Tiny Buddha

Tag: Pain

  • Why I Stopped Measuring My Pain Against Others’ Suffering

    Why I Stopped Measuring My Pain Against Others’ Suffering

    “A history of trauma can give you a high tolerance for emotional pain. But just because you can take it doesn’t mean you have to.” ~Dr. Thema

    I just returned from a walk with a dear friend—one of my favorite ways to catch up and socialize. This particular friend has endured significant challenges, especially over the past year. She faced the immense loss of her pets and many of her possessions in a devastating house fire.

    The ensuing tsunami of grief and pain pushed her through a tumultuous year filled with deep suffering and intense healing efforts. All the while, she juggled supporting her son without a partner, working full time, and navigating the complexities of temporary housing and an insurance claim.

    Witnessing her journey was heart-wrenching, but it also highlighted the remarkable strength and resilience of the human spirit. Today, she shared a profound insight: After confronting her greatest fears and being forced to sit with them, she emerged feeling lighter and less burdened by future uncertainties.

    I could see how true this was by her soft but resolved demeanor, the ease in her movements, and her willingness to risk joy again by adopting a new dog and reconnecting with friends.

    The Trap of Trauma Comparison

    Yet, one recurring theme in our conversation stood out to me: She often mentioned that others have survived much worse. This idea, while empathetic, raises an important issue. It seems to suggest that comparing our trauma to that of others can be a way to diminish our own pain and find gratitude for it not being worse.

    An effective way to gain perspective? Yes. But a mindset like this can also undermine our right to fully heal and acknowledge the internal impact of our own struggles.

    I understand this tendency well. Years ago, I broke down in a dental office after learning that I required surgery. The dentist, trying to offer perspective, compared my situation to those facing life-threatening illnesses. While I appreciated the attempt to provide context, it did little to address my immediate emotional experience.

    Looking back, I was certainly holding something energetically that needed attention, but I didn’t have the awareness to look at it. Plus, the dentist’s comment brought forward some shame for reacting in that way, so it was in my interest to move past it as quickly as possible.

    The Origin of Leveraging Comparison to Manage Pain

    At the time, the inclination to feel guilty for my reactions wasn’t a novel thing for me. I lived with a deep sense that entertaining negative feelings was excessive and undeserved because I was healthy, I was an only child, and I was privileged in many ways.

    I grew up at a time when parents often used comparison in their well-intentioned parenting strategy to raise unentitled children. I’ll give you something to cry about… There are starving children in Africa… Don’t be so sensitive… Do you know how good you have it? In my day…

    Even in my own parenting, I’ve been guilty of shaming my children for their feelings—a regret I can only reckon with by trying to do better now.

    The unfortunate truth is that all humans experience pain, and the depths of what is born of that pain can never be fully apparent from an outsider looking in. The real danger of comparison is that it often leads to the notion that trauma is solely about the external events we face rather than the internal impact they have on us.

    The Nature of Trauma: Big T vs. Small T

    Ryan Hassan, a trauma expert, provides a helpful metaphor to differentiate between what is often termed “Big T” trauma—such as war, abuse, or profound loss—and “Small T” trauma, which includes smaller prolonged experiences over time, like bullying or emotional neglect.

    Imagine someone damaging their knee in a car accident versus someone injuring it over years of repetitive strain. The knee injury might be different in its origin, but the damage and healing process are fundamentally similar. The same applies to trauma. Whether it stems from a single catastrophic event or ongoing micro-events, the internal impact can be equally profound and deserving of attention.

    In addition, our ability to metabolize trauma when it happens depends a lot on the support systems and safe relationships we can turn to at the time we experience something terrible. While this is partly circumstantial, the fact that two people who experience an identical trauma can move through it completely differently—one person becoming an addict and the other a motivational speaker, for example—highlights how the external nature of the trauma is not a measure of its impact but rather the capacity an individual has for coping with it at the time.

    My friend’s trauma would certainly be classified at Big T, but even knowing that, her tendency is to compare her experience with even Bigger Ts than her own in an attempt to diminish all she has done to come through the experience.

    The Unique Journey of Each Individual

    It has taken me most of my life to fully grasp that each person’s journey through trauma is uniquely their own. Our paths are shaped by the survival adaptations we’ve developed to protect ourselves in response to various life experiences that have triggered fight, flight, fawn, or freeze responses. Those responses lead to energetic imprints, which are held in our body and must be included in our healing work.

    Each painful experience, whether acute or chronic, holds the potential for profound healing, learning, and personal growth.

    The Missteps of the Medical Model

    Years ago, I was deeply troubled to hear about another friend who was told by her doctor that she should be “over” her father’s passing by now after she randomly started to cry at her checkup when she mentioned losing him the year before. This kind of dismissal, especially from a medical professional, underscores a critical flaw in our conventional approach to trauma.

    While radical acceptance of our circumstances is essential, the energetic aspect of trauma—often dismissed as “woo woo” in medical circles—plays a crucial role. This unaddressed energetic component can manifest in various physical and mental symptoms and require a different kind of intervention.

    Dr. John Sarno’s concept of the “symptom imperative” describes how symptoms rooted in repressed emotional energy shift and appear in new forms until they are resolved at a deeper level. For instance, resolving one symptom like plantar fasciitis might lead to another issue, such as migraines, if underlying trauma remains unaddressed.

    Exploring Comprehensive Healing Approaches

    We are fortunate to live in an era with diverse options for trauma processing. Methods such as craniosacral therapy, somatic movement, Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), Emotional Freedom Technique (tapping), and traditional Eastern practices like acupuncture and chakra balancing offer various ways to address trauma. Creative arts therapy and journaling are also valuable tools. Recognizing the need for these approaches is key, as symptoms often persist until we confront their deeper origins.

    Giving Ourselves Permission to Heal

    My friend’s journey exemplifies the remarkable resilience of the human spirit in the face of profound trauma. But when she mentioned a skin condition that recently came out of nowhere and doctors couldn’t seem to diagnose, it signaled to me that perhaps there may be an aspect of her healing that isn’t getting the attention it’s calling for.

    While society’s understanding of trauma is evolving, we still need reminding that healing is not about comparing our pain but about honoring our personal journey, understanding that our experiences are valid, and listening to the wisdom of our body in the symptomatic language it uses to communicate.

    As we continue to expand our awareness and options for healing, may we all make the time and space to fully process our pain, cultivate our resilience, and move forward with a renewed understanding of what it means to be a whole human living within a complicated and messy human experience.

  • Silent Storms: How Mindfulness Helped Me Reclaim My Self-Worth

    Silent Storms: How Mindfulness Helped Me Reclaim My Self-Worth

    “You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

    We often hear about storms as powerful forces of nature, but for many of us, the most intense storms are the silent ones—those we battle internally. For me, this storm took the shape of bullying. While I appeared to handle the daily microaggressions and malicious rumors, inside, I was crumbling.

    The bullying didn’t stop in high school; it followed me into adulthood. Every time I thought I had weathered the storm, another wave of hurtful comments would crash over me, leaving me feeling trapped and powerless.

    The constant gossip, whispers, and passive-aggressive remarks from others chipped away at my self-worth. I questioned my value, wondering if I deserved the treatment. Was there something inherently wrong with me? Why was I the target of this relentless negativity? These thoughts haunted me for years, leading to a vicious cycle of self-doubt, anxiety, and fear of being judged.

    At one point, the weight of all these feelings became too much to bear, and I sought counseling. It was in therapy that I first learned about mindfulness, a practice that would transform my life.

    Mindfulness helped me confront the storm I had been carrying inside for years—the shame, hurt, and loss of self-worth brought on by years of bullying and mistreatment. Here’s how this practice helped me heal and reclaim my self-worth, and how you, too, can apply it to your life if you’ve experienced bullying, mistreatment, or any form of emotional harm.

    How Bullying and Mistreatment Lead to Low Self-Worth

    Bullying and mistreatment don’t just hurt in the moment—they can have a lasting effect on how we see ourselves for years.

    Whether it’s gossip, exclusion, or direct harassment, these experiences erode our self-worth. We begin to question our value, internalizing the cruel words and actions of others. Over time, we might start to believe that we deserve the mistreatment, or that there’s something wrong with us.

    This low self-worth can affect every aspect of our lives, from our relationships to our careers. We might shy away from opportunities, convinced that we’re not good enough. We might struggle to form meaningful connections, believing that we’re unlovable. The effects of mistreatment run deep, but they don’t have to define us.

    Mindfulness, self-compassion, and community support can help us rebuild our sense of self. By acknowledging our pain, letting go of what we can’t control, and surrounding ourselves with people who lift us up, we can reclaim our self-worth and begin to see ourselves as deserving of love, respect, and kindness.

    Acknowledge Your Pain and Validate Your Emotions

    For years, I hid behind a mask of indifference. I convinced myself that the bullying didn’t affect me. I didn’t want to give my bullies the satisfaction of knowing they had hurt me. But in reality, each cruel word, each whisper, left a mark on my self-worth. The more I bottled up my emotions, the more they festered, eroding my sense of self.

    The first step in my healing journey was acknowledging the pain and allowing myself to feel it. Through mindfulness, I learned that running from my emotions only gave them more power over me. Instead, I had to sit with them—feel the sadness, frustration, anger, and betrayal. I had to give myself permission to grieve the parts of myself I had lost to bullying. Only then could I begin to heal.

    Tip: If you’re struggling with emotions from past mistreatment, take a moment each day to ask yourself, “What am I feeling right now?” Don’t judge yourself for feeling anger, sadness, or resentment—acknowledge these emotions and sit with them. By allowing yourself to feel, you can begin the process of healing.

    Use Mindful Breathing to Regain Control

    There were countless moments where the weight of gossip and harsh comments felt suffocating. I often felt powerless, lost in a spiral of negative thoughts. Every time I walked into a room, I felt like everyone was judging me, like they had already formed opinions about me based on lies. I didn’t know how to cope with the overwhelming feelings of shame and fear.

    Mindful breathing became my anchor—a simple yet profound technique that helped me center myself in these overwhelming situations. Instead of allowing my mind to spiral, I learned to focus on my breath. It was the one thing I could control, even when I couldn’t control the rumors or the people spreading them. In those moments, mindfulness gave me back a sense of power and control over my emotional state.

    Tip: The next time anxiety or fear begins to take hold, focus on your breath. Inhale deeply, paying attention to the air entering and leaving your body. This simple practice can bring you back to the present moment, offering a sense of calm and control when you need it most.

    Build Self-Compassion to Heal the Hurt

    For a long time, I let the words of others dictate how I saw myself. I internalized the bullying, believing that if so many people thought poorly of me, it must be true. I criticized myself relentlessly, convinced that I was not good enough, smart enough, or likable enough. The words of others had become the lens through which I viewed myself.

    Mindfulness taught me the importance of self-compassion. I realized that I was treating myself far worse than I would treat a friend in need. Through this practice, I learned to be kinder to myself—to approach myself with the same care and empathy I would offer someone else who was struggling. Slowly, I began to rebuild my self-worth, not based on what others thought of me but on how I chose to treat myself.

    Tip: Each day, write down three things you appreciate about yourself. Whether it’s a strength, a skill, or even just how you made it through a tough moment, these small affirmations can help rebuild your confidence. Self-compassion is a powerful defense against negativity, reminding you that you are deserving of kindness—especially from yourself.

    Practice Letting Go of What You Can’t Control

    One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was that I couldn’t control how others perceived me. I spent years trying to defend myself against rumors, trying to correct false assumptions people had about me. The more I tried to control the narrative, the more exhausted and frustrated I became. I realized that no matter what I did, some people would always see me in a negative light—and that wasn’t my responsibility to fix.

    Mindfulness taught me that while I couldn’t control the rumors, I could control my response to them. I learned to let go of the need to be liked or understood by everyone. Instead, I focused on how I saw myself and how I wanted to show up in the world. Letting go of what I couldn’t control was liberating—it allowed me to focus on what truly mattered: my own peace of mind and self-worth.

    Tip: Visualize the hurtful words—or, in my case, the hurtful people—as leaves gently floating down a stream. Observe them as they pass by, acknowledge their presence, but resist the urge to hold onto them. This practice allows you to create emotional space and frees you from being weighed down by things beyond your control.

    Find Strength in Community

    Healing doesn’t happen in isolation. While mindfulness was essential in my recovery, finding support from others played a significant role too. For years, I had isolated myself, afraid that opening up would make me vulnerable to more judgment. But through counseling and support groups, I realized that sharing my experiences with others who understood helped lift the weight I had been carrying.

    Opening up to trusted friends, seeking professional help, and connecting with a community of people who understood what I was going through helped me regain my voice. It allowed me to shift the narrative that had been imposed on me, to reclaim my story, and to see myself not as a victim of bullying but as someone who had the strength to heal.

    Tip: Don’t hesitate to seek help from others, whether through counseling, support groups, or mindfulness communities. Finding a group where people understand what you’re going through can provide both personal growth and emotional support, reminding you that you’re not alone.

    Mindfulness Is a Lifelong Practice

    Healing from mistreatment and reclaiming your self-worth is not an overnight process—it takes time. For me, mindfulness became the foundation of my recovery, and it’s something I continue to practice daily. By integrating mindfulness into my routine, I learned to navigate emotional challenges with grace and resilience.

    Tip: Start small. Whether it’s taking a few moments of mindful breathing or journaling your emotions, every step helps you regain control. Remember, you are stronger than the words that hurt you. With mindfulness, self-compassion, and a supportive community, you can reclaim your self-worth—one step at a time.

  • How to Ease Pain and Anxiety Through Meditation

    How to Ease Pain and Anxiety Through Meditation

    “If nothing changes, nothing changes. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’re going to keep getting what you’re getting. You want change, make some.” ~Courtney C. Stevens

    If someone looked at my life when I was younger, they would think that I had it all together. I went to college to obtain my bachelor’s in psychology and social work, followed by my master’s in social work. I have always had good friendships and family relationships. I traveled regularly. I was and still am young and living my life. Little would they know that so much was brewing inside…

    The perfect storm of overachieving, perfectionism, stress, and anxiety was brewing until I developed chronic pelvic pain in college.

    As an overachiever, I had all of my homework and essays done a week before they were due because if I waited until the last minute, my anxiety would be higher than it already was. I always wrote more pages for my assignments than I needed to. I studied more than I needed to. I always did the most.

    As a perfectionist, I bawled my eyes out when I got my first 88% in my child development class. I bawled my eyes out when I got a 20 on my ACT, thinking that I wouldn’t even get into college with that score.

    Anxiety. I was a tight ball of anxiety. Always worrying, anxious, and catastrophizing, with whole-body muscle tension, trouble sleeping, and intense restlessness.

    A perfect storm.

    After graduating from my master’s program, I started working in community mental health in order to obtain my 3,000 clinical hours for my clinical social worker license.

    This whole time I was going from doctor to doctor, trying to figure out what was going on with my body. I was looking for every solution under the sun. I finally found one after working at my first job for about a year. I was so burned out, anxious, and in pain that I took a sabbatical and went to California.

    There was a clinic in California that specialized in chronic pelvic pain and anxiety. I thought, “Finally, a place that can help me.”

    This is how my meditation journey started. A journey that I now can say changed my life. I do not know where I would be without this powerful practice.

    Let me paint the picture of what the clinic looked like for you. I was in a room of about eight to ten fellow anxiety and chronic pelvic pain sufferers lying down in what looked like sleeping bags, tucked in like caterpillars in cocoons.

    The psychologist at the clinic started to teach us how to meditate.

    He started doing a guided meditation without a script and told us to focus on the feeling of “sinking” when we exhaled, the “ahhhh” feeling. Can you imagine how hard that would be if your anxiety and pain were off the charts?

    After what felt like thirty seconds of this exercise, my first thought was, “WE ARE DONE, RIGHT??? That’s all for today. Time to go!!” Being someone who was a tight ball of anxiety, with a million thoughts running through my mind, and lying there in excruciating pain, it felt like torture. I thought I was going to explode.

    The worst part was that he kept going. I do not remember how long the meditation lasted. It felt like it lasted for twelve hours when in reality we may have done ten to twenty minutes. Throughout the rest of the clinic, we kept repeating this guided meditation, and it honestly kept feeling awful.

    Through dedication and practice, it took me a year and a half, twice a day every day, to be able to do that guided meditation for forty-five minutes. I can say now that the practice of meditation saved my life and dramatically calmed down my nervous system and anxiety.

    Here are the lessons that I learned throughout my meditation journey.

    1. Start small.

    When you want to start something new or create a new habit, start small. Starting big is overwhelming; starting small feels more manageable.

    When I first started to meditate, I began with a couple of minutes and worked my way up. After a couple of months, I was able to do ten minutes, then fifteen minutes, then twenty minutes, and so on, until I could meditate for forty-five minutes and it felt like only fifteen minutes went by.

    Be compassionate with yourself if it takes a while to be able to master those first couple of minutes. Meditation is difficult when you are first starting out, as is anything you are trying in the beginning. Give yourself the grace to be a beginner, knowing that you are engaging in a powerful practice, and that already is enough.

    After putting in the work for over a year and a half, I felt calmer and more present, more able to notice my thoughts without holding onto them, and better able to sit with the sensations in my body with ease.

    2. Long-lasting consistency is key for any change you want to make in life.

    Trust me, I struggled with consistency for a very long time. I would try out something new for three to four days, and after that time, I would say, “Oh, well, this doesn’t work” and stop doing the thing. I didn’t give the technique time for it to work.

    I realized that was the part of me that was impatient and wanted instant gratification and results. I would always tell clients that I worked with, “Trust me, if I had a magic pill that would take away all of your problems, I would give you one and then myself one. Then I would live on a private island and have my own personal dolphin to play with.” Wouldn’t that be cool if life worked that way?

    This was a cycle for me that lasted a very long time. It takes a little over two months to create a habit. Once I started to see the effects of meditation, I made sure to make it a daily lifestyle habit, something that I do for my physical and mental health.

    3. Change is uncomfortable. Meditation was and still is comfortable.

    Change sucks. Learning something new sucks. I also learned that in that moment, I could do something that was going to be hard and in the end be helpful, or I could stay stuck. I had a choice, and I knew that I could not stay stuck in super high levels of anxiety and chronic pain. I knew something needed to change despite feeling uncomfortable.

    “Life is the difference between what hurts and what hurts more.” ~Nicole Sachs, LCSW.

    Meditation was SO uncomfortable in the beginning. My brain felt like a game of ping pong with so many thoughts and sensations going on in my body. I had a really hard time focusing on the sinking feeling of my body during meditation because I became distracted with anxious thoughts and pain. Over time, it became easier until I was able to just focus on the sinking sensation or my breath. As with anything in life, practice makes progress.

    I do not meditate for forty-five minutes anymore. I use the Calm app and do the daily meditation for ten minutes. There are days that focusing on my breath is still challenging because of anxiety, pain, or the thoughts running through my mind.

    As with life, there are moments where days are harder and easier. What has helped me is to accept whatever is happening in the moment, which also takes practice. I have created compassion for myself when meditation feels harder for me. No judgment. I am human.

    4. You cannot run away from your mind and body.

    What I learned from my meditation practice is that you cannot run away from what is happening inside your mind and body. Your mind and body will keep giving you a thought or sensation until you are fully able to sit with it and accept it in the moment rather than sweeping it under the rug because it feels uncomfortable or scary.

    It is uncomfortable and scary. By running away from it, it’s also reinforcing the pattern and showing your brain and nervous system that the thought or sensation in your body is a threat.

    During my meditation practice, I had to sit with whatever was happening in my body: intense pain, tightness in my chest, queasiness in my stomach, “what if” thoughts in my mind, tightness in areas of my body—you name it. I had to feel all of it.

    At first, I hated it and it was terrible, but then it became easier. I had to learn to accept my body and its protection, because that is what it was doing. That acceptance turned into compassion, which turned into reduced symptoms.

    Your body and brain will keep giving you symptoms until you have processed them, accepted them, and turned off the danger signals.

    As with anything that you do, it will get easier with time and practice!

    I want to add a caveat that if you are having chronic pain, please consult a medical professional to rule out anything structurally happening with your body. I had every test and scan done under the sun, and my body was and still is normal, physically. Also, with anxiety, if you need support, there are many wonderful places to receive it, whether through therapy or online forums.

  • What I Know About Healing Now That I’ve Ended Contact with My Mom

    What I Know About Healing Now That I’ve Ended Contact with My Mom

    “Not all toxic people are cruel and uncaring. Some of them love us dearly. Many of them have good intentions. Most are toxic to our being simply because their needs and way of existing in the world force us to compromise ourselves and our happiness. They aren’t inherently bad people, but they aren’t the right people for us.” ~Daniell Koepke 

    If someone had asked me a year ago if I would ever cut contact with my mom, my answer would have been a definite no.

    After reconnecting with my dad in 2020 (we didn’t speak for over eleven years), I decided to handle this parent business differently.

    Part of me strongly believed that if I was healing and doing this inner work right, I would be able to find a way to coexist in a relationship with my parents, and that I had to do that at all costs.

    My mom and I were always very close. Although our relationship was toxic, we had a bond that I believed was unbreakable.

    She used to say that I was a rainbow baby since she lost my sister to a shooting accident before I was born. After my sister died, they told her she would never have more children. One year later, she got pregnant, and I was born. Everyone was saying that she was beside herself, and I believed it.

    Although there was a lot of abuse and violence happening in our household, I saw her as someone who was fighting for her life to move beyond the trauma of her past while losing it to a bottle of vodka to numb and escape.

    I believe this is why I always had this unsettling drive not to give up and be defined by the past while never shying away from addressing it. I saw the consequences we face when our souls are unhealed and how unaddressed trauma drives everything.

    The first time I clearly saw how toxic the relationship with my mom was and how it affected me was when I read the book Silently Seduced: When Parents Make Their Children Partners by Kenneth M. Adams, in 2020.

    It was the most difficult but revolutionary book that I had ever gotten my hands on. I remember times when I had to put the book down and take deep breaths to stomach the deeply confronting truth I saw myself in. Reading this book marked a breaking point for me when the dynamic between my mom and I started to change.

    As the years went on, her alcohol abuse became uncontrollable. I think she lost any desire to fight her addiction, which she always had before. Although we live on two different continents, I began to wake up to Facebook messages from her attacking me and calling me names while demanding I send her more money.

    Therefore, in December 2023, after pleading with her repeatedly to seek help and threatening her that I would stop talking to her if things continued the way they were, I decided to act on my word. I ended my contact with her for the first time. Since then, we haven’t been in touch. Here are four things this decision and reflecting on it periodically taught me about healing.

    1. Pain doesn’t always subside.

    Someone once told me that the pain that I feel regarding my mom will eventually subside. Although I am doing a much better job at dealing with this situation internally, I understand that pain of this sort doesn’t always subside. I must learn to carry it with grace.

    When we look at the person we love destroying themselves while not being able to do anything, how can we let go of the pain we feel? This pain comes from love, not from others doing us wrong. And those, to me, are two different types of pain. Although learning how to deal with our emotions is up to us, when we love, we also hurt.

    The two most empowering practices that have been helping me are accepting things I can’t change and allowing myself to release what I feel without stuffing it up. I don’t try to hold my emotions in or lie to myself that I don’t care when, in fact, I do. I choose not to shy away from the emotional discomfort and to take time to reflect on how I am progressing with this no-contact situation as I move through it.

    I also see my pain as a sign of the deep love I am capable of. Understanding that my capacity to feel pain reflects the capacity to feel love helps me ground myself and, in a way, befriend the pain instead of rejecting it.

    2. It’s important that we honor our healing.

    There is no right or wrong way to heal. It is one of the most complex and imperfect paths we will ever walk, and honoring every step of it is the only thing we “should” do.

    For all those years, I felt immense guilt that I couldn’t help my mom. I felt like a failure, working with women from all over the world to heal themselves while being powerless to help a woman who gave birth to me.

    Only those who have ever dealt with an addict close to them can understand the pain this brings. After some time, we realize that the only thing left to do is to sit back and watch the tragedy unfold, as if we are watching some heart-aching movie, while understanding that only an addict can help themselves.

    It took me many years to start accepting that I couldn’t fix this situation while paying attention to the pain I felt.

    Often, when a person struggles with alcohol or drug abuse, the focus is, understandably, on them. However, people around them are affected as well. For as long as I can remember, I battled with the desire to turn my back on my mom while shaming myself for wanting that.

    Eventually, I started to pay attention to the effect this had on me and stayed away from people who said things like, “But it’s your mom.” I was and am fully aware that this is my mom, whom I love deeply. I am also mindful that these remarks come from people who’ve probably never stood in my shoes.

    As Brené Brown said, “You share with people who’ve earned the right to hear your story.” This is especially true when it comes to our stories of shame. There were times when I thought about how easier my life would have been if my mom died and I didn’t have to deal with her alcohol. A few moments later, I felt paralyzed by shame, judging myself for having had these thoughts.

    Today, I choose to own my story of shame and work on forgiving myself. I understand that these thoughts come from desperation and a desire to escape her addiction, which, in a way, I did when I moved to the U.S.

    Recognizing the source of it while offering myself compassion and forgiveness helped me work through my unmet expectations of her recovery while becoming more resilient to face our dysfunctional relationship.

    3. Sometimes we have to love people from a distance. 

    One of the hardest lessons I learned on my healing journey was this: love doesn’t equal presence. Requiring presence to love is attachment.

    Eventually, I understood that I could love my mom while choosing not to be around her because it isn’t healthy for me. This, of course, came after a series of inner battles, and it certainly stretched me beyond my comfort.

    The biggest battle for a person who is in contact with an addict is to choose when to leave or when to keep fighting for them. This often comes with doubts because we don’t want to give up on them, and we constantly question whether we did everything we could to help.

    But when we choose to distance ourselves while keeping love in our hearts, we are honoring our mental health while still loving those who struggle. We understand that their paths are not ours and that our mental health, healing, and life matter as much as theirs.

    4. We heal better when we choose to understand. 

    One thing that helped me while healing my relationship with my mom was looking at her life from a place of curiosity and understanding.

    At first, I used this understanding to excuse her behavior while holding lots of anger and resentment toward her. Although I would call her every day and send her money every month, I resented her for the mother she was. As I progressed in my healing, I realized that I could only understand her actions and heal the pain from my past if I honored what was true for me. And that was to distance myself and go no contact.

    It helped me to look at her with more compassion while considering everything she had been through as a child and the fact that she had done no healing work (coming from the era where mental health was taboo). It also helped to recognize that she really tried. I know she did. And I think knowing that hurts the most.

    Reflecting on my mom’s life and understanding her while healing myself helps me to detach from her actions while knowing that whatever she did, it wasn’t about me. It wasn’t because she didn’t love me but because she didn’t know how to handle her own demons.

    It also shows me the importance of making healthy choices for myself. In a way, I am learning to hold her in my heart while, at the same time, holding my well-being there as well. It teaches me that there isn’t a right way to heal while navigating through our recovery.

    At the time of this writing, my mom and I haven’t spoken in seven months. As I am preparing to come home for Christmas, I am planning to reach out to her to meet and talk face-to-face.

    Although I have no idea how the conversation will go, I know that whatever will be true for me at that moment, whether to reconnect or keep things as they are, I will obey what my soul tells me.

    Because listening to what we truly feel and then honoring it, regardless of what it looks like on the outside, is the only thing that heals us and sets us free.

  • 5 Lessons Pain Taught Me About Love

    5 Lessons Pain Taught Me About Love

    “If there is love in your heart, it will guide you through your life. Love has its own intelligence.” ~Sadhguru

    Love was something I craved for most of my life. I dreamed that one day, a person would come into my life, preferably a man, who would love me and save me from my painful suffering filled with emptiness and desperation.

    Even when I was single, which I was quite often and for prolonged periods, I would fantasize about a perfect relationship with someone who’d understand and accept me even in my worst moments. I wanted a partner and a best friend.

    When mister BIG wasn’t coming, I turned to my parents. I wished for a loving mom and dad—parents who would heal themselves and give me all that I felt I’d missed out on.

    This led to unmet expectations and a series of disappointments and relationships in my life that were borderline abusive and unhealthy.

    It all resurfaced and pushed me to my limits when I met another man. It was one of those situations where I knew it wouldn’t work out but proceeded anyway. He ended up returning to his previous relationship, and we remained friends. Or rather, I pretended to be a friend while secretly hoping things would change one day and we would live happily ever after.

    After a year and a half of deliberately staying in this dynamic, feeling depleted and deeply depressed, our paths split, and I began healing myself. This time, for real.

    I think that many of us hold the idea that love is beautiful. And although it is one of the most empowering emotions, love is also an emotion that brings pain. When we care about someone and they are struggling or hurting themselves, we feel pain. When we lose people we love, we feel pain. A willingness to love is a willingness to hurt.

    But what if we are hurting because we don’t believe we are worthy of love? What if we are looking at love from a limited perspective?

    It’s been a couple of years since I promised to change the relationship I had with myself. Seeing what the desperation to be loved made me do, I got quite scared.

    Throughout this time, I went through different stages of growth while addressing and looking at every relationship I’ve had, from my childhood through my marriage and divorce to the last encounter with a romantic relationship. Here are five lessons I learned about love.

    1. Love can only exist within. 

    A while back, I watched a video with a yogi named Sadhguru.

    In the video, he asked, “Where do you feel pain or pleasure, love or hate, agony or ecstasy?”

    The answer: only within.

    Our emotions can’t be felt or created outside of our inner experience.

    Growing up, I believed I could only feel and receive love from external sources. It didn’t occur to me that I could awaken this feeling without an outside presence since it is something I can only feel and create within.

    This helped me realize that the love I was seeking had been with me all along, and there must have been a way to access it.

    I decided to focus on my thoughts and overall perception of myself while questioning every belief that told me I wasn’t worthy of love. Then, I would dissect these beliefs while intentionally looking for evidence that they weren’t true.

    I focused on pleasurable things and people who I loved and adored. I could see that any time I focused on the sweetness and kindness of my environment, my emotional state became pleasant.

    2. Love is always available. 

    Love is always available, and you can feel it if you choose to.

    Since I know this is a bold statement, try out this experiment.

    Close your eyes and bring to your awareness someone you love dearly. Maybe it is your child, a puppy, or someone else. You can see something they do that you absolutely love and cherish or simply think of their presence. Focus all your attention on this vision, fully immerse yourself, and stay with it for at least three to five minutes.

    Then open your eyes and check with yourself how you feel. Do you feel that the sweetness of your emotions has increased?

    And all you did was close your eyes and work with your imagination. I am not suggesting you should go live on an abandoned island all by yourself. But as you can see, love is within you, and you can access it through simple exercises like this one.

    3. Love doesn’t guarantee happiness. 

    At the beginning of my recovery, I had to face a question: “What do I expect to gain from others offering me their love?”

    I realized that I never went into any relationship with the idea of giving but, rather, taking. I wasn’t thinking to myself, “Well, I am overflowing with goodness and joy, and I want to share it with someone.”

    Instead, I was looking to fulfill a need. Whether it was in a relationship with my parents or different men in my life, I was looking for a payoff.

    When it didn’t come, my starving soul would throw a tantrum. Since I didn’t have a healthy relationship with myself, I naturally attracted relationships that reflected that.

    Often, we go into relationships looking for something. Whatever our intention is, we unconsciously hope to receive love to make us feel better and happier.

    Initially, we may feel ‘it’ as the dopamine of a new relationship floods our nervous system. But eventually, as the excitement from the newness subsides, we are back to our old challenges, with the persistent longing for something more while missing the fact that it only and always exists within all of us.

    4. Self-love doesn’t always feel good at first.  

    When we say the word love, it has a soft and pleasant connotation. Therefore, when we look at the fact that, let’s say, setting boundaries is an act of self-love, it doesn’t quite fit our ideology because it can evoke discomfort.

    This one was hard for me to accept. I thought that loving myself should always feel good. So, when I did positive things for myself and felt the fear of rejection or worried that others wouldn’t understand or accept me, something that the unhealed part of me struggled with, I felt uncomfortable and scared.

    Eventually, I learned that love goes way deeper, beyond immediate pleasure or comfort.

    Sometimes self-love means setting boundaries, standing up for yourself, looking at your toxic traits, speaking your truth, saying no, loving some people from a distance, or putting yourself first.

    It’s about respecting yourself enough to honor your needs and well-being, even if it means someone else is displeased.

    5. Loneliness results from disconnection. 

    When I was married, I felt lonely. Then I got divorced, and the loneliness was gone. Eventually, I got into another relationship and felt lonely again. After I broke it off, loneliness disappeared again.

    This dynamic got me curious.

    Typically, we expect to feel lonely when we are alone. But I realized that loneliness isn’t about other people’s presence but rather the connection we have with ourselves.

    Since I was staying in abusive and toxic situations, I knew I was betraying myself. But because I ignored it and denied it, I was naturally disconnected from who I was and what I was worth. And that brought painful feelings of loneliness.

    On the other hand, when I stood up for myself and left the situation that was hurting me, my higher self understood that I was taking a healthy step and led me back to myself. This is when loneliness started to dissipate.

    At the time of this writing, I am choosing to be single. I feel that for the first time, I am truly taking care of myself and honoring my worth and value—things that were so foreign to me all my life.

    I see this as a time of deep recovery and healing while peeling away every layer of past conditioning and trauma. Seeing that love is always available to all of us, I am beginning to understand that who I am, where I am, and what I do are and always were enough.

    —

    Although approaching emotional pain will always be a challenge for me, I am beginning to see that my pain was never meant to make me suffer. Instead, it showed me the love I was capable of feeling and taught me how I can use it to heal myself.

  • How to Navigate Loss and Fear and Emerge Resilient

    How to Navigate Loss and Fear and Emerge Resilient

    “New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” ~Lao Tzu

    Sailing on a beautiful day in calm seas can feel like a spiritual experience and can convince your senses that life should always be like this.

    My family life was smooth sailing for many years. My husband and I were committed to our family and our responsibilities of building and running our businesses, leaving little time for anything else. Gradually, the weather changed, and we found ourselves in the uncharted, turbulent waters of divorce.

    I was unprepared for the toll it would take. My anxiety caused me to lose weight, and when I felt hypo-glycemic, it was my body’s reminder to nourish myself. I was scared about what life would look like for my three daughters and me and wanted the best for my husband, even though we decided we could not remain together.

    Living separately, we grew to learn how to do things we depended on each other for, such as financial management, cooking, DIY home repairs, etc. We lost some friends, and some family estrangements developed—a ripple effect we didn’t see coming.

    When you lose friends and family members due to divorce or estrangement, it can make you question your worth and stirs up self-doubt.

    Years pass, and life goes on.

    Eventually, we both remarried, and a few years later, my new husband, Bill, was told he had throat cancer. His treatments whittled down his hard-earned military physique to a shadow of his former self.

    During this time, as his caregiver, I was also preparing to take a board exam to practice my profession, and I worked as a science teacher in an alternative school to help make ends meet. The days were incredibly long and hard for both of us.

    Within that year, my father was diagnosed with cancer, which further destroyed our family. His treatments were equally brutal to his body. Eventually, Bill lost his valiant battle with cancer, and my father lost his battle in the following seven months, resulting in two funerals in a year.

    Physically, I was exhausted and gained an unhealthy amount of weight. Whenever I ate, I had gut pain, so I lost the pleasure of eating. Headaches were frequent, and due to a loss of sleep, my energy was so depleted that doing everyday tasks was a burden, never mind having to relocate and downsize yet again.

    I had little support, and this was when I felt genuinely broken.

    In my “brokenness,” I remembered a conversation with a pastor friend who reminded me that life has its seasons: the spring of childhood, the summer of youth, the autumn of adulthood, and the winter of death. So many aspects of life can be viewed that way. With that, I discovered truth in his words and oddly felt an inner peace.

    I grew to understand the phrase “if you hit rock bottom, the only way to go is up” because I hit those rocks hard. I desperately needed to regain my physical, mental, and emotional health, which had been tested repeatedly for years, for myself and my family.

    My sympathetic fight-or-flight nervous system switch never shut off. I realized I had to change that before relinquishing control of my health and well-being, which I have always valued but took for granted.

    Here is what I discovered in my losses and fears, along with some pearls for living with resilience.

    1. Submit to the process.

    Feel the depth of your feelings by allowing them to flow through you.

    When you are in a liminal place, at the threshold of change, it is only natural to have many strong feelings and feelings that you may resist—grief over the loss of a loved one or a relationship, fear of the future ahead, anger that you are in this position, frustration with your own body, or denial of the new reality.

    Feel your feelings and journal to process them or communicate with someone you trust. This is how you start to heal. Far better than suffering silently is being honest with yourself about your feelings tied to the complexities of your process.

    Minimizing yourself or numbing your feelings invalidates the depth and breadth of your experience.

    If possible, consider reframing a sad or difficult experience to put a positive spin on it.

    I may be divorced, but my daughters are the best part of my life. I would not have them if it weren’t for my previous marriage. Also, downsizing into a smaller home improved my financial situation. I rejected it initially, but it made my responsibilities and financial commitments more manageable in the long run.

    Suffering any kind of loss or hardship is never easy and can feel crushing. Meet yourself where you are, go with the flow of your emotions with self-compassion and nonjudgment, and, if possible, open your mind to reframing a negative into a positive result.

    2. Don’t ruminate while looking in the rearview mirror.

    This is so tempting.

    It is so easy to slip into the default pattern of looking at the past when we want our personal losses, challenges, and difficulties to make sense.

    Exercise radical acceptance if you need to accept your life as it is, even if it causes you pain.

    When I learned of radical acceptance, it felt unnatural, something I might have to convince myself to do. But I realized that to be at peace, I could not control everything in my life. Seasons.

    Also, bringing gratitude into your daily life is a valuable, underutilized tool that brings what is good into focus. When we target several reasons for gratitude as a daily habit, we shapeshift our mindset to support our well-being.

    Amassing what has happened to you in the past and bringing it into focus today creates an unnecessary, overwhelming burden. The past cannot be changed, and the future cannot be predicted, but we can choose to accept what is right now.

    This will lessen your suffering and the tendency to look back in the mirror.

    3. Connect with your physical, mental, and emotional needs.

    Prolonged stress affects our hormones, cardiovascular system, gut health, musculoskeletal system, immune health, and every other function and body system with far-reaching, long-term effects.

    There is no reason to neglect or minimize your needs; this is a time to amp up your efforts to honor your needs. Listening to your body’s messages strongly improves your ability to handle and recover from stress.

    When stuck in the stress cycle, mindful self-care practices are even more important to prevent unhealthy habits from forming. Eating nutrient-dense meals, walking in nature, practicing consistent sleep hygiene practices, or spending time with friends or family members who love and support you are effective self-care practices to reduce stress and manage anxiety.

    According to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, you cannot experience all the potential that your life has to offer if you do not first meet your basic physiological needs. As you meet those needs, you can move through your experience in life more fully, owning and attracting love to you, developing deep connections, and increasing your confidence, self-esteem, and full potential despite setbacks in life.

    It is easy to become more reflexive than in control, an oversight that is not uncommon for highly stressed individuals.

    When I reprioritized myself with self-care practices, my health and well-being improved, as evidenced by my improved blood labs, weight loss, ease of digestion, and increased energy levels. I had a renewed sense of purpose in my work; later in my life, love found me.

    When you connect with your physical, mental, and emotional needs, you can also better honor them in others.

    4. Chart a course that meets your life’s needs at the time.

    Decide what needs to be done to meet important needs. By successfully tending to some of the smaller needs, you can more easily prepare for larger target goals. With that, you develop an adaptable and increasingly more positive mindset.

    Consider small gains as you progress forward.

    As part of my healing and stress management, I knew I could do what I had to do by taking small, manageable, and incremental steps. It was too difficult for me to envision a big-picture view of a whole and healed life following so much loss for a time, but eventually, that changed.

    A day at a time, a week at a time, and a month at a time are now years later.

    Remaining open-minded and building your optimism naturally builds and reinforces your resilience muscle.

    So celebrate the small gains in your life. They naturally lead to more small successes, which builds confidence in planning for larger ones.

    5. Life happens, and when it does, develop a surfing mindset, even if you fear the wind or the waves.

    When the winds of change occur, a sailor must adjust the sail to tack and harness the wind to his advantage. The wind and the waves do not remain the same even on one given day. Sailors hone their skills to have the wind and the waves support their intended direction.

    Life never remains the same. Things constantly change. When they do, step back, breathe, and ask yourself what the next best step is in caring for yourself in the moment and in moving forward.

    Through resilience, you can more easily heal and accept life’s dynamic nature by learning and growing from overcoming challenges and setbacks, and, in the face of uncertainty, you can live more fully with confidence and joy in the present and in the mystery of the future.

    Resilience is a quality that is not earned by having an easy life; rather, it is a testimony to coming through hardship and challenging experiences and feeling whole despite them.

  • The Problem Isn’t That You Have a Hard Time Letting Things Go

    The Problem Isn’t That You Have a Hard Time Letting Things Go

  • 4 Practical Techniques to Heal from Childhood Trauma

    4 Practical Techniques to Heal from Childhood Trauma

    “It is important for people to know that no matter what lies in their past, they can overcome the dark side and press on to a brighter world.” ~Dave Pelzer, A Child Called “It”

    I grew up in the shadow of my pathologically narcissistic father. From a very young age, my role in the family was that of the scapegoat, a role that poisoned my entire childhood. I lived in a constant state of fear, shame, and self-doubt, always trying to please my father and earn his love and approval.

    But as I grew older and began to understand the true nature of my father’s behavior, I realized that his love was never something I could earn or deserve. It was simply not within my control. And so I made the conscious decision to release myself from the burden of trying to gain his love.

    Letting go of this childhood trauma was not easy. It took time, and notwithstanding the fact that I am now well into middle age, there are still days when I feel the weight of my past on my shoulders. But as I began to peel away the layers of hurt and pain, I also discovered a newfound sense of freedom and self-acceptance.

    By acknowledging my past experiences and their impact on my life, I was able to take control and make positive changes. I learned to use my voice, set boundaries, and prioritize my own well-being. And in doing so, I found that the more I released myself from the hold of my childhood trauma, the more empowered and hopeful I became.

    Letting go of childhood trauma does not mean forgetting or denying what happened. It means accepting it, learning from it, and using it as fuel for growth and healing. It also means embracing vulnerability and allowing ourselves to feel and process our emotions.

    The Dysfunctional Dynamics of a Narcissistic Family

    In the cast of characters within my family, each of us played a specific role in my father’s drama, almost as if we were following a script.

    My father, the puppet master, was the archetypal narcissist, continually seeking admiration while lacking empathy for others, making family life a perpetual performance.

    My mother played the part of the enabler, softening and justifying my father’s actions, her support acting as the grease that allowed the machinery of his narcissism to run smoothly.

    My brother, the golden child, lived in the glow of my father’s approval, unwittingly being shaped into a younger version of the man who was destroying him.

    And then there was me, the scapegoat, taking on all of my father’s projected anger and shame, often being punished for things I didn’t even do.

    Understanding these roles has been a painful yet illuminating part of my journey. This insight is a bittersweet liberation, lifting some of the burdens that I’ve carried for so long—and with each step in awareness, I’m crafting a new life narrative, built not on the foundations of trauma but on hope and self-compassion.

    The Importance of Letting Go

    For the longest time, I clung to my past, believing that the pain I refused to shed was somehow integral to my identity. Yet, the power I gave to those memories only helped them grow roots in the present.

    In the end, it took a total mental breakdown to shake me out of this mindset, ironically triggered by an act of total altruism by my oldest and closest friend. She fostered a little girl, and when I met her I was catapulted back to my own childhood and all the pain and fear it entailed.

    It was like opening Pandora’s box, but instead of the evils of the world flying out, they pulled me in and closed the lid behind me.

    But it was in this dark place that I finally found the strength to let go. I couldn’t keep living a life where my past weighed so heavily on my present. I was no longer a child, bound by my father’s whims and expectations. I had the power to break free from that cycle of trauma—but this required me to release the past.

    The Healing Process Through Release and Forgiveness

    Healing from my childhood trauma was not just about shutting the door on my past experiences, but rather understanding and empathizing with the self that had to endure them.

    Forgiveness, I learned, isn’t about absolving others of consequence. It’s about forgiving myself for all the things that I did to cope with my pain.

    Through therapy and self-reflection, I slowly released the anger and hurt that had consumed me for so long. And as I did so, I was able to replace it with a sense of peace and self-acceptance. It’s an ongoing process, but one that has brought immense healing and growth into my life.

    Practical Techniques for Letting Go

    The path to release is different for everyone, and there is no one right way to let go of childhood trauma. However, there are common threads that tie the experiences of many trauma survivors in their quest for freedom from the past.

    Therapy and Counseling Options

    Seeking professional help was a pivotal step in my personal growth. It took a while for me to find the right therapist – someone with whom I felt comfortable discussing my most painful memories. But when I did, it was a game-changer.

    Therapy gave me the tools to process my emotions and memories in a healthy way, allowing me to gradually let go of the hold they had on me. It also provided a safe space for me to explore and understand the dysfunctional dynamics within my family.

    I had to face the fact that some of the behaviors that I had adopted as a child as a means of survival were no longer serving me in the present. With the help of my therapist, I was able to challenge these beliefs and develop healthier coping mechanisms.

    For example, as a kid I learned to overachieve in an attempt to prove that I was more than the nothing my father insisted I was. Therapy helped me understand that I didn’t need to prove my worth through accomplishments. I now practice embracing my imperfection and loving myself regardless of what I achieve.

    Self-Care Practices

    Taking care of myself physically, mentally, and emotionally has also been crucial in my healing journey. This includes regular exercise, eating well, getting enough rest, and setting healthy boundaries with others.

    But self-care also means allowing myself to feel and process my emotions, without judgment or shame. It means practicing self-compassion and being gentle with myself as I work through the trauma.

    Journaling and Creative Outlets

    Journaling became my confidante. The act of writing was a release valve for my emotions, allowing the chaos within me to take shape and form on the page. I also started a blog, which helped me connect with many people who had gone through similar experiences. For the first time, I did not feel alone.

    The Gift of Gratitude

    I have now come a very long way. I no longer see myself as a victim, a damaged person constantly trying to convince others, and herself, that she is worthy of love. My family of birth had not nurtured me, but somehow, along the way, I met people who were not related to me by blood but who held out their hand and helped me pull myself out of the hole I had almost been buried in.

    These people finally offered the validation and affection that I had always longed for, and I learned that family is more than a biological fact. It is a spiritual and emotional bond that is chosen and nurtured.

    I learned that healing is best not done in isolation, but within a community. Reflecting on the love and support they’ve given me, I feel a profound sense of gratitude that fills me with hope and gives strength to my journey.

    Conclusion

    If you stand where I once stood, weighed down by the chains of your past, I offer you one simple truth: release is not the end, but a beginning. It is a step into the unknown, where the freedom to redefine yourself lies in the courage to shed the familiar, even when it’s painful.

    I encourage you, fellow survivor, to take that step, to release and heal, and to discover the world that waits beyond the walls of trauma. It is a world of limitless potential, a life in full color, where the past is not a prison, but a whisper, and you hold the pen to write your own story.

  • What Forgiveness Really Means and Why It’s the Ultimate Freedom

    What Forgiveness Really Means and Why It’s the Ultimate Freedom

    I used to loathe the word “forgiveness.”

    What it meant to me was that someone could hurt me, lie to me, or even abuse me, say “sorry,” and I was supposed to pretend like nothing happened. If I didn’t, they would say to me, “I thought you were a forgiving person,” or “What? I already said I was sorry.”

    It felt awful, outside and inside.

    I had one relationship that I knew very well wasn’t good for me and I wanted out of, but my misunderstanding of what the word “forgiveness” meant kept me stuck there for a very long time.

    The person would lie repeatedly and never come clean. When things came out (as they often do), the person would claim to be sorry or that they were “getting better” and then expect me to just go on as if nothing had happened.

    My trust for them was eroded, and by staying there, that spilled over into my trust for other people and even myself. My self-worth also became depleted. I felt powerless because I believed that, in order to be a good, forgiving person, I had to accept as many meaningless “sorries” as this person was going to dribble out. I lost motivation and became depressed and drained.

    It felt like forgiving was designed to punish the person who was hurt.

    I had heard the phrases “forgiveness sets you free,” and “forgiveness is for you, not them,” and neither made any sense because I certainly did not feel free, and there appeared to be nothing in it for me to keep allowing their nonsense.

    Well, it didn’t make sense because “forgiveness” wasn’t what I believed it was at all.

    One day, I looked it up in the dictionary.

    Forgiveness definition: “to let go of anger and resentment towards a person or event from the past.”

    Forgiveness is that—just that. Ceasing to carry around resentment or anger inside of yourself for what happened in the past.

    It doesn’t say you’re supposed to pretend it never happened.

    It doesn’t say you’re supposed to trust the person again after they broke your trust, just because you have forgiven them.

    It doesn’t even say you have to speak to them again.

    Ever.

    Forgiveness IS for you.

    Forgiveness DOES set you free.

    Forgiveness means you stop carrying around the pain of the past inside of you. So that you don’t bring it into every new place you go, allowing it to bubble up and explode on people who had nothing to do with causing you injury.

    If you decide to forgive a person but not speak to them again because you know you can’t trust them, that’s 100% wise to do and doesn’t mean you’re unforgiving. It means your trust was broken, and they gave you no reason to think it would not be broken again, so you decided to separate. Or maybe they made promises and broke them again and again until your trust for them was entirely demolished.

    Forgiveness doesn’t have to mean reconciliation.

    Forgiveness means you accept that what happened has happened and can’t be changed. It means if a memory pops up or gets triggered, you’re not fired up by that anger and resentment and completely disempowered in that moment as if you were still living in the past.

    It isn’t instant, nor easy, and there is a process to it that involves acceptance, reflection, wisdom, and presence before the release. It takes time. It takes work. Memories can catch you off guard, but once you are aware of what is happening, you can use the process on them and dissolve them as they come.

    Knowing what forgiveness is—real actual forgiveness—and applying it to my life has been absolutely life-changing.

    I no longer poison present days with past pain. I can hear a song that reminds me of a painful time in the past and not get set off at all. I didn’t forget what happened, but it no longer has power over me.

    This is the gift of forgiveness. It’s not for them, about them, or dependent on them. It is for you, about you, takes place within you, and gives you your life back. It gives you and all those who you choose to have in your life now the best version of you, unencumbered by haunting memories.

    You don’t forget, you don’t erase, you heal.

  • You Don’t Always Have to Find the Good in the Bad

    You Don’t Always Have to Find the Good in the Bad

  • A Little Hope and Encouragement for Hard Times

    A Little Hope and Encouragement for Hard Times

    “If your path demands you to walk through hell, walk as though you own the place.” ~Unknown

    Trigger warning: This content contains references to self-harm and suicide.

    It was in the spring semester during graduate school. I was living alone in a one-bedroom apartment and working nearly full-time hours at night.

    The anti-depressants weren’t working so well. I was keeping up with my therapist, but I suppose it was too much.

    I felt too much. It hurt so much and couldn’t handle it. You could list out the symptoms of depression, and I had them all.

    Unable to deal with the stress of college, broken relationships, or other life events, any added stressor seemed unbearable. I cried a lot, had terrible neck pain, and even failed one of my classes.

    I’d hurt myself more with wild hope that the physical pain would outweigh the emotional. It was a low point at the bottom of the pendulum swing.

    When I began to feel like eternal sleep was the only peace in sight, I turned myself in by telling my therapist exactly what I was planning to do. They wasted no time and had me in safe hands quickly.

    That was the second time I went to the mental hospital within a year. I stayed in my room mostly and cried a lot, but the staff were kind and helpful.

    My psychiatrist was concerned about the underlying cause. He eventually landed on clinical depression and general anxiety disorder. After a three-day stay and medication adjustment, I was released.

    Over the next while, I did well enough. Eventually finishing my graduate degree had a positive effect on my chronic migraines.

    I’d had multiple treatments to ease the headaches. Once a migraine attack lasted for two weeks. When they suddenly eased, my doctor basically shrugged and attributed them to stress.

    About a year later, I had a new therapist and psychiatrist. Finally, I was diagnosed with treatment-resistant depression, general anxiety disorder, and borderline personality disorder.

    It explained why I had been through so many medication adjustments, the bouts of insomnia, and the frequent mood swings. I believe that simply having some answers helped.

    My medication was adjusted again, and I began to feel much better. There was no more self-harming, and I grew my support group. I am with the same therapist and on the same medication several years later.

    During all of this, I changed jobs twice, lost a mentor to COVID, and moved to a new house. There were also things going on in my family that were out of my control.

    What was obvious was that I was able to cope with life events much better than before. I learned to adopt a lot of tools to help combat old habits.

    For example, instead of freaking out over a situation, I could take a moment and meditate if able. I was able to considerably lower my stress and anxiety this way.

    Instead of isolating after a rejection, I could seek out a close friend to talk to or go out with. To help me stop thinking negative thoughts about myself, I’d write positive things on sticky notes and place them around the house. Like:

    “You have a good work ethic.”

    “You are a loyal friend.”

    “You have a beautiful smile.”

    Yes, they felt like lies after listening to self-hatred for so long, but perseverance made the difference.

    At some point, I had a moment. A realization.

    Sometimes we go through things and feel like we don’t have the strength to make it through.

    “This is how I go out,” was often a phrase I’ve uttered to myself in defeat. It’s easy to focus on the negative and let ourselves be overwhelmed. That’s why reflection is so important.

    The beauty of it is that if we can push through, the current struggle will shrink behind us like a bend in the road.

    Everything we endure serves to make us stronger and much more fit to face the next challenge.

    Currently, I’m experiencing some things that would have crushed the old me. Obstacles I’ve never faced before. People have repeatedly asked if I am all right.

    “I will be,” is a favorite response of mine. It signifies faith and the belief that things are not static. Things always change.

    Sure, I get sad sometimes, but giving up is out of the question. I’m constantly reminded of the saying:

    “I didn’t come this far to only come this far.” ~Matthew Reilly

    Hope is a beacon I keep burning in my soul. I feed it daily, and it illuminates an otherwise deep darkness.

    I had to go through all of that to be strong enough for right now. All of this—the waiting, the sleepless nights, the hard work—it’s all going to be another bend in the road. A story to share. It’s muscle to climb the next hill.

    I guess you could say I’m owning this struggle. Walking through ‘hell’ like I own the place.

    When new stressors and worries come up, I put them in the pile of things I can’t do anything about. If so-called obligations arise, I am at liberty to decline for my peace of mind.

    When good news comes around, it’s a glimmer of light. Daylight piercing through the other end of my dark tunnel.

    It combines with the light of hope inside and urges me onward and upward. I’m expectantly moving toward it and looking for the next stage in my journey.

    As a final thought, those tough experiences made it possible for me to help and encourage people today.

    There were times that I thought no good could possibly come from the pain. Looking back though, I feel only gratitude. I’m grateful for myself for persevering, for the professionals that helped me, and for my support people that listened.

    If you are facing something difficult, own it in the knowledge that you will get through it. One day you will look back on it and smile.

    Live it.

    Feel it.

    Own it.

    Overcome it.

  • The Beauty in the Broken: How to Celebrate the Fragility of Life

    The Beauty in the Broken: How to Celebrate the Fragility of Life

    “Sometimes you get what you want. Other times, you get a lesson in patience, timing, alignment, empathy, compassion, faith, perseverance, resilience, humility, trust, meaning, awareness, resistance, purpose, clarity, grief, beauty, and life. Either way, you win.” ~Brianna Wiest

    Last month, I was feeling super fragile.

    I was deep in the woes of another round of covid type symptoms, along with an onslaught of chronic health conditions that were flaring up left, right, and center. I was one month into a new job, and after the initial excitement, I was starting to feel wildly overwhelmed.

    I spent two weeks waking up with what felt like an axe through my forehead, a body of muscles that were continually twisting and contorting, along with a heavy mind and a tired heart.

    My mind was fuzzy and my balance completely off kilter; no matter how hard I tried to pull my body out of bed, my bones wanted to collapse into a pile of rubble. It was time to be broken down and rebuilt.

    The Beauty of Fragile Things

    December came and went, and I spent the majority of it at home alone, downing vitamin drinks.

    I wobbled my way through my second month at work, but missed out on all the fun; gatherings with friends, a once-in a-lifetime retreat experience with work, and all the things that usually make me feel good fell to the side. It was a matter of eat, sleep, repeat.

    On the day of the retreat, I woke up feeling super low. My head was still banging, and my mind began to spiral. I had hit my upper limit. My tolerance for pain is super high, having experienced chronic health conditions for the past decade of my life, but the addition of a flu had tipped me over the edge.

    I so desperately wanted to be at the retreat and to connect with my new colleagues. I wanted to see my family and friends. I wanted to go back to the gym and feel good again.

    However, my only mission for that day was to make it to the shops to get some food.

    I wobbled out of the house and into my van, starting the engine with a sigh. The rain hammered down and the wind picked up—a storm was brewing.

    Halfway down the lane, I took my foot off the pedal and stopped dead in my tracks.

    Was I dreaming? Or perhaps hallucinating?

    Before my eyes was the most beautiful blue bird I had ever seen; turquoise feathers ruffled amongst a burnt orange chest, rainbows glinting from a technicolor body—plucked from a tropical rainforest and dropped into my existence. My heart gulped as I witnessed it float down a small stream, struggling to survive with a bent wing and wonky legs, its beady eyes and long black beak begging me for help.

    I burst into tears. Here was the most beautiful little creature I had ever seen; why was life so cruel?

    The flood gates opened, and this little guy made me feel everything that I had been holding back: a lifetime of dealing with chronic health conditions, holding my broken body together and becoming infinitely resilient to my own detriment. Becoming chronically positive to deal with the negative.

    But here was such a beautiful thing.

    The fragility of this little bird hit me hard. I felt simultaneously touched and heartbroken, giving thanks for our chance meeting while cursing at life and its bittersweet narrative. This bird said it all.

    Out of the Depths and Into the Light

    Suddenly, I snapped out of my bittersweet story and put my own experiences to the side.

    This little guy needed help, and he needed it now.

    Despite my dizzy head, I gently crouched down and scooped him up into a box, his beak squeaking as I told him everything was going to be okay. He was out of the storm and in the warmth of my van.

    We drove down the bumpy lane together. He was flapping and squawking, and I was bawling.

    Fifteen minutes later, we were at the vets. I handed over his tiny little body, as the receptionists cooed over his beauty and fragility and told me he was, in fact, a kingfisher.

    I gave thanks to this creature for reminding me that broken is beautiful; for it is in the broken that we find the depths of our feelings and the truth of our hearts.

    I’m sad to share that this little guy didn’t make it, but he experienced his final moments with love and warmth. There was no way I could have left him alone and cold in a wild, windswept storm.

    But this little guy moved me greatly. He reminded me that life is filled with beautiful moments and shimmers of light, even when it feels we are passing through dark, stormy skies.

    And so, I awoke from my spiral; weeks’ worth of self-pity and sadness lifted from my chest.

    My body may be broken, but I was doing my best.

    The Beating of a Fragile Heart

    December passed, and I lifted from the storm. Life wasn’t perfect, but my perspective had shifted.

    While I was still waking up with a plethora of weird aches and pains, I felt hopeful.

    I was back at work and back at the gym, and spring was on the horizon; I looked forward to the sunlight streaming in through my window and found peace in watching the moonlight shine through my skylight.

    But little did I know, the lesson wasn’t complete.

    I was to experience yet another round of beauty laced with fragility; grief was about to hit.

    In the second of week of January, I had another visit to the vets.

    This time with my gorgeous Persian cat, Basil.

    I adopted Basil two years ago, and he lovingly joined me on this happy-go-lucky, topsy-turvy journey called life. Basil is my source of light; he is a creature of comfort and character, and the source of much laughter. He has traveled with me in times of great change, through one of the most difficult heartbreaks of my life, and always makes me smile.

    Basil had been acting a bit strange for a few weeks, and after many tests it was suggested that he needed a scan of his heart. And so, we rocked up, Basil meowing and me feeling confident that he was fine. It was just a cold; surely he would be alright?

    Wrong. After his beautiful locks had been shaved, the vet returned with the results with a concerned look upon his face. My heart sank into my chest, and I prepared myself for the worst.

    Basil had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy; he was only two-and-a-half years old, but the disease had progressed rapidly. I was told he didn’t have long left to live.

    My body started shaking, and I lost it completely.

    I broke down in front of the vet and everything fell out.

    “He can’t have a heart condition this bad. I have a heart condition, and I knew he had a heart condition but not this bad. We’ve been through so much together. I get him, and he gets me. I can’t lose him. Please tell me it’s not true. I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him.”

    The vet said nothing, and I watched his eyes fill with tears.

    “I’m so sorry,” he said. “But there’s nothing we can do.”

    The bombshell dropped, and I walked out into the car park, struggling to breathe.

    The Complexity of Loving Fragile Things

    I spent the rest of that day wailing harder than I had wailed in years. My heart imploded and exploded; a supernova of anger at stupid f**king life and a tidal wave of grief. I didn’t understand why Basil had come into my life if he was just going to be taken away, so early and so brutally.

    I got home, looked at my housemate, and said, “What is the point? What is the point of loving something that is just going to be taken away? What is the point of this life and all this f**king pain?”

    She looked at me with holes in her heart, feeling the depths of my love, having just recently lost a precious pet herself. For a moment, she said nothing and then the wisdom hit.

    “If you hadn’t loved him, who would have? Who would have taken care of him like you did? You got to experience all that love with him, and he got to experience all that love with you. You have given him the best life possible, and that’s such a beautiful thing.”

    And she was right. Adopting Basil was one of the best decisions I had ever made.

    Even though it hurt like hell, I had experienced more love, more laughter, and more presence with this little furball than I had have experienced before. So many moments, with so many housemates. This bundle of joy had brightened up more than just my life—he had brightened up my world.

    Celebrating Our Fragile World

    It is not just my life that is fragile, not the kingfisher’s, or my baby Basil’s. It is yours and mine and the world’s at large.

    This month has continued to bathe me in the lesson of fragility and acceptance; humility hits me as I listen to stories of young bodies battling life-threatening conditions, walk past park benches feeling the emotions laced through memorial flowers, and witness the cyclic life of bittersweet endings. We live in a delicate world, one that is uncomprehendingly fragile.

    Sometimes, we don’t get dealt the hand we desire, nor do those we love.

    But it is up to us to take these lessons and shift our perspective from what was lost to what was; to remember the love, the joy, and moments of simple pleasures; to rejoice in the light that so lovingly blessed us, even if just for a short while.

    For these fragile moments may take the breath from our lungs and puncture our hearts, but in doing so we are cracked wide open and taught how to love. There is beauty in the broken, and this is how we celebrate the fragility of life. Whether brutal or breathtaking, it somehow serves our lives.

  • How to Let Go of the Past and Forgive

    How to Let Go of the Past and Forgive

    “Forgive others not because they deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve peace.” ~Jonathan Lockwood Huie

    As a child, I faced constant physical and mental abuse.

    Several classmates would beat me up in the schoolyard, hitting and kicking me. They also chased me down the streets to my home when school was done for the day. I had to cycle at my fastest to avoid another beating. It felt like I had to go through a war zone every day.

    Besides the physical abuse, these children also constantly criticized and ridiculed every single thing I did. This made me feel incredibly insecure about a lot of things, including the way I walked and talked.

    In short, they did everything in their power to make my life as miserable as possible. They succeeded: I became an incredibly unhappy and anxious child. I came back home crying countless times.

    Despite efforts by teachers and my parents to help, all of this lasted for five long years.

    It only ended because we all went to different high schools and classes after finishing primary school, not because they ever showed remorse. Still, I managed to let go of what happened and even forgive them. In fact, I have flourished and live a happy and fulfilling life nowadays. Here’s how I achieved this.

    First, Forgive Yourself

    We are often our own worst enemy. Instead of showing empathy and compassion to ourselves, we tend to be overly critical. When I was being bullied, I blamed myself. I thought if they were targeting me, there must have been something wrong with me, which meant I had to change myself to prevent further bullying.

    Now, I know that isn’t true, and there is simply no excuse to bully anyone. The responsibility for their actions lies with the kids who hurt me, not with me.

    At that time, I was simply being my authentic self, and that’s a great thing, not a reason to bully myself.

    You’re likely being harder on yourself than on others. So, to counter this, imagine one of your friends faced the exact same thing you’re facing. How would you respond to that friend?

    You’d probably show support and be kind to them. Now say those kind words to yourself. You deserve empathy and compassion just as much as your friends do.

    “Nothing can harm you as much as your own thoughts unguarded.” ~The Buddha

    Realize That Those Who Did It Are Gone

    One of my favorite stories about the Buddha is about a man who spat on his face and insulted him. After the Buddha did not lash out at the man, but instead remained calm and kind, the man returned home confused. The next day, he returned to the Buddha. He hadn’t slept all night, haunted by his own behavior and the unexpected reaction from the Buddha. He begged the Buddha for forgiveness.

    Instead, the Buddha explained to him that there was nothing to forgive. The person the Buddha was talking to was not the same person who spat on his face the day before; the man had changed during the night because of his repentance, and the man who spat was no more.

    In the same vein, I believe that after all that time, the people who made me suffer as a child have changed. They were children at the time, but have now grown up to be adults. I have changed so much between then and now, and so have they. Those children who did this to me are no longer here. So is there really someone to forgive anymore?

    I imagine this mindset is harder to adopt if you feel the person who hurt you hasn’t changed. In that case, it might help to remember that people who bully or abuse are often in great pain themselves (which is often why they bully or abuse). This doesn’t condone their mistreatment in any way, but it might make it easier to release your anger toward them.

    Take Back Control

    Another way that I let go and forgave is by taking back control. If you let bad experiences in the past guide your present and future, then you give control to those experiences and the people who caused them.

    I’d highly recommend switching your perspective: Yes, those terrible experiences happened, but if you let them define who you are now and who you will be, then don’t you suffer twice? Once in the past, and again in the present.

    Instead, you could take back control of your present and future by letting who you are right now guide your actions. I find it empowering to take control of my life and create my own path.

    One way to do this is by crafting your own identity. Instead of identifying myself as a victim, I view myself as a victor. Someone who endured hardship and only got stronger through that suffering. By creating my own helpful identity, I take back control.

    Appreciate the Gains

    Another shift of perspective is by looking at how the experiences have positively shaped you instead of focusing on the suffering. Of course, there are situations where nothing has been gained, but in my case, there were certainly gains.

    For example, the abuse made me tough. Nowadays, I’m not easily impressed by problems, knowing I have faced much worse and came out on top. It has also made me more empathic, having lived through a lot of suffering myself. And my suffering brought me to Buddhism, where I learned about the nature of suffering and the path to end it.

    What have you gained from your hardships?

    Focus on the Present

    The past is dead. It can’t be changed, and it’s no longer here. So why keep thinking about the past when there is the present where you can actually do something and change your life for the better? After all, it’s only in the present that you can act.

    A healthier approach toward the past is to look for lessons you can learn. If you approach the past that way, it can have a positive impact on your present and future. For example, I learned that it’s of great importance to stand up for yourself. That’s a lesson I take to heart and apply almost daily.

    Another way you can focus more on the present is by practicing mindfulness and meditation.

    “Anxiety, the illness of our time, comes primarily from our inability to dwell in the present moment.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

    Let It All Out

    It’s completely normal to have intense emotions about bad experiences in the past. So don’t hide from those emotions but let them out instead. There are many ways to do this, like writing in a journal or drawing or making music. Pick the method that suits you best.

    By letting your emotions out, you better understand what you’re feeling and why you have those emotions. This creates an opportunity to find peace within yourself.

    Find Support

    Sometimes you can’t let go and forgive on your own. In that case, it can be of great value to find someone you trust and who can support you. This can be a friend, family member, counselor, or anyone willing to help you get through your hardship.

    In my case, I found a lot of support from my mother and best friend. They helped me process my feelings and gave me a new perspective when I was struggling.

    “Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything—anger, anxiety, or possessions—we cannot be free.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh 

    These are the steps that helped me let go and forgive. Remember that this is often a lengthy process, so don’t give up when you don’t see results immediately. If I can do it, so can you. The best of luck!

  • 8 Things to Remember When You’re at Your Lowest

    8 Things to Remember When You’re at Your Lowest

    “And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.” ~Haruki Murakami

    Last year was both the hardest year of my life and the most transformative. My partner and I had started in vitro fertilization after years of infertility. The daily hormone injections and invasive procedures were tough, but when we saw two blue lines on the pregnancy test, we fell utterly in love with our growing baby.

    Around the same time, my mother, a warm and practical person, had an unexplained manic episode that lasted for months. Unable to sleep, she became tormented by her own mind. On one occasion she went missing late at night. On another she destroyed treasured household objects. Far away from family, I was alone in helping to care for my elderly parents in crisis.

    Not long after, I started to lose the baby. I bled for three weeks. A week later, I rushed to the emergency room late one night, seriously ill, to discover I was at risk of sepsis. The experience was harder than I could have imagined. It was as though I had lost the love of my life, but with no funeral or public acknowledgment.

    Around this time, I fell ill with Covid and never quite recovered. The following months were a blur of insomnia, leg pain, racing heart, ringing ears, and pressure in my head, throat, and chest. My symptoms were worse at night, when my heart raced at the slightest noise and adrenaline surged through my body. Small activities, like doing the dishes, showering, or walking up a flight of stairs, wore me out. Even socializing became exhausting.

    When I was at my lowest, my sister was also in crisis. Growing up, we had been inseparable. She was fiercely affectionate, funny, and brilliant but struggled with her mental health and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in her twenties. Last year, she experienced a prolonged psychotic episode that manifested as extreme rage. She wrote countless emails to the family saying she was going to kill herself and it was our fault. Then she disappeared completely.

    Months later, when I was starting to recover from long Covid, I got pregnant and miscarried again. This time, the doctors said the embryo had likely implanted outside the uterus and could cause a rupture if it grew too big. For weeks I went for blood tests and internal scans nearly every other day. At night I lay awake in panic.

    Since that time, my long Covid has worsened. I struggle to make it through each day while holding down a job. After multiple attempts to reconcile with my sister, I think about her every day, worried for her well-being and devastated for the loss of our relationship. But when I find myself swept away by despair, insights keep arriving like small gifts on my doorstep.

    After a lifetime of people-pleasing and perfectionism, my hardships taught me to advocate unapologetically for my needs and live more in the moment. My grief gave birth to a profound sense of self-compassion. I saw for the first time that my intrinsic value as a human being was not dependent on accomplishing things or pleasing others.

    Losing my health taught me to appreciate the gifts I do have: a partner who loved me through my darkest hours, caring family and friends, and a stable job and home. And perhaps most importantly, I learned to treasure my own sense of possibility.

    I know these hardships are not unusual. Many people have experienced chronic illness, infertility, miscarriage, or family mental illness. I hope these reflections might offer some solace to others who are also suffering.

    1. Your suffering is not your fault.

    Your profound loss cannot be reframed or therapized away. All you can do is listen and love yourself when the pain hits like a wave, and know that the wave will pass over. Try not to blame yourself for these terrible feelings. They are a healthy response to real tragedies. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this, and you don’t need to improve.

    2. There is no shame in being unwell.

    Yes, you have been hurt, but you are not broken. You are whole and complete. You don’t need to work hard at healing—it will happen in its own time. You are allowed to ask for help. This is part of the journey of recovering autonomy. You will not feel powerless forever. Remember how much you have healed already and how strong you have become.

    3. It’s okay to find sources of distraction.

    You are allowed to feel happy—it does not mean you have forgotten what you lost. It is okay to prioritize yourself and tend to your smallest desires and needs. You have worked so hard to take care of others, prepare for the future, and do the right thing. If there is ever a time to let go of obligation, that time is now.

    4. You do not have to be brave.

    You are allowed to be weak and afraid, angry and resentful, or petty and indulgent. You are allowed to be whatever it is you are at this moment. It is enough to simply make it through the day, to feed yourself or ti ask for time off work (please ask for time off work!). It is okay to be contradictory and complicated and to embrace your shadow aspects.

    5. There is nothing wrong with being alone.

    Pretending to be okay in front of others is exhausting, but so is mustering up the courage to share your struggles. Some people may disappoint you. Most don’t know how to respond to suffering, but everyone has a gift they can offer. Some will distract you, others will hold your hand, or remind you that you are not alone. You can discover these gifts in your own time.

    6. You don’t need to be rational, and you don’t need to have faith either.

    But you can gently move in the direction of all sources of comfort, from a cup of hot chocolate or an afternoon nap to the intangible solace of dreams. You can imagine spirits caring for you in your time of need or loved ones holding you in their arms. Envision a trip to a beautiful place. Remain open to mysterious and everyday sources of joy.

    7. You will discover gifts that you never knew existed.

    Your ability to self-advocate can turn exhaustion and overwhelm into rest and relaxation. Your capacity for gratitude can remind you of all that is well within your body and your life. Your sense of humor can reveal absurdity in even the darkest moments. By tapping into these resources, you will be better prepared for hardship in the future.

    8. Every end is a new beginning.

    New hopes will emerge where old ones have ended. Lean into the kind of hope that is not attached to an outcome but that fosters excited anticipation. The script of your life is unwritten and filled with potential. The unknown can be scary, but it is also where magic and mystery dwell. Remain open to new ways of being and to the possibility of a beautiful future.

  • Transforming Pain into Power: The Magic of Emotional Alchemy

    Transforming Pain into Power: The Magic of Emotional Alchemy

    If it weren’t for my darkest moments, I wouldn’t appreciate the life I have today. I’ve overcome a lot, and my biggest battle wasn’t the hurdles themselves but how they made me feel, draining my energy and desire for life until I nearly lost it completely. I’m sharing my story to give you hope. If I can transform pain into beauty through emotional alchemy, you can, too.

    I’m not going to lie and say my journey has been easy. Nor is it over; overcoming a lifetime of dysfunctional patterns from a toxic childhood and challenging adult experiences takes time. However, it is so very worth it. Here’s how I perform emotional alchemy, and you can, too.

    My “Shawshank” Moment

    Although I didn’t always recognize how childhood trauma led to my adult victimization, I now see how it created the conditions. My inner child wasn’t only wounded; I, in many ways, was still a child.

    I grew up in a household where anger was the primary emotion, and that seed remained within me. When an adult tragedy struck, I watered it, first directing it at a world I felt was impossibly cruel and finally against myself.

    The seed sprouted when I became chronically ill with disabling symptoms that gradually robbed me of my ability to work a traditional job. I lost everything, including my home.

    Because I had never learned how to relate to others, I didn’t know where to turn for help and was convinced that I would be ridiculed for asking. Having never learned how to set appropriate boundaries as a child, I pushed away the few people who tried to lend a hand, suspecting ulterior motives.

    Accepting assistance was burdening another, something strong, capable, worthy people didn’t do, and the people who offered aid had something up their sleeves.

    Homeless and feeling utterly powerless, I had no idea how to go on.

    Getting Busy Living

    Anger was useful in my recovery. It took well over a decade to find a diagnosis—an underlying heart defect.

    I now know that my emotional outbursts at the doctor’s corresponded to one of my biggest complex post-traumatic stress disorder (c-PTSD) triggers. As a child, I was constantly invalidated and dismissed, including when I had health issues.

    Any time I got sick, I was told it was a “cry for attention” and an attempt to “manipulate” my parents into caring for me. Experiencing similar suspicion again led to irritation and many tears that no doubt confirmed my provider’s impression of me as “hysterical.”

    My anger drove me to prove I was not causing my symptoms, exacerbating them, or making them up. But how? I went utterly straight-edge, taking up a super-healthy, nearly monastic lifestyle of whole foods intended to nurture physical and mental health, regular physical activity, and all the brain-and-soul healing holistic therapies I could find online.

    Little did I know I was laying the foundation of my recovery. Although people tend to think linearly, as though one thing leads to another like a straight line, existence is more like a circular mandala with interwoven threads creating the tapestry and holding that giant parachute together. When one thread wears thin, the others pick up the slack during repairs. My work on my physical body began to heal my mind. But how?

    1. Diet and Mental State

    My diet today still consists primarily of plant-based foods close to their natural forms. I also take care to increase my intake of certain nutrients necessary for brain health through the meals I choose, such as:

    • B-vitamins for neurotransmitter production.
    • Omega-3s to prevent brain disorders and improve mood.
    • Magnesium, selenium, and zinc for improved mood and nervous system regulation.

    I also eliminated anything that could adversely affect my mood. That meant cutting out:

    • Foods with artificial colors, flavors, and preservatives.
    • Added sugar.
    • Processed, bleached flour.
    • Unhealthy oils.

    It’s tougher to eat this way on a budget. I stocked up on dried fruits, nuts, and seeds that last; inexpensive tuna; and fresh, organic produce from the farmer’s market.

    2. Movement and the Full Nervous System

    While most of your neurons are in your brain, you have them all over your body. Emotional trauma can get trapped in your somatic system, but nurturing practices like Yin and restorative yoga can release it.

    I find it’s best to get my heart pumping to burn off some of those excess stress hormones like cortisol before I can dig into deeper release on the mat. Find movement that soothes you, which can include pumping you up to blow off steam.

    My yoga mat has become a true home for me. It’s where I go to sit, or passively stretch, with my emotions when they overwhelm me. If you have c-PTSD, you know that your triggers don’t disappear — you train yourself to notice them and react to them less so that they don’t control you. Sometimes, that means creating a necessary pause before responding, and my yoga mat is my place to do that.

    3. Mindfulness

    Mindfulness is the true key to transforming pain into power through emotional alchemy. I’m convinced it’s the one tool that can help with the epidemic of narcissism American society faces—and I speak as someone who learned such traits from the dubious “best.” People with such personalities have defenses so sky-high that they react to even the most well-intended advice with distrust.

    However, mindfulness creates space for deep truths to bubble up from inside. You aren’t being “lectured” by someone else who threatens your sense of self and the worldview that protects you. Simply focusing on your inhales and exhales provides a sense of separation and objectiveness that lets you realize two critical truths:

    • You are not your thoughts.
    • You are not your feelings.

    You have thoughts and feelings, but you also have the you that’s sitting with them on the mat, deciding how to best manage them. Recognizing that you have power and choice over how you direct your energy teaches you that if you want anger or distrust to grow, you water those seeds through your actions and decisions.

    The beautiful part? You also realize if you want to nurture love, hope, health, camaraderie, faith, optimism, joy, and happiness, then you water those seeds.

    One small act of goodness can start a ripple effect. Think of it like the frayed strands of a worn tapestry weaving themselves back together, one string at a time. It starts with self-love.

    I didn’t fully realize when I began my journey that I was essentially reparenting myself from scratch, but that’s what I was doing. My higher self was acting like a good mother, ensuring I had healthy foods, the right amount of exercise and sunlight, and plenty of nurturing.

    Creating Emotional Alchemy

    Mindfulness also helped me manage the overwhelming anxiety I felt without my usual coping mechanisms to handle stress. Anyone who has experienced morning-after hangxiety knows that withdrawal from alcohol ramps up this emotion, and my life stressors hadn’t magically disappeared. I was still battling housing insecurity, trying to earn enough money to keep a roof over my head while managing necessary medical appointments and the associated travel time.

    However, I couldn’t have transformed my pain into power through emotional alchemy without identifying my feelings and learning how to manage them in healthy ways. For that, I dug into everything I could learn about human psychology. I engaged in therapy whenever possible. Although there was limited help available, I briefly found someone who listened to me rehash my childhood without judgment.

    Mostly, though, I self-directed my treatment, making use of the resources I had available. I engaged in the following practices, often more than once per day, to slowly heal my central nervous system. These activities decreased my emotional reactivity and helped me make wiser choices based on mindful contemplation instead of a panicked need to do something, anything:

    • Yoga: Not all styles require high energy or physical fitness, and many poses have modifications for differing skill and mobility levels. Try Hatha, Yin, or restorative if you’re new.
    • Meditation: While there are many styles, I find that guided meditations are best for beginners. They acclimate you to sitting quietly with your thoughts while providing just enough direction to prevent falling into a rumination trap or taking a dark trip down anxiety lane.
    • Nature walks: Oodles of studies show nature’s healing power on your body and mind. Hike, or better yet, go camping. It’s free or close to it.
    • Grounding: Grounding or earthing puts your skin in contact with the earth’s natural magnetic field. While it sounds new age, it works.
    • Nutrition: Although I give myself more dietary leeway today, my meals are still primarily plant-based. I continue to avoid unhealthy substances, including alcohol, knowing what it does to my neurotransmitters.
    • Learning: Educational materials and online support groups are invaluable resources.

    I’m not a celebrity and certainly not among the elite. However, my message of hope is that you don’t necessarily need an expensive retreat or inpatient care to transform pain into power through emotional alchemy.

    Use what you have. YouTube is a fabulous resource of free nutrition and exercise videos, and the internet abounds with information. It’s a matter of feeding yourself the right input instead of getting sucked into social media. Seek websites and channels by credentialed individuals to ensure the information you receive is accurate and helpful.

    Emotional Alchemy: Transforming Pain into a Beautiful Life

    Today, my life continues to improve. Working on myself made it much easier to get the other pieces of my life under control.

    It might take reparenting yourself if you have severe c-PTSD. You might have to actively decide to stop doing the things that hurt your mind, body, and emotions and start nurturing yourself like you would a child. However, over time, you can create emotional alchemy and transform your pain into power, sharing what you have learned in your journey to bring hope to others.

  • How Our Emotional Triggers Can Actually Be Great Gifts

    How Our Emotional Triggers Can Actually Be Great Gifts

    “Be grateful for triggers, they point to where you are not free.” ~Unknown

    Your triggers are your responsibility. I know, it doesn’t land so nicely, does it? But it’s the truth. The moment you truly understand this, you let others off the hook and you’re able to actually see triggers as gifts pointing to where you’re not whole.

    I’ve heard this many times before and felt like retorting with, “But, he/she/they did….” Just because your triggers are your responsibility doesn’t mean that others won’t do hurtful or infuriating things. It just means the only thing you can control is your side of the street. EVER. That’s it.

    Recently, I was out of town and my husband stayed home with our two younger children. I was at my oldest daughter’s softball game when he texted pictures of sushi and asked me to guess where they were. I could tell right away. It was a restaurant near our old house that we used to go often that had shut down during the pandemic.

    I found myself so triggered by the mere memory of it that I responded with, “I remember THAT place quite well.”

    That’s the place we ran into someone my husband knew. Someone I would eventually dislike, maybe even momentarily hate. Someone who years after this innocent run-in would, along with my husband, participate in causing me great hurt.

    It stung, the blindness of it all, the complete disregard for my feelings just as if it had happened yesterday and not close to a decade ago. Interesting how this was the image in my mind’s eye and not the dozens of other times we enjoyed sushi as a family.

    My husband then proceeded to tell me they had reopened and the kids were enjoying themselves. Well, here I was, triggered, feeling this anger rising from my gut and moving into my heart, and they were stuffing their faces with sushi. How nice. I wondered if he even knew, if he had picked up on that sly remark. Did he even remember? Could he sense the change of energy from afar?

    Normally, when I’m triggered, I will lash out, say something snarky, and maybe say or do something that would only lead to a fight. He would absolutely know I was triggered, and I would graciously remind him it was hisfault.

    This time, I walked myself off the ledge, reminded myself that my trigger is my responsibility, took a breath, and made a mental note to dig in at a later time. For the time being I would sit and watch softball and shove this firecracker of a trigger to the side. It seems silly that a sushi restaurant could trigger so much underlying anger, but let me tell you, it did.

    The following day I took the four-hour drive home. I had two teenagers in the car with ear pods in their ears and their faces glued to their phones. This was the perfect time to dig in, as there was nothing but road ahead of me and time to kill.

    I started a mental conversation with myself about this trigger, the same process I would undertake with a client in this same predicament. What about this place was so triggering?

    The memory of being in the restaurant and running into this person flashed in my mind’s eye. There was a back and forth of questions and answers, like a ping pong match happening inside of my head. The mind asking away and the answers rising up from below.

    I peeled layer after layer, until I found myself at the bottom of the dark well, the root of it all, “It’s my fault. It’s my fault I trusted someone enough to hurt me.”

    There it was, this decades old root that had enough charge to take down an entire city, enough charge to strike back and hurt someone deeply when provoked. The present moment so tightly wound in a much deeper, far more ancient wound.

    Aah, it was never about the sushi, never about what anyone else did or didn’t do; it was only ever about me. It was only ever about this false belief that was wrapped in responsibility and armored with guilt and shame. The map is absolutely not the territory.

    Tears streamed down my face. I tried to hide them behind my sunglasses and keep my composure in the silence of the car. I grabbed from the stack of Chipotle napkins in the center console (I know I’m not the only one), dabbed my face, and blotted my nostrils.

    The tears kept coming; they were the release of trapped emotion and relief. They were the realization of the amount of ownership and responsibility for the actions of others that I had decided to take so long ago in order to self-protect.

    When someone’s actions hurt me in either benign or malignant ways, I blamed myself for not having armored up enough to prevent the “attack” from happening in the first place. I should have known and done better, but I hadn’t and, hence the trigger, the subconscious reminder of the pain and shame. It’s unrealistic; there’s no amount of armor one can wear to prevent themselves from ever getting hurt by someone else.

    Our triggers are our responsibility. They point to where we are not whole, where we are wounded, and if we have the courage to unravel them, we find liberation. Our liberation. We find the truth beyond the story or the incident.

    It’s not easy to let others off the hook. It’s not easy to turn the tables on ourselves, to ask what is this bringing up in me? What belief lies buried deep in the unconscious yet, ultimately, has immense control in my life? Oftentimes, it something painful we’ve kept ourselves from looking at—something we, more than likely, have no consciousness around.

    Triggers are a gift only if you have the courage to unravel the tight hold they have on you, only if you choose to uproot the belief that holds the charge. Awareness is everything.

    What I now know is that if I ever hear this restaurant mentioned or brought up again, I won’t be triggered in the same way I was that day on the softball field. The charge will have dissipated. I would know that I am only ever responsible for my circus and my monkeys, not the hurtful actions of others.

    I am also aware this process isn’t a one and done. It may take continual reminders until the trigger ceases to carry any charge at all. Healing, after all, is a journey and a process.

    So, next time you find yourself triggered, I invite you to stop, take a breath, and ask yourself a series of “why” questions followed by “because” statements to see if you can’t get to the root of it all, which is where you’ll find your gift.

  • How I Overcame My Fear on My Trauma Anniversary

    How I Overcame My Fear on My Trauma Anniversary

    “It’s okay that you don’t know how to move on. Start with something easier…. Like not going back.” ~Unknown

    I’m one of the 70% of people who have experienced trauma, and it can be hard to deal with. Actually, I’ve experienced more than one traumatic event, which is also common.

    In fact, sometimes it feels like trauma and the symptoms have ruled my life.

    The gut-churning, confused thoughts, sweating, shaking, inability to breathe and panic are horrible parts, though to me there is something worse.

    The fear.

    The fear that it will happen again. The fear of what it took from me and how will I continue to live.

    The fear that I will never be the same again. Forever changed.

    So you kind of repress it as much as you can and learn to live with the symptoms.

    When trauma impacts your life permanently, the diagnosis is post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)— the continual fear of reexperiencing what you went through and the avoidance of any potential trigger.

    When people know about the trauma, they often treat you differently. They see the trauma, not you. They just see what happened.

    This week is a significant anniversary of workplace trauma.

    I previously worked in security and was very good at my job. I was a supervisor, and my concern was for those I worked with and the people where I worked.

    As the only female security person there, I made the decision to be approachable to others. Especially women. I wanted them to feel safe to ring up for a chat at any hour if they felt alone working in their office or if they wanted someone to walk with them to their car.

    I used to go for a walk around the area every night, with my uniform covered. Night shifts are long and can be lonely and boring. A good walk helped me stay focused.

    One night, at 3 a.m., I was walking with my uniform covered when I ran into a woman walking home. She was a little tipsy, so I walked her the last little way home. After I left her, something felt off.

    Walking back, I knew I wasn’t alone. I looked around and couldn’t see anyone, but I felt them. I was being watched, and it was terrifying.

    At that moment my brain registered that this was personal, not professional.

    My uniform was covered, so it wasn’t an attack by someone who was angry with me relating to the job. I was a woman, and I was being hunted.

    All my extensive training went out the window. The fear was paralyzing. A fear that, commonly, men don’t understand. They are rarely the prey.

    I walked as fast as I could in the middle of a street with poor lighting, and I kept looking but couldn’t see anyone.

    I was aware that there were four sexual deviants in the area. I’d read all the reports of assaults, rapes, and indecent exposure. Where I worked was a great ‘playground’ for disturbed people.

    This person was in the shadows; I was in the center of the road. At that point, I couldn’t breathe.

    I was almost at the building I was aiming for when I saw him. Right in front of me. And I saw his knife.

    That moment felt like an eternity. When reality slows down and every action is like a dream.

    I got inside the building, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him through the window. He was waiting for me to leave. Even if I hadn’t read the incident reports, there was no doubt about what he intended.

    I tried calling the guards for help on my two-way radio, but I couldn’t speak. No words came out. I tried three times while watching him move back into the shadows.

    Twice I tried to use my phone to call the office (500 meters away) to get help, but again, no words came out. Alone in a brightly lit building, I was terrified to move. I didn’t want to move into the building further. It was dark, but I didn’t want him watching me. My decision was to stand still near the entrance, where most of the cameras were.

    The third time I called, my number was recognized, and all I could say was “help.” I managed to give him a building number and could hear him dispatching help.

    The man who had been following me silently left in the shadows. We never found him, despite the guards hunting for him. Back at base, these men had never seen me fazed by anything. I was always the calm one, the one you call in a crisis, even the physical ones. They didn’t get it.

    This man didn’t have to touch me. I knew his intent; I could see his weapon and his eyes. I had read the reports. This was personal.

    It was something that my employer couldn’t understand; as aggressive men, they were never ‘prey.’ As a rule, men are stronger than women and more violent.

    While some men have been prey, it is far less common. Women have to deal with these feelings and fears so much more. In this case, it was more than just the fear that got to me.

    It was the shame, the humiliation, and the shock.

    Shame that I was incapable of protecting myself and he was left there to hurt others. While I already felt that hit, my employer stated his disgust at my inability to act.

    Humiliation, as I was always seen as the ‘strong one,’ but I felt very much the victim here. I know what being a victim feels like. I’ve been there many times, though I never dreamed that I would be there when working.

    It’s been ten years, and I am still affected by this experience. It has affected my quality of life and how I live.  

    With any trauma, you learn to manage it. Live with it and come to terms with it in your own way. You have a choice: Will you allow the experience to leave you a victim, or will you move through it?

    Recently, someone asked me, “How will you manage the anniversary?” They asked in a caring way, wanting to know that I had support during this time. But it left me in a challenging place.

    In my heart, I know that it is not about repressing, hiding, pretending it didn’t happen, or pretending that I am okay when I’m not. I truly believe that to heal from something, we must stop running from it and look at it, feel it, and allow it to heal.

    I also know that a bad experience can make us stronger, and that we can inspire others with how we rise above adversity.

    The day after that person asked me, “How will you manage?”, my right knee went numb.

    It didn’t hurt, but it did make me limp. Suddenly, I was scared.

    I was thrown back into the energy of being a victim because someone was worried about how I would manage to deal with this thing that had changed my life.

    I spent most of my life in that victim space, and it was a struggle to get out of it.

    It is more than a mindset shift. It is breaking old beliefs, changing old habits, and being willing to see that there is something else there. It was a personal challenge for me to see that life can be more than a meager existence.

    I will be forever changed by my trauma, and I may never be able to do what I used to do, but that doesn’t mean that I cannot live the best life that I can.

    If one looks at the energetic issues around knee pain, it is often related to a fear of moving forward in life. A fear of stepping into your path. A fear of change. So we stay stagnant.

    I am at a crossroads in my life. I am seeking a new path, while aware of my limitations.

    Thrown back into the old energy, it is hard to take the next step and move forward.

    The irony is that this week I was planning to go to a very special crystal garden. A place that feels like a deeper ‘home’ to my soul. Being there is always special, healing, and empowering.

    Yet suddenly, I could not walk easily. Stepping into my power and letting go of the impact of trauma seemed impossible.

    I had to identify that I was sabotaging myself from stepping forward. From progressing with a dream, with a desire, with a passion. I had caused myself to stall.

    Can one truly cause a physical problem, based on fear?

    In my world, yes.

    This does come down to your beliefs, though, to me, this is how I stop myself from moving forward in life.

    Now that I have learned to recognize this (which takes time and courage), when I identify it, acknowledge it, and reconnect with my heart regarding the situation, I can heal the emotional wound, which then frees the energy that causes the physical issue.

    This takes practice, and I’m trained in various healing modalities, so I have a head start here, but this is how I’ve worked through things many times over the years.

    When my knee went numb and it felt like I was trying to walk through cement, I knew that I needed to clear this energetic resistance that had formed in my mind.

    Here’s what I did to regain feeling in my knee again, to release the victim mindset I’d slipped into.

    1. I acknowledged my fears out loud. “I fear stepping into my power.” “I fear not coping.” “I fear I am stuck in trauma.” I had to verbalize these fears, then change them.

    2. I wrote lines in my surrender notebook. “I no longer fear stepping into my power,” “I no longer fear that I am stuck in trauma,” and “I longer fear that I am not coping.”

    3. Then I wrote positive lines: “I am easily stepping into my power,” “I am capable of managing all situations that I am in,” and “I am free from trauma and stress.”

    I kept writing and saying these statements out loud until I could feel them. I wrote several pages worth, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was shifting my mindset and energy.

    After a hot Epsom salt bath, which is a powerful energy-cleansing ritual, I felt better, and my knee had more feeling. I wasn’t fully where I wanted to be; however, I wasn’t dwelling on the trauma and the negative. I was back in the moment.

    Now I needed to visualize and see what I wanted to happen. This is such a powerful skill to learn. I often use my phone voice recorder to create my own visualization that I can play as I sleep or throughout the day.

    What was important here was that I take a step in the direction I wanted to go in.

    I jumped online and purchased the tickets needed for the crystal castle I wanted to go to. I committed to moving forward.

    Then I very slowly started walking on my treadmill.

    Again, as I slowly walked, I was repeating out loud, “I am easily stepping into my power. I am free. I am achieving my dreams.” This wasn’t about exercise or heart rate; it was about showing myself and my body that I am moving forward in life.

    I closed my eyes and visualized walking through the crystal gardens, through the bush, touching the crystals, and letting my vision move into my next life steps.

    At one point, I noticed that I was walking more easily. I could feel my knee again. But I kept going, holding on to the positive, progressive feeling.

    After thirty minutes of slow walking, I felt refreshed and, importantly, I felt in my flow of life again. Able to walk normally and not be caught up in the trauma anniversary.

    In fact, at that point, I was determined to stop remembering this anniversary date and decided to accept it as a time in my life that gave me the opportunity to grow.

    This is a challenging way to look at things, but when you are ready to look at an experience this way, it empowers you and inspires others too.

    This is not saying that any trauma is justified or condoned. It is saying that I refuse to stay a victim of this experience, and if I can, I will find a way it can help me grow as a person.

  • How to Break the Cycle of Painful, Dramatic Relationships

    How to Break the Cycle of Painful, Dramatic Relationships

    “No matter how far we come, our parents are always in us.” ~Brad Meltzer

    Had you asked me five years ago, before my healing and personal growth journey began, if my upbringing and childhood wounds were shaping the choices I was making in relationships, I would have scoffed at you and said, “No way. Are you kidding?”

    Somehow, I had normalized the dysfunction I grew up in: the absentee father, the mother with mental illness, the lack of stability and safety, the enmeshment and codependency, the attachment wounds that left me spending a lifetime searching for someone or something to fill the void.

    Somehow, I had overlooked the fact that I had chosen a partner who reflected back to me what had been familiar in my past: the power struggles, the imbalances, the passiveness and emotional disconnection, the unhealthy conflict resolution, the gaslighting and volatility.

    This is not to say that my former partner was all bad, because he wasn’t. No one is. It’s just that together, we became toxic and dysfunctional, unintentionally recreating the patterns we had both witnessed growing up.

    We were so entangled in our patterns and unconscious behaviors that we didn’t see how it was all playing out. I wrote off our unhealthy relationship dynamics as “normal,” something all marriages experience, because I had not yet spent any time diving into my childhood wounds to know any better. I lacked the awareness of what a healthy partnership looked like, because I had never known a healthy relationship—not with my mom, not with my dad, nor in observation of anyone in my extended family.

    Dysfunction in my family (and my former partner’s family), appeared to be the norm. Therefore, I convinced myself that what I was experiencing was normal. Little did I know that I would eventually be the one to break the mold, to become the reasonable and sane one in a sea of insanity.

    This is how I woke up:

    1. The level of dissatisfaction and dysfunction in my marriage reached a breaking point that inadvertently led me to fall for another man.

    2. This started me down a long road of healing, introspection, psychological work, and therapy.

    3. Therapy taught me that my spouse was reflecting back to me the characteristics of both my mother and my father.

    4. My relationship patterns were brought to my conscious awareness.

    5. The knowledge of where my patterns and behaviors originated allowed me to make the changes needed to heal.

    I remember the precise moment the light bulb turned on. It was like the heavens parted and a bolt of lightning came crashing down from the sky, illuminating what had previously been hidden in the dark. I was walking out of my therapist’s office one afternoon when I stopped abruptly in the middle of the parking lot and said aloud to myself, “Oh my God, April! You have married your mother and fallen in love with your father. How in the hell did this happen?”

    During that session, she had pointed out, or rather helped me see, how my partner’s anger issues and harsh disciplinary measures resembled those I had seen in my mother, while his passivity and lack of accountability resembled traits of my father.

    Unbeknownst to me, I had entered that relationship with a sort of subconscious recognition of both of my parents, even though some of these traits didn’t present themselves until later in our relationship. This realization in itself was enough to get me to wake up to the reality I had been living in and decide it was time to end the marriage.

    The knowing is what helped me break the cycle. The knowing is what liberated me.

    Through the painful and bitter process of uncoupling, I was finally able to free myself from the unhealthy and dysfunctional patterns that relationship was mirroring from my childhood. In a strange way, I was grateful for the unhappiness and dysfunction that partnership had created, because it provided me with the stark contrast I needed to experience in order to know what a healthy relationship is NOT.

    Looking back, I couldn’t have seen it coming any sooner. I couldn’t have known what I didn’t know, even though I beat myself up for months after the divorce thinking it was all my fault. Even though my former partner tried to do the same… blaming, shaming, and avoiding any responsibility for his part in the toxicity and dysfunction. Skirting the fact that he was the other factor in the equation.

    Then, I realized, “You know what? No. It takes two to tango.” Both parties need to clean up their side of the street, unpack their childhoods, and take accountability for their own wounding. Relationships are never a one-way street.

    For anyone who has suffered through these types of unhealthy romantic relationships (the ones full of pain, drama, and conflict), please allow what I have learned to save you a little time and a little heartbreak. I’ll cut right to the chase.

    1. We are all longing.

    Deep down, we all have the desire to be loved intensely and wholeheartedly. We desire someone to help us feel seen and adored and to wrap us up in a soft, comfy blanket of protection. We long for the parents we never had, for the love we wished we had received, and for the chance to be loved just once in the most breathtaking, unimaginable way. Sometimes, we are lucky enough to experience this. And other times, we think we have found it, only later to realize that it was just a memento of the past coming to pay us a visit.

    2. We unconsciously choose partners who remind us of our parents, usually the opposite-sex parent.

    This does not have to be tied to gender, but rather whoever embodies the masculine/feminine energy in the relationship.

    As much as we’d like to say that things with our partner “just didn’t work out” or that the problem was all on them, we must learn to admit to ourselves how our upbringing impacts our romantic lives. More often than not, the partners we choose have some obvious, and some not-so-obvious, things in common with our parent of the opposite sex.

    For example, if your dad was a workaholic and was rarely present for you as a child, you may tend to (unknowingly) seek male partners who are also career-driven and perhaps distant or detached. If you are a male, and you grew up with a mother who was meek and submissive and rarely stood up for herself, you may find yourself with female partners who are the same.

    3. We unconsciously seek partners who we think will give us what our parents could not.

    On another level, it can be that we are subconsciously trying to recreate scenarios from our childhood that didn’t meet our needs. We are attracted to people who show us what it could feel like to have the parent we wished we’d had.

    For example, we may seek a partner who is kind and nurturing, because we didn’t receive nurturing as a child. Or we might be enamored by a partner who makes us feel safe and protected, because we didn’t feel safe and protected as a child.

    If you go back to your childhood and think about what you were lacking, and then look closely at your last few relationships, or even situationships, you may come to discover that the person you were dating possessed certain qualities that filled a gap inside. What attracted you to them is that they filled a hole in your heart that was left by one of your parents.

    Keep in mind these dynamics usually play out on a subconscious level. You are often not consciously aware of your choices, because you have not yet done the work to reveal what it is that is driving your behavior and causing you to make these relationship choices.

    This is why it is so crucial to get to know yourself and to dive deep into your past, your wounding, and your patterns and behaviors. Until the underlying nuances are brought into your awareness, you will continue to repeat the same patterns, choosing similar kinds of partners who show up wearing different suits.

    If we truly want to free ourselves from the relationship patterns that we inherited from our caregivers, we must begin by focusing our attention inward. Rather than seeking love outside of ourselves, or looking to another to repair our wounds or mend our broken hearts, we must give ourselves the love we seek. This means healing our childhood wounds and traumas, re-parenting ourselves and our inner child, and cultivating a deeply compassionate self-concept.

    Some of the reparenting methods that helped me the most include:

    • Inner child healing and reprogramming exercises
    • Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR)
    • Brainspotting
    • Journaling
    • Visualization

    Be patient with yourself during this process of healing, uncovering, and repairing. It can be difficult to come to new realizations about your past and some of the ways that you didn’t get what you needed as a child. It can stir up feelings of sadness, anger, or grief, so you must hold yourself gently and do the inner work as you feel ready and as you have the necessary support to guide you through it.

    Realizing that we made poor choices in relationships can cause enough shame. We need not strengthen the blow by beating up on ourselves further for something that we were not aware of at the time. However, being in a healthy relationship means that we are willing to own our side of the street, take accountability for our choices, and make the necessary changes to show up better the next time. As the saying goes, “Once you know better, do better.”

    Our parents did the best they could with the tools and awareness they had at the time, as did we. But now, it is time to pave a new path. You get to be the one to rewrite the script. You get to be the person in your family who, despite being surrounded with dysfunction and unhealthy relationship models, breaks the cycle for good. You get to prove to yourself, and to your future children someday, that just as dysfunction can be passed down through your lineage, so can healing.

    You… yes, you.

    Whoever gets to hold your heart will be infinitely blessed because of your courage. Love you. ♥

  • How Embracing Grief Can Open Us Up to a Beautiful New Chapter

    How Embracing Grief Can Open Us Up to a Beautiful New Chapter

    “When we are brave enough to tend to our hearts, our messy emotions can teach us how to be free—not free from pain but free from the fear of pain and the barrier it creates to fully living.” ~Kris Carr

    It’s crazy how you go about your life thinking all is okay, and then BOOM, something happens that changes you forever. Grief and loss come and hit you in the face.

    You know… the days that you start as one person and end as someone else.

    But it’s not your first loss or trauma! You had a childhood of pain and suffering, which resurfaces when the latest loss happens.

    The old stories and beliefs you had about being jinxed come back. You think, “Maybe the world, the universe, or God does, in fact, hate me.”

    This has happened to me multiple times, and I thought I was a pro, especially since I help others process trauma in my work.

    The first big time was when I was twenty-six and a policeman called to tell me my dad—who had been an utter nightmare when I was growing up—had taken his life.

    In theory my life got easier without him, but that phone call triggered a lot of pain from enduring his abuse as a kid.

    I didn’t have the tools to deal with this pain, so I numbed my feelings with alcohol, busyness, helping others, and chasing after unavailable men.

    But I couldn’t outrun it anymore when another grief came along: the loss of the dream of a future with a man I loved deeply, who didn’t choose me or love me back.

    That second grief moment seems smaller and was nearly ten years after I lost my dad, but it seemed to affect me more. My way of surviving grief by running from it just wasn’t working anymore.

    The pain got so bad that I didn’t want to live. I felt hopeless and lost. I had to find different tools, as I wanted to move forward with my life. And find love. Running from my emotions was not helping me.

    This launched my path to healing, which started with self-help books, podcasts, and blogs like this one. I wanted to understand why this relationship-that-never-was had pushed me over the edge.

    I remember reading Facing Love Addiction by Pia Melody. It showed me that this pain I was feeling from the lost relationship was actually from my childhood.

    Slowly, I came back to my loss of my dad and the way he treated me when he was alive.

    I found my way to somatic therapy to help my body process what I had been through.

    I found other tools like mindfulness, emotional freedom technique (EFT) tapping, meditation, inner child work, journaling, and self-care practices. Slowly, I began to heal the past version of myself. The one who lost her dad at twenty-six and the child who didn’t get what she needed from him. Then the thirty-five-year-old who was grieving a relationship with a man who didn’t choose her.

    As the clouds parted I saw the light again through my healing. Therapy, the world of self-help, and personal development saved my life.

    I found a beautiful, healthy man to love me, and we got married. All my dreams were coming true. I even left the corporate world to help others, as I was passionate about the modalities that had changed my life.

    I genuinely believed I was fixed!

    Then the third big grief came along. Maybe small for some, but it rocked my world. I miscarried at ten weeks pregnant. A pregnancy that came so easily at forty was gone like a dream.

    I did the same thing I’d done when I lost my dad: I numbed myself. Mainly with my work and clients. Running a business keeps you busy and is a great escape from yourself. Soon, my friend wine was back to help too. I found all kinds of ways to escape the pain.

    But I couldn’t run from this grief for as long as I ran from my past griefs, as my biological clock was ticking loudly. It was time to try again for a baby, but I just couldn’t do it.

    I was frozen in fear.

    Numb from the loss.

    Not feeling good enough again.

    The darkness was back, and I was lost in it! Thoughts of giving up were back too.

    I thought I was healed! And helping others with their traumas. How could I be struggling with my own?

    Fortunately, I knew to use the same toolkit I had used the last time, but my nervous system was frozen in time.

    So I took baby steps to get help. It started like before, with books and podcasts. Like I was dipping my toe back in.

    I read a book specific to miscarriage loss, The Worst Girl Gang Ever by Bex Gunn and Laura Buckingham and, more recently, Kris Carr’s I am Not a Mourning Person.

    I started to invest in a space where I could process grief. This time, I chose to work with a somatic therapist who could help me release the trauma of this loss from my body through nervous system repair and also does integrated family systems (IFS) parts work. This helped me understand the parts of myself that do not want me to proceed with my dream of being a mum.

    Parts of our minds are trying to protect us and keep us safe. We shame and hate them for limiting us. But when we get to know them, we understand why they are holding us back. It’s such a beautiful way to get to know our inner selves.

    I also began to work with a coach who specializes in baby loss. I found resources and people that were specific to the pain I had experienced. Just how I did with my dad and the relationship loss previously.

    I did get pulled into my shadow behaviors like drinking wine, overworking, and eating sugar, as these had helped me in times of grief before. But they were just a plaster over my sadness and wouldn’t help me move forward to become a mother.

    I have uncovered that this loss is about my relationship with my body and the trauma that has been stored in it. And I have gone back to the childhood wounds around my body, related to my father constantly telling me I was fat, and how I have treated it.

    I have given myself space. To actually grieve. To cry. To be angry. To release.

    I am an EFT practitioner, so I use an EFT tapping technique to process any emotion right when I’m feeling it. In that moment.

    I don’t run from it. I sit with it. I allow myself to feel the discomfort of my emotions. The first time I did this, it brought back the loss I felt for my dad. My childhood. And every other relationship I lost along the way.

    No matter where you are on your journey of life, grief is something we all have in common. None of us escape it.

    We are guaranteed to experience it multiple times in our lives. We can numb and avoid it. We can run from it and let it sabotage our present. Or we can choose to meet it and love ourselves through it.

    After I lost my dad, running from my grief sabotaged my dreams of finding love with a healthy man. Facing it meant I was able to break that pattern. That is what allowing space for grief does.

    Years later, a miscarriage could have stopped me on my dream to have a family of my own. Because I didn’t want to face what this miscarriage brought up within me. The pain of the relationship with my body. How I spoke to it and treated it and what others had said to shame it.

    It is natural to want to avoid the pain. To run. But then you have to look at what the grief is holding you back from. A healthier, happier you. Your bigger dream and vision for your life.

    I had to change my calendar to literally create space for grief. To remove the busyness. To allow my nervous system to feel safe enough to process the grief.

    I decided to only spend time with people who could support me in it and socialize less so I could take really good care of myself. I canceled plans and just nourished myself all weekend with self-care.

    I am not going to pretend grief is not grim. You are allowed to be angry. Sad. All of the things. Don’t ignore your own emotions or try to ‘fix’ them. They don’t need to be fixed. They just need to be felt.

    Be a kind friend to yourself. Listen and allow yourself to cry. Slowly, the light starts to come in and you find your way out.

    It is such a brave thing to meet your grief.

    And just like I had to shed a mountain of grief before meeting my husband in order to start a new beautiful chapter, I know another one is on the other side of this miscarriage.

    Though I am still writing this chapter of my story, it has already taught me so much about coming home to my body. Allowing it to heal from all the traumas and repairing my nervous system after decades of dysregulation. Allowing myself and my body to feel safe enough to feel. After years of dissociation and pain, this chapter has brought a deeper healing.

    Wherever you are in your grief journey, take it slowly, one baby step at a time. Remember to be kind to yourself along the way. You can turn this grief, loss, and trauma into a new beginning.

    This moment too shall pass. Like the others before it and the ones that will come after it.

    We can’t control when these dark times come, but we can be brave enough to move through them by giving ourselves love and getting the right help for ourselves and our needs.

    Be with it and it will pass much more quickly than it would otherwise and cause less damage to your beautiful life.

    Healing has many seasons, and grief is like the winter, but spring soon comes with the buds of your new chapter.

  • How to Free Yourself from Pain from the Past

    How to Free Yourself from Pain from the Past

    “There are two levels to your pain: the pain that you create now, and the pain from the past that still lives on in your mind and body.” ~Eckhart Tolle

    When I read this quote, it stopped me in my tracks. So much of our pain and suffering in the present is caused by us repeating cycles and dwelling on pain from the past. We want so badly to resolve our suffering. But our search for resolution often involves repeating the painful cycles we have already been through, in the hope that someone or something will change.

    How many of us have gone through a divorce and realized in the process that the whole relationship was a repeat of a painful relationship from our childhood? How many of us are realizing that we continue to attract the same kinds of people into our lives? People who take advantage of us, want to use us, or have some form of agenda that creates more pain and suffering.

    We live in our minds trying to think of all the ways we can protect ourselves and avoid more pain and suffering. The irony is that this inevitably creates more of what we are trying to avoid. This is because what we focus on, we create. The law of attraction is always at play.

    For years, I lived highly dependent on my mind. I thought that if I got all the psychology degrees, considered all possible future outcomes, and created a well-thought-out plan of action, I would be able to fix my pain and suffering and free myself for a life of meaning and purpose.

    It was devastating to realize after years of chasing a meaningful life that I could not create safety, joy, and purpose through the actions of my mind.

    Subconsciously, I stayed trapped in cycles of pain while trying to resolve my past by hoping the people around me would change. I kept my life small so I could stay in control. I never wanted to be around crowds of people. I never wanted to share and be vulnerable, and I never wanted to let anyone see my feelings. I stayed hidden away behind my mind, where I felt in control and safe.

    But I also felt miserable. Empty and purposeless. For a while, I was suicidal.

    Thankfully, I left those feelings behind years ago, but the emptiness of going through the motions of life without a true connection to what I was doing or why I was here remained, and it was maddening.

    I have found that more people feel this emptiness than anyone would ever think. Many of us keep it hidden in the silence of shame because we desperately want it to be fixed and go away. It’s embarrassing to admit that we feel broken and sad behind all the layers of achievement and pretty social media posts.

    We attempt to fill this emptiness with eating, drinking, scrolling, having sex, shopping, collecting things, and so on. So many of us are terrified at the thought of spending a whole day, much less a whole lifetime, being alone with ourselves. Being with ourselves with no distractions.

    The thoughts in our mind haunt us. We torture ourselves with memories from the past and worries for the future. We torture ourselves with thoughts of how disappointed we are in how our lives have turned out. We recreate pain from the past over and over again by dwelling on the twisted and tormented thoughts in our minds and feel that life is unfair.

    Many people will tell you the answer is praying, reading the bible, going to a therapist, reading self-help books, or doing something with your mind. None of these things are bad in and of themselves, but no amount of staying in your mind will fix or heal the pain of your past that you continue to repeat in the present.

    Unresolved emotions of the past are stored in our bodies, and they’re in the driver’s seat of our lives, causing chaos, disappointment, and frustration everywhere we go.

    I used to think I was really bad at making friends. I usually would wait until someone approached me before striking up a friendship. I isolated a lot because it just felt safer and easier. Over time, I got frustrated because I realized that I kept ending up in these friendships with people who never really saw me.

    My pain and fear of rejection was in the driver’s seat, so I protected myself by keeping the real me hidden away. If I caught anyone’s attention, I would play the role I thought I needed to play to be friends.

    The biggest problem here is that this attracted other people who also played roles instead of being their authentic selves. The role they played was “take care of me,” while I was playing the role of “I’ll take care of you.” This match worked well initially, but always left me in the same broken pattern of not being truly seen. That empty crater in my soul just kept getting bigger and bigger.

    The only way to stop the cycle of pain is to become fully present with yourself here and now. To connect to your body and the spirit within you that is ever present.

    When you drop into your body and feel your emotions, you are then free to just be. So many of us are terrified of the silence of being with ourselves because the pain of the past combined with our present actions to distract ourselves haunt us. The secrets we hold inside are killing us.

    You aren’t a bad person for the things you do to find some form of pain relief. Life isn’t about being a good or bad person. It is about being authentic, real, and connected, or disconnected and fragmented because of the cycles of pain on repeat.

    Are you tired of the constant disappointment? Are you tired of hating yourself and your life? Are you tired of feeling like you are always behind, not quite enough, and devastatingly empty inside? It is so painful, isn’t it? It is so painful to feel the destruction and pain of the disconnection to our true selves. It is painful to face the things we do to distract ourselves from the reality of our emptiness.

    Healing happens in the body. Pain is released from your body. Get out of your mind and into your body and you will be set free. You will experience peace and joy. You will stop the cycles of pain and be at peace with the present moment just as it is. 

    I know it feels impossibly hard. There is so much chaos swirling around in your body that it feels dangerous to actually feel your feelings. A great quote from my mentor, Colin Ross, helped set me free. “Feeling your feelings won’t kill you; it’s your attempt to not feel them that will.”

    It is uncomfortable, it is painful, it can be overwhelming at times, but feeling your feelings will set you free.

    Here is a place to start: Play some music that brings you comfort and close your eyes. Pretend you are getting in a glass elevator in your mind and ride it down into your body. Once the elevator has arrived in your body, identify the emotions you find. Write them down.

    Lower the elevator a little more and see if different emotions are in a different part of your body. Explore your whole body and write down everything you discover.

    For the days to come, spend some time with each of those emotions and ask them what they have to say. Give each emotion a name if it’s easier. Once you feel more comfortable with an emotion, you will feel safer to actually feel it. 

    For example, when I ride my elevator down into my chest, I can see anger. I named my anger Carrie. In my journaling time I ask Carrie, what do you have to say? She tells me all the reasons why she is angry and feels that life is unfair.

    She tells me about my former marriage and how much I was taken advantage of. She reminds me of all the times he silenced me when I tried to share my needs and shamed me when I tried to speak up for myself.

    She tells me about how enraged she feels that I never had a voice growing up. I was sexually abused and emotionally neglected, and if I expressed any emotion other than happiness, I was shamed and rejected by my family and culture. She is so angry for the “good girl” roles I had to play while never really being seen or valued.

    As I get to know her and hear all of these things she has to say, I feel compassion for her and also start to feel anger along with her myself. Each time I connect with her, I validate why she is angry. The intensity of her emotion gets smaller and smaller the more I connect with her and feel her.

    You can do this exercise with all emotions, and it can help you get to know yourself and not be so scared of what is contained inside. 

    When neither your past nor your emotions haunt you, you are free to love your life in the present moment just as it is. Flawed, imperfect, messy, and unpredictable.

    Now that I’m not scared of feeling my emotions, I am at peace. Sometimes I still need to grieve the truth of what has happened to me. I will never be okay with the abuse and neglect I experienced. However, I can feel those emotions when they come up, and they don’t overwhelm me. I feel them for that moment, and then I can move on to enjoy the life I have created now. A life that has people who really see me and care about me in it.

    Perhaps the biggest change for me is that I don’t feel I have to prove my worth to anyone. I am just me, and I feel at peace with that. This shift has allowed me to get out of my head and just be.

    We don’t need to dwell on the past or control how our life looks or what will happen next. We can just be here in the present, full of gratitude, hope, love, joy, and all the messiness from the past lives we have lived.