastly differ than what someone else can handle.

    We’re all hurting in some way, perhaps damaged due to tragedy, and yet in spite of everything, many of us rise out of bed in the morning and put a smile on our face.

    Many people appear composed or happy to give the impression to the outside world that they have it all together, only to return home to feel sad and alone.

    When you encounter someone in distress or look into a stranger’s eyes and see sadness, offer kindness. Don’t wait for others to be kind to you, show them how to be kind. Don’t prejudge or assume something about anyone; allow them to tell their own story—and believe them.

    Listen, be present, and give others the space to be themselves.

    This is what I learned from my father’s loss—that you never know who’s completely blinded by the depth of their pain, and you never know how much you could help by offering kindness and compassion.

    Compassion image via Shutterstock

  • 10 Ways We Hide from the World & Why We Need to Be Seen

    10 Ways We Hide from the World & Why We Need to Be Seen

    Man with Bag on Head

    “Don’t hide yourself. Stand up, keep your head high, and show them what you got!” ~Joe Mari Fadrigalan

    Sometime in high school I started to disappear. If I think back to the source of my disappearance, it was probably in sixth grade, the year all of my girlfriends ostracized me from sleepovers, parties, and general friendliness.

    I was resilient, made some new friends, and forgave the old, but I kind of stopped trusting people. And when you don’t trust people, you can’t be yourself around them. So I decided to disappear.

    I remember becoming ghost-like. I remember it being a choice. A conscious choice.

    I decided to slouch in my desk and cover my eyes. I decided to silence my voice when an opinion was provoked. I decided to avoid eye contact. I decided to skip parties, stop making efforts with people who made no efforts with me, and hold my breath until graduation day.

    And this is what I learned: people let you disappear.

    I don’t think I expected to be saved, but no one crawled into my hole, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out.

    If you want to disappear, you will. You’ll meet someone five or six times and they will never seem to remember meeting you. You’ll walk down streets and people will bump right into you. You’ll be looked through and talked over.

    The world does not carve out a space for the voiceless. They do not roll out a red carpet and invite the invisible to parade through.

    This is the great lesson of life: you get what you ask for. If you want to disappear, you got it. If you want to be seen and heard, you can have that too.

    Disappearing is much easier, I have to say. It doesn’t take much energy to shut up and fade away. What’s much more challenging is acknowledging to yourself that you’re worthy of being here and facing the pain that’s required of being seen.

    Here are some of the ways we hide:

    1. We don’t give our opinion because it’s different from what other people are saying.

    2. We avoid eye contact or look away once initial eye contact is made.

    3. We speak very softly and timidly.

    4. We slouch and hunch over in an effort to shrink ourselves down.

    5. We wait for other people to initiate.

    6. In conversation we don’t offer up anything about our lives, our feelings, our interests, our thoughts.

    7. We decline invitations to parties, to dinners, to coffee, to anything new.

    8. We tell ourselves stories about people so we don’t have to like them and, inevitably, let them in.

    9. We don’t tell the truth to others.

    10. We don’t tell the truth to ourselves.

    I was waiting to live. Waiting to feel okay in my skin. Waiting to find people I could trust and open up. Waiting to live the life I wanted for myself.

    This was a dangerous lesson in my life. It taught me that it was okay to hide, that it was okay to shrink myself down to a barely audible whisper. Hiding became a habitual coping mechanism.

    When I moved to LA in my late twenties, I realized that no one knew me. I had some amazing people in my life who lived all over the country, but this was my new home—and no one knew me.

    Around this time I began to heal myself through mentorship and breathwork.

    I learned to value myself, to recognize my inherent worth, and I became more open. I took risks: I maintained eye contact with strangers, I smiled, I gave out information about myself without it being requested of me, I asked people out for coffee, I had presence, I was vibrating at a higher frequency.

    And guess what started to happen? People were seeing me. At cafes people looked me in the eye, and we made small talk, sometimes real talk. Neighbors learned my name. People remembered me.

    We all need to be seen. It’s part of what makes us human. When we don’t allow ourselves to be seen, we diminish our importance in this world. We undervalue ourselves. We hold ourselves back from greatness. We stifle our contributions. And it just plain doesn’t feel good.

    A life of joy is one in which we feel comfortable showing who we really are to the world. It means accepting the fact that we’re going to stumble over our words sometimes, be misunderstood sometimes, and even be disliked sometimes.

    But even in those moments we will still love ourselves first. We will allow the pain of others to be their pain and not our own. We will do our best to continue to give love to those who need it most, even when the remnants of their rejections sting.

    When we shrink ourselves down we diminish our light. We literally become invisible. People look right through us, walk around us, and forget our existence because we have allowed ourselves to disappear.

    There is light that vibrates through each of us. When we love ourselves we are illuminated, and we can’t help but be seen. People flock to light. 

    Hiding in a dark shell of a body is not a life. It’s a holding room. It’s the place where you’re choosing to find safe harbor until the storm passes. But the more you hide, the more difficult it is to come out. Everything feels like a violent storm.

    We avoid our own lives and, in doing so, relinquish our right to living a truly happy one.

    There are some really uncomfortable things we have to encounter in this life. We are all wounded. The only way to get to the other side of any pain is to walk through it.

    Sometimes you have to walk really slowly, and sometimes you have to sit in the pain and feel it deeply.

    Sometimes you have to let yourself be humiliated, heartbroken, and defeated in order to walk through the other side resilient, lighter, and wiser.

    The only way to shed the burden of our pain is to face into it and feel the love buried deep beneath. And we need you to walk through the fire. Because the truth is that we need to see you as much as you need to be seen.

    If you’re hiding right now, please come out. We’re all here, waiting to meet you.

    Man with bag on head image via Shutterstock

  • You Were (and Are) More Beautiful Than You Think

    You Were (and Are) More Beautiful Than You Think

    Melissa Jeffcott

    “Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.” ~Kahlil Gibran

    Does a loved one have a favorite photo of you? A photo by their bedside or on their screensaver that reminds them of a special time and place and memory?

    Can I also hazard a guess that this isn’t your favorite photo of yourself? I bet you look at yourself critically and dislike how your face looks, or maybe your body is not cast in its most flattering light. I was reminded of this recently, and it made me think of how I view photos of myself in a whole new way.

    My husband and I met in beautiful Byron Bay a long, long time ago. Since we lived in different cities, and we were both young, wild (in the hair department, at least), and free, we would often meet up and spend our holidays there.

    This was always a wonderful time, as my love and I reconnected and spent many happy days hiking, surfing, swimming, and discovering the things we enjoyed about each other.

    I look back on these days at Byron as some of the most fun and carefree of my life. In my mind there are few better feelings than being young and in love, walking down a beautiful beach at sunset with nowhere to be and nothing to do.

    Wow, I was good at practicing mindfulness without even knowing what it was!

    Now, this was an era well before the age of selfies and sticks that take photos of both sides of your body. In fact, we didn’t even have digital cameras back then. (Someone pass me a stick of the walking variety—I’m so ancient!)

    Therefore, there are only a few photos in existence from this time, and those I do have are all stuck in photo albums sitting at the top of my cupboard gathering dust.

    However, there is one photo of me from that time that my husband has always loved. I am sitting on the beach against the rocks, and I’m not more than twenty-two. I am in my favorite purple Mambo swimsuit, with hubby’s trusty old Malibu surfboard right next to me.

    I am sure if I asked him, he’d say that this photo invokes memories of some of the happiest days of his life. What’s better than being at one of your favorite spots in the whole world, enjoying the freedom of surfing the waves with your beloved, then happily sitting on the beach under the glorious Australian sun?

    It will come as no surprise to you that I have never really liked this photo (hello, inner mean girl). I’ve always felt like I had a silly look on my face and my hair (which is crazy enough, at the best of times) was looking particularly wild and windswept.

    However, there is no doubt that it invokes great memories, and over the ensuing twenty or more years, my hubby every now and then looks at me with love in his eyes and says, “Hey, my beautiful Mambo girl. ”

    You probably just read that and thought, “Aw, how sweet.” But me, the object of such affection and love, would typically roll my eyes and sarcastically say something along the lines of “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” while feeling nothing like that young, carefree girl relaxing on the beach.

    You see, I felt that somewhere along the way of getting older and becoming a mother, with the many responsibilities that entails, I had somehow lost the essence of that young girl sitting there, full of love and hope for the future.

    However, I can honestly say that as a woman who is now on the other side of forty, with a newly renewed sense of self-belief and self-love (and who still has crazy hair but maybe not those long slender legs) I can look at myself a bit differently. This is what I would say to that young girl:

    Hey, you beautiful Mambo girl. In this photo you are young and carefree and in love, and guess what? That nature-loving, long-haired surfie boy taking this photo will go on to be your husband and the amazing father of your three wonderful children, and you won’t believe what else. He still sees you exactly the same way all these years later. Can you believe it?

    I can believe it now.

    The next time you look at a photo that someone else loves of you, I encourage you to remove your self-judgment and look at it with eyes of love and acceptance. You might be amazed by what you see.

  • Love Is the Absence of Judgment

    Love Is the Absence of Judgment

    Love is the Absence of Judgment

  • 6 Ways to Deal with Critical, Judgmental People

    6 Ways to Deal with Critical, Judgmental People

    Finger Art Couple Fighting

    “When we judge or criticize another person, it says nothing about that person; it merely says something about our own need to be critical.” ~Unknown

    We all have people in our lives who unintentionally hurt us. Their words may sound harsh. We may feel judged. And they may question our choices so much that we feel emotionally unsafe around them.

    People can make comments about our career choice, living situation, life partner (or lack of), child-rearing decisions, and hobbies—and often when we didn’t ask for their opinion or advice.

    Oftentimes, the healthiest choice is to stay away from these people. But sometimes we have to pay a hefty price for this choice, and it’s worth exploring other options.

    For example, if some of these people happen to be relatives, or someone is your childhood best friend’s spouse or your daughter’s best friend’s mom, staying away may bring other challenges.

    And even when we can avoid them completely, it can be valuable to have such people in our lives, as they empower us to learn and grow.

    Note: I said we could invite them to be a part of our lives, not consume our lives! There is a big difference between the two.

    A few years back, a friend’s words began to hurt me and brought tears to my eyes, lots of tears.

    I knew her intentions were good, yet her comments on my choice of work, living situation, and vacations, and her constant unsolicited advice, left me feeling sad and angry.

    I opened up my heart and ultimately felt judged and vulnerable.

    I could have just let the friendship die, but that wasn’t an authentic manifestation of my values.

    A part of me wanted to tell her exactly how I felt, but I didn’t have the courage to face the consequences if she didn’t understand where I was coming from, and that I really wanted to save the relationship.

    I was sharing this with my mom, and in my pain I asked her why someone who cared about me would say the things my friend had said.

    She said something that stuck. “What if you look at your relationship with her as an opportunity to grow? What if you focused on what you could do and change instead of complaining about her? What if she were a friend not to hold, nurture, and support you, but to help you get a tiny bit closer to your own truth along with some pain and discomfort?”

    This was simple, yet deep and profound.

    Over the last few years I have become a little more skilled and have more peace and joy around this relationship.

    Here’s my list of the wonderful gems that have emerged, and my enhanced toolkit on dealing with difficult relationships.

    1. Acknowledge the pain.

    I have learned to acknowledge the discomfort with harsh words. This doesn’t mean wallowing in the pain or crying endlessly, but simply practicing awareness and noticing my own sensations and feelings as they arise, without getting overly attached to them or pushing them aside.

    I have learned that resistance creates more suffering, and accepting our own discomfort is the first step to lasting peace.

    2. Embrace your own fears and insecurities.

    Difficult interactions give us an opportunity to embrace our own fears and insecurities. When we feel hurt about something, it’s often because it triggers some unresolved emotion within ourselves.

    Recognizing this, we can practice compassionate self-inquiry, without anger or judgment toward ourselves.

    I have noticed that comments around my choice of work are most difficult to hear, and as I have peeled the layers I have learned that is where my inner critic is the loudest.

    What a lovely opportunity for me to come a tiny bit closer to my own truths, practice self- kindness, and work on myself instead of trying to change others.

    3. Cultivate curiosity.

    I have learned to have an open and curious mind toward critical behavior. I don’t need to judge or label, but I can still bring a deep sense of curiosity around why people may be behaving or saying such things.

    With this sense of curiosity, we’re better able to practice compassion for other people’s pain and suffering.

    Oftentimes when people say hurtful things, it’s because they are hurting and have unmet needs, and not because of who we are or what we have done.

    4. Demonstrate vulnerability with intelligence.

    I often felt upset because I opened my heart and revealed my imperfections and didn’t feel held or heard. I slowly learned that if someone might not accept my truth, it would be wise for me to exercise judgment around how much I share.

    As Brené Brown says, “Our stories are not meant for everyone. Hearing them is a privilege, and we should always ask ourselves this before we share, ‘Who has earned the right to hear my story?’”

    This didn’t mean that I was better or wiser than other people, but that at this point in our lives, my story doesn’t serve a purpose in our conversations.

    5. Create boundaries.

    Despite all the benefits that such interactions may bring, boundaries are essential.

    A boundary meant saying no to that Saturday dinner invitation (with kindness and gratitude), or agreeing to meet for coffee on a weeknight instead of planning a long, leisurely Sunday brunch. It also meant exercising judgment around the topics that I’d discuss and the opinions that I’d offer.

    If a relationship is causing you pain but you feel it’s worth keeping, ask yourself: What boundaries can I set to better take care of myself and my needs?

    6. Refuel and recharge.

    Practicing this piece can sometimes feel indulgent, or I can confuse this with “being weak,” but at its core, it is an act of strength.

    I have learned to take time and create space (even if it’s just five minutes) to do something to recharge and refuel after such interactions—take a walk or practice meditation, for example—in order to ground myself and bring myself back to my sense of calm and worthiness.

    —

    When people are critical and judgmental, it’s often more about them than us. Still, this gives us an opportunity to learn about ourselves, take good care of ourselves, and practice responding wisely.

    Which of these most resonated with you? What’s in your toolkit that could be added to this list?

    Finger art of couple fighting image via Shutterstock

  • Letting Go of Difficult Emotions eBook (Name Your Own Price!)

    Letting Go of Difficult Emotions eBook (Name Your Own Price!)

    Letting Go of Difficult Emotions

    “If you let go a little, you will have a little peace. If you let go a lot, you will have a lot of peace.” ~Ajahn Chah

    Growing up, I often felt emotionally overwhelmed, causing others to call me “too sensitive.”

    It was very clear to me from a young age that emotion was a sign of weakness, but try as I may, I couldn’t escape mine.

    I believed there was something wrong with me for feeling so deeply—that I was fundamentally bad because of it—then I felt bad about my inability to change.

    As the years went on and life got harder and more complex, I struggled with severe anxiety and depression. I wasn’t equipped with the tools to manage the natural emotions I felt after others mistreated me, so instead, I learned to numb them.

    I numbed them with food, alcohol, and men, to name a few crutches, but my efforts often backfired.

    With so much pain repressed under layers of fear and shame, I often exploded in hysterics after one drink too many, unleashing on some defenseless friend or boyfriend a dramatic story of anguish and an eruption of despair.

    Coupled with the aftermath of bullying, this tendency to lose control of my emotions led me to fear social situations.

    Even if I didn’t drink—which I often did, to ease my anxiety—I couldn’t be certain something wouldn’t trigger painful feelings and I wouldn’t embarrass myself with my response.

    What if I obsessed and looked neurotic? What if I attacked and looked combative? What if I cried and looked unstable?

    Judgment seemed inevitable—from others and myself—but even worse I’d have to hear three seemingly patronizing words: let it go.

    As if it were that easy. As if I could just roll all my feelings into a neat little snowball and toss it out into the distance.

    I felt this was incredibly insensitive—that someone who clearly didn’t understand the depth of my pain would suggest that moving beyond it was as simple as “letting it go.”

    As if “letting it go” was an easy, one-time decision, like pulling off a Band-Aid.

    “Let it go” seemed like advice from the disinterested and lazy. At least, that’s what I thought back then.

    After spending years of my life trapped in a maze of disempowering stories, I’ve realized dwelling, complaining, and analyzing my life does very little to help my emotional state.

    I now know I don’t need to be a prisoner inside my own mind.

    I can’t help that I’m emotionally sensitive—and having leveraged my sensitivity to create this site, I now know I wouldn’t want to change that—but I can choose not to keep myself miserable and stuck.

    It turns out “let it go” is pretty helpful advice. But it’s such an abstract concept. What I wished someone told me back then was how.

    How do you let go of anger when your first thought in the morning, the last one at night, and the majority of the ones in between revolve around how you were hurt?

    How do you let go of resentment when it feels like you’ll never be able to change the things that you resent?

    How do you let go of frustration when you feel stuck, stagnant, and completely powerless to change it?

    How do you let go of worries when even the thought of letting them go fills you with worry?

    And how do you let go of your disappointment with yourself when you try your best to “just let it go” and continually struggle to do it?

    I’ve devoted much of the last decade to studying the art of letting go—a skill that’s helpful to all of us, not just those of us who are highly sensitive people.

    In this time, I’ve learned a few things that help with all disempowering emotions and a few things to address some of the specific ones that are the most difficult to release.

    In my new 54-page eBook, Letting Go of Difficult Emotions, I’ve tackled them one by one, addressing how to let go of:

    • Anger
    • Resentment
    • Frustration
    • Anxiety
    • Self-Judgment

    Each section offers a few simple things you can do to release the feelings, come back to the present moment, and find a sense of peace.

    And best of all, I’ve decided to release this eBook with a “name your price” model. The suggested payment is $10; however, you can pay as little as $1 or give more than that, if you’ve gotten a lot from Tiny Buddha and would like to give more back.

    [gravityform id=”10″ title=”false” description=”false”]

    I hope you find this eBook helpful, and I welcome any feedback at email(AT)tinybuddha.com.

  • Pearls of Puppy Wisdom: 7 Lessons from a Furry Little Sage

    Pearls of Puppy Wisdom: 7 Lessons from a Furry Little Sage

    Cavalier King Charles Puppy in the grass

    “Buy a pup and your money will buy love unflinching.” ~Rudyard Kipling

    I didn’t even want a puppy really. Puppies are synonymous with poop and pee. Everywhere. At least until they’re trained, and that takes time.

    Of course, they’re also synonymous with love and affection, puppy breath, and lots and lots of wet kisses. (I’ve learned to keep a towel handy around my little Bella.)

    Certain things I sort of expected when we got our little girl.

    I expected to lose some sleep for a bit.

    I was prepared to sacrifice the cleanliness of our home for a while. (Puppies and puppy toys are about as bad as actual baby messes, and sometimes worse.)

    I even expected to lose an object or two to the jaws of this teething little being—though my beloved $300 Bose noise-canceling ear-buds came as a very unwelcome surprise.

    That was the first lesson our puppy taught me. That hanging on to, dare I say being attached to, material objects is a sure-fire way to set yourself up for suffering.

    I mean, after all, they’re just headphones; they can be replaced.

    When it was all said and done, I was just thankful that she hadn’t chewed through an electrical cord somewhere and shocked herself to death.

    My second lesson under the tutelage of our King Charles Cavalier is one she delivers daily: Don’t forget to stretch.

    Not just after you’ve been sleeping all night, but every time you get up. Extend those limbs to their max and even let out a big yawn to open up your jaw muscles.

    This is a super important lesson for a guy like me that spends so much time hunched over his laptop.

    Speaking of which, it’s exactly when I’m hunched over my laptop that she offers up the third lesson: There’s always time for kisses.

    Now, I know there are many breeds of dogs and each has their own distinct characteristics. Well, the Cavalier is known for an enormous amount of affection; and Bella has it in spades.

    Hardly an hour of work goes by that she doesn’t jump up onto my lap and shower me with puppy kisses. And I’m not talking the quick little peck you might expect from other animals. No siree! She places her forelegs on either side of my neck and covers my face with hers.

    She’s a great reminder for me to give this same kind of love and attention to my family. You can never get (or give) too many kisses.

    The fourth lesson is one I’m still working on mastering, and that’s unconditional love.

    I would joke with my wife that only Bella loves me unconditionally, because if I locked them both in the trunk of the car for an hour, only Bella would be excited to see me and shower me with affection upon my return.

    My wife later experienced the truth of this when she had to leave our puppy in the car for a bit (not in any way endangered, mind you), and was greeted with great exuberance upon her return.

    Which leads me to the fifth lesson: dogs know how to let go. Well, maybe not of a bone, but of grudges, attachments, and feelings.

    Within two minutes of me scolding Bella for eating my ear-buds, she was right back on my lap and begging for playtime and attention.

    She somehow understood that my “No” said in anger was only a temporary thing. She didn’t add any story to it. She didn’t turn it into the idea that from now on I hated her.

    This lesson really got me looking at the places in my life where I could consider letting go. Where was I hanging on to a moment in time and carrying it with me into the future?

    Another great thing I’m learning from our puppy—don’t judge. That’s the sixth lesson.

    As I mentioned early on, I tend to work a lot over my computer, and she tends to try and distract me. In combination, it really does lower my productivity.

    So, sometimes I take Bella and place her in her kennel near me. She may whimper and whine occasionally, much preferring to be roaming loose, but I’ve noticed that she doesn’t judge.

    I mean, okay, maybe it’s a stretch to think that I can read her thoughts or feelings, but, to a large degree, I think I can. And I know that she isn’t sitting there thinking, Hmmmph! He’s just too damn lazy to play with me right now.

    And you know what? It feels good to not be judged. And when I tried it on the other way, it felt even better to not be judging others.

    I think our puppy’s onto something.

    And finally, the seventh lesson showed up over several days. That is, I didn’t see the lesson right away; I was just seeing, well, from human eyes.

    This lesson frequently takes place in my kitchen. On many occasions, I will make (and eat) my lunch standing at the kitchen counter. Please apply the sixth lesson here, and try not to judge me.

    As I’m prepping and eating my food, Bella sits patiently behind me, I suppose hoping for me to drop something. She’s so good about being quiet and not begging (and she’s just so damn cute) that I feel compelled to treat her.

    As I mentioned, I didn’t notice this last lesson for a few days, and then it came upon me like a ton of bricks. Bella never complained. Not one bit.

    Now, I know that may seem trivial, but hear me out.

    She would watch me take a big bite of my sandwich. Then another. And then a third, before I would lightly toss her a small piece of bread (about half the size of a kernel of corn).

    Then I went back to eating before I would treat her again in a bit.

    And then I noticed something big. I was placing very human thoughts into my perceived dialogue for her. That is, I imagined her thinking things like, Why is he getting to take big bites and I’m only getting crumbs? Or, Why won’t he just give me that whole damn sandwich?

    These thoughts I was giving her quickly devolved into things like, Wow, my master is a greedy jerk and What a selfish pig this guy is.

    It took a little bit before I let go of giving her any thoughts at all and actually tuned into what was likely more real.

    She was completely happy with what she got. Her thoughts were more likely in the line of “wonder” questions: I wonder if I’m going to get any food, followed by Oh, hey, I did. Brief pause. I wonder if I’m going to get any food.

    And maybe an occasional I wonder what that food tastes like.

    This lesson was my favorite because it’s all about being present. And not just being present, but also letting go of the need to make things up about the present. The need to give meaning to what we see in the world.

    My little puppy Bella, my great sage, is teaching me all the time. She’s a great example of being, here, now.

    Now if I can just teach her to poop outside.

    Cavalier King Charles puppy image via Shutterstock

  • Remember This Before Judging Someone Who Annoys You

    Remember This Before Judging Someone Who Annoys You

    Judgment

    “We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their behavior.” ~Stephen Covey

    It happened again! A different place, a different person. But again, I was outraged! How could I let it go this time?

    I was driving home from work, excited about the weekend. As I looked in the rear-view mirror, a bulky four-wheel drive gradually came closer. Next minute, it was right behind me. Another tailgater!

    I sped up to shake it off. It stayed with me. I tapped the brake to tell the driver to back off. He came closer!

    I was beginning to fume. As I was considering my next move, the car turned off. It was gone. I was left angry, fuming, and worked up.

    This happened quite often. But would I ever learn to let it go?

    Have you learned to let it go?

    Many of us are doing our best to learn to be a better person—be kinder, more accepting, and more mindful, for instance. But when it comes to being less judgmental, it seems that we have a knee-jerk reaction that takes place on its own accord.

    It’s true that a certain part of it is due to conditioning and triggers. But if we begin to understand exactly why we judge, we can make space for acceptance and peace with others.

    When we are annoyed or upset with someone, it can be explained by the fundamental attribution error. Attribution is when we try to understand the causes of behavior. The problem is that we make errors when we try to make sense of people’s behavior.

    Simply put, when we see someone doing something wrong, we think it relates to their personality instead of the situation that the person is in.

    “What a jerk!”

    “How rude!”

    “That is so inconsiderate!”

    So how can we let it go? If we acknowledge our attribution errors that are judging personality alone, we can contemplate the situation. In my driving incident, perhaps this driver never tailgates. Maybe he had just been sacked at work, or had an emergency at home.

    Wouldn’t you be more understanding then? I should have been, but I never put this idea into practice in my life.

    But one day, I was driving to work when up ahead I saw a car slowing down for no apparent reason.

    “Okay, what’s going on here?”

    I was ready to place my attributions: “What a turkey…. How selfish… You are just a… a….”   … I stopped. It was an L plater. A learner. Oops.

    I swallowed my outrage. I shut my mouth. I stayed calm and understanding.

    And then it hit me. Aren’t we all L platers—in life?

    I knew that the person in front of me was an L plater learning to drive. The only difference with everybody else in the world is that we don’t know what they are learning.

    What was the tailgater learning about when he was on my tail? What were the teenagers learning about when they egged my car on Halloween? What was I learning about when I reacted?

    We all have struggles. We all have a past. We all have a reason for who we are today. It just can’t be seen like an L plate can.

    When people hurt you or do wrong, they are simply making mistakes and learning in their own way to get through life—the best way they have learned to do so with the life they have been given.

    As I drove away from the L plate driver, I decided to respond to people differently. Whenever I felt like judging, I would imagine they were wearing a shirt with a big L printed on it.

    Learner. Learning life. Making mistakes. Taking wrong turns. Getting lost. Moving forward. Getting stuck in jams. Even writing the darn thing off at times!

    It seemed that I had figured it out. I finally began to understand things a little bit better.

    I encourage you to give it a try in your own life and see how it helps overcome the need to judge others. You too will begin to realize that L platers are everywhere.

    As I drive home from work a few weeks later, I reflected on the fundamental attribution error.

    But then…

    It happened again!

    A different place, a different person.

    And this time…

    I let it go.

    Woman with scales image via Shutterstock

  • When People Judge: Why It’s Not Really About You

    When People Judge: Why It’s Not Really About You

    “Doubt yourself and you doubt everything you see. Judge yourself and you see judges everywhere. But if you listen to the sound of your own voice, you can rise above doubt and judgment. And you can see forever.” ~Nancy Lopez

    You and I, we judge others. And they judge us. We all do it. Sometimes we judge with positive or non-harming intentions.

    Unfortunately, our judgment often comes from a negative place, with darker intent.

    Why Do We Judge?

    Though we judge for many reasons, we often do it when:

    • We don’t know a person well (yet)
    • We cannot identify with a person’s belief system, values, or behavior
    • That person somehow threatens how we perceive ourselves

    I believe we judge for the first reason because our minds want to simplify the processing of information by putting environmental clues into categories. This just makes things so much easier, doesn’t it?

    For me personally, when I judge for the second and third reasons, I have especially negative emotions and thoughts toward others.

    I try hard not to judge, and have been doing so less and less, but I still have a ways to go. 

    How I’ve Judged Others

    I used to judge people, especially men, when I learned that they had been unfaithful to their girlfriends.

    As soon as I learned about the situation, I would feel resistance and anger building up inside me. I would immediately begin insulting them in my head, and sometimes would actually verbalize it if there was someone to discuss it with.

    Today, I rarely react like this. I know not to judge someone based on their actions because everyone makes mistakes, and some people prefer to behave in a way not everyone else can relate to.

    I still don’t find it appropriate or fair to cheat on someone, but I stopped letting that define the worth I assign to that person.

    I know now where that strong negative response comes from. Someone once cheated on me, and it caused me a lot of pain. As a result, I have developed a pretty rigid mindset around that topic.

    In the past, I also judged women when I felt threatened by them, especially those who I perceived to be extremely attractive.

    I compared my body to other women’s bodies because I feared I didn’t look as hot as they did, which was clearly a matter of low self-esteem. The conversation in my mind went something like this:

    “Oh, look at that girl in that red dress—her tight body and her perfect curves. And look how she moves. I’m sure she must get a lot of attention and admiration from the guys around here. She has to be really arrogant.”

    This inner chatter made it pretty apparent what was going on inside me in those moments. First, I began comparing myself to someone who I perceived to be better than me physically, then I decided I couldn’t measure up. This, of course, made me feel threatened.

    So I judged her by using a big generalization to put her down so I could feel better about myself.

    What Can We Do About It?

    I’ve noticed that my increased level of self-love has helped me judge a lot less. (You can find some helpful tips to increase your own self-love here.)

    Also, I’m more aware of it now when I judge because I feel threatened, and with awareness, I am able to step back and ask myself whether my initial judgment is true.

    I almost always have to own up to the fact that no, just because someone is attractive, that doesn’t have to mean she’s arrogant.

    I’m not saying that we all have to learn to stop judging others. Maybe it isn’t even possible to do so because of the way we’re wired as human beings.

    But what we can learn is that our judgments mostly have to do with us, not the people we judge, and the same is true when others judge us.

    In most cases, we judge others in order to feel better about ourselves, because we are lacking self-acceptance and self-love.

    If we could learn to embrace ourselves as we truly are, would we still be so judgmental toward others? Most likely not. We would no longer need a reason to put someone else down just to raise ourselves up.

    This is only one of the many reasons why self-love is so important and powerful. If we could all learn to love ourselves, we would make our world a much more compassionate and much less judgmental place.

  • Create a Kinder World: What to Do Instead of Judging

    Create a Kinder World: What to Do Instead of Judging

    Arms wide open

    “When you judge another, you do not define them. You define yourself.” ~Wayne Dyer

    I’ve always been judgmental. I will judge someone else’s buying habits, looks, grammar, or political beliefs and get some perverse pleasure in it. It’s very painful for me to admit that.

    You see, I strive to be kind and compassionate toward myself and toward others. That’s why I have turned much of my personal development focus this year to letting go of judgments.

    When I first started seeing a therapist, in college, we spent quite a bit of time talking about a particular family member of mine. After describing this person, my therapist said that it sounded like they may have had a superiority complex, and that all superiority complexes are built on top of inferiority complexes.

    Now I look at myself and wonder: Is that what’s going on with me? Do I judge others negatively because I need to feel better about myself? Am I so insecure in my own place in this world that I have to build my own self-esteem on top of other people’s perceived shortcomings?

    I don’t want to be that person.

    It’s weird, because I’ve always felt I was put on the earth to help people. And I don’t feel judgment toward those that I help. I love them. So why is it so easy for me to judge strangers and friends of friends?

    I know I have a long way to go, and I know I have to work on both letting go of my judgments toward others as well as toward myself.

    This past week I tried something, and it made my heart feel light and my face feel happy: I made observations instead of judgments.

    Let me give you an example.

    I was out and about and I saw a woman with a baby. I also have a baby, for the record.

    At first I noticed that I was making judgments about her based on her appearance and the way she spoke. It made me feel sad and, well, icky, inside.

    But I stopped. I realized this was a perfect time to try doing something different.

    So I took a mental step back and looked at her for the absolutely perfect human she was (and is).

    I observed the way she looked with no attachment to it as right or wrong, good or bad.

    I observed the way she spoke with no disdain or criticisms.

    And I felt love. I felt peace. I felt wonderful.

    This is how I want to live. This is how I want to feel.

    You see, I know rationally that we are all these wonderful, gorgeous creatures of the universe. Sitting here at my desk typing, I am 100% sure of this. Yet, somehow, out in the world, I lose sight of this. I forget.

    And it hurts me. Judging others makes my life worse, not better.

    I am completely committed to shifting all of my thoughts away from judgment and toward kind, gentle, unattached observation. I know it’s going to take practice, but almost everything worth doing takes time and energy.

    If you’d like to make the same shifts in your own life, I have a few suggestions based on my short time entering the No Judgment Zone.

    First, you’ll have to admit that you judge others. It may be painful, as it was for me. It’s okay; acknowledging this is the only way to recover from it.

    Next, decide that you want to actively give up judging others. You may do it more often than you’re even aware, and without a conscious effort, it will be difficult to avoid.

    Now, start paying attention to how judging others feels in your body. If you’re like me, you’ll feel the corners of your mouth pulling down in sadness, and may feel a pit in your stomach. It’s good to know how your body feels so that you can start to identify when you’re judging others without even noticing.

    It’s time now to practice the act of observing instead of judging. The next time you notice yourself judging someone else, do what I did: Stop, take a step back, and describe the situation with no inflection of tone that casts a negative light.

    Instead of “Wow, now that’s an interesting outfit,” try “that woman is wearing leopard print pants with pink sparkly boots and a bedazzled tank top.”

    Take the judgment out of it. Observe it. Find the beauty in the other person or situation.

    Now you just have to practice. Over, and over, and over again. I am still very much in the early stages of becoming aware and observing instead of judging; this is not an overnight change!

    To really make a permanent shift, stay away from places where others are judgmental for fun—websites that attack others for their beliefs or way of living, TV shows that humiliate, and friends on social media that love to make loud proclamations about others are some good places to start.

    Now is a good time to mention that there will certainly be occasions when it is not judgment that I am experiencing, but discernment.

    If I see someone being verbally abused by their partner, or someone harming an animal, or someone stealing, it is not the time to step back and just observe and try to find love and beauty. On those occasions, I hope that my good sense allows me to help in any way possible.

    Above all, it’s about creating peace, both in my own mind, and for others as well.

    I am sorry if I have ever judged you. I am sorry if someone judging you has ever hurt you. Together, let’s create a world where we are kind and compassionate to everyone we encounter.

    Friends pointing and laughing image via Shutterstock

  • 4 Strategies for Practicing Compassion When You Feel Wronged

    4 Strategies for Practicing Compassion When You Feel Wronged

    Woman with Heart

    “Judgments prevent us from seeing the good that lies beyond appearances.” ~Wayne Dyer

    When I first took up meditation, sitting with my thoughts didn’t come naturally. At the time, I was going through a divorce and was often anxious and stressed out. It took months, but I kept trying, and after a while I looked forward to my daily sit.

    In my meditation group, I learned a classic method for generating compassion and equanimity. I tried holding images in my mind of a friend, an enemy, and a stranger.

    The idea was to view each one without judgment or preference, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to generate compassion for my enemy—especially when the face I envisioned was my ex-husband’s.

    At last, my divorce was final. Another year passed and I met a great guy. We dated for more than a year before he moved in. Our relationship was going so well that we decided to take a big step together: We adopted a stray kitten.

    The kitten was adorable and cuddly and rambunctious. We loved her immediately and she made herself right at home.

    A week or so after the kitten’s arrival, I sat down to meditate in my sunny meditation room. It was one of those days where everything felt right with the world. I lit my candles and incense, positioned myself comfortably, and set the timer.

    Focusing on the candle’s flame, I breathed in … and out … in and out—but something was terribly wrong. Every breath brought me closer to a distinct reality: I was sitting in cat pee!

    I hopped up and stripped the slipcovers off the pillows. Lugging the fouled material to the laundry closet, I angrily muttered, “If we had not taken in this stray, I’d be tranquil right now! That cat has ruined my entire day!”

    Then I my thoughts turned to blame. “My boyfriend was the one who wanted to adopt this cat! I should have said no, but I wanted to please him. I should have known better!”

    And finally, I took out my frustration on the feline offender: “Some cats just can’t be house trained! If that kitten does this again, she’s going back to the pound!”

    I seethed on and on, piling up blame and resentments, turning my anger and dissatisfaction over and over in my head.

    If ever there was a good time to practice compassion and forgiveness, this was it. But rather than sitting in meditation, I spent the next hour dowsing the slipcovers and cushions with diluted bleach.

    In the days that followed, when I sat down to meditate, I contemplated the kitten’s offense. Then a thought occurred to me that made me laugh. My resentment melted as I realized how ridiculous I was to blame a cat … for being a cat!

    The kitten was not a “bad” cat at all. The kitten didn’t pee on my cushion out of spite or because she hated me. She peed on the cushion because she was marking her territory, which is what cats do. It’s her nature.

    The kitten was, in fact, being a very “good” cat. The kitten wasn’t the problem. The problem was my expectation of the kitten to behave in a manner that was not natural to her.

    Of course, accepting my cat is a cat is one thing. It’s a little more difficult when I try to let go of my expectation of human beings, particularly the one I was previously married to. And yet, how often did I expect people in my life to respond in ways that were not natural to them?

    Turns out my kitten taught me more about generating compassion than the guru at my local meditation center. Here’s what I’ve learned from my most enlightening “sit.”

     1. It’s called human nature for a reason.

    If I can accept that my kitten is just enacting her cat nature, then why can’t I see that my ex-husband (or anyone for that matter) is just following his or her human nature?

    Alexander Pope was right when he said, “To err is human.” Since human nature is distinguished by ego, delusions, fears, and a little thing called mortality, most of us are perfectly imperfect human beings.

    Too often, I judge myself and others through a warped lens of perfectionism. My ex was (and is) just doing his best to avoid suffering and find happiness—just like me. And like me, he responds out of his limited perspective, experience, and fear. My problem with him is not that he’s who he is; my problem is that he’s not who I want him to be.

    2. It’s (not) all about me.

    No matter how long I sit on the meditation cushion and try to “generate compassion” for someone, I will never get far if I am still judging that person by my own limited viewpoint. Taking things personally creates a barrier between me and other people, or between my idea of an outcome and reality.

    I limit my own perspective when I say, “You have done this to me because you are trying to harm me.” If I can take a step back, I may realize that I don’t know everything about the situation. Only then may I be able to discern that there could be a motive beyond one that’s directly related to me.

    3. I’m not okay, you’re not okay.

    When I’m angry and upset about an outcome, I often forget that the person who I feel “let me down” is probably also upset and disappointed. Although I may initially personalize a situation, I can use my feelings to identify with someone else’s perspective.

    For example, when my son brings home a less than stellar grade that’s upsetting to me, I can be fairly certain that he’s bummed about the grade, too. Realizing that he is equally—if not more—disappointed than I am can temper my reaction and might even inspire a more compassionate response.

     4. Consider the parts, not the sum.

    No situation or being arrives full-blown without dependence upon mitigating circumstances. (This is also called dependent origination or dependent co-arising.) For example, the traffic jam did not occur because the Universe is conspiring to make me late for work.

    The more I can accept that I am a part of a bigger experience, the more I can let go of the importance I place on myself or any given event. Then, I can let go of blaming and see that we are all in this traffic jam (called life) together.

    As it turned out, my most dissatisfying meditation session taught me far more about compassion than sitting for hours in tranquility ever could.

    Simply contemplating that everyone wants happiness doesn’t get me very far when I’m stuck in traffic or disputing a finance charge on my credit card with a less-than helpful customer service representative.

    No matter how long I sit on the meditation cushion and try to “generate compassion” for someone, I will never get far if I am still judging that person by my own limited viewpoint.

    Woman with heart image via Shutterstock

  • Radically Accept What Is Instead of Labeling it “Good” or “Bad”

    Radically Accept What Is Instead of Labeling it “Good” or “Bad”

    Peaceful Woman

    “The boundary to what we can accept is the boundary to our freedom.” ~Tara Brach

    I was in the heart of my Ph.D. program when I received the diagnoses: OCD, depression, and binge eating disorder.

    It explained a lot, of course. All those years of anxiety, self-doubt, and intrusive thoughts were not normal after all. Eating to the point of gaining forty pounds in a few months was foreign to most people.

    I wanted an explanation. Why me?

    I had done everything right: I made a decent living, I was kind to everyone, and I was presenting my scientific research at international conferences. Why was I being punished?

    I turned to my past and looked for an explanation—something I could pin the blame on. Was it my parents? Had years of moving from place to place as a military child scarred me?

    What about my peers? Those uncomfortable years of being teased and bullied for my grades and general good-girl behavior must have led to this.

    Perhaps I was to blame? Had I overachieved my way to a mental health breakdown? Had I failed myself?

    Those first few months of therapy were the most difficult. I was forced to face all these questions and more, digging into my past and present with both fervor and hesitation. What if I didn’t like the person I found underneath all these layers of expectations?

    As I stripped away the beliefs I held about myself, I watched as my worst fears came to life. It appeared that I was to blame after all. I had allowed myself to take on everyone else’s feelings about me and make them my own.

    My self-identity was a conglomeration of things I had been told over the years. I was smart, I was capable, I was good, I was bossy, I was sweet, I was stubborn, and I was so many other adjectives.

    There was nothing inherently wrong with these descriptors, particularly the positive traits, but I didn’t necessarily relate to all of them.

    My family saw me as “a sweet girl,” when I felt more tart than saccharine.

    People told me I was book smart, when I knew that I was a good mix of both academic intelligence and common sense.

    Some who were uncomfortable with women in power called me bossy, when really I was assertive.

    I had brought this breakdown on myself, I thought. How could I have let others define who I would become? Why was I so weak?

    It was around this time that one of my therapists introduced me to the idea of radical acceptance.

    It’s a concept based in Buddhist philosophy that is used by psychologists to help their clients heal and accept challenges in their lives.

    Rather than encouraging us to decide whether something is good or bad, as we often do automatically, radical acceptance encourages us to simply accept that things are.

    We have a tendency to apply labels to things. In my story, I had been labeled as smart, an overachiever, a worrywart, and other things. In turn, I labeled my newfound mental health situation as a misfortune, a major obstacle, a life changer, and other (mostly negative) things.

    Imagine how much more freeing it would be to live a life apart from labels! The key to this mindset, of course, is to realize that your feelings about an event do not change the event itself.

    Let’s say you got into a car accident. You may feel angry, hurt, frustrated, and many other emotions. Those are all valid feelings, and you have a right to experience them.

    But your anger won’t undo the accident. The accident happened. The accident is.

    Let’s take this one step further, however.

    After the accident you become angry that you have become frustrated. How could you allow yourself to get worked up over something that you can no longer control?

    You can also attempt to radically accept your feelings.

    Your emotional reactions are natural, and it’s counterintuitive to get worked up over what you “should” be feeling. What you are feeling is neither a bad nor a good thing, it simply is.

    What situations might you apply radical acceptance to in your daily life?

    • You wake up later than you planned to.
    • Your cat throws up on your new rug.
    • You fail a test that you prepared for extensively.
    • Your partner overdrew the checking account.
    • You didn’t get the raise you were expecting at work.

    Imagine accepting each of these events as something outside your control and training yourself to not get worked up over unexpected circumstances.

    This is not an easy task, and it will take time to incorporate the practice into your daily life. Be gentle to yourself.

    —

    I dropped out of my Ph.D. program after my first year of therapy. My journey into my brain showed me that I was heading down a path that others had set for me, one that I had not bothered to ask myself about.

    This major change in my life was labeled by others. To outsiders, I was a quitter, I couldn’t handle the pressure of academia, and I was not living up to my potential.

    But for me, this was simply a change. It was neither good nor bad, it was merely different.

    Since my mental health breakdown, I’ve experienced a lot of changes, both in my life and in my career. Some of them have been good changes, and some of them have been bad.

    But I don’t allow myself to fall into that black-and-white thinking as easily anymore.

    I have learned to own my story and my circumstances, and I love myself more because of it.

    Change can be good; change can be bad. But, most often, change simply is.

    Peaceful woman image via Shutterstock

  • Overcoming the Fear of Being Judged for Your Mistakes

    Overcoming the Fear of Being Judged for Your Mistakes

    Sad Woman

    “Live your life for you not for anyone else. Don’t let the fear of being judged, rejected, or disliked stop you from being yourself.” ~Sonya Parker

    For years I struggled with a nagging feeling of guilt. This was not for actual things I did, but just a feeling that anytime something went wrong in my life, it was somehow my fault.

    I came from a religious family of eleven kids. My dear mom, bless her heart, occasionally punished us all because she just didn’t have the time in her busy day to find the perpetrator.

    My older brother, the perpetrator of most of our punishments, found this all to be quite humorous. The rest of us did not.

    Was it our desperate appeals to him to be better behaved, or our mom’s reaction whenever she learned of his latest subterfuge that he found humorous? Such are the trials of growing up in a big family.

    It didn’t help that the nuns in school reinforced the necessity of admitting guilt and the importance of being in need of exoneration. If something bad happened to you, like skinning your knee, well it was just God punishing you for something you hadn’t been caught at.

    One would normally think that guilt stemmed from believing you might have hurt someone. It took me some time to figure out the reasons for my feelings I hadn’t hurt anyone, but I felt guilty.

    How Do We Untangle This Web of Guilty Feelings?

    I wanted to know why I was hanging on to these guilty feelings. Self-awareness is about setting aside things that others have said about you and paying attention instead to what you know about yourself to be true.

    I figured my guilt was very much attached to what I believed others might think of me.

    I was using guilt as a defense mechanism. I would blame myself first, hoping to find and correct my mistakes before anyone else found out. I hoped that extra alertness might allow me to avoid criticism and judgments from others.

    My true nemesis was the fear of being criticized. Keeping a ledger of past mistakes was my way of being vigilant to crush any mistakes before anyone found out.

    My ledger of mistakes: the things that I did or said because it was easy and convenient, what I did not do or say when I could have, blaming others in my thoughts or not showing kindness when I could have. I even kept track of my embarrassing moments so I would never do them again.

    I worried that if my mistakes were exposed, I would be judged, rejected, or disliked for them. And so I punished myself for them before anyone else could.

    This fear of being exposed led me to walk through life feeling guilty for who I was and for all the mistakes I’d made. These fears were controlling my life.

    I believed and feared that these mistakes were who I was, and if they were exposed, I would be exposed.

    So How Did We Conquer Those Fears?

    Fears are challenges that put us out of our comfort zone, and they are opportunities for real growth.

    I found my growth happening when I mustered up the courage to experiment. What would happen if I lived my day the way I wanted? What if I stopped worrying about others judging me?

    I started just doing my best.

    I sought out new skills when I wanted my work to be better, just to make it pleasing to me. I stopped trying to impress others and hide my faults. I let them see me so I could understand and get to know them better and learn from their experiences.

    Most of the time, I wasn’t judged or disapproved by others. Guess who was the biggest judge? Me!

    By facing my fears, I reduced them significantly and could live with them. Knowing that others didn’t criticize me was not enough. I still had to resolve the negative self-judgments I still thought about myself if I was going to really accept myself and be free of the guilt.

    So How Does One Get to Self-Acceptance?

    Accepting ourselves is about recognizing that we’ve done things that we are not proud of, and this is part of being human. There is a process for dealing with regrets: sorrow with compassion, remorse, then leading to forgiveness.

    That same process works for resolving those nagging guilty feelings for doing or not doing things that don’t have apparent negative impact on others. I’m talking about those times when I had negative thoughts or opinions about others, yet didn’t express them, or when I didn’t take a higher road when I could have.

    Our guilt becomes this reservoir of mistakes we made in life. Mistakes are part of being human. Sometimes we are just not prepared for situations.

    Having compassion for my humanity, I forgave myself for my mistakes. This opened me up to genuine acceptance for the human that I am, and that we all are.

    I got to know my real self. The real me was that person who took the risk of being judged by others.

    I was not my mistakes. I started getting to like me.

    Then something unexpected….

    I can still remember this moment. I had this feeling of love for me—faults and all. I am talking about the kind of love that you feel for someone you love deeply. I had never before felt this way about myself.

    You can do this too.

    Time to Be Done With Feeling Guilty

    If guilty feelings are nagging at you, there is a way out. Be self-aware by knowing what is true about you. Get out of your comfort zone and face those fears of exposure.

    You can change and make it better. Forgive and accept yourself inside, for who you really are. Be free of guilt and be yourself. One day you’ll find yourself loving you.

    Sad woman image via Shutterstock

  • When You Don’t Fit In: The Value of Being Different

    When You Don’t Fit In: The Value of Being Different

    Accept Yourself

    “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt

    When I was ten, my blonde, blue-eyed best friend gave me a label.

    “I never thought I’d make friends with anyone brown,” she said. She was clearly embarrassed by her revelation and had summoned the courage to own up.

    I was dumbstruck for a moment. I never really thought of myself as brown, or indeed, as anything. I was just me.

    Then, wanting to get us both out of this awkward situation, and thinking of how my Sri Lankan mother would compliment my beautiful golden brown skin, I blurted out, “Well, I’m not really brown, I’m golden.”

    Immediately my friend collapsed into laughter, as she imagined me with bright orange skin. I suspect she was glad to divert the shame away from herself.

    And I did feel ashamed. Ashamed of being labelled as something I didn’t particularly identify with, but also ashamed of denying my brown skin, of unwittingly playing along with this casual racism.

    Over the years I have discovered that it’s not unusual to be judged as different.

    I still encounter many situations where people make incorrect assessments of me based on my looks.

    The question “where are you from” is sadly very common, as if the origin of my ancestors will give people the most important clues about who I am.

    My kids and I have picked up some Sri Lankan characteristics (age four, my third generation daughter called her little brother “darling” with a decidedly Asian lilt), but on the two occasions I have travelled to Sri Lanka, I was definitely a foreign tourist.

    Of course, my family history does partly define me, but mostly not in the way that those people think.

    Instead, it defines me as different.

    Being mixed-race is only one of the factors that make me different. I tend to be more outspoken than my peers, less religious, more bookish, more alternative… Apart from being married with two kids and a mortgage, there are plenty of things about me that are not “normal.” 

    Being different is a self-definition I struggled with for years, which I now deeply appreciate.

    Although it is not always an easy path, I hold my differences as precious. Conformity would be stifling. I want to be me, not some mythical “normal” that only exists in my imagination.

    Being different has tremendous value. Here is how.

    1. Being different is a source of connection and belonging.

    I find shared experiences when I speak with people who know what it is like to feel different—people with disabilities, migrants, creative people, gay people, introverts, recovering addicts, and many others.

    Though we don’t share those particular characteristics, our mutual understanding of what it is like to be different connects us, powerfully.

    We know what it is like to be judged because of who we are. We know what it is like to feel like outsiders or freaks. We know what it is like to try and hide our differences to fit in.

    But fitting in is the opposite of being yourself. It leaves you sick inside.

    What we really crave is to belong. When we are accepted despite or even because of our differences, we have found true belonging.

    2. What we have in common easily trumps our differences.

    We have empathy built into our brains. Mirror neurons mean that when we hear someone tell a moving story, we feel what they feel.

    Heck, Tiny Buddha is built on our ability to care, learn from and identify with the experiences of others!

    We all want to be understood. And science has proven what we instinctively know: we are more alike than different.

    So, take the risk of hearing and being heard. By telling your story you invite others to understand you, and to understand themselves better, too.

    3. My differences are a source of motivation.

    Looking back on the life choices I have made, I can see how my desire to help others feel they belong and are valued has influenced my career and relationships.

    One of my favorite jobs involved providing careers and business guidance to refugees, amongst the most stigmatized and stereotyped people in our society.

    These were often highly qualified and had been doctors, lawyers, and businessmen and women in their country of origin. Having left that behind, they found themselves without the respect, financial security, and social standing they had previously known.

    They were portrayed as scroungers, while being excluded from working by regulation, discrimination, and lack of confidence. I found a vocation helping them navigate these obstacles.

    Many of my colleagues were refugees themselves, who, having found their own way, wanted to pass on the learning to the next generation. Our differences motivated us to help others in the same boat.

    4. Being different is intensely creative.

    As I began to take more pride in what made me different, I began to research other people who went against the social norms.

    I discovered that artists, entrepreneurs, innovators, and other world-changers were always different from the people that surrounded them. Like me, they had often felt excluded from the “popular” kids group at school.

    They thought differently. They made connections (with other people, or between ideas) that others had not previously made.

    And they had the courage and resilience to put those ideas out into the world—the courage to take the risk of being judged, and the resilience to try again when they were.

    In the process, their ideas were tested and improved and tested again.

    Some made it big (think Steve Jobs, Lady Gaga, Barack Obama) appealing to a mass audience with their new ways of seeing; others appealed to a niche with similar tastes. In every case their creativity was rooted in their differences.

    You, too, have value hidden in your differences.

    Though we may never escape all judgment and discrimination, we can learn to value our own unique perspective.

    Then at least we can stop judging ourselves.

    Photo by Hamad Al-Mohanna

  • Dealing With Criticism: 5 Tools to Develop a Thick Skin

    Dealing With Criticism: 5 Tools to Develop a Thick Skin

    “When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.” ~Miguel Ruiz

    Have you ever opened a spring-loaded email? You know, the kind with a nasty barb inside that hits you like a punch in the gut?

    My business partner and I had recently launched our new podcast, and he had forwarded me an email he’d received from a viewer.

    “Just watched Episode One,” the writer said. “GREAT idea! But WAY too much talking. Want specifics, not Melissa’s self-indulgent blathering on about the creative process…”

    Ouch. My vision blurred at this point, and the rest of the missive was lost on me. A hot flush prickled my skin from head to toe.

    I recognized this feeling. It was something I’d been doing my best to avoid since early childhood. For much of my life, fear of criticism had kept me small and timid, hiding under my shell. Over the past several years, though, I’ve been stepping out of the shadows, playing bigger, putting myself and my work out in the world more boldly.

    I knew it was only a matter of time before critics started lobbing nastygrams my way, and thankfully, I was prepared.

    If you want to live a big, bold, creative life, one of the first orders of business is learning how to deal with criticism.

    The more you step out into the spotlight, whether literally or figuratively, the more attention and feedback you’re going to get, and not all of it will be positive.

    As kids on the playground, we chanted that “sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me,” but words can and do hurt. They have the power to destroy us if we let them.

    How, then, do we armor up against criticism?

    Here are five tools that will help you grow a thicker skin.

    Tool #1: Separate fact from interpretation.

    When I opened that nastygram from the podcast viewer, it would have been easy to interpret it as defining a core truth about me.

    Instead, I reminded myself that her assessment wasn’t objective truth; it was merely her opinion. I might not like her opinion, but ultimately it has nothing to do with me, or with objective reality.

    In the same way, if I organize a workshop or offer a painting for sale, and nobody buys, it’s easy to leap to thoughts like “My work sucks. I suck.”

    The fact that I didn’t make a sale doesn’t actually tell me anything about me or my work, however. All I really know is that this particular offer wasn’t compelling to this particular audience at this particular moment.

    Separating fact from interpretation can help prevent you from sliding down into a rat hole of “I suck.” And it can even help you make tactical decisions going forward: if this audience didn’t buy, maybe I want to change my messaging, or maybe I want to find a new audience!

    Tool #2: Find the shiny, red button.

    Have you ever noticed how certain criticisms roll right off, like water off a duck’s back, but others cut you to the core no matter what you do?

    In elementary school, when the boys tried to taunt me by fiddling with my last name, Dinwiddie, and calling me “Dumb-widdie,” it was annoying, but it didn’t really hurt. Nor did it stick, because I had a core belief that I was smart. There were no fears or beliefs about myself for the insult to hook into.

    On the other hand, for many years whenever someone called me selfish, it flattened me.

    Somehow I got a message as a very young child that I was selfish. Then, in my first marriage, whenever I wasn’t able to meet my husband’s needs, he declared that I was selfish. Even when my friends and family reflected back that I was loving and generous, those early beliefs were like a big, shiny, red button with a hair trigger that got pushed really easily.

    For years, the tiniest comment that I was acting in my own self-interest threw me into a frenzy of self-doubt and anxiety. As a result, I bent over backward for others in an attempt to prove that I wasn’t selfish.

    No wonder an accusation that I was “self-indulgently blathering on” stung me so badly!

    The criticism isn’t actually the problem here; it’s the beliefs we hold about ourselves.

    When we can notice which criticisms wound us the most deeply, it shines a light on what our beliefs are. Not only can this help us to find neutrality again, with this outlook, criticism can actually become a valuable tool for self-growth.

    Tool #3: Reframe criticism as positive fuel.

    Years ago, when I was a beginning calligrapher, a master teacher invited me to show him my portfolio.

    I was scared to hear his critiques, until he assured me, “I’m simply going to tell you how you can make your work better.” Suddenly, instead of being terrified of his feedback, I was hungry for it.

    Alas, not all of our critics will be so gentle and well intentioned. It’s not always easy to practice neutrality, but the more we can shift our mindset to look for the lesson beneath the venom, the more even negative comments can be useful to us, and even empower and fuel us to keep going and make our work better.

    Tool #4: Ignore anyone on the sidelines.

    That said, sometimes feedback isn’t useful at all. TED speaker and best-selling author Brené Brown has received comments on her videos such as, “If I looked like Brené Brown, I’d embrace imperfection too.”

    This kind of insult has nothing to do with the work in question. It’s designed to hurt, not to help, and it has nothing useful to offer.

    If there are some cases when a criticism can be useful, and other cases when it does no good at all, how do we sift through feedback to determine what to pay attention to, and what to ignore?

    Brown likens nasty, unhelpful comments to the insults screamed down from the stands at the gladiators fighting in the arena below. It’s easy to yell that someone else can’t fight their way out of a paper bag when you’re sitting safely out of harm’s way.

    So ask yourself if your critics are offering opinions that are truly useful to you. Are they metaphorical gladiators, fighting alongside you in the arena? Or are they potential recipients of your work?

    If your critic is neither of the above, it’s likely they’re trolls hanging around on the sidelines. Ignore them.

    Tool #5: Find a thick-skinned role model.

    Did you know that Dr. Seuss, whose books sold millions over his lifetime, had his first book rejected at least twenty times? Thank goodness he persisted!

    It’s easy to think that being on the receiving end of criticism means something is wrong with us, but the truth is, being criticized is a hallmark of doing cutting-edge, important work! Countless people who are now known for amazing things were criticized or rejected at first.

    Think of Madonna, Lady Gaga, Hilary Clinton, Gloria Steinem. Whether or not you like their work or what they stand for, you have to admit that these women each touched a nerve in our culture, and have gotten a ton of criticism as a result. Yet they never gave up.

    The next time someone lobs a bomb your way, think about someone you admire who kept forging ahead, despite their critics. You might even want to post their picture, or quotes by them, by your workspace to inspire you to keep going.

    There you have it—my five favorite tools for handling criticism. Hopefully these will help you grow a thicker skin!

  • 3 Self-Honoring Ways to Deal with Low-Energy Days

    3 Self-Honoring Ways to Deal with Low-Energy Days

    Low Energy

    “Being who you are is another way of accepting yourself.” ~Unknown

    A few months ago I woke up with what my good friend and I call “the rage.” I was automatically annoyed by the tone of people’s emails in my inbox. I was frustrated by the lack of response from others. My tea tasted too strong. I felt cooped up in the house. Need I go on?

    So I went to the gym to increase my endorphins. I figured that a good workout would be the perfect cure-all.

    It wasn’t. I left my HIIT (high intensity interval training) pleasantly exhausted but still agitated.

    Then I sat down to get into a Zen-like state with my life coach. I trusted that together we could get to the bottom of whatever this wonky energy was all about.

    I cried, releasing beautiful misunderstandings about current business relationships. It was an incredibly healing session, and I hung up the phone thinking it was such a relief to know where this negative energy was coming from. But the lightness I usually experienced at the end of a session was nowhere to be found.

    Instead, I felt sad and lonely.

    It was in that moment, hanging up the phone from my coach, that I realized I needed to stop trying to fix my low-energy day. There was no one reason I was feeling this way. It wasn’t anything I did or didn’t do; it just was, and it was time for me to be okay with that.

    The only place I had heard of such acceptance was within my Human Design studies, so I picked up a book.

    According to Human Design, most of us have what is considered to be an “emotional authority.”

    This means that we tend to let our emotions rule our decisions, and we can easily make rash decisions just to end the emotional turmoil we feel. Or, to the opposite extreme, we can say yes in an effort to hold onto an exciting expectation.

    Most notably, our emotional authority is an energy that constantly moves through us in a wave pattern. Sometimes the wave is up and we feel great, and sometimes the wave is down and we feel off or have low energy.

    I’ve learned that the key is not to focus solely on our high-energy feelings, or to get rid of our low energy. The key as Buddha says, is for us to find “the middle way.”

    Release attachment to either end of the spectrum and find the still point. That is where emotional clarity lies.

    Thus, on that day a few months back, I asked myself to stop pushing. I stopped pushing the negative emotions away and I stopped pushing myself into a more positive high.

    Instead, I honored and acknowledged my wonky feelings in these three ways.

    1. Self-pampering.

    I hugged myself. I sat on the floor in my living room and circled my arms around my knees. Then, when I was ready, I went out to get a hot yummy drink at the coffee shop down the street.

    I let my to-do list fly out the window, and I gave my body and my mind my full attention. I did a lot of journal writing that day. I like journaling when I can, and it helped me explore areas where I could really stand up for myself in my business and in my relationships.

    2. The twenty-four-hour rule.

    I released myself from making any big decisions. I knew my energy was all over the place, and the key was to wait for clarity. Thus, I gave myself a twenty-four-hour rule. I wouldn’t make any big decisions until 9:00AM the next day, at the earliest.

    This wonky, negative energy was here for me to explore and learn from. It was still too early to start sharing a new truth. I couldn’t expect myself to grasp my learnings well enough to articulate them to others, nor could I expect myself to be in a place to take feedback neutrally. Not yet, anyway.

    This rule gave me the freedom to explore what I really wanted.

    3. Judgment-free space.

    I deemed my home, my body, and the three-foot bubble around me wherever I went to be my judgment-free space. There was nothing good or bad, right or wrong about my low-energy day. It was here for me, as an amazingly imperfect human being, to experience.

    This allowed me to embrace it and learn from it. It was no one’s fault. There was nothing wrong with me for feeling this way. It wasn’t going to last forever, and everyone would still love me in the morning.

    When I woke up at 7:00AM the next day, I felt refreshed. The rage and negative energy were gone, and I could also see clearly how I wanted to proceed in my business relationships.

    A huge sigh escaped my lips. I had allowed myself to be a part of the day’s adventure. Instead of fighting it or allowing it to take over my life for who knows how long, I had loved my low energy.

    Which of these three self-honoring actions will you try when you have a low-energy, “rage” day?

    Photo by rklopfer

  • Focus on Yourself Instead of Trying to Change Someone Else

    Focus on Yourself Instead of Trying to Change Someone Else

    “If you can’t change the circumstances, change your perspective.” ~Unknown

    I was the one who was the designated driver in high school and college. I wanted to be in control of how I arrived and left a party. Besides, the taste of alcohol did not please, so it was a win-win situation in my mind.

    Then, a decade later, I found myself dating someone who was addicted to drugs. I thought if he could just hang around me, see how I found joy without being altered by substances and bask in my love, then he could stay sober.

    In the midst of it, I didn’t see that I wanted to have control over him.

    I didn’t see that my annoyance with his victim mentality, blaming external relationships and circumstances for his situation, reflected my own victim mentality and judgment.

    And the joy I wanted him to emulate from me was really just tears of the clown, because I wasn’t aligned with my true self.

    Pain is a Mirror Image

    The pain I felt was a mirror to his pain. He felt shame and judged himself harshly for using; I felt shame and judged myself harshly for not being where I thought I should be in my career, and for the way I looked as I packed on the pounds of responsibility he never asked me to take.

    It wasn’t until I gave up on wanting him to change that I found peace. I realized I wasn’t in pain because I loved this person. I was in pain because he wasn’t acting how I wanted him to act. I was in pain because I deemed a specific path to joy and expansion, and he wasn’t taking it.

    Accept the Other, Accept Yourself

    After I realized that I could be at peace by accepting who he was and his choices, I could finally accept my responsibility for our relationship and for bringing him into my life. I decided to love him for the being he was, and most importantly, to love myself.

    My relief was astounding. I started meditating daily and allowed myself to listen to my truth. I let go of the weight of trying to be his savior, and that translated into inches off of my body. It was like dense matter had seamlessly transformed into light.

    When I began to love myself, I empowered myself to make healthy choices. Since I knew I couldn’t change him, I figured out that it was my preference to no longer be around that environment. So I decided to leave it.

    I understood that he used drugs to obtain relief and to be soothed from his troubles, which is what we all try to do in different forms when we experience that contrast from where we are and where we want to be.

    But I was closing that contrast gap for myself, and where I was and where he was energetically could not be in the same space for too long. I was still there for him as a friend, but as I grew one way our phone conversations became less and less.

    This man has been one of my greatest teachers. He recently passed away, and ever since I learned of this, I have been hearing one of his favorite songs consistently on the radio, Levon, written by Elton John and Bernie Taupin.

    This teacher of mine used to sit in his favorite chair and laugh and cry to that song. The protagonist, Levon, was a man seeped in tradition. He was born poor, and once he started making money, he became attached to it.

    My ex saw himself as Levon’s son, who would blow up balloons all day (how his father made money) and watch them fly away. The son was a dreamer who wanted to go to Venus.

    My friend, my love, did fly away in his physical form. I don’t know the circumstances that surrounded his death. I think he finally found in the non-physical what I learned to do in the physical—to love himself and find relief.

    Getting to That Better Feeling Place

    If you too are waiting on someone else, hoping they’ll change and realize their “potential,” and you’re feeling miserable as a result, it may help to do the following:

    1. Realize that the only person you can change is yourself.

    You can be a guide and an example, but ultimately change comes from within.

    2. Accept the situation didn’t “just happen to you.”

    You made a choice to enter this situation. When you accept responsibility for your part, thoughts, and reactions, you will be empowered to transform.

    3. Accept the person for who they are and where they are.

    By doing this, you will be living in the present moment and not putting blame for what happened yesterday and creating stories about what could happen in the future.

    4. Connect with the feeling of relief.

    Realize that underneath it all, the person is just trying to feel better, even though it might be in a harmful way, and you don’t approve of their choices.

    5. Write down your dreams and preferences.

    Focus on your inner world and what thoughts bring you to a place of joy. Decide how you choose to live and what’s healthy for you.

    6. Be consistent.

    And after you make this a consistent practice, the situation must change—either the person will start moving to where you are, or you will exit each other’s lives.

    —

    I certainly needed to take these steps and learn these lessons. I learned from him to go to Venus and dream. To listen to my true self and to follow a path that was aligned with thoughts of joy and smiles of inspiration.

    When I became clear on my dreams and aligned with them, that gave me the motivation to move by the ocean and to take the first steps to leaving a legal career behind. I finally accepted myself. I finally felt like I knew who I was.

    I am so grateful for where I am now, and I thank him for nudging me out of my comfort zone and for helping me learn acceptance, allowance, and awareness of who I really am. And now when I find myself thinking thoughts of those opposites, I can now blow up balloons, put those thoughts in them, and watch them fly away—with a smile, in my favorite chair.