Tiny Buddha

Tag: relationships

  • The Importance of Setting Strong, Healthy Boundaries

    The Importance of Setting Strong, Healthy Boundaries

    “If you love yourself, it doesn’t matter if other people don’t like you because you don’t need their approval to feel good about yourself.” ~Lori Deschene

    I spent my whole life trying to please other people. I would put myself through stress and discomfort to fit in with what they wanted or needed. I would rarely feel confident enough to communicate what I wanted because when I did, I would be met with frustration or anger, and I’d often come away feeling stupid.

    When I was growing up, I would feel my emotions very strongly, so a lot of the time I would receive comments like “you’re too emotional” or “just relax.” I now realize that people made these types of comments to make me feel like I was wrong for feeling sad, stressed, or uncomfortable when others weren’t respecting my boundaries.

    At the time, I didn’t understand this happened because I wasn’t enforcing my own boundaries strongly enough, because all I wanted to do was please others. So when I felt strong emotions, I would just assume I was wrong for feeling them.

    This eventually led to me losing most of my confidence and keeping myself “small.” I felt I wasn’t deserving of being seen or heard. I had learned that by trying to communicate my boundaries, I would frustrate other people and be made to feel I was being unreasonable.

    If I wanted certain people in my life, I had to adapt to what would make them happy. Of course, this would just result in me becoming more and more unhappy, leading to unhealthy relationships anyway.

    It wasn’t until I had my son that I realized how unnecessary it was to not enforce my own boundaries. Even for a while after he was born, I would bend over backwards to fit in with others, even if it meant messing up my son’s schedule. I became stressed, unhappy, and anxious a lot of the time.

    I realized one day how this was becoming too much for me because I made a decision to stay home with my son for the day (which, at the time, I felt very selfish for doing!), and it felt so incredibly peaceful.

    Before this, I would often think my son wasn’t a happy baby, but quickly understood it was because I wasn’t putting our needs first and was instead always racing around and going out of my way to meet other people’s needs.

    As soon as I started saying “no” to things I didn’t really want to do or didn’t feel I had time for and began communicating what situations would suit me and my son, we were both so much happier and more relaxed!

    However, since doing this, my relationships with several people have changed. I’m no longer as close with certain friends, and I’ve had to deal with hurt responses from family members. The guilt I’ve felt was almost too much to bear at times. But I am no longer willing to cause myself sadness and stress just to make others happy.

    The result? Some of my previously close relationships are no longer as close, and that has been tough to digest. You start prioritizing yourself more and spend less time accommodating others, and they eventually stop speaking to you… ouch!

    However, other relationships have become stronger, happier, and healthier! I’ve even made several new close friends. I also want to mention one previously close relationship because I now spend less time with this person, but I feel our relationship is much stronger. I’ve learned I need to protect my own energy when around them, as they have quite a negative view on life at times.

    Since it was someone close to me, I didn’t want to lose them. So I had to find a way to adapt the relationship to suit my boundaries.

    I don’t think all boundaries need to be communicated, especially if the person is likely to be offended or not understand. Instead, I was able to keep things positive by changing the dynamic. So I would arrange coffee meets with this person occasionally and subtly shift from going over to their house regularly, as this would result in more time and energy being taken from me.

    One thing I noticed that made me realize I wasn’t setting healthy boundaries was that I felt anxious about going into social situations and family events—even events in my honor. One year, someone else decided what we would be doing for MY birthday, and I didn’t have the confidence to speak up to explain I didn’t want to do what they had chosen.

    I also felt upset if I tried to communicate my preferences, but someone got frustrated or implied that I was being unreasonable. I would often question if certain people even liked me and would exhaust myself trying to make them happy so they would accept me.

    Setting boundaries can be really difficult for some of us, but it doesn’t mean we can’t do it. It can also be scary because it can mean not having such a close relationship with certain people, or maybe even losing them completely.

    But the question we need to ask ourselves is this: If relationships change or we lose people in the process of creating strong boundaries, were they even meant for us? Our happiness is just as important as the next person’s. As long as we aren’t acting in a way to hurt others, our boundaries are valid and acceptable. It isn’t up to us to make other people happy. We are all responsible for our own happiness. We can both create it and change it.

  • What Migraines Have Taught Me About Being Vulnerable

    What Migraines Have Taught Me About Being Vulnerable

    “Vulnerability is the core, the heart, the center, of meaningful human experiences.” ~Brené Brown, Daring Greatly

    Migraines. I’ve had them since I was five years old. Sometimes they’re bad, sometimes they’re really bad. But I have them.

    When I was five, I had electrodes placed on my skull to do an EEG. I didn’t understand the name, so I called it a “sleepy EG” since they put me to sleep to do it.

    Back then, I didn’t realize how chronic pain could interfere with my daily life. I just knew that I was getting my sleepy EG.

    It was also during my childhood that my personality started to form, as it does with everyone. I was a shy and introverted child, and I quickly learned the societal ropes of not expressing your struggles. I learned to say, “I’m fine,” when someone asked how I was, even if I really wasn’t.

    I saw vulnerability as something to be avoided. However, as I got older and my migraines got more intense, my worlds of chronic pain and vulnerability ultimately converged.

    As many with chronic pain would tell you about living with their conditions, my life has become a delicate dance between preventing/treating my migraines and enjoying my life. But the migraines’ frequency and severity have not made it easy.

    When I was six, I got a migraine the morning of my dance recital. It was a Disney-themed recital, and I was supposed to wear a Minnie Mouse costume. I developed a throbbing pain in my head that debilitated me for a couple of hours.

    The recital was in the evening, and I didn’t know if I would be able to go on to perform that night. I got incredibly anxious that I wouldn’t be able to perform that night while wearing my Minnie Mouse costume. I feared I would let my whole dance class down.

    After lying down in the dark for a couple of hours, the migraine dissipated, and I was able to perform. But it was then that I became acquainted with the anxiety around my migraines and letting others down. It was both out of this anxiety and a fear of showing my feelings that I didn’t let anyone at my dance studio know that this was a struggle for me.

    In my early twenties, I got a migraine that stands out as a turning point in my migraine and, frankly, my life journey. It was the Minnie Mouse costume scenario on a much larger, more disastrous scale.

    I was doing a year-long internship at a theater company. It was a prestigious and selective internship, and I’d moved across the country for it.

    I was qualified, but I was stressed about being new to the professional world, and stress is a trigger for my migraines. I was working at plenty of events that went late at night, and I hadn’t mastered adjusting my sleep schedule around those.

    The combination of lack of sleep and stress was not good, and I got sick a lot with colds, the flu, and, of course, migraines.

    During this internship, the theater company held a fancy gala at the Ritz-Carlton. I was working the event, running around setting up and checking donors in. I’d been in charge of another event the night before, and I was feeling exhausted and depleted.

    About two hours before the gala, I saw the dreaded spots of light that usually fill my vision and precede a migraine. But I was working, an early-career professional, and I felt I couldn’t really do or say anything about it.

    The event started, and guests poured in. The migraine set in, but I plastered on my event smile, the one that makes my cheeks hurt when I’ve been doing it for hours. Things were going okay, until I got nauseous and felt like I was going to be sick.

    I tried to make my way to the bathroom, but it was all the way across the event hall. There were also a bunch of people in the room that I had to push past.

    Suddenly, I couldn’t control the urge to vomit anymore. Right there, in the ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton, crammed in between a bunch of fancy partygoers, I vomited.

    It got all over my dress and on the floor. I’ve been told it hit other people, although I wasn’t conscious of that at the time.

    What happened next was a blur of events that included me going into the bathroom to vomit more, crying in a hotel room, and my coworkers and boss coming to check in on me. I felt humiliated.

    After years of avoiding vulnerability, this experience forced me to be vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. I couldn’t control the physical vomit that came out of my mouth in the middle of the gala, and I was too depleted to hide my embarrassment and sadness over the event for the rest of that day.

    We’re taught not to show such vulnerability to others, especially not coworkers. But it had happened. After that event, how could I go back to work the following week and face everyone?

    I returned to work the following Monday, and it was in facing the situation that I learned even more about vulnerability. I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but what I learned would affect how I approach situations and relationships in my life moving forward.

    Since everyone at work had either seen my embarrassing moment or heard about it, one of the few options I had was to simply be honest about the experience.

    It actually felt kind of refreshing to be open about my migraines and my embarrassment over them. I feel like we all spend so much time trying to convince everyone else that we’re fine when we’re not. It was a relief to be open and honest with others about real life.

    Here are some examples of vulnerable things I said to coworkers about my migraine experience.

    “I was really scared. I felt like my migraine would never go away.”

    “When I was nauseous, I tried to go to the bathroom, but it was all the way across the hall. I felt so helpless.”

    “I didn’t want to let everyone down by admitting I had a migraine.”

    Being vulnerable enabled me to connect with my coworkers, and we were able to relate to one another about the very human experiences of embarrassment, pain, helplessness, and anxiety. A couple of coworkers shared stories about migraines or other embarrassing situations in their lives.

    Yes, these were my coworkers, and I saw them that way. But I suddenly also felt as if I could see them as simply human.

    Vulnerability isn’t for every situation. Sometimes it isn’t safe or appropriate. Nowadays, I don’t talk to my coworkers about every life situation, and I only mention migraines if they somehow come up in conversation.

    But this experience with chronic pain gave me a little taste of what opening up to others would feel like and the good that it could do. It encouraged me to be open about migraines and other struggles in my life with family and friends. Some of the best, most fulfilling relationships of my life have come from being vulnerable with others.

    Life is just plain unpredictable. You can plan and prepare all you want, but sometimes things happen. And when they do, being vulnerable can help you glean something positive from unfortunate situations and form strong relationships.

    Although I’ve learned from my migraines, I want to be clear that I’d still rather not have them. They have caused me to have a lot of pain and limitations. I don’t agree with the phrase “everything happens for a reason” for every situation in life.

    But the reality is that I do have migraines, so I might as well look for the silver lining and take what I can from it.

    And it is true that I never would have learned so much about vulnerability if I hadn’t vomited from a migraine at the Ritz-Carlton.

  • If Someone Cares for You

    If Someone Cares for You

  • 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.

  • Who Your People Are

    Who Your People Are

  • 4 Ways to Help Someone with Mental Health Challenges

    4 Ways to Help Someone with Mental Health Challenges

    “Just being there for someone can sometimes bring hope when all seems hopeless.” ~Dave G. Llewellyn

    Have you ever found yourself in a situation where someone told you something deeply personal and traumatic and you were stuck on what to say to them, how to act, and how to behave?

    This happens to me regularly, and it’s not that I don’t have feelings or emotions about what’s happened to the person. I feel deeply sorry for them. But I sometimes freeze and don’t know what to say or do.

    When it comes to mental health issues, this can be even harder to broach. And I say that with a severe amount of irony because I have mental health issues myself. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder in 2017.

    Sometimes, when we have experience with things, knowing what to say or do can still be difficult.

    Nevertheless, I want to share a few things I’ve learned from how people have treated me and how I’ve chosen to treat people.

    Hopefully, after reading this, you won’t find yourself acting awkward when someone opens up to you about what they’re going through!

    This generally applies to people you view as friends—people who would open up to you and be willing to share what’s happening inside their heads.

    So, I guess a theme or mantra we can keep in mind would be, “A true friend shows care and concern whenever possible and, in fact, is a brother or sister who is born for times of distress.”

    What does this mean?

    Well, we ourselves can be overwhelmed when a friend is suffering from mental distress. We don’t know what to say. We don’t know what to do. Of course, we feel bad for them. Perhaps we even empathize with them.

    But what’s more important is the fact that we show how much we care by trying to help them cope with what they’re going through.

    How do we do that? My first tip is to listen when they want to talk.

    You don’t have to respond to everything they say, but you should acknowledge what they say to show you’re fully listening. It could be just a gentle “aha” or an eyebrow raise.

    Remember to remain compassionate as well. Don’t jump to conclusions; keep an open mind and avoid judgment.

    When someone opens up to you, maybe they’re doing it for the first time and not thinking about how it sounds. They’ll probably say things that they don’t mean and might later regret. Just be a good friend and listen.

    And if you disagree with something they say, sometimes it’s best to say nothing.

    The next pointer I have for you is that when you decide to speak (when you think it’s necessary to respond), remember to speak in a way that consoles them.

    Bear in mind that your friend, family member, whoever it is, they’re probably anxious, and if they’re dealing with mental health issues, they likely feel some worthlessness as well.

    So, with your kind words, you can reassure them that you care, comfort them, and encourage them, even if you don’t know the ‘right’ things to say.

    Your words might sound a bit muddled, but that doesn’t matter; if your tone reflects warmth and kindness, your friend will pick up on that. They’ll understand that you’re there to care for them and that you’re doing your best.

    Something else to consider is making an offer to help practically.

    Don’t assume you know what your friend needs. Instead, ask how you can help.

    If your friend is struggling to express what they need, you could suggest something practical that you could do for them.

    You could do some chores around the house for them, go food shopping for them, clean up for them, or do something else that you know they need. You could also just offer to walk with them to get them outside, which might lift their spirits.

    Remember that sometimes, it’s not just what you say or how you say it; it’s the things you do that show you care.

    Maybe, like me, you’re not the best with words, but your actions can show that you care about your friend and want to help them.

    The final piece of advice that I have for you is to be patient.

    You might be ready to talk and offer sage and sound advice, but maybe your friend isn’t ready to hear it.

    If that happens, just remind your friend or reassure them that you’ll listen when they are ready to talk, and you don’t need to offer any advice at all if they just want an ear.

    Don’t take it personally if your friend says or does things that upset or hurt you. They might cancel plans with you or become irritable. Remember to be patient and understanding, because this is how you ultimately offer the support they need.

    And if they cancel on you, know that it doesn’t reflect badly on you. It’s a reflection of where they are at the current time.

    So remember: Be quick to listen, speak consolingly, offer practical help, and be patient.

    This winning combination offers the most benefit to you and your friend.

    Well done for wanting to help your friend out; dealing with mental health challenges isn’t easy, but having someone to talk to is so important.

  • The Ultimate Guide to Better Boundaries

    The Ultimate Guide to Better Boundaries

    “Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously.” ~Prentis Hemphill

    I was talking with a friend about some aspect of a challenging relationship (I don’t even remember what it was now), and she lovingly informed me that I needed better boundaries. I nodded in understanding, but later I realized that I didn’t really know what that meant. Like, what do better boundaries actually look like? And how does one go about developing them?

    It’s all fine and dandy to know that “No” is a complete sentence, but how does that apply to a coworker just needing a quick hand (even though I’m already swamped)? Or a friend needing help with a minor crisis (but I’m not feeling so great)? Or a parent needing medical attention (when I’m really not qualified and still trying to get on my own two feet)? Or a new beau asking very reasonably to be accepted as they are (while my core needs aren’t getting met)?

    I didn’t have the answers then, so I just filed that recommendation away, pending further intel. I had already moved halfway across the country to get some distance from both of my (divorced) parents, but I would eventually develop a more diverse toolkit of relational skills.

    Flash-forward a year or two, and I was participating in some structured activities with a group of people who practiced “Authentic Relating” when I encountered what I later realized were healthy boundaries—for the first time in my life.

    These beautiful souls would occasionally turn down an invitation (to an activity as part of the event or perhaps for something after) in the most disarming way I’d ever experienced: They would deliver a no without disconnecting. It was pleasant and friendly without being apologetic or abrasive. It was truthful, and it was immediately clear that it wasn’t personal. It felt surprisingly good, like honesty and mutual respect.

    I realized that I felt safe to be upfront about my nos with them too, trusting that they would appreciate my authenticity (delivered responsibly) and not have their feelings hurt or try to twist my arm in their favor.

    It also dawned on me that if these folks were so comfortable saying no, I could trust the sincerity of their yeses and not fall into my usual pattern of asking “Are you sure?”, worried that they were just being nice and would end up resenting me later. Wow! How freeing is that?!

    Then I was confronted with my own question: What had I been doing all my life, trying to be “nice”? I was thoroughly inspired to enhance the quality of safety and trust in my own relationships. This opening led me to deeper and deeper insights about the nature and nuances of boundaries.

    One of the next revelations on my journey was that our boundaries are essentially our resource limits, and then I found myself confronted by the whole “abundance vs. scarcity” thing. As a recovering people-pleaser, I already wanted to be able to say yes to everything, and having to say no to things felt even scarier with the story that a no could mean limiting myself and putting blocks between me and my dreams. I was supposed to be abundant, damn it, not limited!

    As it turns out, there is a substantial difference between the mindset of abundance or scarcity and the reality of abundance and scarcity in the world.

    There is certainly an abundance of life on this planet, but each one is fleeting. I may have the potential for financial abundance, but at any given moment, the amount of money I have is finite. One of the most fixed resources of all is time. There are only twenty-four hours in each day; in some cases, that might feel abundant, and in others, it might feel scarce.

    Then I noticed that some of the most precious resources on earth, such as gold and diamonds, are valued in large part precisely because of their scarcity. Suddenly, my limited resources became precious to me. My time, money, energy, attention, and care were suddenly like jewels, and I was their honored steward.

    The “oxygen mask rule” was now clearer to me: If we’re not good to ourselves, we’re no good to anyone else.

    When we let our resources become depleted, we have nothing left for the people and causes we care most about; often, we even do them harm when we act out from the survival mode that being under-resourced triggers. In many cases, we end up blaming others for over-taking when we were the ones who were over-giving. (Resentment is almost always the byproduct of a failed boundary.)

    Sometimes, we’ll even get preemptively resentful over being put in the position of having to say no—“How could you even ask me that?!” This happens because we’re holding onto misplaced responsibility for other people’s emotions. We completely lose sight of the option to simply say, “No, thank you.” “Nah, I’m good.” “Nope.” “Sorry, I can’t make it. Maybe next time!” “I can’t help you with that, but I might know someone who can.” “I’ve gotta go now. I love you, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

    But what if we don’t even know what our limits are?

    What I came to discover next was just how deeply seated my fawning behavior was. There’s talk of “being a yes” to some things and “being a no” to others. It gets tricky, though, for those of us who grew up carrying the misplaced responsibility for other people’s emotional states so that we could feel safe, as this tends to develop a reflexive yes.

    In the moment of a request (or even a perceived need), we are a yes, but it’s to the person—their acceptance of us and their ease. This yes arises before we even hear or process the request because we have an external orientation that makes other people’s acceptance of us (rather than our own) our source of security.

    We are so quick to say yes to them because we just want to relieve them of their burden and avoid the terror of making them wait for us to consider whether we’re a yes to their actual request. Of course, this is all subconscious and so habitual that we’re not even aware that it’s driving us. It’s hard to notice if you’re a no to a request when you’re already a yes to the requester.

    Once we become aware of this pattern, though, we start getting acquainted with our own limits, often for the first time, and then we start to realize how much power we’ve been abdicating.

    On our quest to right the wrongs, most of us encounter the unfortunately prevalent notion that we have to sacrifice our compassion in order to become empowered. After letting our boundaries be trampled for so long, once we find our no, we start to wield it like a sword with the faulty assumption that our only options for boundaries are “flimsy fences” or “spiked walls,”

    Yet, spiked walls are no healthier than flimsy fences. Both of these dysfunctional boundary styles lack the key ingredient of appropriate responsibility. When I finally took full ownership of my limits, there was no one to blame when they were exceeded but myself, and there was no need to be rude about them because they were in my power to care for.

    Then I remembered a piece from my dog training years that was about following a no with a yes, and I combined it with the connected rejections I learned from the “authentic relaters” for a way to ease my fawning response while still being boundaried.

    I started telling people, “I’m not available for that, but I am available for this.” A true no, followed by a true yes.

    >> “I’m sorry, Barb; I can’t help you with that project right now. If you still need help tomorrow, I’ll have some time after lunch.”

    >> “No, I can’t help you move today, Sam, but I might be able to help you unpack this weekend.”

    >> “I’m not sure what those symptoms mean, Mom. Here’s an emergency nurse hotline—please give them a call.”

    >> “You’re right, John. I do want to accept you as you are, so if my requests are outside of your capacity, then this is not going to be a healthy relationship for me, which means it won’t be good for either of us. I really appreciate you, though, and I’d like to stay friends if you’re open to that.”

    These are “selective gates,” and there is no quick fix to getting there. We have to devote time and attention to the uncomfortable transition of rooting our security within ourselves so we have the foundation of self-love and self-acceptance to brave the fear of rejection that is always at risk when speaking our truth.

    Selective gates are not only communicated through not-that-but-this. In our closest relationships, we can offer information about our limits and the consequences of them being exceeded as gifts for our loved ones to understand and support us better.

    It’s important to understand that boundaries are not the same thing as needs. Because they are simply our limits, there’s nothing to request and only self-care to be applied.

    As my foundation got stronger, I stopped asking for others to make adjustments and started simply informing them about what comes up for me under certain circumstances and what I needed to do as a result.

    This model looks like: “When [X] happens, I feel [Y], and so to care for myself, I will [do Z].”

    >> “When it’s early, my brain is not fully online, and I can get grumpy if prodded. You’re welcome to make contact and I will listen without responding, but if you ask me stuff before I’m fully awake, I’ll just grunt.”

    >> “When we’re on our trip, if we want to do different things, rather than one of us getting disgruntled, I’ll just go my own way and meet back up with you after.”

    >> “When I receive harsh criticism, I feel shame, and so to care for myself, I’ll remove myself from the conversation.”

    I call this boundary style “selective gates” because we get to choose how people can have access to us, and they get to know the rules. And since these are defined by behaviors instead of whole people, folks have the option to use the gate or be on their way.

    (Hot tip: These only work if you actually follow through on your end—and be consistent. Also, be prepared to restate your boundaries a few times. Feel free to have a limit there too, but I’d allow two or three repeats for the learning curve.)

    In other cases, we might be a yes to a request, but it needs to be qualified. Here, we need to communicate our boundaries in a more proactive way, and it can be really simple—no lengthy explanations required. The winning strategy with these boils down to explicit clarity, with minimal room left for assumptions, misinterpretations, or “psychic” games.

    Instead of an open-ended yes that is likely to leave us trampled, we can state our conditions outright.

    >> “Sure, I’ve got five minutes.”

    >> “No worries, just let me know by Wednesday.”

    >> “I can do one of those things.”

    Again, consistency is key. We’ve got to stick to our stated limits, or our words will lose their value.

    Boundaries are a service! Others can be bummed by our nos or our conditions, but if they’re a counterpart in a quality relationship with us, they’ll also appreciate our honesty and self-care, for that is how we’re able to show up to the relationship resourced and how trust is built. Conversely, this insight can also help us accept a disappointing no from someone else and truly respect their boundary at the same time.

    Love is unconditional, relationships are not; that’s what boundaries are for.

    Having a big heart is not the problem. Please don’t wall yours off—just mend your fences and install gates. There’s no need to sacrifice your compassion in order to become empowered. Empower your compassion so it’s big enough for yourself as well as others.

    What has worked wonders for me is a regular practice of study, self-reflection, embodiment, interactions, and support. I call it my “peaceful power practice,” and it involves a lot of reading and educational programs, little inspographics that I create and keep on my phone as touchstone reminders, frequently journaling and reviewing my entries, habitual introspection, regular chakra meditations, mindfulness in my connections with fellow humans (especially when triggers are involved), and a core network of trusted people.

    Developing better boundaries has been a challenging road, but it continues to be a deeply rewarding one.

  • The Reality Is, a Great Partner Will…

    The Reality Is, a Great Partner Will…

  • 11 Simple Ways to Nurture Meaningful Connections Offline

    11 Simple Ways to Nurture Meaningful Connections Offline

    “Turn off your email; turn off your phone; disconnect from the Internet; figure out a way to set limits so you can concentrate when you need to and disengage when you need to. Technology is a good servant but a bad master.” ~Gretchen Rubin

    We live in truly extraordinary times. Where once letters and telegrams took days to reach the other side of the world, we can now send messages and emails at the push of a button; and social media has allowed us to connect with people from diverse backgrounds, helping us learn, grow, and aim for the stars.

    The advancements in technology and science have afforded us such a vast array of benefits that it’s hard to argue with their cons. Yet our relationships, the very fabric of human existence, have deteriorated proportionately with the rise of technology and its increasing usage in daily life.

    We now need reminders to disconnect ourselves from smart phones, tablets, PCs, and all sorts of gadgetry in order to just make time for ourselves to rest and tune out from the information overload.

    Photographs of families gathered around the dining table, intently looking into their smart phones, might make for amusing viewing (and a fantastic photo essay), but they paint a picture that is not far from reality.

    We’re so tuned into our virtual world these days that parents and children often have chats over DMs, SMS, or social media, even if they’re sitting in the next room, and sometimes right next to each other.

    People have the time to ‘Instagram’ their fancy dinners or take quick selfies, as if it were second nature, but no one seems to have the time, patience, or inclination to reach out to those who’ve been with us all along, through our highs and lows.

    It could be the parents who we’ve left behind in our small towns in pursuit of our dream career; it could be friends we’ve known since childhood but haven’t bothered asking about, simply because we fell out of touch; it could be that neighbor or teacher at school who always looked out for us; it could be someone going through a struggle in their life who needs our support, though they haven’t voiced it, because we’re captivated no longer by people present around us but by technology.

    When I was growing up, both my parents were working, as was the case in most working-class households; my time was spent between a daycare center, school, and home, where quality time with my parents was at a premium.

    However, the early nineties were relatively gadget-free. There were no phone calls after work and no email checking all the time; nine-to-five shifts seemed quite productive, and no one was carrying work back home on a laptop. So, when we gathered together around the table at dinnertime, we were very much present; distractions were far fewer, and no one was posing with a phone to photograph our food or post it online.

    We didn’t fret over the possibility of presidents and leaders starting a WW3 on Twitter or spend time researching which crazy selfie pose would garner us more Facebook likes. I remember sending handwritten letters to my cousins just to stay in touch and waiting expectantly for Christmas cards during the holidays. There were simple joys to be had, even in the mundane.

    We share so much over social media—our favorite foods, brands, clothes, and lifestyle choices—and there’s so much visual information overload that we end up believing everything we see and read in the media.

    We live in the era of fake news; we’re slowly but surely losing our ability to stay in touch with reality and discern what’s true and not. What we see online about other people’s lives becomes our unconscious standard for how things should be in our own lives.

    We’re losing touch with ourselves and our truth. You don’t have to keep up with the Kardashians; you have to keep up with your own inner circle of loved ones.

    The virtual world is fascinating; you can choose to be who you want to be, and people are going to believe what you put out there even if you do not bear any resemblance to your online persona in real life. The communication is often impersonal—surface conversations that spare you the hassle of emotions, of feeling deeply. It’s easier to be lost in virtual space than to confront harsh realities.

    Two hundred thousand followers on Twitter or a million subscribers to a website do not necessarily translate into the same number of trustworthy relationships you can bank on. Sure, you can campaign successfully for a social good fundraiser with that many followers, but can you count on them during a time of personal crisis?

    Many people view the virtual space as an escape from reality, which is not only damaging our emotional development but is also detrimental to our relationships in the real world. While there is that resounding minority that has managed to forge meaningful friendships online and has benefited from professional associations through networking, personal relationships have undergone a transformation of sorts. The online world has become our confessional, our confidante, and our record keeper.

    Isn’t it ironic then that, despite having everything at the click of a mouse or an app, we’re hardly able to communicate, share, and confide openly within our own families? When was the last time you had a heart-to-heart with your own spouse, kids, siblings, or parents? Does connecting with them deeply have to wait till Thanksgiving, Christmas, date nights, or summer holidays when you can do this just as easily every day?

    Sometimes, you may not even have anything new to share, but those are the times you can let them know how much they mean to you. When it comes down to needing an encouraging hug, you still need a human in your non-virtual reality.

    We should be living in a way that doesn’t make relationships with our loved ones subject to our busy schedules. We shouldn’t need reminders to make time for those closest to us, be they members of our household, parents, siblings, or friends.

    Most of us have the time (or can make the time!) to engage in friendly banter and entertain ourselves with every piece of media, news, or gossip online; however, we find it challenging to direct this enthusiasm to our relationships at home or with those we’re emotionally close with that physically live far from us.

    This is part of the reason why more and more people are looking online for ways to cope with personal struggles—because there’s no one at home or in their immediate environment who has time to hear them out.

    There’s no doubt that the interconnectedness and shared information we have access to in the virtual space is a boon and that social media and networking have afforded us amazing connections as we walk forward with a collective consciousness. But let’s not lose sight of the people and relationships we’ve built our lives’ foundations with. No one’s too busy to make time for another.

    Make time for your loved ones by disconnecting from your virtual world.

    Your smartphone isn’t going to die if it doesn’t hear from you. But your parents may be disheartened that they no longer receive a phone call from their beloved child except on a major holiday; and your kids and spouse may miss telling you the things they so badly want to share because you’re too busy scrolling on your phone.

    Though we can absolutely forge deep bonds online, it’s crucial that we don’t lose our connection to the people right in front of us.

    Here are a few steps to help you connect meaningfully with the people in your life more often.

    1. If you’re on multiple social media platforms, streamline and bring the number of platforms you actively use down to three. If you’re super crunched for time, use these platforms alternatively throughout the week. Schedule time for social media but cut out unnecessary browsing.

    2. Clear out unwanted apps from your smartphone so that you have fewer things to distract you. Call it an app spring cleaning.

    3. Read up on productivity-boosting tips or time management so that you’re better equipped to give everyone in your family your undivided attention.

    4. Have your dinner with the television off, disconnected from the Internet. If that’s the only time you and your family have together, make the most of it.

    5. Make time for some sort of spiritual practice that you and your family can engage in before you retire for the night. It could be praying, meditating, reading/sharing a reflection, or reciting a positive affirmation or an expression of gratitude for the day. You do not have to be religious to be engaged in a spiritual practice!

    6. Volunteer for a social good project in your local community with your friends, siblings, or family.

    7. Take up any group hobby that doesn’t require staying online—like cooking, painting, or dancing… the list can go on.

    8. Plan a picnic and get together regularly in an outdoor environment close to nature. Spending more time in nature is known to be soothing and relaxing, and it makes it easier to switch off your phone!

    9. Lost touch with friends living far away? Don’t succumb to the easy route by sending a message over SMS, Whatsapp, or email. Jot down your favorite memory and send a postcard. Or, if you have more time on your hands, an old-fashioned letter would be absolutely delightful.

    10. Flowers have a way of conveying a whole lot of things without saying much—even a hand-tied bunch of wildflowers. And they’re known to perk up even the most insipid of days. If you feel anyone is in need of a gesture like that, send them a bunch and make them smile!

    11. Return to the joys of simple living with people you love: wake up early to watch the sunrise; walk on wet grass or the sandy shorelines of a beach; inhale the aroma of freshly baked bread or the scent of flowers in a vase; write ‘thank you’ notes often; be mesmerized by the skies at night—look for the constellations, the shooting stars, and the moon. There’s a lot of joy to be had when you disconnect from technology!

    —

    For our relationships to thrive, we must learn to prioritize both our own well-being and that of our loved ones. When you’re giving them the time and attention they need, they’ll feel more loved and confident about themselves, something no one can get through technology alone.

    We need to return to the basics of human loving, caring, and sharing. Unplug from your devices and plug yourself into the healing power of stronger, deeper relationships.

  • Healing Anxious Attachment Patterns to Create Space for Love

    Healing Anxious Attachment Patterns to Create Space for Love

    “Anxious attachment stems from a deep sense of inner instability where old wounds make people anticipate that they will be abandoned again and again.” ~Jessica Baum

    I have recently met the love of my life. Yay!!! He is the person I’ve been imagining for as long as I can remember, hoping and praying that one day I would find him.

    It took such a long time that I began to suspect I was delusional for imagining that such a love was possible, and I almost gave up on the idea of him. But now he is here, and we share the most incredibly beautiful love and my soul is so vibrantly happy to be next to him.

    But the story isn’t so simple because my soul shares this space with my conditioned mind (old parts of myself that developed their own ways of being). To these parts of my ego mind, love feels alien and threatening. When these parts take over, I fall out of alignment with the frequency of our love and tumble back into the fears and worries that trigger me to play out old patterns.

    Until quite recently, I believed myself to be unworthy of loving or of being loved. I was born into a toxic family, to parents who were mentally and emotionally unwell, and as a result, I experienced much neglect and abuse. As is usual after such childhood trauma, I developed a deeply ingrained insecure attachment style, a deep mistrust and fear of others, and a consuming sense of unworthiness.

    For decades, these wounds led me unconsciously down the same paths I had witnessed around me as a child. My idea of love was deeply confused. I sought validation and reassurance of my worth continuously, while feeling in my core that I was unworthy of love. I was only attracted to unavailable men who couldn’t, didn’t, or wouldn’t love me, confirming my idea that I was unlovable and unwanted.

    As a therapist, I knew enough to try to manage my thoughts and feelings and work on myself. But in all truth these patterns of being anxiously and obsessively codependent continued to play out, making me both deeply miserable and also ashamed of my inability to fix, change, or manage them well enough.

    After my divorce four years ago I was so broken, vulnerable, and devastated and so tired of these repeated patterns within myself that I made the decision to invest wholeheartedly into my relationship with myself. I wanted to heal these old childhood wounds that still haunted me so powerfully.

    While these old parts still nudge me with their thoughts and feelings of being unlovable, of not feeling safe, of needing to remain vigilant and needing to perform as they always did, they are now way less consuming. I’ve healed enough that I’ve been able to find my love, and I’m able to separate enough from them that I can see them as they arise and support myself as they do.

    I want to share with others the things I do to ride this inevitable wave of oscillating between the old patterns and the new emerging, more securely attached version of myself.

    Last week our plans changed because his daughter was sad and needed him. It meant that I didn’t hear from him for the rest of that day and a little through the next one.

    I imagined that he would realize that he had been neglecting his daughter, hence her sadness, and that he would decide that he needed to end our love so that he could better focus on his important role of being a good father to her. I felt so saddened by the thought of him leaving that I cried as the anxiety coursed through my body and the old familiar feelings of abandonment threatened to overwhelm me.

    The good news is that I knew that I could soothe and support myself, so I stepped into the following action.

    I listened.

    I spent a good hour or so writing about my thoughts, feelings, and fears and letting this part of myself know that I was there and I was listening.

    I gave her (this young part of myself) space to process what she was experiencing without jumping in to judge her. I approached her with open, compassionate curiosity by asking her a variety of what, why, how, and when type questions.

    I let her write and share and come up with a plan to deal with what might happen (in the worst-case scenario), and I sat with all the heavy feelings it brought with it.

    I offered reassurance.

    I told her that it would be okay, that whatever happened I would be there and I would support and love her through this.

    I asked her to breathe and be in this moment with me—to just breathe.

    I reminded her that whatever happened was for our highest good.

    I reminded her of the journey we had been on and how far we’d come to get to this loving self relationship.

    I reminded her that she was just a ghost from the past, that she had already served her time in trying to protect me from harm, and that she could relax now because she was safe.

    I refocused my attention.

    All this managed to ease my anxiety a little so I could get on with my day; seeing friends, doing a little work, and keeping myself busy. While I could feel the panic and anxiety within, it wasn’t debilitating, not like it used to be. But it was definitely still there. I couldn’t quite shift the sense that I should pay attention to the uneasy feelings in my body.

    I resisted the urge to text him seeking reassurance. I simply gave him space (with some phone stalking) and respected that he was having a process.

    I planned to talk with him, when he was ready, to shift our connection so that we could stay together and make more space for his important connection with his daughter. If that was what he wanted too. By now I was pretty sure he wouldn’t, and I reminded myself that if he didn’t, I would be okay.

    He arrived later that day, and I was ready for whatever was about to happen, but not actually what did happen.

    He was just the same—happy to see me, feeling good in our love—and absolutely nothing had changed for him. His daughter was fine, and he had none of the problems or concerns that I imagined he had had.

    And I was completely thrown!

    I had gotten so involved in the story, with a whole plan of how we could move forward from this place, that it took me completely by surprise that NONE of it was real or necessary.

    I just wasn’t able to see that the part of me that learned to be so vigilant of hurt or harm had imagined the whole thing.  I was so focused on practicing self-compassion and support that I hadn’t really stopped to question its validity.

    I guess the next level of my process is about recognizing when it is important and necessary to offer myself gentle compassion and support and when is it time for a tougher kind of loving compassion by saying “That’s enough, no more!” I’m pretty certain that both have their place and are necessary!

    What I’m learning is that loving and being loved is a huge process for the old parts of my ego mind, and maintaining the frequency of love is going to take some practice. And that my mind is really, really tricky!

    For now, I am oscillating in and out of higher and lower states of energy, thoughts, and feelings about intimacy, love, and connection. I am both in the process of becoming a higher vibrational version of myself AND of releasing the old ways of being that no longer serve me.

    I am choosing to remind myself that all these old energies, thoughts, feelings, and patterns are coming up in order to be released, and as long as I don’t believe in them, they will eventually pass.

    I want to detach completely from any shame I have about my humanness, so I am leaning into my humor and watching myself with loving curiosity as these energies pass by.

    For now, I am choosing to commit more fully to my daily mindfulness practice so that I can train my traumatized mind to stay present and enjoy this beautiful love.

    I write this for all of us who are brave enough to face our own ghosts so that we can love and be loved, just as we deserve. My hope is that by sharing my journey, it will help you with yours. 

  • Why You Don’t Need Many Friends to Be Happy

    Why You Don’t Need Many Friends to Be Happy

    “Introversion—along with its cousins sensitivity, seriousness, and shyness—is now a second-class personality trait, somewhere between a disappointment and a pathology.” ~Susan Cain, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking

    I’ll be honest, I don’t have many friends.

    And it’s something I’ve always felt a level of shame about.

    In fact, I recognize it’s a self-limiting belief I’ve been carrying around since secondary school: I don’t make friends easily or have a big circle; therefore, I’m unworthy or there’s something wrong with me.

    That’s not to say I’ve never had friends. I’ve had friends from childhood I’ve drifted apart from. I’ve had my share of intense, toxic friendships. And I’ve even had a few healthy friendships that withered and eventually died because I didn’t nurture them enough (incidentally, this is probably why I can’t keep houseplants alive, either…).

    In all seriousness, is it okay not to have many friends? Does that make me ‘less than’? And just what is a ‘healthy’ number of friends, anyway?

    Understanding the Traditional Tropes Around Friendship

    Let’s be clear here—I’m not denying that friendships can have wonderful benefits.

    Friends provide emotional support, create a sense of belonging, and allow us to build meaningful connections through shared experiences.

    In studies of the Blue Zones—regions where people live the longest and healthiest lives—friendships are often highlighted as one of the main factors contributing to longevity.

    On the flip side, the experience of loneliness or social isolation has been linked with a higher risk of early mortality.

    Human beings are a social species. Historically, the survival of our ancestors relied on forming close-knit social groups. If you became an outcast from the tribe, you were highly likely to die. So, in many respects, the need for friendships and social acceptance is hardwired into our DNA.

    While I don’t think that anyone can exist in a vacuum, it strikes me as important to note that you’re not going to die anymore if you don’t belong to a group. Just like having children used to be an inevitable part of life, forming friendships is now something we have more of a luxury of choice over in a 21st-century world.

    The Moment That Hit Me

    “Have you got a lot of friends?” Steve Bartlett asks out of the blue.

    “No,” Molly-Mae Hague looks uncomfortable. “That’s a blunt question! Straight up, no, no, I don’t. My circle is minuscule… And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I work, I spend time with my boyfriend, and I go to bed. That is literally my life… I don’t really drink, I don’t party, I don’t go out, but that’s because I actually don’t enjoy it.”

    “So you don’t actively want more friends?”

    “No,” Molly-Mae asserts more confidently. “It’s time-consuming, trying to make people happy… I’d rather focus on the things that are going to elevate me.”

    “I ask that question in part,” Steve says, “because every successful person I’ve sat here with doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

    —

    If I’m being truthful, I was unfairly judgmental going into this episode of Diary of a CEO. I can’t say I was expecting to get many pearls of life wisdom from a former Love Island contestant.

    But I think that’s why this was such a lightbulb moment for me—because Molly-Mae strikes me as exactly the type of popular girl in school who would have had a huge, tight-knit friendship group.

    For years, I’ve berated myself for just not trying hard enough when it came to making and keeping friends. Even my family and partner have commented on it before. It’s made me feel like there’s something wrong with me for not wanting or needing friends as a strong presence in my life.

    But perhaps the issue was never my lack of friends, but rather my belief that it was a problem in the first place.

    7 Reasons Why You Don’t Need Loads of Friends to Be Happy

    1. Being introverted is a superpower.

    I’d always seen my introversion as a deficiency.

    Why was I not like other girls who wanted to get ready for a night out together and paint the town red?

    In true rock’n’roll style, I’d much rather be snuggled up in my PJs with a book and a cup of tea at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night.

    But when I strip all the layers back, I see that it’s simply a matter of valuing different things. And just because it looks different, doesn’t mean it’s not valid.

    While introverts may not have the loudest voices in the room, we are gifted with vibrant inner worlds. Our natural disposition toward self-reflection, creativity, and deep thinking are remarkable strengths worth celebrating.

    2. You get clear on what you truly want.

    When you spend time with other people, you’re like a sponge. The psychological concept of mirroring is testament to this—an unconscious tendency to mimic the gestures, mannerisms, and expressions of those around us to establish rapport and empathy.

    There is also an unavoidable level of compromise in friendships where you can’t help but go with the flow (unless you love the exact same things).

    Fewer friendships, on the other hand, mean less social pressure to conform to expectations or engage in activities that don’t align with your values or interests. This enables you to better understand who you are, what you value, and what you want out of life.

    This singlemindedness is probably why Steve Bartlett sees a strong correlation between ‘success’ and fewer friends.

    3. Popularity doesn’t equal self-worth.

    The idea that I could use my perceived popularity as a barometer for my self-worth is something I’d subconsciously internalized for years. But it should go without saying that there is no link here. You are not defined by social status or external validation.

    I’d also point out that it’s so easy to fall victim to comparison. In the past, I was particularly sensitive to social media portrayals of people with the ‘perfect’ group of friends.

    But remember that Instagram is a highly edited version of someone else’s life. Most people don’t have as many friends as they’d like you to think they do.

    4. You are whole and complete.

    First and foremost, your number one relationship in life is with yourself. People come and go, but the one constant you can always rely on is you.

    I’ve been through some of the hardest times on my own. Maybe I’d have found it easier leaning on friends for support. But, in many ways, I think I only found out how strong I was by understanding that I could get through things alone.

    In this sense, loneliness can be transformational. Relying on yourself to be your own best friend encourages independence, self-reliance, and insane personal growth.

    5. You don’t indulge in toxic tendencies.

    When I was younger, I wanted more than anything to be liked and accepted, so I inevitably ended up trying way too hard. I’d go along with what other people said and did because I was so desperate for their approval. And in the process, I completely eroded my own sense of self.

    I recognize countless times where I’ve lacked boundaries, entertained drama, or gossiped and bitched about other people, despite deep down hating how it made me feel.

    Instead of clinging to toxic friendships for fear of being alone, you are 100% better off without these people in your life. Integrity and authenticity are worth so much more.

    6. Family can be your support system.

    I recognize that not everyone is blessed with a strong support network, but it’s worth pointing out that close-knit familial relationships can often provide a foundation of love and trust, especially among siblings.

    Alternatively, we may find much of the emotional security we need in our significant other.

    The unwavering presence of family or a life partner can be reassuring. Having a space where you feel heard, can be unapologetically yourself, and aren’t required to make small talk provides a haven where you can regroup and recharge at the end of a long day.

    7. Quality is more important than quantity.

    When it comes to friendships, the old saying “quality over quantity” holds true.

    Investing in a handful of genuine, supportive friends is far more fulfilling than having lots of superficial acquaintances. If you’ve ever felt intensely alone in a room full of people, you’ll know exactly what I mean by this.

    As humans, we crave deep, meaningful connections that create a safe space for vulnerability and allow us to be our true selves. So, when our circle is too broad, we risk spreading ourselves too thin and diluting the quality of our relationships.

    All relationships require work and commitment, so make sure you’re investing in those which genuinely add value to your life.

    Embracing the Power of Introversion 

    For those of us striving to live more intentionally, it can be difficult to identify where there is genuine room for improvement and where we simply need more self-acceptance. And in this area, it was a case of reframing my perspective to come to peace.

    So, for all the guilt-ridden introverts out there, I want you to know that it’s okay if you find yourself going through life without many friends. So long as you feel happy and fulfilled in yourself, you don’t need to try harder to be someone you’re not.

    Who knows, perhaps I’ve simply not found my tribe yet. Ironically, now that I’m not clinging or wishing things were different, I may allow more of the right people into my life.

    But you know what?  I’m perfectly content either way.

  • Someone Who Wants a Relationship with You

    Someone Who Wants a Relationship with You

  • It Takes Two People to Make a Relationship Work

    It Takes Two People to Make a Relationship Work

  • Let Them Go

    Let Them Go

  • I Want to Be Loved as a Choice

    I Want to Be Loved as a Choice

  • The Closure in Accepting That They May Never Change

    The Closure in Accepting That They May Never Change

    “One of the hardest things I’ve had to understand is that closure comes from within. Especially difficult if you’ve been betrayed by someone you love because you feel like you gotta let them know the pain they caused, but the peace you seek can only be given to you by you.” ~Bruna Nessif

    Many years ago, I wrote a very personal post for Tiny Buddha titled Get Past It Instead of Getting Even: Revenge Isn’t Winning.

    The post described the challenges I experienced with my parents as an adult and, ultimately, my decision to cease all relations with them.

    Such a decision was by no means easy or hastily made.

    It required many years of guidance and counseling to accept that sometimes such a drastic decision is necessary for maintaining one’s mental health and the health of other meaningful relationships.

    Over the years, I have experienced sharp criticism for that decision to dissociate from my parents. I’ve been branded an awful son, self-centered, and even a hypocrite based on my writings when compared to the reality of my familial relationship.

    I understand the criticisms because I once was on the opposite side of where I am now, with a seemingly perfect family relationship that others envied.

    I was quick to judge those estranged from their families with some of the same criticisms now cast at me.

    I was simply unable to fully grasp how it was possible that a bloodline connection could ever be severed, and how life could go on without their presence.

    But what we see often differs from reality, and perfection is unsustainable and unattainable when it comes to family relations. 

    Before you know it, you have transformed from the harshest critic to the pitiable object, constantly wondering how lifelong relationships could quickly deteriorate with such hatred and anger.

    But the passage of time, combined with age and life’s unending volatilities, alters one’s perception and relaxes the emotions we once believed would extinguish our joy, sanity, and quality of life.

    This new perspective is an unanticipated sensation after such a tumultuous experience, and suddenly, the word “closure” is no longer foreign to one’s vocabulary.

    An Attempt at Reconciliation

    It was early December, and homeownership again handed me an unexpected repair project in my kitchen. It appeared easy enough at first but became much more complicated once I understood the problem.

    Pausing momentarily to decide how best to proceed, given that a clever solution was necessary if I did not want to incur a hefty repair cost, I immediately began thinking about my father.

    Growing up, my father and I were incredibly close.

    We spent a great deal of time in each other’s company, sharing long conversations with him mentoring me on the mechanical skills he was so adept with.

    Sitting on my kitchen floor, lost in a sea of nostalgia, I realized how invaluable those conversations and his mentoring were. How other invaluable life lessons often sprouted from those conversations. And how, regardless of all that had occurred, I considered myself grateful that he was my father.

    As tears began pooling in my eyes, I decided I had to reach out to him at that moment, sharing my nostalgia and gratitude while naively hoping this might be the impetus we needed to reconnect.

    Fearing my mother would intercept any hard-copy communication, I turned to social media and sent him a private message through his Facebook page.

    My message to my father was 436 words long.

    At the start, I acknowledged how the passage of time and age softens our perspectives, lessens the bitterness, and enables us to see and appreciate things we took for granted in the past.

    I acknowledged how we all played a role in our eventual separation, how conversations could have been handled differently and more beneficially, and how blame at this point was futile.

    I reminisced about our relationship, his teachings, our obsession with car care, and how, regardless of our separation, the memories we shared would live in my heart and mind forever.

    It was sincere and sentimental, filled with a hopeful optimism about reconnecting with a person I have missed greatly over the years.

    I am unashamed to admit that after writing those 436 words and reviewing them several times afterward, I cried, not necessarily for the loss that I still bore, but over my capacity to look beyond this unhappy part of my past and attempt to reconcile it. 

    Closure Comes from Within

    For two weeks, I checked my Facebook account constantly, excited over the prospect of renewing our relationship.

    I understood that even if things did not turn out as I hoped, I was glad he knew how I was feeling and what I was thinking.

    Then, after two weeks and one day, on a sunny, fifty-degree afternoon in early December, my inbox alerted me that I had a response to my private Facebook message.

    I probably waited ten minutes before finally opening the message, hopeful that the passage of time, combined with age and life’s unending volatilities, had altered his perception and relaxed his emotions.

    Sadly, it had not.

    My father’s response was thirty-seven words long and void of all sentimentality.

    Narcissistic tendencies, the catalyst for our eventual separation, were still painfully evident in his opening sentence: “You have no idea what has happened to us, and I am not going to tell you.”

    His overall indifference toward the content of my message was obvious when he said, “Don’t play up to me,” which revealed his doubtfulness over my sincerity.

    Though short, his words were incredibly telling, confirming what I had feared and why I was so skeptical about reaching out to my parents earlier.

    Author Mandy Hale says it best: “To get over the past, you first have to accept that the past is over. No matter how many times you revisit it, analyze it, regret it or sweat it… it’s over. It can hurt you no more.”

    Though a decade and a half has passed, the past is very much a part of my parents’ present.

    Unexpected misfortunes like my father referenced often have a redemptive effect on an individual’s long-standing resentments, but they appear to have only intensified theirs.

    There has been no personal growth, no self-admissions, and no remorse of any kind. Honestly, I am astonished by their incapability.

    While I know many hurtful exchanges transpired between my parents and me, I have not allowed them to define my past or clutter my present. I do not want to be a victim but rather a witness to a mishandled situation that belongs in the past.

    My parents, on the other hand, have branded themselves “the victims” for so long while manipulating the narrative to suit that claim that I am not even sure they know what the truth is any longer, and that is a very sad place to find oneself. 

    Several days after receiving my father’s short response, I thought I would be overcome with sadness and grief, immobilized by the realization that my family would never be whole again.

    But something unexpected occurred instead.

    I began to feel at peace.

    While not the ideal conclusion, the situation has now been resolved.

    I will no longer feel guilty about not trying to reconcile, no longer question if my father is missing our relationship or not, and no longer crave an outcome that I now understand is impossible.

    And so, I can finally and definitively assign closure to the unfortunate end of my familial relationship.

    Did I want my situation to turn out differently? Of course.

    But meaningful relationships cannot be sustained by living in a questionable past while refusing to acknowledge any failings that need to be remedied.

    Regardless of who is at fault, I encourage anyone in similar circumstances to reach out to those whose presence still lingers in their heart and minds.

    I do not encourage this solely as a possibility for reconciliation, but rather for the ability to find peace in the truth, whether good, bad, or indifferent.

    Closure often springs from the acceptance of that truth and the understanding that healing can still occur even if our efforts are not reciprocated.

  • 5 Big Lessons I Learned After Losing a Legacy Friend

    5 Big Lessons I Learned After Losing a Legacy Friend

    “You can’t force anyone to value, respect, understand, or support you, but you can choose to spend your time around people who do.” ~Lori Deschene

    There’s a term in IT called “legacy systems.” These are computer systems that are ancient and abysmally outdated yet are kept around because organizations have centered some of their operations around them.

    The exercise to replace a legacy system is challenging and possibly even painful because of the interwoven network of dependencies placed on these systems—but it’s not impossible.

    The benefits of replacing a legacy system with one that is aligned with the current operational standards of an organization far outweigh the burden of doing so. More importantly, though, keeping a legacy system may prove to be a more costly undertaking, perhaps even jeopardizing the survival of the organization.

    Are you rapidly blinking while wondering if you somehow clicked on the wrong article and that perhaps it’s time for you to finally address your poor sleep routine because you seem to be getting an IT 101 lesson in what should be a wellness article?

    Well, apart from being a tech enthusiast who will use any excuse to educate anyone I can on anything IT-related, it was also a good way to introduce a term I recently experienced in an especially gobsmacked manner: legacy friends.

    These are people who remain in your life because, at one point, you befriended them and the friendship persisted.

    The only reason that you’re friends now is because you’ve been friends for some period of time, and the yieldless relationship persisted unquestioned while you somewhat silently evolved over the years. Or, in my case, unquestioned until the realities of life forced me to pause and ponder upon the emptiness of one such friendship.

    A few months ago, I decided to let my adventurous spirit lead the way as I moved to a new country after seven long years of living in the same city. I desperately needed some change, and pretending to be engrossed in patio furniture while a former romantic partner sauntered down the aisle with his mother was not something I found appealing.

    At first, the move was invigorating, inspiring, and all kinds of wonderful. The anonymity of a new place where I didn’t need to feign interest in furniture of any kind was just splendid, but the novelty of everything quickly diminished.

    I experienced the deep difficulty of abruptly losing my entire support system and faced unfamiliar natural elements that spawned symptoms associated with seasonal affective disorder.

    My spark dimmed as I felt lost and alone in a foreign land. A new job in an unfamiliar and taxing work environment and part-time postgraduate studies only added to the increasingly dark cloud of confusion and misery I felt plagued by. The administration around being an immigrant felt never ending, as I struggled to keep up with everything my new life demanded of me.

    It’s not hard to imagine the delight I felt in finding out that a friend from college would be in my new city for an evening and wanted to have dinner with me. For a second it felt like the dark cloud had lifted if only for a moment, and there was an unmistakable feeling of relief at the thought of seeing a familiar face.

    That sense of ease was short-lived, as I soon found out that he had also invited his friend to dinner. I felt a little confused by this, as he had made it seem as though it would just be the two of us at the beginning. But feeling overridden by the thought of seeing a longtime friend, I compromised and committed to dinner.

    Weeks passed by and I plowed on, barely surviving, submitting agonizing assignments and enduring circuitous workplace conversations that left me quickly losing my sense of confidence despite having had almost a decade worth of experience.

    A week before the dinner, I was informed that it was now a dinner party for as many people who were available to attend, and that it started thirty minutes after the time I would officially finish work.

    I was stunned. I’d been working overtime for months on end—with every spare minute spent hunched over textbooks that were apparently written in the English language but were all sorts of Greek to me—and I was now suddenly expected to show up on time, dressed appropriately, and cheerfully mingle with strangers I had never met before while running on barely any sleep.

    Knowing how busy things had been at work, I gave my friend a heads up that my work demands may prevent me from making it to dinner and that, if I did show up, it would be a bit later. His response was something along the lines of “Show up on time or don’t bother showing up at all.”

    Again, I was stunned. I’d prided myself on cultivating respectful, mature relationships and was rendered speechless by his response.

    My other friends were kind and compassionate and consistently demonstrated their unwavering support for me doing what I needed to do in order to be the best version of myself. So his response was shocking to say the least.

    The bewilderment soon gave way to some serious contemplation as I struggled to understand how someone in my life could administer such a senseless ultimatum.

    The more time I spent inspecting the details of our friendship, the clearer things became. The truth of the matter was that we were not actually friends. Well, at least not by the definition of a friend that I had come to know over the past few years.

    To me, a friend is someone who patiently yet firmly prompts you to finally talk about your broken heart and the dysfunctional relationship you clearly needed to remove yourself from.

    It’s someone who is so ecstatic about your final term results that they excitedly lift you into the air with a bear-like hug while you temporarily forget your mild but very real fear of having your feet off the ground.

    It’s someone who will listen to your wails of discomfort in the wee hours of a Sunday morning as you attempt to put up much needed boundaries with your family.

    It’s someone who offers you a sympathetic shoulder to cry on instead of saying, “I told you so” when the deliciously tattooed guy does exactly what they predicted he’d do.

    It’s someone who constantly encourages you to silence your inner over-achiever by continuously telling you that a 50% pass is a fantastic outcome for someone juggling as many things as you are.

    It’s someone who will gladly spend their time letting you interview them for a needs assessment survey while you try to desperately (and very foolishly) finish a two-week assignment in two days.

    It is not someone who has known about your challenges in acclimating to a new continent yet stayed silent about it.

    It is not someone who failed to display any empathy or concern when you mentioned that you were sick yet again.

    It is not someone who offered absolutely no support in helping you navigate an academic degree that they had already completed.

    It is not someone who complained that the three-minute voice note you sent was too long for them to listen to.

    It is not someone who criticizes how you choose to embrace your heritage and culture.

    It is not someone who barely expressed any gratitude for the time and energy you sacrificed in helping them realize their career ambitions.

    It is not someone who childishly refuses to reply to your messages all because you missed a dinner, planned with no consideration to your dietary restrictions or time constraints, that made you feel like an afterthought.

    This person is not a friend by my current standards. They would be what is deemed a legacy friend—someone who had remained in my life simply because they’d been there for some time.

    This conclusion was jarring, but I guess all harsh truths are. The nice thing about the truth is that it really does set you free. With this newfound knowledge, I liberated myself from the hold of this unnecessary relationship and re-framed the experience as an opportunity for self-awareness to outline what I need from friendships in my life.

    Here are five lessons I learned from the loss of a legacy friend.

    1. I am wholly uninterested in superficial conversations and activities that do not enrich my life or society at large in any way.

    2. It’s a messy endeavor to attempt to have people in your life with values that are misaligned with yours.

    3. It’s perfectly fine for you to choose your peace and well-being over people who have taken far more than they’ve given.

    4. As tough as it is to accept, it’s impractical to have people in your life who are stuck in a lifestyle that you outgrew long ago.

    5. There is no way to explain away disrespect, and every single human on this earth, regardless of creed or color, deserves unconditional respect.

    I of course feel saddened by the loss of someone I thought to be a friend, but a consoling outlook is that I’m now making space in my life for people who more closely meet my needs.

    As with legacy systems, removing a legacy friend may be an uncomfortable and even painful undertaking, but the allure of a more enriched life should be a worthwhile incentive to at least consider it.

    Having felt the fierce love of my found family for many years, I believe with all my heart that the goodness you embody will be a signal to like-minded souls, so do not settle for anything less than what you deserve.

  • 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. ♥

  • Be with Someone Who Motivates You to Do Better

    Be with Someone Who Motivates You to Do Better

  • Every Single Relationship Will Get Boring

    Every Single Relationship Will Get Boring