Tiny Buddha

Tag: loss

  • Post-Traumatic Growth: How Pain Can Lead to Gain

    Post-Traumatic Growth: How Pain Can Lead to Gain

    Butterfly hands

    “When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. When life is bitter, say thank you and grow.” ~Shauna Niequist

    It’s been over five years since the unexpected death of my oldest son. The first couple years were fraught with depression, despair, and a sense of hopelessness like I had never felt before. I even kept a notebook in my purse outlining the plan for how I would ultimately end my life.

    It wasn’t until this past year that I told my friends about how close I had been to the edge. After outing myself, I found out they knew way more than I gave them credit for in that first year, and were often on suicide watch (despite the fact that I thought I was being so coy).

    Recently I was talking to a friend about my “list.” It included the things I wanted to have done before I ended my own life (I’m a bit of a planner). Some items were practical things, like “clean the house” and “have the laundry done,” but it also included emotional things, like “write letters to my family” and “distribute special personal items.”

    My friend roared in laughter (not the response I expected) and said, “I’m so glad Brandon (my son who died) kept having you add stuff to your list—you’ll never have all your laundry done!”

    I had to agree, there was no doubt that my angel son, Brandon, had been scheming, along with my other friends, to keep my head above water until I could learn to swim on my own.

    As horrible as those early months and years were, they also led me to deeper spiritual and emotional growth than I’ve ever experienced in my life.

    For me, the loss of my son led me to find my secret super soul powers. For you, it might be a divorce or diagnosis that shook your world to the core and forced you onto the path of what professionals call “post-traumatic growth.” Yes, post-traumatic growth is a real thing!

    Learning about this powerful shift that happens when we’re open to seeing the growth behind tragedy allows us to use these events to evolve into a better, more soul-filled version of ourselves.

    Post-traumatic growth has an organic, innate quality about it, but we have to know to look for it or we might miss it.

    What is Post Traumatic Growth?

    Psychologists Richard G. Tedeschi and Lawrence G. Calhoun originally researched post-traumatic growth (PTG) in the mid 1990’s at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. The researchers found that 90% of individuals who experience a traumatic event exhibit as least one factor identified as PTG.

    The five cornerstones of PTG include:

    • A desire to be open to new opportunities that weren’t present or didn’t seem like possibilities before
    • An increased sense of connection to others, typically exhibited by being more compassionate or empathetic to other’s suffering.
    • A greater sense of self-reliance or sense that if you lived through that, you can take on anything
    • An increase in gratitude for life in general and an appreciation for things that might have been taken for granted before
    • A deepening of a spiritual connection or purpose, and this could include changing or realigning beliefs

    Examples of PTG

    You may not feel like you’ve changed in all these areas. It’s common to experience your PTG in one or two of them.

    For example, I have a friend who became one of the first women to run the length of the Colorado Trail (486 miles), in order to raise awareness for Parkinson’s disease, after her sister was diagnosed with the disease.

    This is an example of seeing new opportunities and developing an increased gratitude for life. Although I would guess there was also a connection to spirit during those long days on the trail!

    When I speak on this topic I often share the famous icons of PTG—superheroes like Batman and Spiderman, who both were moved to act on their PTG after the loss of a loved one. (Okay, Spiderman had the added benefit of superpowers, but still!)

    Or we could talk about the woman, Candy Lightner, who started Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD). The death of her child propelled her to create a drunk driving movement that we’ve all heard of.

    One of my most healing shifts came when I began to feel deep compassion for others who were suffering, and also tapped into gratitude for the beautiful life I still had to live and for the blessings that occur daily when I tuned in to them.

    I have also felt a shift on focusing on what is really important in life and being able to let go of thoughts that no longer serve me.

    Two of my other sons, Brandon’s younger brothers, recently took a year and travelled to Australia. They have both said to me they realize there are no promises in life and want to experience all they can.

    How Can You Tap into PTG for Personal Gain?

    The simplest place to start is checking in with yourself to see if you are stuck asking yourself why something happened to you. If you continue to struggle with a question that, even if it were answered, would not change your current situation, then you start with shifting from the “why me” to the “how.” How can you make something good come of this?

    The next step is starting to practice. All the good stuff we need is labeled practice, not perfect—a meditation practice, yoga practice, gratitude practice. It’s no accident that what we need most we are told to practice, not perfect.

    PTG is the blooming lotus flower in the mud. When we can begin practicing looking for the potential instead of being focused on the mud, our minds begin to shift. Our brains are wired to tune in to what we’re looking for. If we’re looking for the bad stuff, the bad stuff is what we see, and vice versa.

    Remember PTG has an organic element to it, so to help you begin to practice PTG in your own life, start with the most natural shifts. When you consider the five areas above, which one to you feel most drawn to? Perhaps there is one that comes more natural to you.

    For example, have you always felt a connection to spirit? If so, lean into your growth by finding ways to explore your relationship to a higher power.

    Is a part of you that has wanted to take a trip somewhere, but it always felt out of reach or not possible? Why not explore how to make it happen this year? Life is precious; find a way to act.

    I would also encourage you to begin noticing how others you know have shown PTG. Think of friends or other people who handled a crisis in a way that makes you take notice. What action did they take or how did they change themselves?

    PTG has the capacity to take us beyond simply adapting to our current situation. It takes us to new levels of consciousness and being that weren’t available had we not experienced our life event or trauma.

    Think of this as not just making lemonade from your lemons, but having what you need to create a decadent, gourmet, and sweetly delicious lemon chiffon cheesecake with a raspberry swirl topping!

  • How to Speak to Someone About an Unspeakable Loss

    How to Speak to Someone About an Unspeakable Loss

    “It’s not about saying the right things. It’s about doing the right things.” ~Unknown

    Years ago, my family and I moved to a bucolic little town in New Zealand, where we were immediately swept up into a group of ex-pats and locals. We felt deeply connected to this community by the time I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy in the local hospital.

    When our son was three months old, a doctor heard a heart murmur. Twenty-four hours later, he died.

    In the days and weeks that followed, I wandered in my own fog of grief as I went about the necessary tasks of ordinary life: shopping for food, taking our other kids to school, doing the usual mounds of laundry.

    Meanwhile, my new friends kept their distance. I saw them take great care to avoid me: to cross the street, switch supermarket aisles, literally do an about-face when they saw me coming.

    Invitations stopped coming. The phone went silent. My grief was marked by a deeper isolation than I’d ever known.

    Later, many of these people apologized. They told me they were terribly sad and distressed about what had happened, but hadn’t known what to say. My loss was so enormous that words seemed inadequate, even pitiful.

    They said nothing, out of fear that they would say the wrong thing.

    This sort of experience repeats itself in many different forms: a friend gets dumped by the love of her life, a colleague is given notice at a job he’s held for two decades, or a loved one receives the dreaded news that she has inoperable cancer.

    What can you say?

    While it’s not an easy question to answer, one thing is certain: It’s worse to say nothing than to say the wrong thing. Here are five ways to respond helpfully to people who have suffered an enormous loss.

    1. Manage your own feelings first.

    When we learn that disaster has befallen a loved one, we initially feel shock. Our heart rate increases, our thoughts either speed up or slow down, and we may experience nausea or dizziness.

    The anxiety we feel is real and personal. Our instinct, though, is to ignore it, find ways to numb it or minimize it. That’s a mistake.

    If we address our own anxiety first, we’ll be in a much stronger position to respond well to the person most directly affected. Do the things you know how to do to manage stress. A walk in the woods, some meditation or yoga, or talking to a trusted friend can help.

    Make sure your own body and emotions are regulated before you turn to the person in grief.

    2. Now focus on the other person.

    Remember that the isolation they feel is almost as painful as the shock and the sadness of the loss itself. If you avoid them because you don’t know what to say, this avoidance serves only your needs.

    Our friends and other loved ones need our comfort, support, and involvement during times of sorrow.

    Although there isn’t a right thing to say, there are some things to never say. They include the current favorite, “Everything happens for a reason,” or “I know just how you feel.” How do you know there’s a reason, and what difference would it make to a grieving person, anyway? And you don’t know how they feel—only they do.

    3. Admit that you don’t know what to say.

    That’s a good start. Try something simple that breaks the ice and starts a conversation, or at least sends a message to the other person that they’re not alone.

    “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I wish I could say the perfect thing, but I know there’s nothing to fix it. I just wanted you to know I care and am here with you.”

    4. Listen.

    If the person is willing to talk, listen. It’s the single most vital thing you can do.

    Listen to their story without interrupting. Don’t turn the conversation back to you with statements like, “I know what you’re going through—my dog died last year.”

    Don’t tell them what they will, or should, feel. Simply acknowledge their pain and listen to what it’s like for them.

    We all have different styles of managing shock and distress. Some people are angry, while others seem numb. Still others turn to gallows humor. Your job is not to correct them but to give them space to be the way they need to be.

    5. Rather than saying, ”Let me know if I can do anything,” offer to do something practical and specific.

    Taking on an ordinary task is often most helpful. Offer to shop for groceries, run errands, drive the kids somewhere, or to cook a meal or two. Ask if you can call tomorrow, or if they want to be left alone for a few days.

    When Survey Monkey’s CEO Dave Goldberg died suddenly, his wife, Sheryl Sandberg, wrote the following:

    When I am asked, “How are you?” I stop myself from shouting, “My husband died a month ago, how do you think I am?” When I hear “How are you today?” I realize the person knows that the best I can do right now is to get through each day.

    Today, as I recall the loss of my own infant son, I think about the one person who did truly comfort me. She arrived at my house with a bottle of fine brandy and said, “This is everyone’s worst nightmare. I am so, so sorry this has happened.”

    Then we sat on the lawn and she poured me a drink as she listened to every horrible detail.

    As I look back now, I still feel how much her gesture helped me cope through those early days of pain. She didn’t try to fix me or try to make sense of what happened. She didn’t even try to comfort me. The comfort she gave came through her being in it with me.

    You can’t fix what happened, but you can sit with someone, side by side, so they don’t feel quite so alone. That requires only intention, a willingness to feel awkward, and an open, listening heart. It’s the one gift that can make a difference.

  • We Have a Right to Grieve Losses Big and Small

    We Have a Right to Grieve Losses Big and Small

    Deppresive Man

    “Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain.” ~Robert Gary Lee

    It felt like I was being crushed by the weight of the world.

    “Impossible,” I thought.

    It’s impossible that people actually suffer this kind of pain and survive to tell the tale.

    When I thought about it, my stomach contracted as if I’d taken a blow to the gut. I’d gasp for breath and try to find some air through the tears and in between sobs.

    So this is what grief felt like.

    Now I understood why denial is the first stage of grief. How could you endure this kind of agony if you had to face the force of its full frontal attack?

    I felt sick and exhausted. I lay down and, although I expected never to find enough peace to sleep again, I quickly drifted off into a place where there was no more pain.

    When you think of grief, you think about a great loss.

    A death of a loved one, news of your terminal illness, and the loss of your home from the violent winds of a tornado are all acceptable events to grieve about.

    We can understand how any of the above can bring a person to their knees. We expect people to grieve over these losses.

    What we refuse to understand is the grief we feel over the smaller losses. (more…)

  • 6 Empowering Lessons Death Taught Me About Life

    6 Empowering Lessons Death Taught Me About Life

    “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss in life is what dies inside us while we live” ~Norman Cousins

    I am not dead and I am not dying, so you may wonder why I write that death has taught me what I need to know about life.

    I lost my mother when I was fifteen. Being a teenager, thoughts of anyone close to me dying had not entered my head. My mother had a brief illness and passed away unexpectedly at age forty-seven.

    I remember that my schoolmates came to see me, and I kept thinking that they had their moms. More than being sad that I had lost my mom, I was angry that I had been placed in that position. I missed my mom a lot and just wanted her to come back and be with me.

    I started developing a fear that my father would die soon too. When I was in my early thirties, my fears came true when my dad passed away suddenly after a heart attack. He was a skilled physician, a kind man, and more importantly, a wonderful father to me.

    As if my dad’s passing away was not enough, my older sister died unexpectedly a year later. I always considered her a strong person, and I could not fathom how she could have died.

    To add insult to injury, another sister of mine passed away soon after that.

    By then, I had decided that the Universe was conspiring against me. I did not think anyone cared, and I put on an act, pretending to be happy. The truth was that I was buried under the rubble of my fearful thoughts, and constantly worried that something would go wrong.

    The next couple of years passed by with various family mishaps till one day, I lost the prestigious job I had.

    You may wonder why I classify a job loss in the same category as death, as a job is not irreplaceable. To me, at that point in my life, the job loss had the same feeling of injustice that the death of my parents and siblings so early in my life had for me.

    One of my friends suggested that I read books about having positive thoughts. I googled “positive” and started to devour self-help books. I subscribed to Tiny Buddha and spent time meditating.

    I reflected on what I read while drinking coffee in the quiet stillness of the early morning hours.

    I meditated while on the treadmill, and I realized that the answers to my questions had always been within me. I had just let the unannounced and uninvited negative thoughts I had to overshadow the shackled positive thoughts within me, yearning for a release.

    I realized that I was not singled out for anything bad, as I also had a lot of blessings to be thankful for. I had just chosen to not focus on the good in my life. I knew then that I am a survivor. I would like to share my lessons, which I hope will help you face loss of any kind that devastates you.

    1. There is a survivor in each one of us.

    If you have survived even one moment after a tragedy, you are a survivor.

    Yes, there is a sense of utter hopelessness and despair at first, soon after a loss; but every passing moment shows that you can and you will live this life you have been given.

    It proves that you are strong; it proves that you are not a quitter; and above all else, it proves that even if you never forget who or what you have lost, you will not run away from living life.

    After all, life is not about living in defeat.

    2. There is always something that is going right in a person’s life.

    Even in the midst of a tornado of unforeseen circumstances, and all the despair it brings in its wake, there is always something to appreciate in life.

    Even though I lost my parents and sisters, I still had wonderful friends in my life.

    We need to focus on the good in our life and try to be happy. Being sad and focusing on what we do not have does not change the circumstances.

    You can either make a list of what you have, or you can make a list of what you do not have. The first list will bring you peace and happiness, while the second list will bring you only sadness.

    You may have a lot of things that make you unhappy, but if you have even one thing going well, you have to focus on that. I have found that the more I consider the good in my life, the more things seem to come together for me.

    3. Do not take the people you love for granted.

    If you are lucky enough to have loved ones in your life, call them often. Visit them often. Share your life with the people who love you.

    What can be more important than the people you care about, who care about you?

    No one is guaranteed to live a hundred years, and even a hundred years can pass all too fast.

    4. Let go of expectations that events in life need to happen in a certain manner that you favor.

    Life happens, and it may or may not turn out as you hoped it would. You just have to work with what you have. A lot of times, you may be surprised to find that you end up liking what you get.

    Even if you are disappointed that you did not get what you expected, and even if you are upset that you do not have what you want, it is still possible to lead a good life if you can let go of your expectations and find reasons to be happy with what you have.

    Life becomes a lot better when you learn to accept it.

    5. It is not your fault that bad things beyond your control happen.

    Blaming yourself will take you down a long and lonely road with no end in sight. Guilt is a hard taskmaster with no mercy.

    Even the most meticulously thought out life will have unforeseen hardships disrupting the plans.

    You could not have changed the circumstances surrounding the loss. You could not have prevented it in any way.

    Sadly, death happens and life still goes on. When my mother died, it was the day before the Festival of Lights, and all my neighbors were enjoying firecrackers outside in their garden. Life went on. When my father died, life went on. When my sisters died, life carried on.

    I used to wonder where God was till I realized that God is the strength and energy that pulled me through all of these circumstances.

    6. Be open to miracles.

    As long as you are living, something wonderful could happen at any moment. Life may have lows that you never expected and that you did not foresee, but it also will have highs that you never dreamed of that will bring you joy beyond your wildest imagination.

    The Universe does not owe you anything, so be grateful for any blessings that you have. Do not let anything slip away.

    No matter what happens, try to enjoy the life you have. No one else can enjoy it for you.

  • How to Move from Grief to Relief After Losing a Loved One

    How to Move from Grief to Relief After Losing a Loved One

    Man at the cemetary

    “When a person is born we rejoice, and when they’re married we jubilate, but when they die we try to pretend nothing has happened.” ~Margaret Mead

    It was five years ago this month that my father passed away from cancer. About four months before his death, his oncologist gave him a bleak diagnosis, telling him to get his affairs in order because he could die at any time.

    Our entire family was dumbstruck. Here was a man who appeared to be strong and generally healthy.

    He was a youthful sixty-eight years old. Just months into his retirement after a long and impactful career in social work, this was my dad’s time to enjoy the pleasures of post-retirement life, not brace for a devastatingly premature death.

    Summoning every bit of optimism resident in my being, I refused to accept he would fall to cancer.

    I knew the power of a healthy diet, exercise, and other holistic modalities in extending the longevity of cancer patients. I would do whatever it took for my father to survive.

    I spent hundreds at Whole Foods in a single visit, buying up the most potent anti-cancer foods and supplements.

    I researched every type of cancer therapy under the sun.

    I encouraged my father to modify his diet, follow a juicing regimen, and consult with credible and proven holistic healers of every stripe.

    Despite my best efforts, I had hit a wall. Sure, my father expressed appreciation for my care and concern, but he held no desire to change his lifestyle or pursue any alternative therapies.

    Pursuing these things might have helped reverse his illness; or they might have done very little. What was certain is that he had resigned himself to the notion that death was upon him.

    And so for months my family and I were left to watch the vitality of a man we held so dear steadily drain away. Adding to the horror of the situation were the rounds of chemotherapy my father underwent at the recommendation of his physician, who claimed it would alleviate his suffering.

    To my untrained eye, the chemotherapy succeeded only in withering my dad’s physical vessel down to an ashen shell of what it once was.

    But I made sure to hold it together.

    I don’t believe I cried more than a few times in the months leading up to my dad’s passing. I simply didn’t allow myself to feel the cascade of negative emotions churning below the surface.

    I had to be practical, I thought, so that I could support my mother and the rest of my family during an extremely challenging time. I had to power through it.

    And steady I remained, right up until my dad took his last breath in the hospice facility on that warm spring afternoon.

    The bewildering mix of grief, pain, shock, and relief in the wake of losing a loved one who has been suffering profoundly will touch everyone differently. I wept mightily that evening. Surrounded by family and friends, I felt able to emote and let the tears flow, at least for a day. What a relief.

    My willingness to acknowledge my pain quickly changed, however. The long list of responsibilities that fell on my mother in the immediate aftermath of my father’s death were formidable.

    I made it my priority to do whatever I could to unburden her and once again, I chose to prioritize fulfilling obligations over feelings my feelings.

    I made it through the funeral, the flood of calls and the many financial, legal, and practical considerations that accompany the death of a relative. I helped pick up the pieces. But as the months wore on I continued to deny myself the opportunity to process the emotional impact of losing my dad.

    I wasn’t in denial about my father dying, I was in denial about the way I felt about it.

    Feeling for Answers

    Two years later I found myself in the office of a friend who happens to be a fellow hypnotherapist. I confided in her that, for more than a year, I had been struggling with a strange case of debilitating chronic stomach pain. She offered to help me unearth subconscious patterns that might have been contributing to the pain.

    During my session, I came to discover that the stomach issue I was experiencing was directly linked to unexpressed grief and shame around my father’s passing.

    I discovered that not only did I fail to move through the grief of the event, but part of me felt deeply guilty about letting my dad slip away when I believed I could have saved him. With my friend’s help, I was guided to release the underlying emotional discord feeding my physical ailment. The pain vanished overnight and never returned.

    It was eye-opening. Though I intellectually knew there existed a profound connection between our emotional states and physical health, it was still hard to believe that my months of acute discomfort were the manifestation of bottled up emotion. I had learned a big lesson.

    Open Up to Your Pain

    From an early age we are conditioned to ignore our negative emotions. This is especially the case when we endure difficult circumstances, such as family sickness and death. We choose to push away our feelings in order to “just get through it.”

    The trouble is that in suppressing our emotions we’re not getting through anything, but rather forcing these emotional patterns deep into the recesses of the subconscious mind. This unexpressed pain that brews below the surface is at the root of much of our anxiety and many types of illness.

    When it comes to any sort of emotional pain, it’s crucial for us to understand that negative feelings serve us. They are wonderful indicators of the truth of our being and show us what is wanted and unwanted. But we don’t have to hang on to the anger, sadness, and powerlessness forever.

    We transcend our negative emotions by being present with them. Being tuned into the truth of your feelings doesn’t mean you will be a trainwreck and incapable of dealing with the real world; it actually sets you on the path of wholeness and peace.

    We strive to put on a front so that the world sees us as kind, capable, and strong. This often means that we denying our emotional pain. It takes great courage to admit to our vulnerabilities and embrace our authentic feelings, but it is a required stop on the way to freedom and relief.

    I challenge you to pick something in your life that you’ve been holding back from feeling and choose to express your pain in a safe and conscious way. Pull down the facades and give yourself permission to not be okay. It’s time to free yourself.

  • Gifts from a Terrible Disease: A Message for Anyone Who’s Slowly Losing a Loved One

    Gifts from a Terrible Disease: A Message for Anyone Who’s Slowly Losing a Loved One

    Friends Hugging

    “Challenges are gifts that force us to search for a new center of gravity. Don’t fight them. Just find a new way to stand.” ~Oprah Winfrey

    Alzheimer’s crept into our lives about five years ago. It’s like a vine growing alongside a house, slowly taking over the space that was once free. But in this case, the vine is slowly creeping over my mum’s brain.

    There are so many horrific statistics attached to this disease: Worldwide, nearly forty-four million people currently have Alzheimer’s or a related dementia; one in nine Americans over sixty-five has Alzheimer’s disease; unless a cure is found, more than sixteen million Americans will have the disease by 2050.

    The numbers are so scary I can hardly wrap my head around them. But to be perfectly honest with you, right here, right now, I don’t care about all these statistics. The one thing I do care about is the fact that this is happening to my mum.

    The disease has brought her physical pain, fear, and confusion. In fact, it has brought all of us that.

    Watching my mum disappear into this disease is heart wrenching. Watching my dad having to cope with losing the love of his life, the woman he has been married to for fifty years, makes me sad beyond belief.

    It is a cruel disease. We are all devastated.
It hasn’t been easy for me to process what is happening. In fact, there are days where I know I haven’t processed it at all. I carry around a sadness that is hard to describe; all I can say is that it is a sadness that comes from deep within my soul.

    In contrast, on the good days, I actually consider myself as “lucky.” Despite her dipping in and out of lucidity, she is still there for me, at least for now. And so I am learning to hold on to the precious moments when we do connect, and that has taught me a whole lot about life.

    So far, the progression of the disease has been slow. Slow enough that I have had the chance over the last five years to tell her how I feel. I have had the chance to say goodbye slowly and to make sure she knows I love her every step of the way. Some people don’t get that chance and have to deal with death from one moment to the next. So yes, I am lucky in a way.

    But for me, it’s bigger than that. This time with her has given me the courage to say the things I need to say to those around me, without bottling them up or hiding from them. Because there is only now for her. Later isn’t an option.

    It has helped me voice the sometimes-difficult things that need to be said at work and in my private life.

    It has taught me to express my love for my loved ones. Because cliché as this sounds, life really is too short. And that is a gift I have received from this terrible disease.

    It has also showed me how to live in the moment. My mum’s moments are short, and most often forgotten. When she asks me the same question over and over again, I try not to get frustrated. I repeat myself over and over again like I was saying it for the first time. I am simply living in her moment. And that is a gift I have received from this terrible disease.

    I have also come to realize how much my energy has an effect on her. When words fail, which is happening more and more, it’s the energy between us that connects us. A hug, a touch, or a squeeze of a hand can say so much more than words. That magical hug is enough—for her, for me. 



    With that realization comes a new perspective on how my energy has an effect on others. When I am present, and I mean truly present, I feel my relationships and experiences blossom—from the simple act of buying bread at my local bakery (actually taking the time to breath in the smell of fresh bread rather than just doing something else on the shopping list), to the deep, meaningful moments with my friends. And that is a gift I have received from this terrible disease.

    We all grieve in different ways. Each family member and each friend is seeking solace and comfort in whichever way helps. I have stumbled through this as best as I can, trying to find my own way. But, how do you accept slowly losing a person you love to a disease?

    I don’t have any miracle answers—I wish I did.

    There is advice and support out there, plenty of it. I have found that some of the advice is helpful, while some of it is simply stupid; I would laugh if it weren’t so raw. There is, however, one piece of advice—more of a thought, actually—that I recently received from a good friend.

    It has helped me to look at the situation differently, and on some days, has given me a sense of peace.

    I think that is why I am writing this article—to pass on this advice, on the off chance that someone who is losing a loved one to Alzheimer’s, or any other devastating disease for that matter, may be comforted by it, just as I have been.

    This advice has given me the opportunity to look at this situation through different lenses, depending on how I am feeling on any particular day.

    The beauty of this thought is that it has offered me the space to try to accept the situation bit by bit. It has also helped me to look at life differently; I guess they call that “re-framing.” And on other days, it has helped me to think that my mum actually has her own plan.

    The thought is this: that my mum has found another house to move into. It’s not that she is unhappy where she is, but she has just found another home to live in somewhere else. She is slowly moving all of her stuff there—one plate, one knife, and one book at a time.

    At the moment, she is living in both houses. At some point soon she will have moved out completely.

    I don’t know will happen to her when she does move out. I just hope with all my heart that she is as happy where she goes as she has been with us. And because she can’t take her memories with her, it’s up to me to tell her now, again and again: I love you. I love you. I love you.

    And you know what? I have complete faith that she will take our love with her to her new house.

    I am not religious, but I have found faith.

    Faith—that is a gift I have received from this terrible disease.

    Hugging image via Shutterstock

  • Moving from Heartbreak to Happiness: How to Work Through the Pain

    Moving from Heartbreak to Happiness: How to Work Through the Pain

    Lonely Man

    “Pain makes you stronger. Fear makes you braver. Heartbreak makes you wiser.” ~Unknown

    There I was, sitting in my lounge room, waiting for my girlfriend to return home.

    We had just bought our first house together and had been living there for a week. It was a chaotic time, balancing moving, work, study commitments, and an obscene amount of renovations. However, the heartfelt joy of settling into our own place overshadowed the chaos.

    Our new home held the dreams of a future life together. The thought of raising a family there filled my heart to the brim.

    It was an exciting time in my life, and I felt I was exactly where I was meant to be. I had the house, the girl, and the ring ready to propose with. Life was good.

    When she arrived home, she was visibly upset. Clueless as to why, I comforted her and asked her what was wrong. Then came the heartbreaking words I never wanted to hear: “I can’t do this anymore.”

    There was no warning, no hint of anything being wrong with our relationship.

    As I sat there, overcome with so many emotions and questions, I tried to comprehend what had just happened. I desperately did everything I could to convince her not to throw away what we had.

    Yet, the more I talked to her, the more I began to not recognize her. Her assertiveness and aggression grew, and the girl I thought I knew concluded with “I no longer love you.”

    With that, our once inseparable connection dwindled to nonexistence. Devastatingly, I lost all hope when she moved into another relationship shortly after leaving me.

    If rock bottom was a destination, the heartbreak of losing the relationship and her moving on to someone else seamlessly had sent me there. Not only was I left mourning the loss of love, but I was living with the fact that someone else had taken my place in her heart.

    I had to give up the house, along with my dreams of spending our lives together. Even losing her family after they had embraced me as one of their own cut me more deeply than I could express.

    All day, every day, I kept picturing her everywhere—even in my sleep, as I dreamed of her constantly.

    What was wrong with me? I asked myself over and over again. I wondered, how could someone say they love you and show so much affection for so long, but within an instant turn into a stranger? The relentless analyzing of our time together seemed to never end.

    I could see my family and friends were doing everything they could for me, but I couldn’t connect with them, or myself. I constantly felt my heart was being crushed and I thought I was losing my mind, as I would endure a year’s worth of emotions each day.

    However, after countless breakdowns, grieving, crying enough tears to fill the Amazon River, and spiralling into depression, I came to realize that some of the greatest answers in life come from the questions we never ask.

    These are the answers I found to help reclaim my life back from heartbreak.

    The first answer came through forgiveness. Forgiving your heartbreaker is a personal decision. You don’t have to do it face-to-face, nor do you have to condone them for their actions. I found my forgiveness had to happen continually; “forgive over and over again” became my mantra.

    One thing that helped me forgive was empathizing with my ex’s decision to leave me. Although this shattered my heart, I came to accept, forgive, and understand her choice, because she wasn’t happy; and that’s something I can understand, because I too would leave a relationship if I were no longer happy.

    In the end, she decided what was best for her path in life, and it was up to me how her decision affected my life.

    I could either be bitter and angry because she abandoned me, or I could choose to forgive and see her off with love.

    It was by far the hardest thing I’ve done. However, choosing love through forgiveness was an essential step to take on my healing journey.

    Another step in the right direction for me was writing down everything I was grateful for every morning and night—simple gifts in everyday life, such as the warm sun on my skin, a fresh breeze, or even a smile from a stranger (it’s amazing what a smile from someone does to you).

    Taking the time to recognize all the little blessings each day offered completely changed my outlook.

    If you feel you are struggling to find gratitude in your life, place your hand over your heart. Can you feel its beat? That alone is the most powerful gift you can be grateful for.

    Practicing these lessons has allowed my personal development to grow further than I thought possible.

    I still have moments where I break down, cry, and feel as though I’ve been swallowed in a sea of sadness, anxiety, and stress. Nevertheless, I have learned to be watchful when these moments start to overwhelm me. I begin to focus on my breath and mindfully engage with the present moment by acknowledging my senses and focusing on what I can see, hear, and feel.

    Once I have bought myself to the present, I recognize and accept my thoughts and feelings with complete self-love. I do not judge or discourage myself for having them. Instead, I embrace and grow through each thought or feeling while it is with me, knowing it shall eventually pass.

    Everything passes eventually. The present is all we truly have, and the only permanency in life is impermanence.

    When you’re dealing with heartbreak, happiness can feel another world away. However, continue to read, write, create, surround yourself with loved ones, seek professional help, and allow yourself to do the things you enjoy. These are the steps that will help you get through this.

    Furthermore, be brave and open up to new ventures. Engaging with people on deeper levels, daily meditation, writing, and finding yoga were some of the greatest gifts my heartbreak welcomed into my life.

    So say yes to happiness, to love, to a positive mindset, and continually affirm that you have the strength to handle whatever comes your way. Acknowledging that things are constantly getting better will be a huge turning point in your healing.

    While the pain may sit with you as you adjust to this new phase in life, remember, you are growing in these times, and every experience in life offers you a gift. Even heartbreak.

    A bad chapter in your story doesn’t mean it’s the end, either. It’s just part of your journey. And everyone’s journey is different, so don’t feel you must rush through your grieving and heal as fast as possible; instead, welcome in all that comes with it. You may be hurt, but you are reading this and taking the steps to gain strength so you can move forward in life.

    After all, moving forward is all we can do. How would you do driving a car constantly looking in the rear-view mirror? Don’t allow your past to cause a crash in your present. Continue to look forward and see the world in each moment as it continually comes toward you.

    When you are ready, you will open your heart and love again. Even though you may feel your heartbreaker took that love away, they didn’t! They simply helped bring it out of you by reflecting the love you feel eternally within yourself. The beauty of this is that you can feel that love all the time through self-love. No one has the power to take that away.

    The more love you give yourself and others, the more you’ll receive in return.

    Embrace this time and let your life become full of beauty and love as you move onward from heartbreak to happiness.

    Lonely man image via Shutterstock

  • Healing a Broken Heart: It Will Get Better

    Healing a Broken Heart: It Will Get Better

    Sad Woman

    “This is a good sign, having a broken heart. It means we have tried for something.” ~Elizabeth Gilbert

    I thought I went through my last breakup a few years ago. I thought I had paid my dues, cried my share of tears, and dealt with some deep wounds. I thought I was done. I was happy and in love, and talking about moving in with my boyfriend.

    One day we took a little vacation. We laughed and explored the desert excitedly talking about our dreams. Three days later I found myself sobbing on the floor of my tub, hot steam clouding around me.

    Our breakup was actually quite beautiful aside from the shock and confusion. We looked into each other’s eyes. We smiled. We cried. We held each other. We said goodbye.

    It might sound like we handled this really well, and in many ways we did. We always respected one another. We never said anything hurtful or manipulative. I think that shows how much we loved and cared for one another.

    But I was still a mess, deeply heartbroken and deeply depressed. It was the deepest depression I’d ever been in. I could do little more than cry and stare at the ceiling. Nothing in me wanted to stay in bed and nothing in me wanted to get out. It felt like torturous limbo with a crushing weight on my chest.

    My mind couldn’t comprehend a day when I wouldn’t feel like this. Each night I fell asleep I prayed the morning would be different. But each day I woke up with a pang in my stomach and a heaviness in my heart.

    Until one day I didn’t.

    It wasn’t a miracle. My pain didn’t disappear in my sleep. But I started to feel better. The first day I was able to eat a little more. The next day I found myself laughing with a friend. I slowly started to be able to sleep longer hours and function more clearly. It was a snail’s pace, but it was progress.

    If you’re going through a breakup right now the truth is that it will get better.

    I needed to hear this over and over again from other people. When the pain is so intense it takes over everything. It’s very difficult to believe anything will change. I would call my mom in the mornings sobbing into the phone, “It still hurts. It’s not getting any better. Why does it still hurt?”

    It’s supposed to hurt. Your heart is broken. You loved deeply, and now it’s over. One side of the coin is that endings are really sad. The other side is that endings are opportunities for new beginnings, and that’s really exciting, even if you can’t feel the excitement right now.

    It was difficult for me to see that I was making any progress so I documented my days over those weeks. I found that there were five key things that helped me begin to heal:

    • I felt all the feelings.
    • I took advantage of my support system.
    • I gave myself love and compassion.
    • I took responsibility for my life.
    • I focused on me instead of him.

    I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to allow yourself to grieve when your heart is broken.

    Our bodies are intelligent. They can hold trauma for a lifetime. When we sob so deeply our chests heave and the tears fly out, our bodies are purging the pain. Allow this to happen. I was so tired of crying, but I would keep on doing it as I needed. I actually cried a little a few hours ago. It lessens. The pain lessens. I assure you this.

    There were two or three people who were my everything during my lowest low. I used their support to get me through all of the times when I just wanted to give up on my life. I talked things through incessantly, something that can help us come to terms with the situation. Our minds need to process the change, especially if it was traumatic or sudden.

    It’s really important that these are people who understand you, who are capable of being there for you in this way, and who are nonjudgmental. Someone who is going to say to you, “Honey, I am so sorry you feel like this. My heart breaks for you.” Not all of our friends and family are capable of taking on that role, and that’s okay. You just need one or two.

    Through these first two steps I started to gain my own strength and identity back. I got to a point where I knew that only I could pull myself up out of it. I had enough moments of clarity through my pain that I was able to see what I needed to do for myself, and I gave myself so much love.

    I honored myself and acknowledged that my heart was broken. I didn’t judge myself for being weak or stress out about being low functioning. I just let myself fall into my own arms.

    I treated myself like my own daughter. I asked how I was feeling and listened to the response with compassion. I kept telling myself, “I am here for you. I am always here for you.” This type of love for myself helped the pain dissipate. It helped me to feel worthy of life again.

    I am also someone, probably very similar to you, who is always looking to better myself. Nothing in life is isolated—we’re all connected and affected by one another, so I knew there were deep things about myself to look at.

    Instead of focusing on my ex and why he left, I began to look at myself. I questioned what I was doing in my life that left me in relationships where men chronically abandoned me.

    I didn’t put pressure on myself to figure it all out, but I allowed the question to be there. I invited the answers to come in as they needed to. I knew that whatever was most obvious was probably not the full picture — and it wasn’t.

    Through a candid conversation with a very close friend, I began to discover some of my deepest fears. I realized that when I get very close to people I become afraid I will lose them, something that occurred repeatedly in my childhood.

    When someone I was close to shared a different perspective than mine, on some deep unconscious level I became threatened, terrified this was the beginning of the end for us. Ironically, my own fears of abandonment contributed to my relationship ending.

    This kind of revelation is liberating when there is a lack of clarity in a breakup. I saw myself so much more clearly, and then I looked at the relationship through my ex’s perspective. I saw my newfound self through his eyes, and I understood how he felt. It all made sense.

    One of the most important things I did that allowed me to heal was to focus on myself each time I thought of him.

    This is especially true if you are not the one who wanted to break up. I didn’t reach out to him at all. I gave us each space. I knew seeing him show up on social media would increase the pain so I used all my willpower to stay focused on myself. If I felt the urge to check up on him I reminded myself that I didn’t need to feel any more pain. This was enough.

    Getting through a breakup inevitably comes down to letting go. All of the steps I’m describing are about allowing.

    We have to allow ourselves to feel everything.

    We have to allow our feelings to be okay.

    We have to allow ourselves to be supported.

    We have to allow ourselves to be worthy of our own love.

    We have to allow ourselves to see the truth.

    And finally, we have to allow ourselves to move on.

    I know it’s hard. I’m right there with you. Just remember that it will get better. 

    Sad woman image via Shutterstock

  • How to Help a Friend Through Grief

    How to Help a Friend Through Grief

    Comforting Friend

    “Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” ~Vicki Harrison

    I’m no stranger to grief. When I was twenty-three I lost my mum, and then eight years later I lost my second daughter, Grace, when she was only one day old.

    Soon after Grace died, my husband and I saw a grief counselor. He said something about other people’s reactions to grief that turned out to be one of the truest statements anyone has ever made to me.

    He said, “There will be at least one friend you never hear from again because they don’t know what to say. At least one person will tell you not to worry because you can have another baby. And there will be one shining star—someone who you didn’t consider to be that close a friend—who will be there for you more forcefully and consistently than anyone else.”

    All three of his predictions came true.

    If you have a friend who is grieving, I know you will want to be their shining star. Grief is awkward and difficult; it’s something we tend to shy away from if we can help it. If you have never experienced grief, you may be at a loss to know what to say or do.

    You Don’t Need to Say the Right Thing

    In fact, you don’t need to say anything at all. You just need to be there.

    It may not feel like much, but your physical presence alone is a comfort—a hug, a hand to squeeze, a presence in the room. These are all important crutches when someone is navigating grief. Remember that you can’t fix this; all you can do is open your arms and open your heart.

    There were a few friends I never heard from again after I lost Grace, as the counselor predicted. It seemed so unfair to lose friends at the same time as losing my baby. I wish they had known that I didn’t expect them to say anything profound or heal my pain, but I did expect them to stick around.

    Try to Steer Clear of Platitudes

    The discomfort and awkwardness outsiders often feel toward grief has given rise to many platitudes over the years. Personally, I would steer clear from saying, “Everything happens for a reason,” or, “It is God’s will.” Even someone with the strongest faith will find that hard to swallow.

    Many platitudes are focused on trying to make the griever focus on the future and move on. While the intent is admirable, I just didn’t want to hear that time is a healer and how all would be fine. My grief is a burden I carry with me every day, and while it is true that I have learned to bear the weight of it (most of the time), I will never “get over it.”

    Try to consider your friend’s beliefs and values before offering words that you feel may be of comfort. Someone said to me, “Grace and your mum are up there watching over you,” which is a statement that just doesn’t match my beliefs, however much I wish it did.

    Instead, I felt slightly annoyed and then guilty for feeling annoyed, because I knew how well-intentioned my friend’s statement was.

    Remember Anniversaries

    Try to remember anniversaries such as the birthday of the person who died and the anniversary of the date of their death. Sending a card or even just a text on the day will let your friend know that you are remembering too.

    I have a friend who always writes Grace’s name on our Christmas card. This means so much to me at a time of year when Grace’s absence from our family is even more keenly felt.

    Celebrate Together

    Celebrating the life of the person your friend has lost can be as simple as reminiscing and talking about them. You could ask to look at photos and other mementos with your friend or help put together a life book.

    Don’t be afraid to mention the person they lost. You may think it kinder to steer clear of the subject, but trust me; your friend will want to talk. Memories are all that remain after a loss, and talking about the person who died really does help to keep them alive.

    If your friend is fundraising in memory of their loved one, you could offer to help. My husband and I carried out a lot of fundraising after Grace died, and it wouldn’t have been possible without the wonderful friends who helped out at and supported our events.

    Always Remember

    Deep loss causes lasting changes—I know I’m not the same person I used to be. Your friend may seem fine one day and angry or depressed the next. It’s all part of grief’s rhythm, which is eternal and has no logic or pattern.

    Vicki Harrison’s quote above really sums up what it is like to live after loss. So don’t take it personally if your friend seems distant or has no wish to socialize at times. He or she is just learning to swim.

    I can bear the load at times; other times I simply can’t. One of the consequences of my loss is that I have unintentionally become more introverted. Some days I just need to stay in a safe bubble with my little family, because letting the rest of the world in is too difficult.

    It’s easy to remember the profound effect grief has on your friend shortly after the loss, but much tougher to keep this in mind months, years, and decades after. I don’t believe that time is a healer; instead, it seems to be an adapter. With much difficulty, I am learning to adapt to life without my loved ones.

    The rawness may be dulled with time, but the emotions and sorrow are not. I know it can’t be easy for the friend of a griever, but if you can remember and be there for the long term, you will be the shining star your friend so desperately needs.

    Friendship vector via Shutterstock

  • A Science-Backed Habit That Can Change Your Life for the Better

    A Science-Backed Habit That Can Change Your Life for the Better

    Happy Man Jumping

    “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.” ~Epictetus

    When I lost my aunt to cancer three years ago, her death sat over me for months and acceptance didn’t begin until I had dinner with Kathy, one of my best friends.

    Over noodles, I shared with Kathy all the things I wouldn’t be able to do with my aunt: the conversations we would never get to have, the places we wouldn’t get to go, the food we wouldn’t be able to eat, and the grand-nephews and nieces she wouldn’t get to hold.

    Kathy asked me, “what about all the things you did get to do with your aunt?”

    I shared with Kathy how every time I experienced a breakup my aunt would make me a bowl of pho and make time to reassure me that everything would be okay, how every time I thought I was working too hard and not having fun she would invite me to play cards with her, and how when I told my family I didn’t want to be a doctor and my family disapproved she supported me.

    Tears sweep over my face with each story I was telling Kathy, but so did the biggest smile I had in a long time.

    “You’re so lucky to have the known your aunt. Think about all the people who don’t have someone like that in their life,” Kathy said.

    After that dinner, every time I thought about my aunt it would be about the memories I was grateful to have shared with her instead of the ones we wouldn’t get to have.

    Kathy helped me understand that the difference between feeling happy and feeling unhappy was the difference between viewing the world in terms of what you do/did have instead of what I don’t/didn’t have.

    This single lesson not only helped me come to terms with my aunt’s death but also taught me to frame potential negatives in my life into positives.

    Each time my flight is delayed (and it seems to happen a lot), instead of viewing it as missing four hours of my vacation, I think about lucky I am to even have an opportunity to travel.

    Each time, I forget my subway card and choose to walk back to my house to get it, I think how lucky I am to even have a subway near my house.

    Years later, I found that Kathy’s lesson wasn’t just coincident but had been scientifically proven.

    The Science and Data Support Kathy’s Lesson

    Psychologists at the University of Northampton studied how people adapt to grief after exceptional experiences such as death of a loved one.

    While this study had a small sample size and found no single factor can help overcome grief, they found having a lens of appreciating what you have/had instead of what you don’t helped one subject, “gratitude in feeling blessed to have had the time [subject] did with [loved one] as well as the overall change in his perspective, which was found to be transformative.”

    The above finding about gratitude and happiness isn’t limited to just overcoming a personal loss, but can also increase our overall happiness when dealing with every day troubles.

    In one study conducted at the University of California at Davis and the University of Miami, participants were randomly assigned into one of three groups and asked to keep a weekly journal.

    The first group (the gratitude group) was asked to list five things they were grateful for that had occurred in the past week; the second group (the irked group) recorded five experiences that irked them from the previous week; and the third group (the control) was asked to list five events that affected them the previous week with no focus on the positive or on the negative.

    When the study concluded ten weeks later, participants in the gratitude group reported feeling 25% happier and just better in general than the irked group.

    How to Let This Habit Change Your Life

    Though I have shared with you a practice that has changed my life and the science behind it, this habit will only change your life if you actively let it. And this is easy.

    In your everyday life, you will encounter inconveniences and hassles—forgetting your keys at home, being stuck in traffic, or spilling wine on yourself. Each time this happens, simply pause and instead of focusing on the negative outcome, remind yourself of the more positive larger picture—you have a home to come back to, you have time to reflect on your day, and you have access to dry-cleaning.

    Over time by focusing on the positives of an event, you will maximize your outward happiness and minimize inner suffering.

    Happy man jumping image via Shutterstock

  • Coping with Loss and Heartbreak: How to Get Through the Pain

    Coping with Loss and Heartbreak: How to Get Through the Pain

    Broken Heart

    “The unendurable is the beginning of the curve of joy.” ~Djuna Barnes

    November, 2014. A story you’ve heard a million times. The person I believed with all my heart to be “the one” ceased to feel the same way about me.

    My heart and soul shattered, I had no desire to live, the whole works.

    Having your heart broken, especially by someone you truly loved is, from my perspective, the worst kind of pain there is. It makes you lose all sense of self, reality, purpose, and faith. To me, it felt like my soul was being severed into teeny tiny pieces.

    When we’re in that much pain, it seems like it’s going to be a forever deal. We forget that it’s all temporary.

    To make matters worse, we feel we’re all alone in it—we are rushed to “just move on already” when we can barely find enough energy to open our eyes.

    So keep in mind that there is no shame about the situation that is most painful to you and how long you’re taking to process it.

    You could be facing your darkest hour brought by the death of your pet fish. Or by the fact you didn’t get that dream job.

    Whatever the situation is, do not compare or believe your pain is less legitimate than others: your journey here is your own, and it is just as sacred as that of someone you perceive to have “more legitimate“ reasons to be in pain.

    Also, take your time getting through it. It’s your story. Your shoes. Your life.

    I’d like to remind everyone out there going through a hard time that pain is in fact the greatest catalyst for growth.

    You can’t see that when you’re smack in the middle of it; in fact, you might even say, as I did, “No growth is worth this much pain.” But when you come out on the other side, my friends, it’s like you’re seeing in color for the first time in your life.

    So keep going! You’ll be happier than you ever were once you’ve transcended it, I promise you.

    Here are five of the many lessons I learned throughout this year that I believe can help anyone, at any point, with any struggle, to reach out into all the happiness and bliss that life can offer.

    1. Gratitude

    While I was in that place of suffering, gratitude seemed like a dark humor joke from the skies. How can you possibly find something to be grateful for when you feel you’ve been stripped of every shred of happiness or love and there’s nothing left but pain?

    That feeling kept me in limbo for a while. I kept reading and reading about recovering from a severe heartbreak and every single one of the texts I read were emphatic about gratitude. So at one point I thought “there has to be a reason for this.”

    Finally, I picked up a pen and piece of paper and told myself to write ten things I was grateful for.

    It was hard at first. Only a few things came to mind, like family and a roof over my head. But I kept on trying, day after day.

    By the end of the first week, ten things were too little.

    You begin to see everything as a blessing.

    Now, with a year’s worth of practice, at the end of each day, looking back at things to be grateful for on that one day feels actually overwhelming at times—there’s just so much to be thankful for.

    I feel important to share that what made me click was the realization that gratitude isn’t about exercizing it as a virtue because you should. It’s about the wonderful state of being you put yourself in deliberately. Ultimately, gratitude is about being happy.

    2. Beliefs, beliefs, beliefs

    Next, I was smacked in head with the premise that you create your own reality. Accepting responsibility for your pain is awful, to say the least—until you realize how empowering it actually is.

    What it comes down to is that what you truly believe about yourself and the world is, in fact, what you’re going to experience in your life.

    If you believe that the universe conspires against you, surely enough, that’s what you’re going to get. Every time something goes wrong in your life, you’re going to read it as if you’re powerless and the universe is after your bottom in particular.

    The silver lining is: beliefs are changeable. Wouldn’t it be amazing if you chose instead to believe that the universe conspires in your favor?

    A great technique I picked up from Tiny Buddha itself is: find a belief that you’re holding on to that you feel is doing more harm than good, and work on it.

    Let’s say, for instance, you feel unlovable. Take a piece of paper and write down the opposite of this, e.g. “I am lovable.” Then actively look for evidence that this is true, day by day.

    Every time you felt loved during the day, write it down. If someone was kind to you, if you received a compliment or a warm touch, or were praised in any way, write it down.

    Little by little, you’re going to convince yourself of this, and then proceed to see it more and more in your experience.

    3. You are complete.

    We tend to attach certain situations, people, and experiences to certain feelings. This makes us think that in order to feel complete we need to reach out for these people, situations, and experiences, which obviously causes us more harm than good.

    Take me, for instance. I attached the love that I felt for my ex partner to that person in particular. One meant the other. And it was the most beautiful feeling. So when they were no longer there, I felt I was left with a huge hole in my soul.

    But I came to realize that love I felt had been inside me the whole time. What they did was bring it to surface.

    Which is to say: you can’t feel anything that isn’t within you already—you are a complete being. No one, and no circumstance, puts feelings inside of you.

    It’s easier to let go once you realize that, much like a piano, all of your feelings are already within you in potential. What your reality does is play the notes that bring them into your awareness.

    The beauty is: you can play that piano yourself.

    Find your music.

    It’s the best you’ll ever hear.

    4. Disidentification

    I can’t stress enough how important it is to disidentify with your pain or struggle. We feel it’s so entrenched in us that it’s like an arm or a leg. So I want to be very clear: you are not your pain.

    In my experience, heartbreak felt like it would be forever a part of me. That there was nothing I could do about it because it was so profound and painful that standing for even a minute looking at it made my heart go physically nuts (which was quite scary).

    The moment I learned, and I mean actually understood, that pain serves you immensely by pointing straight at parts of yourself you need to heal, and is not part of your now-being, everything changed.

    So, imagine your pain as a separate entity from you. Imagine seeing your pain in front of you, talking to it, hugging it. Dress it festively according to the occasion, hang out with it, draw it, make a Play-Doh version of it. Be creative and let loose.

    It’s going to become a second nature to you to actually love your pain.

    5. Integration, integration, integration

    This came as a consequence of the latter lesson. By loving your pain, you integrate it. You don’t reject it or try to run from pain; you accept it.

    What happens next is that you expand. And that is the best thing ever. Trust me.

    Everything becomes that much full of life, of passion, of color.

    It’s so important to understand this. Every time you integrate an aspect of your pain, you’re going to feel more joyful, more awake, more excited.

    So don’t run from your shadows. Instead, invite them over for a cup of tea and have a nice, honest, accepting chat.

    —

    These five lessons helped me form a new understanding of life—I went from dreading each and every day to feeling excited and passionate for every new morning. I hope they can help you find your way there as well.

    Be gentle with yourself and hang in there—it’s worth it!

    Broken heart image via Shutterstock

  • There’s No Expiration Date on Grief (So Don’t Rush Your Pain)

    There’s No Expiration Date on Grief (So Don’t Rush Your Pain)

    Woman Sitting Alone

    “They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite.” ~Cassandra Clare

    I lost my father to a heart attack when I was sixteen. I went to school on the morning of April 14, 2008 having a dad and went home that night not having one. I soon found myself dealing with an unfamiliar cocktail of emotions, pain so overwhelming that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

    Every time I thought I was pulling myself together, I’d notice his belt buckle sitting on the dresser, or a pair of his socks on the floor, and suddenly the haphazard stitches I’d been sewing myself up with would tear open with heart-wrenching sobs.

    I lost the ability to make simple decisions like what takeout restaurant to order from or what to watch on TV. Nothing made sense that week.

    Dad had been my best friend, though not in the sense that he tried to act my age or allowed me to get away with things. On the contrary, my father was quite strict, always pushing me to be a better person.

    He was my best friend in that I could go to him with any worry and receive honest, unbiased advice. He forced me to see the good in myself instead of dwelling on the negative. I could cry in front of him knowing that he didn’t feel awkward or want to avoid me like dad characters on TV sitcoms.

    On the day of his death I had to accept that I could rely on no one but myself. That in and of itself seemed challenging, but now I had the added burden of everyone else depending on me. I was the shoulder that my mother and younger sister cried on.

    As the oldest child I became second in command under Mom. She relied on me for help with planning funeral details and making sure papers were in order. I didn’t mind the new role because it was empowering, as though by helping Mom I was giving back to Dad for everything he’d done for me.

    My greatest character flaw has always been focusing on the future instead of remaining grounded in the present. Not surprisingly, my father’s death and my long-term response to grief were no different.

    I cried for the entire week after he died. I cried along with everyone else at the funeral. Surely that’s all that grieving was supposed to be, right?

    When the funeral was over and the house was devoid of mourners, I picked my life up from where I was before his death.

    I avoided living in the “now” because the present was too painful, yet simultaneously tried to convince the rest of the world that I was a strong woman dealing with her pain. I stayed focused on getting into college and doing all of the things I knew my father would have wanted for me.

    This worked well until my senior year of college. I was on the Dean’s List, I had just gotten accepted into graduate school, and graduation was right around the corner.

    Then my boyfriend proposed.

    Except, I never expected that he would propose with my mother’s engagement ring, the same ring my father bought and proposed with. There was now a reminder of my father glimmering on my finger every day that I couldn’t ignore.

    Despite it being one of the happiest moments of my life, my engagement caused all of the sadness I’d buried to start bubbling up to the surface with such vigor that it felt like the day of his death all over again. I couldn’t run home and tell Dad the happy news. He wasn’t going to be able to walk me down the aisle.

    I realized how much I had been lying to myself. I hadn’t finished grieving because I hadn’t started grieving in the first place. I had been so focused on taking on the role of adult of the house that I didn’t give myself the chance to feel angry, resentful, or depressed, or to find the acceptance I really needed in order to move on.

    During the funeral people approached me to say that things would become easier in time. In truth, I don’t think this is ever the case. I have decided that grief never ends; we just find different ways of working with it in our lives.

    At twenty-four, I pretend to be a stoic and emotionless professional woman, but discussing my father with people still melts me like butter. I think about him and write about him more now than I did seven years ago, and that’s okay. There are no time limits for grief other than the ones we force on ourselves.

    If I could talk to my sixteen-year-old self, I’d tell her she shouldn’t feel guilty for her sadness. She’s entitled to grieve however she wants, for however long she wants. More importantly, I’d tell her that it’s important to take the time to sort out those feelings instead of hiding from them or putting other people first.

    I admit that certain memories of Dad still trigger a twinge of heartache. I will always feel emptiness in my life without him here. But I am aware of how much of him still lives with me—in my smile, my hobbies, and in the shared memories of people in my life who had the honor of knowing him.

    The key to grieving is not to try to stop it as quickly as possible. Grief cannot be shut off at will, despite how long I spent trying to convince myself otherwise. What matters is that we acknowledge that we are in pain and try to find the goodness in our life despite it.

    I used to look down at my engagement ring and feel numbed by sadness, both for the past and for the things that can never be. But with a new mindfulness I can look at my ring, this gift from my father, and know for certain that I’m allowed to move on and find the same happiness that my parents had.

    My father’s never going to disappear from my life; he’s just talking in ways that require careful listening.

    Woman sitting alone image via Shutterstock

  • How to Recover and Find Strength after Losing a Parent

    How to Recover and Find Strength after Losing a Parent

    “When we meet real tragedy in life, we can react in two ways – either by losing hope and falling into self-destructive habits or by using the challenge to find our inner strength.” ~Dalai Lama

    There was a period in life I called “the golden era.” Not in hindsight but at the actual time.

    I named it such because I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

    Everyone I loved was alive and well. I had a good job, a home, and a loving companion. All the things everyone longs for.

    Little did I know, this “golden era” would end too soon.

    One day, out of the blue, Mum asked if I had noticed a change in Dad’s behavior. She described how he could no longer write his signature and would often become distant.

    After some tests, we discovered that my father had a brain tumor.

    That instantly spelled the end of the golden era and the beginning of a rather painful period.

    Watching someone who was strong become weak and bedridden, suffer seizures, and eventually drift away eats away at you.

    It’s difficult to describe the tumultuous wave of feelings that come and overwhelm you. There’s the fear of coping with loss and feeling powerless because you can’t cure the illness and avoid the inevitable.

    Losing a parent can feel like losing part of yourself. If they’ve always been there, helping and supporting you, it’s hard to imagine coping without them.

    Getting through such a bleak period, however, proved one thing:

    We are stronger than we think.

    Somewhere inside us is a resilience we never thought possible.

    Use the following steps to uncover your inner strength, overcome grief, and learn to smile again.

    1. Forgive yourself.

    When a parent dies, guilt can become a burden because of past arguments you now regret or maybe because you think you didn’t do enough to help them.

    You should realize no parent-child relationship is ever perfect. Disputes, mistakes, and shortcomings occur on both sides and are all in the past. You were still loved even if you were seldom told.

    By recognizing the past as something that is finished and unchangeable, you can begin to free yourself from guilt and reflect on the good times instead. The good times are what they would want you to remember.

    2. Face your feelings.

    Feelings of loss or anger can grow stronger if left unchecked, especially if you’ve never known death so close.

    Exploring ways to cope with these feelings myself led to meditation. Mindfulness meditation is one way to help understand the flow of these feelings.

    Imagine sitting on a river bank and watching the boats sail by. Similarly, by watching your thoughts, you’ll see how your grief has influenced your emotions. This “watching” of thoughts creates an awareness of their impact on how you feel that, in turn, reduces the pendulum effect of emotions. By anticipating emotions, you begin to reduce their power.

    3. Keep talking.

    The sudden reality of not being able to chat to your Mum or Dad again can be hard to accept.

    For a time after losing Dad, I still chatted to him. I asked what he thought of something, but of course I didn’t expect an answer. It was a way of getting the words out that were already in me to say.

    Don’t hide from the fact that your parent is gone. Visit the grave, and chat to them in thoughts. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. Not only does it keep their memory alive, but it’s also a release for your feelings.

    4. Look after you.

    Grief can take its toll in many ways. Loss of sleep, reduced appetite, and damaged immune system are not uncommon. The remedy is to protect your health and fitness.

    Like the pre-flight safety instructions to put on your oxygen mask before helping others, protect your health first to ensure you can heal and help others do the same.

    You only need to take small steps. Get walking with a friend, eat natural, unprocessed food, and stay hydrated. When your body feels strong, it will lift your mood and help you cope.

    5. Take time out.

    During the immediate aftermath, you’ll have an overwhelming to-do list. From making funeral arrangements to addressing legal matters. All physically and mentally exhausting.

    It’s vital for your physical and mental health to rest. If you take a vacation to recuperate when things have settled, you’ll be able to return refreshed to help your family over the longer term. Never feel guilty for taking time off.

    6. Avoid comparisons.

    During grief, we can become self-conscious of how we’re perceived by others. There is no right or wrong way to grieve, so don’t judge your reaction to loss. You don’t need to look or behave a certain way.

    A colleague returned to work recently the day after their father’s funeral, which attracted comment, whereas I took several weeks off.

    Don’t worry about how it looks to others or what they might think. This is your personal journey and yours alone, so never fear judgment. Do what’s right for you.

    7. Be patient.

    Missing a parent is natural, and if you were very close, you’ll need time to adjust.

    Time heals the acuteness of pain, but you may continue to miss your parent. After five years, I still miss Dad very much. Hardly a week goes by that I don’t think of him, but it used to be hardly a day.

    Don’t wish time away in the hope you can speed up the healing process. Recovery will happen at its own natural pace.

    8. Support your family.

    The passing of a parent can send a shockwave across the whole family. We might become withdrawn in our own grief and not realize others are sharing in the loss.

    So offer your hand in support to other family members. You will avoid feeling isolated if you focus on the needs of others and help other loved ones to cope.

    As a loving team, you will be able to count on each other at different times to get through the toughest periods together.

    9. Enjoy precious memories.

    There was a time I couldn’t think of Dad without a tear. When I returned to work, I had to make a determined effort not to swell up when colleagues offered condolences.

    But I discovered that I could still enjoy my Dad’s “company” by recalling the good times we shared. The laughs, the trips, and the DIY jobs that seemed to take forever.

    Don’t avoid reliving your precious moments in your mind’s eye. A time will come when you smile or laugh to yourself just as you did at the time. So let your parent live on in your thoughts, and enjoy seeing them there any time you wish.

    10. Accept the new you.

    As we get older, our opinions and outlook on life can change. The passing of a parent is one of those experiences that will change you. I became more tolerant because life’s trivia was put in context.

    Worry about missing deadlines, being late for an event, or having a new gadget malfunction. Events that annoy us day to day pale into insignificance.

    This change is not for the better or worse; it’s simply a change. Grief increases awareness that all things change, so prioritize what’s really important.

    Value and enjoy every waking moment, and let the new you grab each precious day with passion.

    Unlock a New Chapter

    Society often writes off the death of a parent as the natural order of events, but those who’ve experienced it know how life-changing it is.

    You feel hurt and loss because you have a heart but that heart is stronger than you ever imagined.

    With the steps above, the same heart can grow in confidence, beat with new hope, and become healthier than ever before. You can still enjoy life, and you should.

    Life is there to be cherished.

    It’s what your parent would have wanted. Live your life in the knowledge they’d be happy for you.

  • Why Dieting Never Works: 4 Reasons to Stop

    Why Dieting Never Works: 4 Reasons to Stop

    “Your body is precious. It is your vehicle for awakening. Treat it with care.” ~Buddha

    Diets are extremely seductive.

    We get lured in by the promises they make:

    The temptation of a smaller jeans size.

    The possibility of having a beach-ready body.

    The idea that everything would be better if you just weighed ten (or fifteen, or twenty…) pounds less.

    When you’ve overloaded yourself with sweets and feel horrible about your body, it’s easy to get sucked into attempting a diet as a quick-fix to your weight issues.

    In my own life, I struggled with gaining and losing the same sixty pounds for about twelve years. I would start over on Monday, swear off sweets and dessert, and then be knee-deep in a gallon of ice cream by Friday.

    If there was a diet out there, I tried it. Cleanses, detoxes, Paleo, South Beach, Atkins, The Zone Diet, Weight Watchers, and even diet pills.

    Even though I was continually seduced by the promise of weight loss, I never kept it off. I would inevitably end up failing miserably, but would still be seduced by the promise of “well, next time, I’ll really stick with it!”

    So when you’re seduced by the promise of weight loss and tempted to start another diet, let me save you weeks of frustration and tears with what I learned in my twelve years of dieting.

    Here’s why another diet is never the answer:

    Diets fail 100% of the time.

    Diets fail because there is an “on” and an “off.” If you go “on” something, at some point in time you have to go “off” of it. Yes, you may lose weight initially. You may drop a size or two from not eating carbs. But in six months, a year, or five years, has the weight come back?

    No one can sustain the “I’m eating only fruits, vegetables, and chicken” diet forever. When you rigidly restrict what you eat, eventually you’ll get to a point where you give in. This inevitably leads to a slippery downhill slope of overeating and then “starting over” the next day.

    Diets are never successful long term. Failure is built into the very nature of a diet. When you start a food plan, something will come up where you’ll desperately want something not on your diet. And then you feel like a failure because you broke the diet.

    Diets always measure “success” in days, weeks, or months, because the reality is, it never lasts long term.

    Diets set you up to crave even more sweets.

    When you tell a toddler he can’t have the green crayon, what does he immediately want? The green crayon. He throws a temper tantrum if you won’t give him the green crayon. After a while, you get so sick of him screaming about the crayon that you give it to him so he’ll stop his tantrum.

    And so it is with dieting. You tell yourself you can’t have cake, cookies, bread, or chocolate, so what do you think about all day long? The cakes, cookies, bread, and chocolate. You’re consumed with it, you dream about it, and you fantasize about ways you can eat one a piece of cake without having it “count.”

    Your forbidden foods seem to be consuming your thoughts and soon, you’re so sick of fighting an internal battle and thinking about cakes and cookies 24/7 that you give in so all of the fighting stops.

    The nature of something being forbidden means you’re much more likely to want, need, and crave it.

    Diets take you further and further away from learning to listen to your body.

    Diets work in direct opposition to intuitive eating. They’re based on strict rules and foods you can’t eat. There isn’t room to check in with your body, allow your needs/wants to arise, and nourish your body accordingly.

    “Success” is based on adhering to a system that’s prescribed. If there are rules you have to abide by, you can bet that the diet does not encourage listening to your body. Instead of learning how to tap into your body’s own intuition, you only eat what’s on the list of “acceptable” foods.

    Lasting weight loss requires that you are in touch with your body, that you understand what it needs and wants, and that you pay enough attention to yourself that you are aware of how/why you use food. And when you diet, it takes you farther away from listening to your own body’s wisdom.

    Diets create a sense of separation from yourself.

    Because diets operate on strict rules and guidelines, it creates a sense of separation from your body. Your body becomes this “thing” you’re fighting against. You wage war on it, you deprive it, and you punish it.

    The sense of separation grows as you work against your body, attempting to punish it into a place of weight loss.

    A diet is essentially a battle with yourself, and the more you diet, the more the distance you create between you and your body. The way back to hearing your body’s messages is through listening, honoring, and nourishing yourself (which dieting will never do for you!)

    Remember that dieting never brings about the results you truly want. Lasting change begins with awareness, love, and self-compassion as you start to understand your food patterns and behaviors.

  • What We All Really Need When We’re Struggling

    What We All Really Need When We’re Struggling

    Sad Man

    “There are two ways of spreading light: be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.” ~Edith Wharton

    I tucked my boarding pass safely into my coat pocket, donned my eyeglasses, and searched for the overhead signs that would lead me to the correct gate. Thanksgiving would be here soon and the Orlando airport was bursting at the seams with travelers.

    I turned the corner and jerked to a stop. Hundreds of people stood before me, bunched together in a space the size of a ballroom. I’d have to maneuver my way through them, I thought, to get to the security gate off in the distance. And then I quickly realized that’s exactly where all those other people were headed, too.

    I resigned myself to a long wait. What a waste of time, I thought to myself. I just want to get home.

    A symphony of sounds surrounded me: babies crying, kids fussing, some folks complaining, some laughing, loudspeakers blaring, cell phones ringing, along with the buzz of constant chatter.

    This being Orlando, a family wearing mouse ears huddled directly in front of me. I rose up on tiptoes to peek above their heads and catch a glimpse of the security area. Still far away. With no roped lanes to guide us, some newcomers gently nudged by me in an effort to gain a little bit of extra distance. Funny how you can be pressed up against others in a large crowd and at the same time be invisible to them.

    The swarm of people slowly funneled their way into one of two security lanes, and at last it was my turn. I handed my identification to the agent and was ushered into a long line of people waiting to go through the scanners. At least now it was an obvious line. No more folks jockeying for position.

    The woman behind me sighed. A few seconds later she sighed again. Not a sigh of frustration, more like a sigh of grim resignation. A TSA agent passed by and she flagged him down.

    “This is taking so long,” she said. “Will I be able to make my flight on time?” Her tone was one of despair.

    “I don’t know,” the agent replied.

    “Do you think they will hold the plane a few extra minutes for me?” she asked.

    I didn’t hear his response. I imagined he simply shook his head no. “Oh, dear,” she muttered to herself. “Oh, dear.”

    At the pace the line was moving I figured it would be another ten minutes at least before we would pass through the x-ray scanners. Then it was anyone’s guess how far you had to walk to arrive at the proper gate.

    Out of the corner of my eye I watched the woman behind me lower her head, forlorn and clearly troubled by her situation. I turned to her.

    “I couldn’t help but overhear,” I said. “Please switch places with me. Every little bit helps.” She gratefully accepted my offer. We both understood that my act saved her perhaps fifteen or twenty seconds of time. Hardly enough time to make a meaningful difference.

    But that which is most meaningful may not always be what you think.

    Instantly, as if by magic, her demeanor changed from being tense and downcast to cheery and hopeful. She exhaled another sigh, but this time it was a sigh of relief.

    “Isn’t this crazy!” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Next time I will plan better. Have you ever seen so many people?”

    She stood next to me, not in front of me or behind me, but side-by-side.

    We spent the next several minutes chatting happily about ordinary things—where we were headed, how wearisome travel can be, how a cup of strong coffee would taste so good right about now. But her smile never left her. And I was smiling, too. As much as I helped her to feel uplifted, I was now uplifted. My thoughts of a long day of travel ahead of me vanished.

    I grew deaf to the noises and chatter all about me. I didn’t see anyone else—no kids in strollers, no adults with mouse ears. This time I wasn’t invisible but everybody else was. It was just the two of us cracking jokes and making small talk. Side-by-side.

    Suddenly it was our turn for the x-ray scanner. She thanked me one last time and we parted ways. Within a minute I lost sight of her.

    What just happened? I asked myself. And then I realized something important. What this woman wanted was reassurance she would make her flight on time. But what she needed was to know that somebody cared.

    And isn’t that what we all need most of the time? When we feel worried or hurt or simply frustrated by life’s burdens; when the “givens” of life (sickness, loss, disappointment, heartbreak) overwhelm us; when we struggle to make our way through another day; a warm embrace, thoughtful gesture, or a hand on our shoulder can be all we need to feel a little more hopeful and, perhaps, a lot more cared about.

    I don’t know if that woman got to her plane on time. When you help others along the road you may never know the outcome of their journey. But it may not have been your purpose to know. Your purpose may have been to simply meet them on the path and in some way be a source of light so they can see things from a clearer perspective—and in so doing discovering that they may have been a source of light for you.

    As for me, I no longer see long lines as a waste of time but as opportunities to make a difference, however small, in someone’s life.

    Never underestimate your power to make a difference in the life of others by even a small act of kindness or a few comforting words. Opportunities abound every day. Seek them out. And we all know this to be true: it is in the giving that we receive.

    Lost hope image via Shutterstock

  • Stop Shaming Yourself If You Want to Start Losing Weight

    Stop Shaming Yourself If You Want to Start Losing Weight

    Woman Hiding Face

    “Love yourself first and everything else falls into line.” ~Lucille Ball

    As I sat on my bedroom floor almost in tears that night, surrounded by all the clothes I’d just tried on before a night out with my friends, the same thoughts replayed through my mind. You’re fat, you’re ugly, and you’re disgusting for letting yourself get this way.

    I still cringe when I think about that, and the way I used to speak to (and about) myself. I would never think that of another person, let alone talk to them like that, yet it was second nature to say those things to myself!

    I canceled on my friends that night; I was so unhappy with how I looked and felt that I couldn’t face going out and worrying what other people thought of my shape and size.

    It’s ironic, isn’t it, that when we feel so low about ourselves, that’s the time when we’re most self-absorbed? We retreat into a small bubble that’s all about us. As if the people in the bar that night would care what I looked like! They were there to have a good time with their friends, and I should have been too.

    I struggled to lose weight during that time because I just couldn’t stay consistent or build new healthier habits. I’d do well for a while, but then I’d have one off moment and I’d give up, feeling like a failure. It was a vicious cycle, with my lack of consistency and results feeding my low self-esteem, and vice versa.

    That night that I canceled on my friends still sticks in my mind all these years later because it was a turning point for me. This was not the life I wanted to be living.

    If I could go back in time, I would tell that girl to get up off the floor and go and enjoy a great night out with her amazing friends. But that’s probably because I’m in a totally different place now and I no longer have those awful thoughts about myself.

    When this change first started happening and I grew my self-esteem, with that, I found it easier to take far better care of myself, and that’s when I really started to lose weight. Everything clicked into place. These are the steps I took to get here, and I hope they’ll help you make it too:

    1. Treat yourself as you would a close friend or loved one.

    Take stock of your thoughts as they come into your mind. Would you say that to a loved one? If not, get rid of it or reform it. If you wouldn’t say it to a loved one at all, discard it! If you would say it in the situation but word it differently, reform it.

    Try to always ask yourself: Is it true? Is it helpful? Is it inspiring? Is it necessary? Is it kind?

    2. Stop obsessing about yourself; start thinking about others.

    It’s so easy to get into that little bubble I mentioned earlier, but you need to get out of it and take your focus away from yourself sometimes. Try doing random acts of kindness, or helping someone you know, or even volunteering. Anything that helps you to remember there is much more in the world than yourself.

    3. Forgive yourself and release any guilt or anger.

    We’ve all done things we’re not proud of and messed up in some way. But our mistakes don’t define us as people. A friend of mine used this analogy when we were talking about this some time ago:

    Sometimes bad fruit can grow on good trees. The tree is good at its core, but it has produced something bad by mistake. But it’s also produced a lot of good fruit too!

    Good fruit never grows on bad trees. If a tree is bad at its core, it can never grow good fruit.

    If you’ve ever ‘produced good fruit,’ you are a good person at your core. Good people still sometimes do bad things, and ‘produce bad fruit,’ but it does not make you a bad person.

    4. Learn what your body needs.

    And start giving it those things! Learn about nutrition and healthy foods; find out which types of foods your body thrives on. Drink plenty of water each day to stay hydrated. Move your body—we’re not designed to sit at desks all day and then come home and sit on the sofa. Even if it’s not scheduled exercise, just getting more activity into your day, like taking the stairs, will help.

    And always remember to switch off and rest. With technology the way it is now, it can be difficult to unplug and unwind, but it’s so important to your well-being. Find out how much sleep your body needs to work at it’s best, and try to get those hours in each night; it’s different for everyone, so it’s worth testing out.

    5. Have more fun and connect with people.

    When we get into this place of low-self esteem it can affect our daily habits and our social life. Don’t forget the things that make you happy and light you up. Keep a list of them if you need to and make sure you do them regularly.

    Put yourself out there more and connect with people again. We all need human interaction and social bonds, we all need people we feel comfortable with. And it will help so much to have that group while you build your self-esteem.

    —

    These points take time to go through; you won’t suddenly become confident and love yourself overnight. But they do work in helping you build healthier thoughts of yourself and enjoying your life more again.

    They help you want to take better care of yourself and, if you’re trying to lose weight and get in better shape, they will help you enormously.

    Woman hiding face illustration via Shutterstock

  • 4 Things to Remember When Your Relationship Falls Apart

    4 Things to Remember When Your Relationship Falls Apart

    Lonely

    “At some point you have to realize that some people can stay in your heart, but not in your life.” ~Unknown

    I was filled with excitement and nerves as I stood waiting to meet him for the first time in Paddington station.

    It was one of the wettest days I’d seen in London, and the rain dripped steadily from the peaked hood of my blue rain jacket. Zipped up to my chin and the hood pulled tight over my head, only my eyes peered out, searching for him amongst the crowds and falling rain.

    Months later, he told me that he’d fallen in love with me the moment he saw me, those big eyes staring out at him from beneath my hood.

    We’d been introduced on Facebook via a mutual friend after I’d commented on how cute he was. He lived in California. I lived in London. He’d quit his job to travel for a year and was passing through the city. He asked if I wanted to meet.

    I said yes.

    But in the same moment that he fell in love with me at the station, my excitement faded away. What I’d hoped to feel when we finally met just wasn’t there.

    Over the next few months, from wherever he traveled, he pursued me with a persistence I’d never known.

    At first, I was annoyed. I wished he’d leave me be.

    But as the weeks and months went by, things started to change. He wanted to know everything about me. He was interested. Interested in a way no one else had been before. He took time to get to know me. And I started to get to know him too.

    I realized that I’d judged him too soon.

    When he returned to California, we spent the next few months talking online almost every day. With every question he asked, I started to love him a little bit more.

    Eventually, we talked about meeting again, this time in California, to see where this all might lead.

    And so three months ago I boarded a plane at London Heathrow to meet this man who I’d begun to love.

    We spent the next three months on one long adventure. It was filled with road trips, hiking, forest trails, gentle kisses, holding hands, the wind in our hair, the sun on our cheeks and the smell of California all around us.

    We argued, too.

    But it was perfect.

    And yet when those three months came to a close, we both acknowledged the unhappy reality that we were two people traveling in two very different life directions. We both felt that continuing our journey together would mean neither of us would ever quite be truly content.

    And so my grieving began. A sort of grieving I’ve not experienced before. Because here was a man I loved. And yet I also knew that we weren’t meant to be.

    The last few weeks have been filled with a great deal of sadness, confusion, and questioning, as well as gratitude and happiness for the time we spent together.

    I don’t think there’s a person amongst us who has escaped heartbreak in this thing we call life. And so amongst all this, I wanted to share a few thoughts on love and life. It’s helped me to write this down. I hope it might help you too.

    Leave nothing on the table.

    In our final week together, we watched a film called Miracle, the true story of Herb Brooks (Russell), the player-turned-coach who led the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team to victory over the seemingly invincible Russian squad.

    There’s a moment in the film when Herb turns to his wife and says:

    “The important thing is that those twenty boys know that in twenty years they didn’t leave anything on the table. They played their hearts out. That’s the important thing.”

    And that is the important thing.

    I could have said no to this experience. I could have told myself about all the ways in which it could end in disaster and heartbreak. I could have stayed in London.

    But then where would we be?

    Two people who left everything on the table. Two people who refused to play their hearts out.

    And while these endings bring pain, I never want to live my life not playing my heart out. I don’t think anyone should live that way. Not in business. Not in love. Not in life.

    So keep opening up.

    Keep playing your heart out.

    Leave nothing on the table.

    You are lovable.

    Right now, one of the things I’m really having to fight is the stories my mind is trying to create. Stories like:

    • You’re not lovable.
    • You’ll be alone forever.

    In times of pain and vulnerability, the brain searches for stories to make sense of what’s happened. Oftentimes, we come up with stories that aren’t based in truth. But our brain doesn’t know that. It only knows that it’s now got a way to make sense of what’s happened.

    Those stories get locked in and then they impact the way we behave in every similar situation in the future.

    So I’m reminding myself every second of every day that this love story not working out doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me.

    So I want to remind you too. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re lovable. You’re loved.

    Permanence is an illusion.

    I spent some time reflecting on why I feel so sad. To be sure, this is grief, of a sort, and my sadness is legitimate and welcome.

    But as I look at what’s behind my sadness, I see stories of clinging.

    Clinging to a person who was never mine to begin with.

    Clinging to stories of the future, which will now never come to be.

    I remind myself, now, of the law of impermanence.

    That all things come and go.

    That all things, both pleasure and pain, pass.

    That there is nothing in this world that will remain as it is in this moment.

    And I remind myself, too, that just because something no longer is, doesn’t mean it never was.

    Look for the good things. 

    It’s easy for me to seek out only the bad in all of this. It’s easy to focus on the sadness and the pain and the reasons why it didn’t work out.

    But I once read a story about a mother who told her son, every day before he went to school, “Look for the good things.” 

    And now, even though his mother is gone, he remembers, always, to look for the good things.

     I loved this story and it’s what I’m trying to do now.

    I think it’s important to acknowledge pain and sadness. They need their time and space. But amongst all that sadness, don’t forget to look for the good things too. They’re there. I promise.

    Lonely image via Shutterstock

  • 5 Ways a Creative Practice Can Help You Through Grief

    5 Ways a Creative Practice Can Help You Through Grief

    “The discipline of creation, be it to paint, compose, write, is an effort toward wholeness.” ~Madeleine L’engle.

    Heartbreak, sadness, and loss are uniting experiences across humanity—all of us are likely to experience grief in some form.

    In grief, it can be common to feel lost, demotivated, depressed, and also, to experience a loss of self-esteem; it’s difficult to feel good about yourself when you’re processing all of the emotions that go along with grieving.

    Developing a regular creative practice can be a helpful, healing way through loss. I used a creative practice to help find my way through a time of immense sadness and change—a divorce.

    When my relationship ended after sixteen years, there wasn’t a single aspect of my life that remained the same: my family, friendships, the way I parented, where I lived, my work and financial situation—every aspect of my life changed dramatically.

    It was a huge time of change that I termed “reinvention,” and I rebuilt my life from the ground up.

    I grieved the loss of a family, of the amount of time I had with my son, and the fact he was now a child of a split family. I grieved the possibility I would never have more children, and the picture I had for my future life.

    In my experience, grief is something you work through over a period of years. As the old adage says, it takes time. As humans, we experience grief in many forms, so while causes of grief and individual experiences differ between people, I think there are lessons and experiences that we can share.

    I have completed several Photography 365 projects over the last six years since my divorce. These have been the foundation for creativity and gratitude practices that are now the cornerstones of my life.

    Whether you are a creative person trying to maintain your creativity or someone who is looking for a tool to help you through grief, developing a regular creative practice will be helpful.

    When you’re grieving, it can feel as if everything in your life has changed, and often it has. Creativity can be a solid, comforting, and familiar friend—a pillar of self-support.

    A creative practice is any creative activity you undertake on a regular (preferably daily) basis. Ways of utilizing and growing your creativity are virtually limitless—from cooking, to coloring, car-restoration, and on to calligraphy.

    The key is to find an accessible, achievable activity that works for you, that you can commit to adding into your life. (If you’re grieving, consider leaving that larger-than-life art installation for now, and focus on something you can work on in your pajamas if need be!)

    Make no mistake, establishing a creative practice takes effort, commitment, and discipline, just like many of the most worthwhile things in life. But it will reward you, again and again.

    Creativity has the ability to become a cornerstone of your life, as well as a pathway through grief, and a stimulant of huge growth.

    Creativity shares a trait with grief that is not commonly acknowledged: They can both be tools for growth. Typically, grief throws down challenges you wonder whether you have the strength to bear, but which, over time, you can learn to live with, heal from, and even thrive because of.

    Creativity, in a gentler fashion, can do the same. It will undoubtedly stretch and challenge you, but can be gentler than grief, because you can actually enjoy it! Choose an activity you love, are curious about, or have always wanted to try, and surrender to the healing power of creativity.

    Here are some key ways that creativity and a daily creative practice helped me, and can help you.

    Creativity challenges us to look for (and find) the beauty in every day.

    The world can look grey through grief. The shine disappears from everything and you feel as though you’re looking at the world through an ever-present veil.

    My creative practice—a Photography 365 Project where I took a photograph of my life every day for a year—helped (and forced!) me to look for something beautiful in life, every single day.

    Some days this was a struggle, but if I took a poor-quality, boring picture, it made me feel worse to look at it, and I realized I felt much better when I took a great picture. So I kept looking for beautiful pictures to take, one day at a time.

    Creativity provides a focus and something to look forward to.

    I completed my photography 365 projects with a group of like-minded women from all over the world. We shared our pictures online, became a part of each other’s daily lives, and helped motivate and support each other. We brainstormed, counseled, shared ideas, and held space.

    I cannot emphasize how critical a group of like-minded souls will be to helping you complete a sustained creative project. I not only looked forward to discovering what my photo of the day would be, but I looked forward to seeing what everyone else found as well.

    A cheerleading squad in the form of an online community, a virtual or real class, or a group to join can be enormously helpful as you develop your creative habit.

    Seeing something beautiful in every day makes us grateful for the good in our lives.

    Looking for the photo of the day became a daily, all-day search. I became far more aware of all that was around me: I chased the light, examined people’s faces, noticed nature, and raised my eyes to the horizon. I became an observer of the beauty of life, which helped me on the days I felt too sad, overwhelmed, or exhausted to be my beautiful self.

    The irony was, that by capturing the beauty in photographs, I became part of it, and as I recorded it I had it to look back on as proof. Proof that life was still good—that there were good moments in every day.

    As I worked through my 365 Project, it inspired me to begin another 365 Project, where the subject was consciousness.

    As I found my feet through grief, I bought a tiny red diary where I recorded one forward step toward my dreams (no matter how small) every day. I also wrote down what I was grateful for in each day, and the good things that had happened.

    (Note: the size of the diary was important in this project for me. I didn’t want to feel overwhelmed by 365 large blank pages, so I deliberately bought the tiniest diary I could find. Just a small space to fill each day, with one forward step. It helped).

    Creativity provides a daily outlet for feelings and emotions.

    It’s important to be honest with yourself and others about how you’re feeling, particularly in grief. A creative practice provides you with a forum in which you can check in with your feelings.

    You turn up to the page, the canvas, or the camera. You breathe, and then you feel. Your inner dialogue becomes the window through which you make or create. You can feel, process, and then let your emotions go when you express them creatively.

    The beauty of this is that the process is two-way. I made art to express my feelings, and I took photographs that depicted sadness, vulnerability, love, emptiness, loneliness, hope, and many other feelings. But in the main, I wanted to make beautiful art—art that lifted me up. So I made art to express my feelings, but I also felt better because I made beautiful art.

    Creativity is a portal into joy. No matter your age, stage, ability, or creative outlet, creativity gives you a place to simply be, to turn up, and either feel all there is to feel, or lose yourself entirely in the creative process.

    Chances are, you’ll do both. And while you do, creativity will be working its magic in your life—slowly but surely stepping you toward greater joy. When you’re grieving, these can feel like small steps, and it does take time. But if you persist, if you can open your heart to allow creativity in, you will succeed.

    Creativity can improve your self-esteem.

    Creating through grief can be difficult, because creativity is linked to self-esteem (creativity and self-esteem both sit in the sacral chakra). When we’re heartbroken, self-esteem can suffer.

    As a highly creative person, I was often frustrated by my grief, because it made creating so difficult. The effort required to push through the sadness, exhaustion, overwhelm, and all that was going on as I rebuilt my life made completing the big projects in my head seem almost impossible.

    And yet, by breaking my creativity down into tiny daily tasks, creativity became manageable, and I accomplished a long-held goal: I documented my daily life in photographs for an extended period of time, creating a body of work for a solo exhibition.

    Ultimately, how I chose to respond to my divorce led to me stepping fully into my creative purpose and life as an artist. Creativity helped me heal, and what I clung to in a difficult time has been reinforced as my greatest strength.

    —

    We do not always choose what happens to us in life, but we do choose how we respond. Creativity is an invaluable component of our lives, whether we’re in grief or not; and its powerful healing properties are transformational.

  • How to Live a Fulfilling Life: 10 Powerful Lessons from Loss

    How to Live a Fulfilling Life: 10 Powerful Lessons from Loss

    Man in Rays of Sun

    “Make ‘Let go of control’ your mantra today.” ~Tiny Buddha’s 365 Tiny Love Challenges #177

    When the phone call came I was thousands of miles from home. My father was suddenly ill, admitted to the hospital. I was a medical doctor by then, and I felt a foreboding.

    My mind went back to my childhood.

    Imagine being a little child in a dark room. Every small noise evokes images of vicious monsters lurking in the night. They draw nearer.

    You cry out, “Daddy!” And cry out once more. Then your hero comes to the rescue.

    Your father shuffles in half-asleep, picks you up, and pats you to sleep. All terrors dispelled, you feel invincible in your father’s arms. That’s one of my earliest memories.

    That feeling of utter safety and joy in my father’s arms was deeply imprinted in me. I said to my wife, “I don’t want to lose him!” He wasn’t very old, my mother had just retired, and they intended to travel the world together.

    Only months earlier I had taken our daughter to visit him. His first grandchild had thrilled him beyond description. He gazed at her adoringly as she fell asleep, bought a parrot in a cage to amuse her, clowned around to keep her laughing, and generally behaved as if he was high on love.

    Now we had a brand new baby, a son. My father had not seen him. “As soon as Daddy’s well again, I’ll come back with our son,” I thought.

    I rushed from the airport to my father’s hospital bed. He seemed to have aged by decades in the few months since our last visit! A variety of tubes went into and out of him, his eyes were shut.

    “Daddy, it’s me,” I said. His arms, pinned down by tubes, tried to reach up for a hug. The tangle of tubes made a hug impossible.

    Over the next few days I watched with growing frustration as he sank. All my instincts as a son and a doctor were to save him by any means. I demanded to speak to his very able doctors, and urged them to try a novel, desperate procedure.

    It was too late; his internal organs started shutting down. As the sun set over the sea outside the window, I held his hand and chanted to him softly, “Sleep in peace, old warrior, my darling.” He died some hours later.

    The fact of his death didn’t sink in immediately. I was still smiling at his funeral, comforting and reassuring the mourners.

    The next morning I woke up in my old bedroom and went automatically toward the bathroom where Dad would usually be shaving. He wasn’t there. I couldn’t exchange the usual “Good morning.” That’s when it hit me.

    I broke down, blabbing like a baby. His brother, my uncle, hugged me close. It was the start of a slow grieving process, which opened my eyes to a few things about life.

    1. You can’t control some of the most important things, so stop pretending. Be less impatient and more carefree.

    As Nietzsche wrote, “Through the certain prospect of death a precious, fragrant drop of frivolity might be mixed with every life.” Or, as Belloc wrote, “There’s nothing worth the wear of winning but laughter and the love of friends.”

    Make some room each day to nourish celebration, no matter how dire your circumstances. You’re breathing; treat that as a gift. Inhabit each moment more fully instead of being constantly preoccupied with the past or future.

    2. Don’t postpone happiness.

    It’s okay to make plans for when you’re 100, but don’t forget to reach for fulfillment this year, this month, this week, and today. You aren’t just preparing for life; this day and this moment are all you might have.

    As the economist Keynes wrote, “In the long run we’re all dead.” Make sure you live before you die.

    3. Don’t be afraid to reach for your dreams, even if you might fail.

    No matter what you do or don’t, the eventual outcome of your life is certain: death. Death can be sudden and unexpected.

    If you can’t predict when you’ll die, there’s little point in fearing small failures. Just aim for the most fulfilling life you can imagine, and take one meaningful step after another in that direction. You’ll surprise yourself with how much you achieve, and how meaningful the journey is.

    Sometimes you’ll win and sometimes you’ll lose, but join the games that fit you. Only potentially catastrophic risks need put you off.

    When the dice roll against you, remember death. It will help you make molehills out of mountains. That’s how you’ll stand like a rock in the storms of life.

    4. Fill your minutes with fulfillment and the years will take care of themselves.

    Time slips away like the sand in an hourglass. The hourglass of your life, however, can collapse without warning.

    Live intentionally; choose what work, play, and celebration receive your precious time. Even if you have a boss, find ways to be the pilot of your own life. Don’t be afraid to move on from soul-destroying situations as you reach for more fulfillment.

    Don’t neglect to allocate your time intentionally on a weekly and even daily basis. Align work, chores, play, relaxation, and celebration with your most cherished values.

    5. Measure your success by criteria that go beyond money.

    There’s only so much you can eat and drink, and only so much bed-space you can occupy. Don’t let the pursuit of money blind you to the wider ingredients of a deeply fulfilling life.

    As Steve Jobs said, “Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me. Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful… that’s what matters to me.”

    6. Make the most of the sheer, primal joy of family.

    One of the best gifts I gave my father was the joy of holding his first grandchild. I have a picture of them together, from our short visit. It’s one of my most treasured possessions.

    It’s amazing: two individuals come together and make a baby, then that baby often goes on to make a baby of the next generation. When someone says you have your father’s eyes or your mother’s nose, they are usually seeing a physical part of your parents in you.

    If you’ve started a family, don’t treat it as an interruption in your “real” life. Recognize, respect, and nurture it as a deep and priceless part of your being.

    7. Don’t let grudges simmer.

    Death takes away the opportunity to clear the air and make things right with someone. Do it now.

    I was blessed with a beautiful relationship with my father, which easily bore the weight of our faults and shortcomings. However, his death prompted me to put things right with other loved ones.

    If you were to exchange circumstances and history with someone else, you might behave even worse than they do. Be more understanding toward the real or imagined faults of others. Even your parents are mere human beings deserving of your understanding and forgiveness.

    8. Build hoops of love that can reach beyond the grave.

    My father is with me everywhere now. I should have a hole in my heart where he was, but it’s partly filled by the wonderful love that flourished between us and which I still feel vividly.

    The grief of loss is still real, but the profound love which underlies the grief is like an everlasting balm.

    9. Don’t underestimate the power of touch.

    As I broke down the morning after the funeral, my uncle’s hug was more comforting and healing than any words could be.

    People with depression will tell you how powerfully comforting the gentle touch of a loved one can be. A hug can reach the parts that mere words can’t reach.

    10. Live as if nobody’s watching.

    When you’re dead, the expectations of others will be irrelevant to you. Don’t squander your life suppressing your own potential in order to chase the approval of others.

    Keep growing in your understanding of the gifts and treasures within you, which deserve and require nurturing. Keep growing toward your best self, and recognize that you are a unique gift to the world. Don’t blindly copy the lives of others, or you might die before you’ve had a chance to live your own life.

    Death often brings indescribable grief and pain to the bereaved. But it’s also a great teacher.

    Whenever you remember death, treat it as a pointer to a better life. Create a life in which each moment expresses your cherished values. Then death, however sudden and unexpected, won’t be able to snatch fulfillment away from you.

    Man in rays of sun image via Shutterstock

  • Grieving a Loss That Feels Like a Death

    Grieving a Loss That Feels Like a Death

    “Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” ~Vicki Harrison

    Most grief books are written to help you mourn the death of a loved one and learn how to deal with their absence in this world.

    Death is probably the most challenging thing a human can face. It breaks us down. It brings us to our knees. Some people are so significant in our lives that the mere thought of living without them feels incredibly overwhelming and incapacitating.

    Losing someone we love is hard. Accepting loss is extremely challenging. So how do we cope with yearning and adapt to the emptiness following a divorce or huge breakup without feeling like a loser or the psycho who cant let go?

    It’s an unfair misconception to think that those who have a hard time letting go or are taking longer than usual time to move on are somewhat weak.

    Psychology agrees that when a major relationship or marriage ends, the person who was left may feel grief as painfully as someone who lost a loved one to death. Sometimes the pain can even be stronger.

    Divorces and breakups can sometimes be worse than death, because the person who died to us is very much alive, haunting our every thought.

    I remember how lost I felt right after Mr. Big broke things off with me for the 87th time. I remember packing my car with all my belongings and driving from San Francisco back to Los Angeles with our eight-month-old son in the car crying the entire six hour drive.

    I felt as if he had died. My whole world collapsed. I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to support our son.

    I wondered how he would turn out without his father in his life. Would he feel unloved? Would he wonder why his father cut him off his life? Would he blame himself or think he wasn’t good enough for his dad?

    So many questions rushed through my mind while I drove through the vast freeway back home.

    I felt humiliated. I felt alone. I felt a variety of feelings and emotions. But the one that I always remember is the feeling of loss. I had lost everything I ever thought I would eventually have. The family, the life and most importantly: the man. The man I had loved for five years had died.

    His body was still there but his soul was gone. Everything I ever thought of him was gone. His words were gone. His spiritual presence was gone.

    There is a lot more to life than a physical body. Millions of people have experienced the death of their loved ones without ever having to plan their funeral.

    When I arrived home it was time to pick up the pieces and move on. At least that’s what everyone around me was telling me.

    They expected me to shake everything off and move on with my life as if my son’s father didn’t exist. As if our story didn’t happen. But accepting the death of someone in our lives is a process.

    I kept going back and forth between missing him and hating him for leaving. At times the mixed emotions felt like I was literally sinking into insanity. One moment I would cry and the next I would yell.

    Nobody told me that grief does that to people, and because I didn’t know what I was feeling was normal, I felt even more alone.

    I had never heard of the five stages of grief until I went to see a therapist, because the pain was so unbearable. It’s then I learned that a person goes through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance after the death (or loss) of a loved one.

    Unlike what I originally believed, there is no specific order to these feelings. You may feel as if you are on an emotional rollercoaster as you are jumping from stage to stage. Its important to know that this emotional ride is normal, and if you get the proper help you will get off of it alive and stronger.

    I know what it feels like to not want to get out of bed. I know what it feels like to not want to take a shower, or brush my teeth or even eat.

    I know what is like to lose twenty pounds in six weeks, to lose friends and to lose your dignity begging someone to take you back. I know the feeling that the world has ended and you were left behind alone and miserable.

    I have been there, so believe me when I say that there is hope.

    There is, in fact, a light in the end of the depression tunnel. But the only way to get to that light is to walk through it. There is no way of getting around the process, and the earlier you begin the journey of mourning and healing, the sooner you will reach peace.

    The journey is long, but there is no race and no competition. It’s a journey with yourself. There will be days when you will feel stronger than ever and some days will bring you back to your knees.

    Just remember: The rollercoaster is the journey. So even when you are down, feeling as if you’ve made no progress, remember that progress is being made every day you choose to be alive.

    Progress is being made every day you choose to not call the one who left you.

    Progress is being made every day you choose to take another breath.

    You are alive. You are strong. You will survive.