Tiny Buddha

Tag: self-hatred

  • Bulletproof Self-Love: How to Build an Unshakeable Relationship with Yourself

    Bulletproof Self-Love: How to Build an Unshakeable Relationship with Yourself

    “Before you put yourself down, please consider everything you’ve accomplished to get to this point, every life you’ve touched, and every moment you’ve pushed beyond your fears. You are a champion, a fighter. You are worthy of nothing less than the deepest love you have to share.” ~Scott Stabile

    It seems that we’re being bombarded daily with heart-felt messages to love ourselves more. It’s everywhere—from our Instagram newsfeed to handprinted tote bags to the “You are worthy” mural at your local coffee shop.

    I appreciate the society-wide agreement we seem to have made to remind ourselves to choose self-love.

    But endless commandments like “Put yourself first!” and “Remember your worth!” rarely explain how to actually follow through with it. We talk about self-love and self-worth as though it’s a matter of remembering to floss your teeth at night—as if you can choose better relationships, set healthy boundaries, and take care of your body by just remembering to do so.

    If it doesn’t come easily, loving yourself might feel like walking into a new job with no training and being expected to figure it out without a manual or supervisor. Through no fault of your own, you may not have developed the muscle for self-love and care.

    I know this because I’ve had in-depth conversations with people who flat out told me, “I don’t know how to have compassion for myself.”

    You don’t have an arduous, uphill struggle to feel worthy and self-loving because you lack the inner capacity for it.

    If you know how to feel hand-on-chest, lower-lip-puckered-out sympathy and compassion for others—even if it’s for endangered polar bears—then you have the capacity to cultivate this feeling for yourself. And it’s not your fault if you feel lost on where to begin.

    Working with Your Unloved Parts

    The culprits that thwart your best efforts to practice self-love often come from your shadow—an unconscious receptacle that safeguards all the parts of yourself that’ve been rejected and pushed away. Your shadow deploys a lot of unconscious strategies to make sure you keep sabotaging yourself and avoiding your rejected parts.

    Because laziness was deeply entrenched in my shadow, I learned early in life to cope with my unlovable parts by overworking myself. Every nook and cranny of my calendar was chock full of social outings, chores, hurried “leisure” walks, and things to occupy my mind. I only felt good enough when I was constantly busy, so I developed a wicked good avoidance strategy that kept the inner scarcity just below my level of awareness.

    Eventually, I noticed this endless game of tag between me and the horrific emptiness. I learned to stop pushing it away and instead developed a capacity to be with the sensations it stirred up in my body.

    There are remarkable benefits to working with any fear or disgust you have toward your shadow parts, but a lot of folks run into roadblocks because we’re wired to avoid pain and move toward pleasure.

    When the terror of shadow parts arises in the body, our visceral reaction is often to push it away, lodging it further away into our psyche.

    Neuroscience has also shown us that negative self-talk can actually give you a dopamine hit if it’s what your brain thinks is “correct,” even if the beliefs are negative and sabotaging.

    This leads us to push away our unloved parts and berate them.

    Thankfully, there’s another option.

    Integrate your shadow parts by creating a safe space for them—more specifically, for the uncomfortable emotions that emerge around them. For example, if you habitually feel anxious in social situations because you think of yourself as being awkward, you can practice integrating your “awkward self” by creating space for the disgust or fear associated with it.

    Being with difficult emotions means being with the sensations without feeding them negative thoughts. This actually sends signals of safety to your brain and nervous system that lowers the internal red flags. With continued practice, your brain loses a reason to push the pedal to the metal on stress responses like anxiety, and the uncomfortable sensations begin to subside. This is the true meaning of “facing your fears.”

    When you reach the other side of a difficult emotion, it often feels divinely euphoric and empowering—like you’re walking across the finish line of a marathon. Allowing emotions to pass through your body builds resilience. Every time you practice the art of allowing, it becomes easier to anchor back into your power.

    Practicing Self-Love

    Nurturing your capacity to think self-loving thoughts, be self-loving, and feel the sensations of self-love is also a necessary practice.

    You might be surprised to learn that you could be projecting all your love onto other people. Whether it’s a romantic partner, friend, or tv character, if you shower them with adoration, there’s love inside you, but perhaps it doesn’t feel quite at home. Parts of you might feel deeply flawed or incomplete—whether you’re conscious of it or not—so you’re shoving your love into the hands of someone else instead. Projecting love onto others is a way of defending yourself against inner parts you’ve deemed unlovable. Everyone does this in some form or another.

    The remedy to this situation is taking back those projections and investing time and energy into finding and loving those qualities in yourself.

    We all have a negativity bias in our brains, so we pay more attention to what’s wrong, unsafe, or not good enough about ourselves and the world around us. If this default setting is left unchecked, it leads to major brain ruts—and well, we’ve all met a curmudgeon before!

    If you want to lean into what’s radiantly loveable about yourself, you have to shamelessly focus on what you want to love about yourself. If you’re not sure what that is, then choose something and nurture the hell out of it. Tenacity goes a long way when you want to reverse old patterns.

    Around the time I began learning to face my own inner void, I took myself on a journey of self-love and self-care through embodied sensual movement and pole dancing.

    I call it my divine intervention.

    Seemingly out of nowhere, I instinctively knew one day I wanted to become a pole dancer. Even though I had literally zero background in dancing or physical exercise in general, I realized that I had a dancer’s heart inside of me. As luck would have it, a brand-new studio had just opened up in my city six months earlier.

    I signed up for an assortment of classes, but it was the feminine movement pole dancing class that captivated me. I’d been in a rush my whole life—for no particular reason at any given moment—but this slow-as-honey practice forced me to start paying attention to myself in ways I never had before.

    I invested in myself by taking these classes. It allowed me to stop feeling guilty for being lazy. I didn’t need to overstuff myself with work, relationships, or other outside sources of validation anymore. I learned to slow down, feel my body, and take better care of myself.

    Learning to love yourself and know your worth is like having direct access to your inner authority. The self-doubt, sabotage, and low self-esteem lose their power and you finally get to take the helm. If you’re ready to stop second-guessing and minimizing yourself, here’s how to get started.

    5 Ways to Start Loving Yourself

    1. Expand your capacity to be with your unloved parts.

    Every time you create space for an unloved part, you’re changing the relationship between you and that part. Even if you have lots of deep wounds, your relationship to yourself is always changing. The key to creating safe space for your parts is staying with the sensations of fear or disgust and away from stories. If you allow thoughts of worry or self-judgment to run the show, the unloved parts won’t get reconditioned.

    The best way to do this is to work with emotions in real time. Find a quiet place to breathe through the sensations. Emotions run a lifespan of ninety seconds at most if you don’t retrigger the emotion with negative thoughts.

    2. Open up your nervous system to receive love.

    This is about practicing the art of receiving goodwill and kindness in all forms—positive feedback, compliments, and words of affirmation.

    How often do you fully accept a compliment? How often do you pause to let kind words—whether it’s a thank-you email from a friend or gratitude from a stranger—land in your body? We’re so quick to brush off affirmations, so what if you rewarded yourself by unapologetically receiving them instead? Make a practice of slowing down enough to take it all in. When you do, you’re reinforcing the pathway to connection and self-love in your nervous system.

    3. Affirm yourself with the love you give to others.

    If you already have the capacity to love others, then there’s an existing pathway to self-love. It just needs to be rerouted back to you.

    On a neurological level, if self-love feels like a stranger to you, the neural networks related to your self-image probably have a poor association with the biochemicals related to emotions around love and worthiness. Thankfully, neurons that fire together, wire together!

    Try this exercise in front of a mirror. Think of someone you deeply love and would describe as being super “loveable.” Close your eyes, see that person in your head, and think about why you love them so much that you can literally feel the tingly sensations coursing through your body. Then quickly open your eyes and repeat to yourself while looking in the mirror, “I am so loveable” with an extra emphasis on “I.” Make sure to work up the feeling on a visceral level in your body before you open your eyes. You’re “borrowing” the feel-good neurons while activating the self-image neurons to create new neural pathways.

    Have fun with this and change out “loveable” with other qualities you want to feel toward yourself in each round. Repetition matters, so make this a regular practice.

    4. Create actionable self-love.

    If you truly loved yourself in the way you wanted to, what would you do differently? Make a list of specific behaviors you want to change. For each one, ask yourself, “What’s the absolute smallest step I can take to work toward creating this behavior—something so small, I can do it right now?”

    Hint: the smallest step is always smaller than you think. For instance, if you want to ask for the pay raise you deserve, you might think the next smallest step is writing a letter of justification. If you feel head-to-toe inspired to do that right now, by all means, please do! But give yourself permission to start even smaller if the thought of drafting a letter immediately gives you anxiety. The goal is to start building momentum right NOW, so keep the steps super small and easy to do.

    5. “Drop in” to your embodied self-worth.

    You have access to your self-worth any time you want because it’s inherent. There’s nothing you ever need to do to earn it. Even if you’re not sure what it feels like, your worthiness is always there, waiting for you to reconnect to it.

    Getting into your body senses is a fantastic way to find where dignity lives in your body so that you can deepen your relationship with it. Make it a regular practice to take a few minutes to turn inward and “get to know” your non-negotiable worthiness. Where is it located? If it was a color, what color would it be? If it was a shape, what shape would it be? What’s the texture, movement, and sound of your self-worth? Bring it to life and revisit it often. Remember that every good relationship requires nurturing.

  • 8 Signs You’re Carrying Deep Shame and How to Start to Heal

    8 Signs You’re Carrying Deep Shame and How to Start to Heal

    “If you put shame in a petri dish, it needs three ingredients to grow exponentially: secrecy, silence, and judgment. If you put the same amount of shame in the petri dish and douse it with empathy, it can’t survive.” ~Brené Brown

    Did you know that one of the biggest causes of suffering is unacknowledged shame? It makes us believe that there’s something wrong with us and we’re not good enough.

    When we have deep shame inside, instead of being true to ourselves, we “dress to impress” so others will like us, which eventually makes us tired, depressed, and anxious because we’ve become disconnected from our true essence.

    Having shame isn’t the issue; the real issue is resisting or trying to cover it up. The more we try to keep shame hidden, the more we live in limitation and self-protection and experience stress in our system.

    We may experience self-hate and a constant critical inner voice. Those parts of us don’t want to be suppressed, forced to change, or told they’re bad or wrong; they want to be seen, heard, and embraced in unconditional acceptance and love.

    Many of us try to hide our shame because we don’t want to feel that deep pain. And if people look at us in a weird way, criticize, judge, or leave us, then what? We’ll be all alone. Well, that may not be true, but that’s what we may have experienced in the past, and we fear it happening again.

    We may want a new relationship and to be intimate, but a part of us may push it away because we’re afraid that they’ll see that we’re not perfect human beings and leave. Then that would re-affirm the false belief that we’re unlovable or unworthy.

    We may want to share our creativity and/or express ourselves in some way, but we’ve been shamed for doing so in the past, so we stop ourselves because we don’t want to be hurt again.

    We may want to do inner healing, but if we do, we’ll get in touch with the parts of us that are hurting, and feeling those feelings may seem overwhelming because we’re used to suppressing them and they’re attached to past pains or traumas.

    Some of us were shamed for making a mistake in the past, even though making mistakes is part of learning. When we fear making mistakes, we tend to self-sabotage or procrastinate.

    Sometimes we use food, drugs, alcohol, or being busy to try to numb and get away from our painful and shameful feelings.

    Sometimes shame manifests as chronic fatigue, self-criticism, depression, low self-esteem or painful sensations in our body. We may feel self-conscious, anxious, and insecure and have a hard time speaking up or receiving gifts and compliments because we don’t feel worthy of them.

    So what is shame really? It makes us believe that we’re bad, wrong, unlovable, or unworthy. Those ideas stem from not meeting other people’s expectations of how we should be, or from experiences that made us feel embarrassed.

    Because we didn’t know how to cope with or process our feelings at the time, we developed a negative lens through which we now see ourselves and others that dictates what we do and don’t do.

    If we were shamed for or felt shame about something as children, we usually try to find a way to compensate for it as adults. What do I mean?

    As a child, I was teased for being fat and ugly, and I blamed my body for me not having any friends and for my father criticizing and teasing me.

    At age thirteen, my doctor told me to go on a diet. When I lost weight I received compliments and recognition; however, I took it to the extreme, and at age fifteen I became a severe anorexic. No matter how many therapists or treatment centers I went to (which were numerous), I wouldn’t let go of the disordered eating behaviors that I thought kept me safe.

    I developed survival strategies, exercising non-stop and eating very little, so I would never be fat and teased again. However, as much as I tried to protect myself from the shame of being fat, I was now being shamed for how and what I ate and what my body looked like.

    My father told me he was embarrassed to be seen with me, and I was made fun of, criticized, and judged from people on the street, the therapists I was seeing, and the those in charge in the treatment centers I was in.

    So, in a sense, I was being shamed for trying to cope, feel safe, and survive.

    At age fifteen I became obsessed with money to try to compensate for the powerless, shameful feelings I was having.

    Money gave me a fleeting, false sense of power and worthiness. If I wasn’t working and earning money, I felt like a horrible person.

    I was trying to hide my deep shame and feel worthy, valuable, lovable, and safe by controlling my food and weight and how much money I made and saved, but none of that ever made me truly feel okay or healed my deep pain and shame. Deep inside, I was still experiencing depression, anxiety, a critical voice, and self-hate, and I was acting in self-harming and self-depriving ways.  

    When people used to say to me, “Debra, you just need to love yourself,” I thought, “Yeah right, what does that even mean? I don’t deserve to be loved and cared for. I’m bad. I deserve to suffer, to be punished, criticized, and deprived, and to struggle in life.”

    This is what unresolved shame does. It creates a shame-based identity. It runs our subconscious programming, disconnects us from our authenticity, and makes us believe that there’s something wrong with us—that we’re unworthy, unlovable, and not good enough.

    We don’t stop loving the ones who shamed and hurt us; we stop loving ourselves, and we start treating ourselves in the same ways they did. The external rejection becomes our own internal rejection.

    It may be helpful  to understand that people who blame, shame, or criticize us are also hurting and have deep wounds that make them feel as if they’re bad, unworthy, and unlovable. Their inner child is saying, “Please love me” just like ours is.

    When we feel a sense of shame, most often our attention is focused on fixing ourselves to fit into the standards of the world so we can be loved and accepted. By doing so, we often deny how we’re truly feeling and instead look for the “right things” to say and do, which keeps us from living our truth.

    Instead of fixing ourselves to cover up how we’re truly feeling, we need to take the time to understand why we’re feeling, thinking, and acting how we do, which may be coming from past traumas, hurts, and wounds. 

    If we keep our shame hidden, we may feel stuck inside, which makes us feel stuck in our lives because our minds and bodies continue to react automatically from the past painful and unresolved experiences.

    Not sure if you’re carrying deep shame? How much of this is true for you?

    • You’re unable to find inner peace. Deep inside you don’t feel good enough, like there’s something’s wrong with you.
    • You need to be loved and approved of by others in order to love and approve of yourself.
    • You feel insecure and unworthy and constantly compare yourself to others.
    • You see yourself and others through the lens of past painful experiences.
    • You’re afraid to try new things, share your creativity, share how you’re truly feeling, or ask for what you want and need because you don’t feel worthy, or you’re afraid of feeling embarrassed or shamed.
    • You mold yourself to try to fit in with what everyone else is doing instead of following what has true, heartfelt meaning for you.
    • You often feel anxious and afraid, and you have a constant critical inner voice.
    • You try to achieve as a way to prove that you’re worthy, valuable, and lovable.

    Since being shamed makes us want to hide those parts of ourselves that were unacceptable, healing happens when we bring those parts into the light of awareness and embrace them with unconditional acceptance and love.

    Healing starts to happen when we recognize and break free from the trance we’re living in. We do this by going to the root cause(s) of the shame and resolving that unresolved pain with compassion, love, and a new understanding.

    Healing starts to happen when we learn how to be more compassionate with ourselves and instead of saying “Why can’t I just…?” We ask ourselves “What keeps me from…? How can I help that part feel seen, heard, understood, and loved?”

    Healing starts to happen when we begin to uncover, discover, and embrace our natural qualities, talents, and abilities and allow those parts of us to be felt and seen.

    Healing starts to happen when we learn how to speak to and treat ourselves in more kind, compassionate, and loving ways, and also believe that we’re worth it.

    Please remember that healing is a process. Our system is conditioned to be a certain way, and our minds and bodies love to stay with what’s familiar. Working with our tender, hurting parts with love and compassion can help us break out of the trance of past hurt and wounds and experience what true love and inner peace really means.

    So, instead of trying to get rid of the shame or cover it up, embrace the parts you’re ashamed of with unconditional acceptance and love. Let yourself and your inner child know that you are beautiful, valuable, and lovable as you are, even with your wounds and scars.

  • Thinner is Not Better – Healthy, Connected, and Happy Is

    Thinner is Not Better – Healthy, Connected, and Happy Is

    “Standards of beauty are arbitrary. Body shame exists only to the extent that our physiques don’t match our own beliefs about how we should look.” ~Martha Beck

    I have so many women around me right now—friends, mothers, clients that are on a diet—constantly talking about their weight and how their bodies look, struggling with body image.

    I am profoundly sad about the frequency and theme of those discussions.

    At the same time, I deeply get it; it is hard to detach from our conditioning.

    I too struggled with body image at one point in my life, and for a very long time. I suffered from anorexia in my late teens and early twenties. I was skinny as a rail and thought I was not thin enough. I hated the way I looked. I was never perfect enough.

    I controlled my food intake as a way to regain control over my life, as a way to maybe one day be perfect enough that I might feel loved. I almost ended up in the hospital, as my weight impacted my health, physically and mentally. I had no period, no healthy bowel movement. I was so unhappy and depressed. I had no energy.

    The messed-up thing is that the skinnier I looked, the more compliments I received from a lot of people, from family to friends: “You are so slim and gorgeous.” To me, this just validated the way I treated my body—and myself—with control, self-criticism, and harshness.

    Then there were the magazines, showing skinny models, getting so much positive attention. I was obsessed. The more my body looked like those magazine pictures, the better; though I could never quite get to a point where I looked at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. It was an endless circle of judgment, control, and unhappiness. 

    It took me many years to change the way I saw my body and debunk the standards created by “society” for women.

    For many years I bit my tongue each time I would hear other women around me comparing and judging their body size and shape, repeating the same narrative of needing to lose weight. These conversations felt like an unbearable ringing in my ears, a knot in my stomach, the story in my head of “I am not good enough.”

    I was in the process of creating a new set of standards for myself, of what it was to be a woman in this world, but the old stories were hard to escape and easier to follow because they were the gold standard. I did not have any role models of women out there, younger or older, loving their body just the way it was.

    There was a point, though, when it was just too draining. I noticed that it was not the striving to get to a perfect body that brought me love. What brought me love was being vulnerable, authentic, sharing my inner life, supporting others, having deep talks, being kind with myself and others, and doing the things I loved.

    From then on, I started to soften and release all those standards that had been gifted to me. I allowed myself to be okay with how my body looked, to enjoy food, to enjoy movement, to enjoy my body. I learned to truly love my body, and with that came a different type of respect: I learned to rest when my body was tired. I learned to eat really nourishing food. I learned to move every day in a way that was respectful to my body and that I enjoyed.

    Thinner is not better. Healthy, connected, and happy is.

    Practicing yoga helped me so much in embodying this new belief, and studying neuro-linguistic programming as well.

    The truth is we are “society”—all of us, women and men—which means we are the agents of change. So let’s pause, reflect, and choose new standards. Is this constant need to lose weight healthy or serving anyone?

    There are a few different things to separate and highlight here.

    If your weight negatively impacts your health or your life, if you feel heavy in an unhealthy way and can’t do the activities you’d like to do, that is a different story; and yes, please, take care of your body, through what you think will work best for you: exercise, nutrition, mindset, support.

    Your body is your vessel to experience life, so finding your way to a healthy body is a worthwhile investment. And daily movement and good nutrition will have such a positive impact on your vitality and health, physical and mental, so yes, go for it, with love, softness and kindness—no control, judgment, or harshness.

    But if you feel that your body is strong and healthy, but you don’t like the way it looks… I feel you. I was there. I felt the shame, the discomfort, the sadness, the feeling of not being good enough. Allow yourself to feel this pain. It is okay, and human nature, to feel concerned about your appearance. We all want to be part of the tribe, to be loved and admired.

    But then, ask yourself, is it me that does not like the way my body looks, or is it because of society’s beauty standards? Is it because of all the noise from my friends, constantly talking about weight and looks? Do I want to transmit those standards to the next generation? To my sons? To my daughters? Is it really the most important thing for us women, to look thin and good? Is this story serving us all? Is it love?

    No, it is not love, and it serves no one. Not the women suffering in silence because they believe their body is not slim enough. Not the partners of those women who can’t appreciate their true beauty and fullness. Not the daughters that will believe the same messages and suffer as well. Not the sons that will not know how to recognize beauty in its diverse shapes and forms. Not society as a whole, which will be robbed of having a happy, compassionate, loving, self-confident population.

    So let’s choose differently. Let’s celebrate our different body shapes and weights and strength. Let’s feel good and enjoy life, movement, and food without counting and restricting and denying love to our bodies and selves.

    Let’s stop talking about our weight constantly and find other ways to connect.

    Some might say that I am too slim to really speak about this subject, that I have it easy. This is not quite true. My body has changed so much throughout the years. I went from an ultra-skinny teenager and twenty-year-old with anorexia, to a healthy weight in my thirties, to ups and downs with weight throughout my two pregnancies and breastfeeding journeys. I have seen my body change quite a lot and have been judged for how I looked oh so many times. I have been judged for being skinny, or envied for being slim, and I have been judged for gaining weight.

    Today I am forty-three. My body is not as slim as it used to be. I have a bit of fat around my belly, and my breasts are not as round and firm as they once were, but I feel strong and healthy. And I am SO grateful for my body for enabling me to experience life so far, and for creating life and feeding life, that I don’t want to ever criticize or shame my body again.

    I have learned to love every scar, my stretch marks, my extra skin, because they are the witness of my life, my loves, my years.

    So thank you, body, for everything you allow me to experience.

    The alternative to loving my body—the constant internal criticism and self-doubt—is too draining.

    We, as humans, are society, so let’s change this conditioning. Let’s never transmit this idea of what a woman’s body should look like to our daughters, to our sons. Let’s invent a world where it does not matter what you weigh as long as you feel healthy and good within. Let’s change the chattering from what diet we are on to how our heart is feeling.

    Let’s celebrate bodies, in their diverse beauty and forms.

  • Dealing with Unrequited Love: How I Started to Let Go and Love Myself

    Dealing with Unrequited Love: How I Started to Let Go and Love Myself

    “If you don’t love yourself, you’ll always be looking for someone else to fill the void inside you, but no one will ever be able to do it.” ~Lori Deschene

    I was a simple girl who met a complicated boy and fell in love. It was unrequited. I loved him with all my heart for six months, and acted like a teenager with her first crush. It was humiliating. I did things that I should never have done—the incessant texting, calling, arranging meetups, and what not.

    Embarrassment doesn’t even cover the emotions I feel now. There is also a lot of guilt and pain.

    When I was kid, I learned by watching my parents to sacrifice myself and show up for others before myself.

    Gradually, my sense of self become entwined with others. I only felt worthy when I served a purpose in someone’s life, and otherwise, I didn’t think I mattered much.

    Every little thing became focused on other people—how I behaved, how I dressed, how I worked. I would mindread, try to control how people perceived me, and stretch beyond my limits to show up for people who probably never even cared about me.

    That is exactly what happened with the boy I loved. My life became all about him—what he said, what he never said. I was waiting for a proposal that was never going to happen. My mind had created all these stories about a fantasy relationship that would never be and was constantly lost in a daydream.

    Instead of loving myself, I was pouring all my time and energy into someone else. My family and friends knew what was happening, and they told me I needed to accept that he didn’t love me back, but I didn’t listen to them. I was on a high, addicted to the dopamine rush of seeing him and talking to him.

    One day, I suffered a nervous breakdown and cried. The boy I loved would never love me back. It was emotionally traumatizing, both for me and my family. The heart of it was my need for validation from someone else.

    It was hard for me to accept the fact that he would never love me. I wanted him. I loved him so much. Why couldn’t he see my love for him and love me back?

    It’s been one year since I’ve talked to him. My heart still beats a little faster when I think about him or see him.

    For a long time, I was ashamed of how I’d obsessed over him and pursued him. Sometimes I wish that I hadn’t met him. He was the beginning of a dark and depressing change in my personality. I was so sad. I couldn’t eat properly, sleep properly, think properly.

    I blamed it all on myself. It triggered a sense of worthlessness. I wasn’t good enough for his love, for him. I cried a lot. More than I should have.

    It felt silly. To cry over someone who doesn’t even know what you’re going through.

    For a long time, I didn’t forgive myself. I would wallow; I was in pain. I’d always struggled with low self-worth and self-esteem, and the pain of a broken heart was too much for my already broken self to handle.

    I had placed my worth in someone else’s hands instead of my own. I was cruel to myself, constantly criticizing myself and putting myself down, all because of a boy. I had been abandoning myself and treating myself far worse than I treated others. My mind was suffering; it felt rejected.

    But thankfully, support from the right people and therapy slowly helped me figure out what was going wrong and forgive myself.

    Therapy helped me rediscover myself. I was no longer the girl who placed her self-worth in someone’s hands.

    It also helped me recognize that my obsession was more about me and my issues than him. I already didn’t feel good enough; his rejection just magnified it.

    It was a gradual process, and at first, it was a little scary. I was fundamentally changing myself and rewiring my personality, learning to treat myself with kindness and compassion. Letting go of my old self wasn’t easy, as I had been so used to the pain and heartbreak.

    But I was patient with myself, and it paid off. I conquered my demons, and slowly, gradually, fell in love with myself.

    All of this happened last December and one year later, I can finally say that I’m letting go.

    It hasn’t been an easy journey. There are days when I don’t treat myself kindly. There are days when I still place my worth in someone else’s hands and expect them to ease my self-hatred and guilt and make me feel good enough. There are days when I end up sacrificing myself for people, but those are outnumbered by the days when I look at myself with loving kindness.

    There are far more days when I take care of myself instead of focusing on someone else who probably doesn’t care about what I’m going through.

    I have finally forgiven myself for all that happened. I look at the past and I wonder how I survived. I am far stronger and more resilient than I thought myself to be before, and now I can show up for myself, hold myself together, and be there for myself.

    I look at myself in the mirror and feel proud of coming so far. I love myself, and I’m not ashamed of what happened. Unrequited love teaches you a lot: It teaches you what you’re looking for and what you don’t want in someone.

    I know my worth, and I know that the right person will love me the way I deserve to be loved.

    But most of all, I know that I will love myself the way I want to be loved. I no longer look at myself with hatred. The pain of my heartbreak comes and goes, but I know I’m strong enough to handle whatever life gives me.

    I’m happy after a long time, and I want to hold on to this happiness and cherish all the good memories I’ve made.

    I have collected all my broken pieces and created art, writing down my thoughts and emotions, and also, appreciating all I’ve gained through my struggles has helped me work toward forgiveness and acceptance.

    Unrequited love can be a blessing because it gives us an opportunity to practice loving ourselves.

    Loving someone is hard but unloving someone and pouring all your love into yourself is even harder. It doesn’t happen overnight. Self-love is a journey, and it has its highs and lows, but it is worth it.

  • How I Stopped Being Everything I Hated About My Parents

    How I Stopped Being Everything I Hated About My Parents

    “The beautiful thing about life is that you always change, grow, and get better. You aren’t defined by your past. You aren’t your mistakes.” ~Unknown

    When I was an angsty fourteen-year-old, I remember screaming at my parents that I never (ever!) wanted to become like either of them. And I meant it.

    My dad was a workaholic who was never at home. When he was at home, he was emotionally unavailable, arguing with my mother, or he’d escape the stress of our house by going to the betting shop to gamble.

    My mother had erratic mood swings, did not allow me to have age-appropriate boundaries, and would talk to me about the lack of intimacy between her and my father. These were, unfortunately, not role models that inspired me.

    As I entered my twenties and experienced adult life for the first time, I continued to carry the ideation that my life would be different. I was determined not to become my parents. And for many years, I naively lived life proudly thinking I had not turned into them.

    Then, one day, I opened my mouth and heard my mother’s voice come out. I can’t even remember what I said, but I recall the feeling of utter despair. Despite all my thinking and wishing over the years, I had become my parents. This prompted me to reflect on my life so far, and I realized that I had repeated many of my parents’ patterns.

    I had become a workaholic to avoid feeling my emotions, was in an abusive relationship but didn’t realize this until well after it had ended, and I struggled to know how to develop healthy friendships due to difficulties setting boundaries.

    Shit. Damn. Bugger it.

    I’d accidentally become my parents! Why was all my thinking and wishing over the years not enough to stop this from happening? I thought that I had more control over my life than this.

    During my own self-discovery journey, I found that there are many reasons why we repeat the same family patterns. I also learned that we can change them.

    Humans learn from watching and copying other people’s behavior, and children are sponges that soak up everything in their environment.

    For example, when I was a child, I remember my dad ordering a meal at a restaurant, and the vegetables on his plate were stone cold. Instead of sending the meal back and asking for hot veggies, he complained about how terrible the restaurant was and ate the cold meal. When I became an adult, I struggled to assert myself in similar situations, which led to a lot of anger and resentment.

    Learned behavior is not just a one-time thing. It is passed down from generation to generation.

    For instance, my paternal grandparents lived through the Great Depression in the 1930s, before my dad was born.

    They taught my dad that food was a scarce resource, so he carried this belief with him into his adulthood, and subsequently passed this down to me through not being able to model assertive behaviors.

    This is called intergenerational trauma because the unhealthy family dynamics continue throughout new generations. Generally, intergenerational trauma is defined by events that affect people profoundly, such as child abuse, parental incarceration, poverty, war, natural disasters, etc.

    Sometimes, we aren’t even aware that our family dynamics are unhealthy, or we might be aware but are too scared to change. This is usually because humans have a strong desire to be accepted and belong. In fact, this is very important for our survival.

    For some people, repeating those family dynamics means that they continue to be a part of the family unit.

    From a young age, I was often labelled as the ‘black sheep’ of the family, because I voiced the unspoken, toxic family rules. It became easier for me to distance myself from my family rather than remain enmeshed in a family environment that was detrimental to my mental health and well-being.

    The good news is we can change our patterns so that we don’t become (or continue to be) our parents.

    The first step is to be aware of the unhelpful patterns that you’re carrying with you. Without awareness, we cannot change.

    I started by asking myself what emotions I experienced frequently and whether they ever seemed like they were out of context or disproportionate to the situation.

    One emotion I often struggled with was jealousy. Whenever a friend would share something positive about their life—if they got a new car, got a promotion at work, or won a competition—my go-to emotion was jealousy.

    This impacted my friendships, as I was constantly comparing my life to theirs and driving them away by trying to find ways to make sure my life was more successful. This led to perfectionism in everything that I did, and let me tell you, it was exhausting! I couldn’t maintain this lifestyle, and I felt like I was drowning.

    When I hit a low point after my relationship ended, I sought therapy. Through therapy, I learned that the reason I compared myself to other people so frequently was due to the beliefs I held about myself. I didn’t feel like I was good enough as I was. This made a lot of sense when we explored the relationship I had with my parents.

    They regularly compared me to other kids and were only proud of me when I performed better than anyone else. It made sense that, as an adult, I would experience strong feelings of jealousy toward other people. Jealousy meant that I was constantly trying to prove my worth to other people rather than living life on my own terms.

    I then looked at my beliefs about this situation/emotion and thought about where and when those beliefs developed. Identifying the patterns behind my behavior was a positive first step in my inner healing journey, because you can’t heal what you don’t know.

    Because I wasn’t taught what emotions were or how to understand my emotions as a kid, I needed to learn how to do this as an adult.

    My therapist helped me to better understand the motivations behind our emotions and develop new strategies to cope with these.

    For example, with my jealousy, I learned that this was a response from fear and insecurity. I was able to learn to identify my thoughts, and when I realized that I wasn’t actually unworthy but rather that was the story I had learned from my parents, I was able to choose different behaviors instead of continuing to follow the same old patterns as before.

    I recognized that perfectionism meant I worked too much, so I learnt how to slow down through mindfulness and yoga. Once I was able to recognize my emotions for what they were, rather than reacting to them without awareness, I was able to make better choices about how I wanted to respond to that emotion.

    Having that space to understand my emotions meant that I could move out of the comparing myself to other people situation, and I was able to step into the entrepreneurial space and create a business that I love. I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I hadn’t done the inner work to change and not become my parents.

    I learned this was why my wishful thinking didn’t work. I knew I didn’t want to be like my parents, but without additional support from a therapist, I didn’t know what to do instead! Therapy helped me learn how to deal with old patterns in new ways.

    From there, it was all about practice. These habits and patterns existed for many, many years. I knew they would not change overnight. However, with perseverance and practice, I was able to make meaningful changes in my life. I found it helpful to keep a journal to record my progress so that I didn’t forget how far I’d come.

    Finally, it was important for me to remember that my parents are human too. In addition to recognizing the unhelpful habits they taught me, I found it useful to remember some of the positive traits or experiences I’ve gained.

    Even though my dad was a workaholic, he instilled a strong work ethic in me, which has helped me when creating my own business. My mother loved to travel, and she has definitely passed that love to me as well.

    Reminding myself of these things allows me to acknowledge my parents’ humanness, especially in moments where I find it hard to offer them grace. For me, reminding myself of the positives is a way to honor my need to have compassion for myself.

  • How to Protect Our Kids from a Lifetime of Food, Weight, and Body Image Issues

    How to Protect Our Kids from a Lifetime of Food, Weight, and Body Image Issues

    I went on my first diet when I was around fourteen or so because, as they often do in growing teens, my jeans started getting tight.

    And because I grew up in the same anti-fat culture we all have, I hated myself for it.

    Around the same time, an adult in my life who was always obsessed with “eating healthy” gave me a copy of the new book she was reading outlining the healthiest way to eat.

    It was a book on the Atkins/low-carb diet.

    The author spent the bulk of the book demonizing carbs, explaining in convincing-sounding detail all the science he supposedly had about not only how harmful carbs were but how they were the cause of weight gain.

    Three things happened from reading that book.

    1. I became scared of eating carbs and started trying to eliminate them because, while of course I wanted to be healthy, I was terrified of gaining weight.

    2. Instead of losing the five pounds or so that I wanted to lose, I gained about five pounds and a slow progression of weight gain continued for years. Because the harder I tried to eliminate the carbs, the more I craved and obsessed over them; always eventually caving, eating them, and then hating myself for it and promising to start “being good tomorrow.

    Eventually the caving led to overeating them because “as long as I was being bad anyway, I may as well eat them all and get them out of the house so I won’t be tempted when I start being good again.”

    3. An almost three-decades-long war with my weight, my body, myself, and food began. A war that resulted in a hospitalization in my early thirties, after my first foray into the world of “it’s not a diet; it’s clean, healthy eating,” for bulimia so severe I often felt like I was going to eat myself to death.

    And the whole time, I blamed myself for it. I believed I was stupid, weak, pathetic, a pig who needed to try harder to control myself.

    So I kept trying. For more than half my life I tried, and it almost killed me.

    I’ve been working with women around the whole weight and food thing in one form or another for over fifteen years now. I started sharing my story because after listening to other women describe their histories with food and weight, I realized that my story is not unique.

    Varying degrees of my story are the norm, and they all start in basically the same seemingly innocent ways.

    We want to lose weight or “eat healthier,” so we do what we’re taught we’re supposed to.

    We start a diet or “healthy eating plan” of some sort that tells us what we “should” and “shouldn’t be” eating. This leads to a lifetime of trying to control our intake and our bodies, which results in disordered eating patterns, weight cycling, and self-loathing.

    I regularly hear from women in their seventies or eighties who have spent their entire lives fighting this losing battle with themselves to “eat right” and lose weight.

    In one survey of US women a few years ago, 75% reported disordered eating behaviors or symptoms consistent with eating disorders.

    My recovery didn’t start until I realized a few basic truths.

    First, if I had any hope of healing, I had to figure out what was causing my eating issues. Ultimately, it came down to my conditioning: patterns of thoughts, beliefs, and behaviors that had developed over the course of my life as a result of many different things, not the least of which being:

    1. The stories I had learned to believe about bodies and the people in them: Big ones are bad, unhealthy, undisciplined, and lazy. Small ones are good, healthy, and disciplined, and they work hard.

    These misguided beliefs taught me not only to live in fear of weight gain and the harsh judgment of others if I gained weight, but also to judge myself and my body harshly when I did so. This contributed to not only the decades of weight gain and disordered eating but ultimately the eating disorder.

    2. The stories I’d learned about food: These are the good foods, the healthy foods, the foods you should be eating, and those are the bad foods, the unhealthy ones, the ones that cause all manner of disease, poor health, and weight gain. Those are the foods you have to give up forever, or only allow in moderation.

    These misguided beliefs taught me to live in fear of food and my body becoming unhealthy or fat if I dared to eat the “wrong” thing. This created the never-ending pattern of promising myself I was going to “be good” only to end up craving, caving, hating myself, and starting over that I felt trapped in for so many years.

    3. Disconnection with myself, my body, and my own needs: As long as I was trying to make myself eat or do the things I thought I “should” do in order to control my body and my food intake, I was stuck in my head. Stuck in fear. Disconnected from myself, my body, and even the decision-making part of my brain. Ruminating, promising, obsessing, hating.

    In that state, I had no ability to understand the messages my body was constantly sending me about what it needed, nor did I have any concept that my body was something that could be trusted to tell me that. I saw it as an enemy to be ruled over, controlled, and beaten into submission… rather than the ally, healer, and communicator that it is.

    4. Self-loathing: I didn’t like, love, trust, or value myself, so my entire self-worth and relationship with myself relied on what my body looked like and my need to control how others saw me.

    The second truth I had to realize: if I had any hope of recovering and making peace with myself, my body, and food, I had to change the things that were causing the war.

    That meant giving up the obsession with my weight and eating or looking perfect.

    I had to recognize those things for what they were—distractions that kept me from dealing with the issues that were causing the problems in the first place and were making matters worse.

    So I put all my energy into changing the causes.

    It didn’t happen overnight, but one day I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d engaged in compensatory behaviors. The binges were getting fewer and farther between.

    And then I couldn’t remember the last time I binged or even overate, and I couldn’t even imagine ever doing it again.

    It’s been many years since those things were my daily reality, and I’m thrilled to say they simply don’t exist in me anymore because I changed the conditioning that was causing them. I learned to reconnect with and trust my body when it tells me what it needs or wants, and I learned to value myself enough that I cannot imagine treating myself or my body poorly anymore.

    Recovery and peace are blessings that I don’t take for granted for a second and I’m still grateful for every minute of the day.

    But disordered eating and eating disorder recovery are unbelievably difficult, prone to multiple relapses, and many aren’t so lucky.

    This brings me to my main points because the simplest solution to disordered eating or eating disorder recovery is to prevent those things from ever starting in the first place.

    That’s my dream, to save future generations from growing up with the disordered eating patterns/eating disorders and horrible body/self-images that ours has grown up with.

    It starts with us, as parents.

    What I Wish Parents Understood

    Living with disordered eating patterns or an eating disorder is a special kind of hell that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

    It’s like living with the meanest, most self-destructive monster in your head one can imagine.

    You know the things you’re thinking and the choices you’re making are harming you, you know they’re making you miserable, you’re desperate to stop, and yet… no matter how hard you try, you can’t.

    You feel powerless. Hopeless. Helpless. Trapped.

    Recovery was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life—and I’ve not had an easy life, so that says a lot.

    Given this, it’s my view that in addition to helping those struggling recover, prevention at an early age needs to be a top priority.

    And parents, I’m not trying to place blame, but after fifteen years of hearing women talk about their struggles, I’ve come to realize that we are often a big part of the cause, although not purposely of course.

    We all have our kids’ best interests in mind.

    We want our kids to be the healthiest, most confident versions of themselves, and we’re all doing the best we can to help them get there.

    We want them to maintain healthy bodies and eat nutritious foods. Nobody doubts that we all want the best for our children and are doing our best.

    But the way we’re approaching it is almost guaranteeing that our kids are going to struggle with the same food issues, eating disorders, or a lifetime of disordered eating and failed diet attempts that so many in our generation have.

    They’re learning to fight the same wars we have in the same ways we learned to fight them.

    All the things we typically do to try to help encourage health (restricting “bad” foods, teaching them that some are “good” and some are “bad,” encouraging them to lose weight or even acknowledging their weight) are among the worst things we can do for the health of our children.

    It’s difficult to overstate the damage that weight and food shame does to adults, and that damage is worse in children.

    We also have to remember that they learn from us. If your kids watch you struggle with food and your weight, if they see you tie your mood and your self-worth to your scale, they are going to be at a significantly higher risk for developing an eating disorder or living with those same struggles themselves.

    So this is what I want parents everywhere to know: encouraging weight loss, labeling or restricting their food intake (good vs bad, allowed vs not allowed), discussing weight, restricting foods, and dieting yourself—all of those things that millions of us are doing every single day that diet and healthy eating cultures have taught us is expected or accepted—they’re putting our children at risk.

    Research has shown that the younger girls are when they go on their first diet, the more likely they are to engage in extreme weight control behaviors like vomiting and laxatives (that’s an eating disorder), abusing drugs and alcohol, and becoming overweight by the time they reach their thirties.

    One out of four dieters will develop some type of eating disorder. That’s a number that’s doubled in the last twenty years. And the majority of the rest develop very disordered eating patterns.

    Eating disorders are widely recognized to have the highest mortality rate of all mental illness, while also being among the most underdiagnosed and under/poorly treated.

    Not even to mention the levels of anxiety, depression, and self-loathing that typically come from years of living with disordered eating and battling with our weight.

    There is a better way.

    Encouraging Healthy Choices Without the Risk

    DON’Ts

    Don’t discuss weight, size, or bodies—not yours, not theirs, not anyone else’s.

    Don’t let other people discuss their weight in front of them—not their doctor, not relatives, no one.

    Don’t label foods—no good, no bad, no healthy, no unhealthy… no food labels. At all. Binary food labels can cause shame, create self-punishing behaviors, destroy our relationship with food, and contribute to overeat/binge/restrict cycles that can take years to heal.

    Don’t tell them they are what they eat—our food choices don’t determine our worth.

    Don’t restrict foods—let them eat what they want. Restriction leads to guilt, shame, overeating, or bingeing and fuels disconnection.

    Don’t force exercise or “burning off calories”—encouraging exercise as a means of weight loss is setting them up for trouble.

    DOs

    Do encourage them to consider how their food choices make their body feel. How does that big mac and fries make their body feel when they’re done eating? What about the candy for breakfast? Do they feel good when they’re done eating? Or do they feel sick? Would they rather feel good, or sick? How does skipping a meal make their body feel? Do they want to feel that way? Do they really want to ignore their body’s most basic human needs with restriction? Why?

    Do encourage them to consider why they’re eating. Are they physically hungry? No? Are they emotionally hungry? Teach them the difference and help them learn to accept, honor, and express the emotions they’re trying to feed or soothe rather than ignore or numb them.

    Do teach them the value of understanding the why behind the choices they’re making and how their choices are often a result of their relationship with themselves.

    Do teach them that the relationships they have with themselves, food, and their bodies are the most important relationships they’ll ever have in their lives and to protect and nurture them.

    Do lift them up, teach them to value themselves exactly as they are, for who they are, not what they look like, weigh, or how they eat. Teach them to value and respect others, no matter what size they are.

    Do teach them about self-acceptance, kindness, authenticity, self-compassion, and the power of mindful living.

    Do teach them to appreciate the wonder and magic of their bodies, no matter what size they are. Teach them how to stay present in the moment and in their bodies, so they learn to listen to and trust their own bodies.

    Do teach them humans come in all shapes and sizes—and that no one shape or size is any better than another.

    Teach them that they are enough, exactly as they are, and that neither their bodies nor their food choices define their worth.

    And that will all be way easier if you learn it for yourself first.

  • How My Trauma Led Me to the Sex Industry and What’s Helping Me Heal

    How My Trauma Led Me to the Sex Industry and What’s Helping Me Heal

    “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ~Rumi

    The hardest battle I’ve fought is an ongoing one. It’s an all-consuming shadow of dread that never leaves, only resting long enough for me to catch my breath.

    I know what it feels like to be depressed. I know the feeling of pain and hopelessness so well it almost feels like home.

    I remember being around eleven years old and thinking, wow, this all seems so meaningless. I had become awakened by my consciousness and overwhelmed by emptiness. I knew then that there was more to life than what I was perceiving. These moments were brief but continuous.

    I grew up in an unstable family and took turns living with each and every family member. Everything was temporary and nothing made sense. As I grew older, my depression grew stronger. I did not experience love or security, and I felt like a burden to everyone around me. Each day I was disgusted with myself for still existing.

    How It All Began

    I was drawn to the sex industry because I was part of the wrong crowd, and by the time I hit my early twenties I had completely lost all will to live. I had no desire to even try to function in society as a “normal person” should. It was a place where I could indulge my self-hatred by abusing drugs, alcohol, and my body.

    The pain I carried with me was heavy and overwhelming. I wanted to be around people who I could relate to. People who had also given up on life. Although we had no direction, we had a sense of belonging and a feeling of home, which was something we craved. Our pain had brought us together, and that was all that mattered.

    We were bound by our trauma and our secrets. It was a place where it was acceptable to be angry at the world. It was my home, and these were my people.

    There is a great myth that women enjoy being sex workers. The pay is incredible, the hours are short, and sometimes it’s just one big party. I can’t speak for others, but from my experience I can tell you it is nothing like Pretty Woman. There is no one coming to save you.

    No little girl ever dreamed of growing up to be a sex worker. Most women working as escorts were victims of some form of sexual abuse as a child, including myself.

    I know you’re probably wondering why I would do something so extreme and thinking that surely I had other options. My depression was paralyzing, so this seemed like the ideal option for me. I was the ideal candidate. I couldn’t get the help I needed, and keeping a job or getting out of bed was almost impossible.

    I believed for so long that I was lazy; I was useless and good for nothing else. Gosh, I could hardly pull off being a decent prostitute!

    We don’t do this because we love sex or for that matter even like it; we do this because we feel trapped financially, or we’re desperate to survive our addictions and mental state.

    And sometimes we’re so consumed by our desperation that we’re oblivious to the dangers of being raped, attacked, or even murdered—and the worst part is that we don’t even care. We have been brainwashed to believe that no one cares.

    How I Changed My Mindset and Found My Purpose

    When I felt alone and had no one to call, I began to write and uncover my creative spirit. Writing was no longer just a form of cheap therapy but a way home to myself. It was a safe space that wasn’t invaded. It was a space where I could process the thoughts and emotions that had consumed me.

    I wrote about how ashamed, unworthy, and unlovable I felt. I thought no one would love me after the dark life I’d lived. And worse, I thought I deserved to be treated badly after everything I’d done.

    I wrote about feeling abandoned, alone, and rejected and desperately wanting to be normal and live a normal life.

    I could no longer continue to run from myself or sit back and watch as my life fell apart. I had hit rock bottom, and my suicide attempts had been endless. Something had to change, and that was my mind.

    I began reading books and listening to podcasts about who I wanted to be, as well as anything self-help related.

    I stopped abusing substances and started to see a little more clearly. It was the hardest thing I’d ever done, especially without any professional help, but I did it.

    I learned that I’d made the choices I’d made based on how I viewed myself, so that had to change.

    I forced myself into a healthy routine and began meditating and practicing gratitude to start reprogramming my brain.

    I also forced myself to cry, which I’d hardly ever done because I’d been so numb.

    I removed everything from my life that was doing me harm and didn’t serve the future I was trying to create.

    I started taking better care of my body by getting more sleep, eating better, exercising, and even pampering myself.

    I learned to be grateful for my experiences and I gave myself permission to heal.

    After doing all these things consistently for a while, I started experiencing little bits of joy, and that was what kept me going. I now listen to my body and observe my mind. When negative thoughts pop up, I send them away.

    I stopped fighting the world and running from my trauma, took a deep breath, and realized that the world wasn’t out to get me. It was me all along; I was my own worst enemy. I had to accept that I deserved to be alive and embrace being human, in all its beauty and ugliness combined.

    I know that it won’t be completely smooth sailing from here, but I know now that, despite everything, I am worthy.

    Being in such a dark industry I’ve always had to fight. Fight for my voice to be heard, fight for my safety, fight to survive, and fight to be seen as a human being. I no longer need to fight; I can just be.

    I now believe that my suffering was my spiritual teacher, and these experiences happened for a reason—so I could help others somehow, even if just one person.

    The real cure to trauma is courage, and the opposite of depression is expression.

    So here I am, brave enough to not only own up to my past but tell my story. By doing so I let the light in, the light that I can now share with you.

  • Be Kind, Retrain Your Mind: 3 Tips to Overcome Negative Self-Talk

    Be Kind, Retrain Your Mind: 3 Tips to Overcome Negative Self-Talk

    “You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” ~Buddha

    In 1990, in an early encounter between the Dalai Lama, the foremost Tibetan teacher of Buddhism, and Western students, the Dalai Lama was asked a question about how to deal with self-hatred. He was confused and didn’t understand the question. The translator translated the question again, and still the Dalai Lama was confused.

    Finally, the Dalai Lama understood that the question was about how to manage negative feelings about the self. This was a new concept to him: he knew that people had negative feelings about others, but he had not encountered the challenge of self-hatred.

    I wish I could say that I had never encountered the problem of self-hatred, but I’d be lying. Like so many people, even if I didn’t necessarily recognize my self-talk as such, I was inundated with internal negative self-talk.

    My process of coming first to recognize what that voice was up to, then to listen to it with more compassion, and finally, once and for all, to ask it to grow up and step out of the room has been a journey of self-acceptance, growth, and ultimately, freedom.

    Here are three steps to deal with your own inner negative self-talk:

    The first step is to become aware of the negativity of your internal voice. 

    For the first twenty-eight years of my life, I was so familiar with my negative voice that I didn’t even recognize it.

    I’ve been told that people with tinnitus, a constant ringing sound in the ears, grow used to it and learn to live with it so successfully that they’re no longer really even aware the ringing’s there. That was the case with my negative voice: it was a kind of background hum.

    If I did pay attention to it, I was tricked into thinking that its particular message mattered.

    At sixteen, it might have been the enormous, overly sweet corn muffin I’d eaten on the way home from school that was a sign of my failure.

    At twenty-six, it might have been that an essay I wrote hadn’t been accepted for publication; this was a sign, I was sure, that nothing I’d ever write would ever be fully understood.

    It wasn’t until I’d been in therapy for a while and had a real mindfulness practice that I even began to notice the daily hum of background voices and to notice that the particulars of the negative voice I did hear were less important, actually, than the larger pattern it was a part of.

    Any mindfulness practice can help you become more aware of the negative self-talk in your head. You can try guided meditations, deep breathing exercises, or mindful walking, or simply spend time tuning into your senses. When you become conscious of the present moment, it’s easier to recognize what’s going on internally.

    The second step is to listen a little more deeply.

    What was important was not so much what the voice was saying as what was under the voice. Often the negativity was there to distract me from something else.

    Was the corn muffin or the publication rejection really the problem?

    I learned not to take what I said to myself at face value.

    After all, I was often shocked at what was going on inside my own head. I said what to myself? I would never say that to anyone else!

    Though I had a PhD in literature and was a published creative writer, skilled at using language in all kinds of sophisticated ways, often the voice inside my head was stuck only at a toddler level.

    When I was frustrated or upset, rather than slowing down and parsing out what I was really feeling, I’d lash out with simple and ultimately inaccurate phrases, phrases like “I hate myself.”

    The negative statements were largely self-protective, a big blanket over deeper layers of hurt or pain. Often what those negative words were really expressing (even if they didn’t have the appropriate words to do so) was not I’ve done something wrong, but I’m worried, I feel alone, I feel uncertain, I feel lost or scared or hurt. 

    I learned to react to the feelings under that negativity with compassion.

    I came to understand better what situations triggered me and why, in fact, some situations threw me back to being a three-year-old inside again.

    Therapy, mindfulness, writing, and meditation all helped me heal and embrace those wounded parts of myself that were speaking in such negative terms. I learned to listen more carefully to what I was really feeling and to re-parent my inner child.

    I learned to send myself loving-kindness and compassion.

    My inner voice became less likely to be critical, less likely to lash out at myself. I was more able to express more uncomfortable things internally, like I’m feeling really insecure right now.

    Take some time to dig beneath the surface of your negative self-talk. Peel back the layers to find the feelings and fears so you can offer compassion to these fragile parts of yourself.

    When I first started doing this, I felt happier. I had more energy. I was able to communicate better not only to myself but also to others.

    I’d made lots of progress. But to my own regret, sometimes that inner negativity was still more powerful than me.

    I’d lash out at myself with negative self-talk in ways that I couldn’t fully control.

    What was the next step in healing? I meditated more. I listened with more compassion.

    And yet, I still had that negative inner voice that could say some really mean things. If I woke in the middle of the night, the negativity was particularly strong.

    Until one day, I decided I’d had enough.

    The third step is to realize that the inner negative voice really isn’t helpful and to actively disrupt it.

    I want to be clear here: don’t jump over step two. Most of us have not been fully listened to. We need to learn to listen to what is beneath our negative self-talk and not simply silence ourselves.

    But after a while, we understand that our negativity is usually an expression of our hurt. We understand that we can listen to ourselves. And we want to be freed from this negativity; it’s not serving us.

    I also understood that my healthy self no longer believed what the negativity was saying. It just didn’t make sense to talk to myself in ways I would never talk to anyone else.

    And if I had compassion for other people, it didn’t make sense for me not to extend it to myself.

    I came to see my inner dialogue as lagging behind my own development as a person: I was stuck in old habits that I had largely moved beyond.

    So what to do?

    I disrupted the habit.

    Because I had done step one, I could notice the voices when they came up. And because I had done step two, I didn’t feel that I was in denial or perpetuating old patterns of not being listened to.

    So when the negative voice came up, I immediately interrupted it.

    I used and still use an Emotional Freedom Tapping code that takes roughly thirty seconds. EFT is a system in which you tap on particular pressure points on the body. Every time that voice starts in with its negativity, I do that code, either mentally or manually.

    The code activates my mind and memory, and also my body awareness and physical memory.

    You can disrupt your negative voice with a mantra or even by reciting a poem, but bringing the body into the practice helps establish new patterns more quickly.

    The important thing is that when the negative voice comes up, you do/say something else instead of getting caught up in it.

    I realized that I didn’t need to put up with the toddler-style tantrums anymore. I could also establish some boundaries in my own inner life. I could disrupt the tantrum, take the child out of the room, and give her something else to occupy her.

    This system works wonders! I no longer wake up plagued by those negative voices. I have so much more mental and emotional space.

    The Dalai Lama had never heard of self-hatred. For many of us, this may seem surprising; we may even come to feel that we must accept our negative thoughts about ourselves and accept our negative self-talk as something that we just need to learn to embrace with compassion.

    But we can retrain our habits.

    I’d trained as a writer to be skillful about the words I put on the page, and I could also train myself to be more skillful with and not be at the mercy of the words I use internally.

    I learned to use my inner language mindfully and to retrain myself to speak an inner language of love. It’s possible, and it’s deeply rewarding.

    Because when we no longer allow those negative voices to take up our inner space, we can experience more freedom and not only more self-love but also more love for others.

  • Lessons from a Life Lost Too Soon: Don’t Let Your Inner Critic Destroy You

    Lessons from a Life Lost Too Soon: Don’t Let Your Inner Critic Destroy You

    “What you tell yourself every day will lift you up or tear you down. Choose wisely.” ~Unknown

    It was a story I just couldn’t get out of my head. A young teen had died in a town not far from where I live, a town where I used to live. I knew people who had kids who knew this girl.

    I heard she was a swimmer, bright and popular. At first the talk was about how she’d died. I heard someone surmise that she was killed. Someone else said it was a horrible accident, and of course, there were murmurings that maybe she had done it herself. And then, I heard nothing.

    Months passed and I eventually put the whole incident out of my mind, until I came across an article in our major metro newspaper. The girl’s parents had come forward to share the terrible truth about their beautiful teenage daughter who threw herself off an overpass.

    What could make a girl who seemingly had it all make that terrible choice? Her grades were good, she had friends, she was an athlete, and she had mad robotics skills. No one knew the depth of her suffering, and that’s just how she wanted it.

    At one point, the girl vaguely confessed to a teacher that she was stressed, and the teacher immediately shared this information with her parents. They in turn brought her to therapy, but the therapist never learned the truth or depth of this girl’s suffering. No one did, until it was too late. Not surprisingly, the girl’s parents were completely blindsided when they learned what their daughter had done.

    So how did her parents come to understand what led to this terrible tragedy? And what did they hope to achieve by sharing their daughter’s painful story with the reporter? The answer was in the girl’s journal, excerpts of which were featured in the article.

    The parents had not even been aware that their daughter had kept a journal until after her passing. What they learned upon finding her journal was that for one year prior to her suicide she had written a daily diatribe of the worst, most hateful insults directed at herself. This is something she allowed no one to see—not her closest friends, not her parents, not her therapist, no one.

    As I read through the excerpts, one word kept coming to my mind over and over again. The word was “indoctrination.”

    This girl had utterly been indoctrinating herself as if she had joined a cult, hell bent on getting her to feel nothing but utter contempt for herself.

    The reporter even pointed out that one of the many cruel, self-demeaning excerpts was written on a day when the girl and her robotics team had experienced a triumph at a competition, yet not one utterance of this victory was reflected in her writing. She had convinced herself that she was worthless, and she was not going to allow any evidence to the contrary to challenge that perception.

    Why am I telling you this story? First, let me ask you a question. Do you have a voice inside your head that tells you that you are unworthy, undeserving, ugly, stupid, or any number of other similarly hateful messages? I do. It’s harsh and it’s painful and it’s shameful. It’s the voice of self-abuse, and it can prevent us from enjoying life by shaming us for even our most minor imperfections.

    Those of us who live with this voice, tolerate it. While we know it’s not pleasant, we don’t typically see it as deleterious to our health. We don’t challenge it; we endure it. We sometimes try to drown it out with food or sex or alcohol.

    This girl however, took it to another level. She gave that voice power, she wrote down the toxic words in her head every day and drank them in even as they slowly poisoned her mind into believing that she didn’t deserve to live. That thought, that realization, hit me like a sledge hammer.

    It was at that moment that I asked myself a question. If the words she wrote down, reinforcing every ill-conceived, misguided, self-negating thought she had about herself, had the power to kill her, what would the opposite have done?

    What if every day she’d come home and filled her journal with thoughts of self-compassion, self-forgiveness, and unconditional love and respect? Could the power of those words have saved her life? Could they have defeated her cancerous self-hate such that she’d be alive today to share her amazing journey back from hell with the world? I believe the answer to that question is, yes!

    I can’t bear the thought of this precious girl dying in vain, so in a way, I write this article on her behalf even though I never had the pleasure of meeting her. I feel I owe her a debt of gratitude. She helped me understand the immense power we have to either convince ourselves that we are worthy or that we are worthless.

    We can choose to let self-hatred breed and grow in silence, or we can notice it and challenge it. The funny thing is, I agree with her initial action. I believe that writing down or at least saying our self-deprecating thoughts out loud is a necessary first step for exposing the lies we mistake as truths. We can’t stop there though; we then need to move to self-compassion and take on the difficult task of writing a different narrative.

    Let me just say up front that this will not be easy. In fact, this may seem like a Herculean task. It’s essentially forcing a runaway train to change direction. Reflecting on my own experience of trying to turn the train around, I find that I often fall back into old habits, drifting toward the familiar path of self-hate, but I now understand it is imperative that I stay the course and continue my efforts to change. If I don’t, I will ultimately be consumed by my self-destructive inner dialogue.

    Most of us who grapple with our inner critic never choose to end our life physically, but make no mistake when we allow that voice to take over, we are killing ourselves. What this girl’s story did for me, and what I hope it will do for you, is stop the complacency around self-denigrating self-talk.

    While I still hear my negative thoughts, I don’t feed them. Instead, I spend time every day intentionally focusing on the positive, and when life is hard and I don’t do as well as I’d hoped I would, I do my best to meet myself with love and compassion.

    So, what would happen if you committed to indoctrinating yourself daily with nothing but self-love, self-praise, self-compassion, and gratitude? How might your experience, your outlook, your world change? Your words are powerful. Your choices are powerful. Choose self-kindness. After all, you deserve it.

  • Why I Drank, How It Destroyed Me, and How I’m Healing My Self-Hatred

    Why I Drank, How It Destroyed Me, and How I’m Healing My Self-Hatred

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of sexual assault and self-harm and may be triggering to some people.

    Hi, I’m Adriana and I’m an alcoholic.

    When I look back at my life, I realize it was inevitable that I’d end up here.

    By the time I was nineteen, I’d already had a history of self-harm through cutting, a byproduct of my depression and anxiety. I was anorexic. I’d had a near cervical-cancer scare not once, but twice within a six-month period, leaving my gynecologist back in Sydney speechless. “I have never had a case like yours.”

    I’d survived an abusive relationship that, I believed, left me with no other choice but to end my life. If I were going to die, I’d rather die by my own accord, not his. So, I swallowed forty Panadol pills, two at a time, within thirty minutes. I felt my body slowly shut down as each minute passed by, and ironically, it was the first time in a long time that I felt alive.

    I’m not writing about the sugarcoated life many have engaged with on my social media feeds over the years. I am here to introduce you to my self-hatred, which you don’t see each time I post a filtered photo on my Instagram page.

    I fell in love with the wrong person when I was seventeen. The first six months together were filled with happiness. I was convinced he was the one I’d spend the rest of my life with, and at seventeen my hunt for a husband was over. Hashtag winning.

    I couldn’t have been more wrong.

    Over the course of the ten months that followed, he routinely beat me, and I covered up the evidence to protect him. He psychologically raped me, repeatedly telling me, “Who’s gonna love you when I’m done with you?” He even sodomized me.

    He threatened my life if I didn’t listen to him or if I dared to tell anyone the truth. I had two friends who begged me to walk away, but no matter how powerless I felt, their concerns meant nothing to me. So over time, they gave up trying.

    He told me when to speak—“Don’t be too funny, Adriana. I don’t want people liking you more than me.” He also told me what to wear, and I had to ask permission if I wanted to go out. Worst of all, he stripped me of my right to feel human, true to the nature of how insidious an abusive relationship can be. In this case, love really was blind.

    I internalized the trauma to such an extent that I carried the shame, guilt, and pain with me throughout my twenties. I forgave him long before I forgave myself, which led me to a path of unconscious self-destruction.

    It was my fault for holding onto those first six months and hoping the real him would return. It was my fault that I let him treat me the way that he did. It was my fault for not leaving, particularly after the first time he hit me. It was my fault because surely I was doing something wrong that would trigger him to hit me. It was my fault because by staying, I was asking for it.

    So I did what most young people do when they’re nineteen and single: I started my clubbing career and my relationship with Jack Daniels. A year before, alcohol repelled me; now it was my savior. This also led to the introduction to a string of dysfunctional people I’d come to call my friends.

    You know, you should never judge a party girl. Every party girl has a backstory, but in my case, no one cared enough to find out. They just bought me more drinks.

    People would say they envied my life—how I had zero Fs for the world around me—but what most people failed to see was that, in reality, I had zero Fs for myself.

    Then I entered the permanent hangover I now call my twenties.

    I started going to festivals and was introduced to ecstasy. I still remember the first time an e hit my bloodstream. Like most users, I tried to relive that feeling every time I popped a pill. Eventually, ecstasy became boring, and I started experimenting with pure MDMA. It was a little bit riskier and more dangerous, but it didn’t matter because I didn’t matter.

    I was then introduced to cocaine when I was twenty, and that became my favorite drug of them all. Cocaine meant that I could drink more. It also meant that I had something in common with people who I usually wouldn’t associate with.

    Cocaine turned me into a version of myself that was confident and unstoppable. When I was high, I used to think to myself, “Imagine you were this confident and unstoppable but didn’t need cocaine to get you there.” Just imagine!

    I often found it funny how the drug was commonly referred to as “the rich man’s drug,” yet it left me feeling emotionally bankrupt.

    At twenty-one, I was partying in Las Vegas with some friends when I got busted with an eight ball of cocaine—and got away with it. Fortunately, I was given a slap on the wrist and banned from entering half the hotels in Vegas for life. Personally, I was more devastated because that meant that I could never be a Playboy bunny.

    I remember the undercover policewoman taking me down to the public toilets, handing me over the bag of coke, and asking me to flush it down. I took this as an opportunity to bribe her into letting me keep the bag.

    You’d think that an incident like that would encourage me to hang up my party dress and clean up my ways. But it didn’t. I continued down this path, playing roulette with my life.

    Not all was tragic. I did find myself in a loving relationship a year later, and for three years lived a ‘normal’ life. He loved me, and I loved him as much as I could. But what is love when you don’t love yourself? This voice inside my head constantly whispered, “You’re not good enough for him.”

    Once that relationship ended, I was straight back to my self-destructive ways, drinking heavily on most nights.

    On one occasion, I decided it would be “cool” to bring a guy home and drink skull cafe patron out of the bottle. Mind you, I was already intoxicated. The next morning I woke up peacefully in my bed. A few hours later, I received a message that read, “I need you to take the morning-after pill ASAP.”

    I thought, hmm, it’s not my ideal situation; sh*t happens, I suppose. It’s $30 in Australia, and you can buy it over the counter, fortunately, but the problem was, I couldn’t remember having sex.

    To this moment, I don’t. I had blacked out.

    I felt so exposed, vulnerable, and disgusted with myself. Then the shame kicked in. Who the hell did I think I was? What was I becoming?

    I decided I needed to stop drinking, and I was successfully sober for three months. I survived parties, lonely nights, and even the ultimate test, a big fat Croatian wedding.

    I never considered that I had a problem with alcohol. I thought that alcoholism was a condition you could learn to control.

    In my late twenties, I decided to move myself from Sydney to London to “find myself.” We all know the saying that you must “lose yourself” in order to “find yourself,” and I did just that.

    London is a fascinating city to lose yourself in. There was always an occasion to drink. I wasn’t one of those wake-up-and-drink-right-away type people. I was more self-respecting than that; I waited till lunchtime and continued until I blacked out! But as a high-functioning alcoholic, I still made my work deadlines.

    I was always around people who didn’t just use drugs; they abused them. And no matter how much I knew the difference between right and wrong, I was perpetually on a quest to distract myself from myself.

    There was no one more delighted to meet another person who was more messed up than me. “Great,” I thought. “Let’s talk about your problems; I’m not ready to talk about mine.”

    I slept my way around, seeking someone who would understand and rescue me. I was bed hopping, using sex as a way to validate myself and feel worthy. It was nothing less than a cheap thrill.

    I attracted males who were misogynistic and dominant and resembled the character of my first love. Everyone had an agenda to take a piece of me. I was aware of this; I just didn’t care.

    I had one who would eventually tell me that maybe I shouldn’t be so upfront and honest about my past with the next guy because “it may turn him off.” But it was okay for him to turn me over in my sleep, get on top, and insert himself inside of me because he was in the mood. This was the many occasions that I was raped.

    Then there was the one who slapped my face as I told him to get out of me, but he kept going, smiling as he watched the tears roll down my face.

    Before I forget, there was another who was more than willing to buy me cocktails all night while telling me he couldn’t wait to take advantage of me later on, but made me call my own cab when I threw up all over his bedroom. Apparently we had sex too.

    We can sit here and go on about my clouded judgment when, in actual fact, this dialogue and connection was just my comfort zone.

    A year ago, completely fed up with myself and my chemically addictive ways, I decided it was time to kill myself. I was emotionally exhausted and starved. My body no longer felt pain, and I could longer taste alcohol. I was so deep in depression I could feel it in my blood.

    I planned my suicide, step by step, over several days and kept reminding myself that the world was better off without me helplessly roaming within it, without a purpose, doing more harm than good.

    I was a bad person because I was a broken person, as many boys had told me. I may not have intentionally hurt those around me, but I had a decade-long struggle during which I perpetually hurt the one person I never knew how to love, myself.

    I started writing my suicide letter and decided I needed some background noise. On the front page of YouTube was a video titled “How to overcome procrastination by leaping afraid,” by Lisa Nichols. This video would end up saving my life and distracting me from my open wounds that were so desperately trying to dry up.

    There is nothing that scares an addict more than sobriety and having nothing to turn to when that darkness from your past begins to appear and say, “Hey, remember me?” But I knew my problem with alcohol was fueling my depression and, therefore, contributing to my self-hatred. I had to break this cycle of hate.

    I sat in my silence and said, “Adriana, you have two choices right now: You can continue down this path, knowing you’re going to keep doing the same thing, getting the same results; and I’m pretty sure that’s what Einstein defined as insanity. Down this path your addictions will kill you or you may do it yourself—whatever comes first. Or, you can do something you haven’t done in the last ten years: give sobriety a chance and see if things are different on the other side.”

    I was twenty-nine when I said enough. My grandfather was sixty. Some people never have an age. Some people simply drown and instead of living to their full potential. They just exist.

    Every year on my birthday, I would blow out my candles and wish for love. Last year, my wish came true, and I started the tumultuous road to recovery, healing, and self-love. It may be a cliché, but it’s true: Who’s going to love you if you don’t love yourself first?

    I knew that the life I dreamed of was on the other side of my fears, and getting sober was a stepping stone. I just celebrated eight months of sobriety, and although this may not seem like long, it’s the longest I haven’t poisoned my blood in ten years.

    It hasn’t been easy. I have cried alone in my room. I had cried walking down the street. I have cried at parties and events. I’ve had breakdowns in several AA meetings. I have cried during a yoga class when the tears were triggered by the damage I had done to my body. I felt it all.

    I heard voices telling me I’d fail and I should just stick to my old ways, the ways I knew best. I almost relapsed twice in the first three months because I was tempted to show my new friends who my old friends knew me to be.

    But I am healing and getting stronger.

    I’ve learned that we find our greatest strengths in our darkest shadows, and there is no way you can know what happiness is until you figure out what it isn’t.

    The relationship we have with ourselves is the longest relationship we’ll ever have. Yet, we spend prolonged periods of time neglecting ourselves to suit the world around us.

    We chase happiness in momentary triumphs instead of simply choosing it by putting in the work to keep ourselves self-aware and on our own paths of personal enlightenment.

    We avoid taboo topics like addictions because they make people uncomfortable, but we are more than willing to engage in these addictions because they make us more comfortable with ourselves.

    We are united by owning our struggles and sharing our stories and divided by our quest for perfection and appearing perfect to the world around us. Perfection is an illusion, and God, did I learn this the hard way.

    I don’t deny my demons because instead of feeling ashamed of them, I’m now proud of how I’ve overcome them. And I know my greatest strengths have surfaced from my deepest struggles. Because of what I’ve been through, I’m more compassionate with others in similar situations, and I’ve also developed a strong sense of determination to do the inner self-work required to get past my trauma.

    How many of you can look yourself in the eye and say, “I love you” without knowing deep down that you just lied? I’m still learning, but courtesy of sobriety, I’m getting there.

  • Accept and Value Yourself: 11 Ways to Embrace Who You Are

    Accept and Value Yourself: 11 Ways to Embrace Who You Are

    “You’re imperfect, and you’re wired for struggle, but you are worthy of love and belonging.” ~Brené Brown

    I can’t remember exactly what it was my friend was trying to convince me I could do, but I had an argument to counter every bit of encouragement. There was no shortage to the ways I believed I wasn’t good enough.

    She was trying to help me see myself the way she saw me—as someone smart, capable, and full of potential. I wasn’t buying it.

    I’d been pretending for so long to be a better person than I really believed myself to be. I thought any positive thing another person said about me was just an indication that she was fooled by my illusion. If she could see who I really was, she’d change her mind about me.

    I was tired of trying to convince her that I wasn’t actually as good as I’d been pretending to be. In desperation I finally asked the question I thought would end the conversation. Tears streamed down my face and the muscles in my chest squeezed so tightly that I could hardly choke out the words, “Do you have any idea how much I hate myself?”

    “Yes,” she said, “I do.”

    I was taken aback. I guess I’d expected my revelation to shock her. Apparently I hadn’t been hiding my self-loathing as well as I’d thought.

    Part of me was relieved to know that maybe someone did actually see how much I was hurting. At the same time, I was terrified to discover that anyone could see more of me than I chose to reveal. I didn’t trust that she, or anyone else, could ever really understand.

    Looking back, I think she did understand more than I originally gave her credit for. She may not have known exactly what I was feeling, but she knew what it was to hate oneself. She’d hated herself too.

    While I was filled with self-loathing, my life was focused on keeping others from seeing who I really was. I didn’t like myself and couldn’t see how it was possible for anyone else to like me either. I hid while pretending to be someone I hoped was more loveable.

    I chased after accomplishments to prove to myself and to others that I was worthy of love, but it was never enough. I couldn’t do or be all the things I thought were expected of me. There was always something more to prove.

    For years I thought life would always be that way, but recently I was surprised to realize that I don’t hate myself anymore. Of course, there are still plenty of things about myself I wish were different, but my self-loathing is being replaced by acceptance.

    I didn’t set out specifically to learn how to stop hating myself—I didn’t think that was possible. Instead, I was searching for direction in terms of a career. I was wondering how to make friends.

    I read books and articles, listened to podcasts, and even worked with a life coach with the hope of making myself better. There wasn’t a particular experience or single idea that made the difference. What I found is an array of small practices and simple concepts that are helping me learn to embrace who I am.

    The shift has been gradual enough that I didn’t notice how much I’d changed until I relived the memory of that old conversation. I’m no longer paralyzed by the belief that no matter what I do I’ll never be worthy of love. I’m slowly learning to trust and value myself for who I am, even as I acknowledge that there’s always room for growth.

    1. Allowing myself to be a work in progress

    I’ve put a lot of pressure on myself to always know what I’m doing and never make mistakes. I’ve missed opportunities to try something new because I was so afraid of looking silly. I’ve given up on things I want to do because I couldn’t do them as well as I thought I should.

    Being a beginner is just plain uncomfortable, but we all have to start somewhere. I’m learning that my value doesn’t come from getting everything right the first time. Instead, it’s the mistakes and failures and trying again that help me learn and grow.

    I can be proud of myself for being willing to practice again and again. It’s the baby steps, tiny changes, and consistent willingness to try again that develop the qualities I hope to embody.

    2. Being curious about who I am

    For much of my life, I defined myself by the ways I didn’t measure up to the person I thought others expected me to be. I didn’t know who I was—only who I was not.

    I’ve started shifting my questions. Instead of wondering why I don’t care about what’s supposed to matter to me, I’m discovering what does matter to me. Instead of looking to others for clues about what I should think, I’m asking myself what I actually think.

    I’m learning that being different from someone else doesn’t necessarily mean one of us is wrong. Recognizing that there’s more than one right way to be is freeing me to start exploring my own strengths, personality, values, and preferences.

    3. Letting go of what I can’t control

    I’ve fallen into the trap of believing that if I could just do and say all the right things, then people would like me. I’ve made it my responsibility to try to make sure the people around me are always happy. That’s a lot of pressure.

    The thing is, I can’t control what others think of me or how they experience life. I can only be responsible for my own actions and intentions. I’m learning to focus more of my time and energy on living in a way that reflects my personal values instead of trying to control other people’s perceptions.

    4. Doing things that scare me

    A lot of things scare me. I’ve let my fear hold me back from many things I want to do. I’ve hated myself for being a coward.

    I’m learning that bravery isn’t the absence of fear. Courage isn’t something a person either has or doesn’t. Fear doesn’t just go away if we wait long enough.

    I’d always wanted to waterski, but was afraid of looking silly or getting hurt. I did take a few tumbles while I was learning. To be honest, I still get nervous every time I get behind a boat, but now I’m also anticipating the fun of skimming across the water.

    I want to have deep friendships, but inviting an acquaintance to get together for coffee or introducing myself to someone I admire online feels vulnerable. What if she doesn’t like me? What if I say the wrong thing? The thing is, I don’t always click with everyone I talk to, but through taking the risk to reach out I’ve met some wonderful friends.

    Every time I do something that scares me, I build trust that I’m capable of doing more than I previously believed possible and that a failure isn’t the end. I’m learning to work with my fear instead of letting it define me.

    5. Chatting with my inner critic

    My inner critic can be incessant and quite mean. For the longest time I believed everything she said about me and accepted the way she talked to me.

    Then I started paying attention to what I was actually saying about myself. What if some of the awful things I believed about myself weren’t actually true? How might my life be different if I talked to myself with encouragement instead of criticism?

    One of my favorite ways to question the critical thoughts inside my head and translate them into more helpful language is to write out a dialogue with my inner critic in my journal. In these back and forth conversations, I can uncover what my inner critic is trying to accomplish by being so mean.

    As counterintuitive as it seems, often she’s actually trying to protect me. She tells me I’m awkward and annoying in hopes that I’ll be careful to only say things that are sure to win approval…or even better, that I’ll stay home where there’s no risk of being rejected. She tries to discourage me from sharing my writing anywhere it might be criticized by warning me I’ll never measure up to all the other amazing writers out there.

    When I take the time to understand the motivations beyond my inner critic’s harsh words, I can decide for myself which risks I’m willing to take instead of just believing I’m not good enough. I can also start shifting how I talk to myself by asking her to rephrase her concerns in a kinder way.

    6. Asking myself what I think

    I have a tendency to try to figure out what other people think before deciding what I’ll do or think or say. I’ve made a lot of decisions based on what I believe other people think I should do. When those decisions aren’t a good fit for me, I’m quick to assume it’s an indication that there’s something wrong with me.

    I’m learning that I can consider other people’s opinions without denying my own. Disagreeing doesn’t have to mean I’m wrong. When I take the time to ask myself what I think, I get to know myself better, reinforce my trust in my own value, and choose a life that’s right for me.

    7. Feeling all my emotions

    I used to think certain emotions were wrong to feel. I didn’t believe I had a right to feel angry or sad or hurt. There was always someone who had it worse than me.

    I tried to suppress my feelings, but they’d get stuck inside and lash out in unexpected ways. I hated myself for not being able to control how I felt.

    But there is no quota on feelings. Feeling my emotions doesn’t take away from anyone else’s experience. On the contrary, it increases my compassion for others.

    How I feel doesn’t make me good or bad, but it does give me information about what’s going on inside me. I’m getting curious about what is behind the emotions I’m feeling instead of criticizing myself for feeling them. It’s not my job to control how I feel, it’s my job to choose my response to those feelings.

    8. Making space for fun and joy

    I used to feel guilty when I took time for anything fun. I didn’t think I deserved it. Hard work and sacrifice were the only truly noble uses of time.

    These days I intentionally make space in my schedule to do the things I really enjoy—sewing, experimenting with art supplies, walking in nature. Not only does having fun energize me, it also reminds me that I’m worthy of care. I’m learning so much about myself and how I can create more beauty and connection in this world.

    9. Sharing vulnerably with another person

    Self-hatred prompted me to hide from others. I tried to only show a version of myself that I thought would be accepted. I was terrified I’d be rejected and alone if people knew the truth about me.

    It’s hard to let another person see my fears, disappointments, and hopes. I don’t want anyone to know I make mistakes. It’s painful enough to hate myself—I couldn’t bear the thought of other people hating me too.

    But it’s actually when I’m willing to share my vulnerable parts with another person that I’m reminded I’m not alone. We all have struggles. I can choose to hide mine or give another person an opportunity to support me.

    10. Asking others how they see me

    I have a tendency to assume I know what others think of me…and I tend to assume it’s bad. Making these assumptions keeps me from knowing the truth about how others actually see me. It also denies the support and encouragement they try to give me.

    One of the scariest exercises I’ve done is asking people close to me to share what our relationship means to them, what they see as my strengths, and what qualities they like about me. It feels so presumptuous to ask another person to say something nice about me. What if they think I’m arrogant? What if they can’t think of anything positive to say?

    And yet, in taking that risk, I get a glimpse of myself from another perspective. Sometimes I get stuck filtering my view of myself through all the ways I believe I’m not good enough. I need someone else to point out the parts of myself I just can’t see.

    11. Compiling evidence

    I still often default to focusing on the ways I don’t measure up. Sometimes I need a reminder of the best parts of who I am. I’m continually working to develop a habit of noticing the qualities I value instead of just looking for things to criticize.

    I journal most days and I reserve the last three lines of the page for a set of small lists. I look back over the previous day and list what I am grateful for, evidence that I am loved, and ways that I am good enough. Each day these lists help me practice looking for my worth instead of just all the ways I fall short.

    When I’m feeling low, it’s hard to remember the good things about myself. I keep a small notebook where I record compliments and positive comments others make about me, as well as the things I’m learning to value about myself. I turn back to this notebook when my opinion of myself could use a boost.

    —

    We don’t have to wallow in self-hatred, but leaping straight to self-love can feel impossible. Instead, we can make small shifts and adopt simple practices to help us learn to accept and value who we are right now, even as we continue to change and grow.

    Will you join me? Choose one idea or practice to try this week. Remember, you’re allowed to be a work in progress!

    I’d love to hear how it goes. What are your biggest obstacles to self-acceptance? What has helped you learn to appreciate who you are instead of beating yourself up for something you’re not? Let me know in the comments!

  • How Letting Go of Your Goals Can Make You a Happier Person

    How Letting Go of Your Goals Can Make You a Happier Person

    “No valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living now.” ~Alan Watts

    When I started kicking chairs at work, I knew things had gone too far.

    I didn’t kick things when other people were around, and I thought it was the perfect way to release my anger. I could lash out with as much fury as I wanted, but I didn’t hurt anyone.

    Why did I start kicking chairs? I’ll explain in a minute. But the truth was, I was hiding a bigger problem: I’ve spent much of my life hating myself.

    When I was eight or nine years old, my mom asked if I was okay. She had heard me sobbing in the shower.

    I told her I was furious at myself because I hadn’t been writing in my journal. I had skipped a few days, and a few days had turned into a few weeks, and now I was too far behind to catch up.

    I was miserable. At nine years old, my life held no purpose because I hadn’t written in my journal for a month.

    My mom comforted me, but I repeated the mistake countless times.

    In my teens, I crafted a set of rules to lead me to perfection.

    My plan was a sixteen-page document with eighty-four rules for the New Year. It included everything from a plan to improve my handwriting to why I would never use sarcasm or ask for seconds at dinner.

    Focusing on specific rules would have made a few goals more manageable, but by January 3rd, I realized I couldn’t keep up with all eighty-four. So I blamed myself. I felt like a worthless human being who couldn’t do anything.

    It only grew worse after someone broke my heart.

    I spent years wondering where I had gone wrong. The person I wanted in my life refused to be with me, and I couldn’t figure out how I had messed up.

    The answer, it always seemed, was that I wasn’t perfect enough. To appease the gnawing pain, I’d create a new list of goals.

    I decided to build a body that would win me love. I spent ten hours a week lifting weights. I ate 4,000 calories a day for months to build muscle and then starved myself on 500 calories a day when I decided I didn’t look lean enough.

    I spent $500 on new clothes in one shopping trip, only to find I was the same person inside, just in different fabric.

    I earned a perfect 4.0 GPA in college and a well-paying job afterward. I immediately started working towards a new career, hoping the allure of accomplishment would make myself more appealing.

    None of the changes made a difference.

    When my extreme measures backfired, I bullied myself even more.

    I was a failure at relationships because I was a failure at becoming perfect because I was a failure at everything.

    It shouldn’t surprise you that a few years later, I realized I was unhappy. I wanted to become a happy person. I wanted to be cheerful.

    So naturally, I created a goal of becoming happier. I measured my happiness each day and tracked my progress.

    But when looming anger crippled that happiness, I became ruthless with myself again. I wasn’t happy because I could never be happy. I was a loser at even the most basic of human emotions.

    And so I started kicking chairs.

    My life had become a cycle. A cycle of feeling like a failure, setting unreachable goals, missing those goals, and feeling like an even greater failure.

    But the solution had been with me the whole time.

    The solution was to let go.

    That wasn’t one of the solutions. Letting go was the only solution. It just took me years to realize it.

    The few times I chose to let go, I accepted my faults and felt whole again.

    Now I live like that all the time. I allow myself not to meet my goals or even to break them.

    To clarify, I still work to achieve things. But instead of dozens of lofty goals, I have two or three I’m confident I can meet. They are simple, and if they don’t happen, I will be okay. They don’t define my life.

    By letting go of my goals, I am growing more. I am becoming a better person and goals are guiding me—not controlling me.

    If I start to feel overwhelmed, I know I need to let go a bit more.

    I’ve found these three strategies the most helpful when letting go of your goals.

    1. Let go of your goals all the way.

    You must first write every goal. Every single one.

    All the silly, absurd, unrealistic, and idealistic goals you’ve ever imagined. Then consciously let go of them all.

    Imagine what your life would be like without those goals. If you never accomplished any of them. Come to peace with that idea.

    Only then should you add back in the few most important.

    Too many people delete goals, only to think of them for months to come. They decide they don’t have time to read more. But they spend hours wondering about the books they are interested in, how it would feel to read them, and what they would tell friends about them.

    Pondering half-hearted goals will cause as much strife as overcommitting yourself.

    If I choose to let go of a goal, it receives 0% of my mental energy. If I focus on a goal, I give it 100% of my mental energy. That simple.

    2. Let go of your impatience.

    A slow accomplishment is still an accomplishment.

    I tend to overcommit. If I want to become better at something, I’ll decide I need to spend an hour or two on it each day.

    The problem is I can’t maintain that schedule and I give up, disappointed and discouraged.

    I’ve found I work best when I ask myself the likelihood of taking that action step every day for the next month. If I’m less than 90% sure I can do it, it won’t happen.

    Instead, I take a small action step each day, something I’m 90% sure I can do.

    Yes, I want to work out six times a week. But I’ll meet the same goals working out three times a week. It will just take longer.

    Yes, I want to practice guitar an hour every day, but I also know that’s too much time. If I try to practice for 5 minutes, though, I’m 99% sure I’ll be able to do it. If I practice more that day, I’ll feel good, instead of beating myself up when I play for 50 minutes instead of 60.

    3. Let go during your morning routine.

    At the beginning of each day, I review what I accomplished the day before.

    My criterion used to be how much I did. Did I succeed with each goal? I usually found myself lacking.

    Now my criterion is different. Was the day fulfilling? Did I do things that added to my life, even if none of them involved a goal? If so, then the day was a success.

    Whereas most days began with me berating myself for failing at my goals, now I spend my mornings being grateful for the enchanting things I did yesterday.

    When you change the way you measure your life, your life changes.

    In my morning routine, I also spend some time planning what I want to do that day and making sure I am doing the right things. Any task that isn’t important, I let go. It just isn’t necessary.

    The day is better that way, and I’m more productive, too.

    —

    Since coming to terms with my goals and letting many of them go, I am a much happier and fulfilled person.

    Instead of hating who I am, I’ve come to accept myself and my accomplishments. I’ve let go of the goals that held me back and now let the important things push me forward.

    I don’t need a measurement to know I’m happier this way.

  • Unlearning the Self-Loathing That’s Passed Down by Generations

    Unlearning the Self-Loathing That’s Passed Down by Generations

    “Embrace and love your body. It is the most amazing thing you will ever own.” ~Unknown

    The first time I made myself throw up to feel skinny, I was five years old. My grandmother still loves to tell this story—she thinks it’s funny.

    The story goes like this: I tell my grandmother my stomach feels sick. She rubs my belly. I tell her it still hurts. She asks me if I want to try the “potion.” I say, “Yes.”

    The “potion,” as I realized in an unrelated context in my early twenties, was syrup of Ipecac—a strong vomit inducer. I should mention this was back in the Ukraine. My grandmother uses no such potion now and neither does most of the populace—I hope.

    So, there I go drinking a whole glass. I vomit. Ten minutes later, I’m in front of the mirror, hiking up my dress to look at my stomach, saying, “Don’t I look pretty? Don’t I look thin?”

    My grandmother almost rolls onto the floor laughing. She’s laughing because this little kid pulled the wool over her eyes, because my stomach didn’t really hurt. Because I’d conned her.

    How could this woman, who’s from the old country, who had to share a loaf of bread with nine of her siblings, possibly understand the reasoning or the danger of throwing up your food on purpose?

    Fast forward ten years, I’ve got a full blown eating disorder. I just wonder what my grandmother would have said if she’d have walked in on me, sitting on my bedroom floor, at age fifteen, surfing a pro-mia website, shoving a salt-covered wooden spoon down my throat to see if it made me gag easier.

    Never in a million years would she imagine what I’d been doing and why.

    My mother, however, is a different story. And so am I.

    I remember, when I was about four, my mom dropping me off on my grandmother’s step warning her not to feed me too much. That would have been the worst thing—if I gained weight. My mother took many precautions to make sure this did not happen.

    Of course, my grandmother didn’t listen.

    And so, the precautions turned to problems. My mother’s worst fear had become a reality.

    I still remember the fury with which she scolded me when she found stashed food in my room, the anger in her eyes as she tried grabbed onto my fat and my senses, trying desperately to make me understand—she was trying to help me.

    No one wants a fat girl.

    I remember watching her go on and off diets. I remember watching from around the corner as she put on her makeup, her creams, her mask. I remember the way she’d talk about herself as if she were an old house that she was trying to renovate, although the wood had rotten and fallen through the cracks.

    I found out later much later that, although my one grandmother wouldn’t know a thing about that kind of thinking, my late grandmother, my mom’s mom, was like my mother and me. She had learned the ways of self-loathing.

    It was like something happened to the women on my mom’s side of the family that didn’t happen to my dad’s side, like a program had been downloaded into our heads that said: “No one likes a fat, ugly girl, and you are one.”

    In her TED talk about lexicography, Erin McKean mentions something she calls “The Ham Butt Problem.”

    The Ham Butt Problem goes something like this: a woman’s cooking a ham for her family and she cuts a huge piece of butt off and throws it out. Her son sees her doing it and asks, “Why do you do that?” She answers, “Well, I don’t know, I guess because my mother always did it this way.”

    So, woman calls her mother and asks her, “Mom, why’d you cut the butt off the ham when you made it?” The mother says, “Well, I don’t know, my mother did it this way.” So, both women, full of curiosity now, call grandma and ask her the same question.

    Grandma laughs and says, “My pan was too small.”

    And so, I learned to put on makeup, fret over my blemishes, buy creams for my face, creams for my thighs, and creams for my arms.

    I learned to go on and off diets. I learned to feel ugly all the time, except when I’d put on my mask and protect myself from my horrible, natural appearance. I did what I saw done. I cut the butt off my ham because my mother cut the butt off hers.

    By the time I was twenty-three, I had dyed hair, dyed eyebrows, and a whole closet full of shape-altering clothes. I had problems with addiction, co-dependent relationships, anxiety, and self-hatred so serious that it ended me up hearing voices and feeling suicidal.

    Cutting the butt off my ham almost killed me.

    As I picked up the broken pieces of my life, trying to put them back together, I realized that everything was too broken to glue back together. I had to start over.

    And as I looked at those broken pieces lying there, I realized suddenly that all of the pain and self-destruction I had brewed in my life for almost twenty years had the same source. It was that program—that self-loathing thinking that I’d inherited from at least two generations.

    As I learned to see myself in a different light, I realized the pure ignorance of that kind of thinking. How ungrateful is it to say that nature doesn’t know how to make beauty? Doesn’t nature make sunsets and rainbows and beaches? Nature made me. How could I say that was ugly? Who was I to judge?

    And so, I learned to fall deeply in love with my reflections, not because of my flaws and not despite them, but because this body is a gift, because beauty is the signature of all living thing, because I am a tiny piece of the universe; how can that not be beautiful?

    The more I’ve liberated myself from this programming, the more I’ve looked around at the women in my generation and felt a deep yearning to heal their pain.

    They, too, are carrying the burdens of this cultural programming on their shoulders, never realizing that they’re only suffering because they were taught to suffer. There is no good reason to hate our bodies, no matter how they look.

    There is no reason to spend our lives in this kind of desperate, self-hating pain.

    I think that self-acceptance is the modern-day revolution, because self-loathing is modern-day oppression. I honestly believe that each person who realizes his or her own beauty changes the world.

    I already know I’ve changed the world. I know because, one day, I’ll have a daughter who will watch me looking at myself in the mirror. And when she spies on me from behind the corner, as I once spied on my mother, she will not learn to be upset at her backside and to nitpick at her blemishes. She’ll learn to smile, look in her eyes, and greet her best friend.

    And that, more than anything else, is what really makes a difference.

  • How to Live a Full Life and Smile Your Way Through It

    How to Live a Full Life and Smile Your Way Through It

    Smiling

    “There are only two mantras, yum and yuck, mine is yum.” ~Tom Robbins

    I recently had my thirty-first birthday. I am officially in my thirties. This leads to reflection; what have I accomplished with my time as an adult?

    I recently started over yet again, making this the fifth state I’ve lived in seven years. I have a roommate, half of the stuff in my room is hers, and I’m temping for a living. I was more prosperous at twenty friggin’ three…

    …externally.

    If you were to see a photo of me at the age of eighteen next to a current photo, you’d notice a few changes. I’m obviously older and have gained some weight. I finally got those braces off, and my skin cleared up nicely.

    However, if you were super-perceptive you’d say, “The young one is nervously smiling. She doesn’t look genuinely happy.” You’d be correct. 

    The young one is bulimic. She doesn’t believe in herself. She has no clue who she is. She’s recovering from the trauma of her mother’s suicide. She babbles about boys, gossip, and that’s about it. After nearly everything she says, she glances at those around her like, “right?”, and a nervous laugh sputters out.

    Poor dear. She’s scared to death and she doesn’t even know it.

    I, the older and curvier one, am honest to goodness happy. Even though things in life don’t look just how I’d like them to yet, I’m excited to see how it plays out.

    I know I can have, be, and do whatever I want; I have faith in myself, the forces of life, and divine timing. I’m enjoying checking out experiences as they arrive, and I feel grateful for what they are teaching my soul. That nervous giggle has transformed into a satisfying and hearty belly laugh.

    So how did I go from a fake laugh to a real one, and how can you, too?

    1. Embrace rock bottom.

    I left my hometown in Alaska to go to college in Vegas, sans the childhood friends that handled my traumatized self with kid gloves. I hid in booze, drugs, and boys the best I could; but depression started bubbling halfway through the year, and quickly ignited to a full-on boil.

    I binged and purged daily. I would scratch my skin until it bled, because the pain hurt less than the thoughts it was distracting me from.

    It all finally erupted and I realized I had to stop hiding and numbing myself. In facing my depression and self-hatred head on, I was able to rebuild my life from a new foundation. It wasn’t easy, but letting myself hit rock bottom was the key to my growth and healing.

    If you are having a difficult time, if it feels like everything is crumbling, it’s okay. Weak structures need to break down in order to be rebuilt with strength.

    Release the pieces of you that are no longer self-serving, knowing that you are not your past. You are whoever you choose to be, and going through the hard parts just makes that person all the stronger.

    2. Create dreams and goals.

    Compared to that first year, the rest of college went by fairly uneventfully. I was soon a college graduate, with a corporate job, living with a man I loved. These things were all dreams up until I got them, but as dreams often go, once they came true I quickly outgrew them. I wanted more.

    I spent a lot of time articulating what I wanted, trying situations on in my head like outfits. I came to the conclusion that I wanted to move to California on my own, make another 12K a year, and organize fundraisers for charity. So I did.

    Then I wanted more again. That’s how dreams go. Love, appreciate, and enjoy them when they come to fruition. Your heart will eventually stir again, signaling time to conjure up some new ones.

    3. Take risks.

    After a few successful charity fundraisers, being flown to New York twice in recognition, and writing about it all in a national magazine, I realized Southern California didn’t suit this here Alaskan chick. I decided to move to Colorado. The branch of the corporation I was working for serendipitously shut down shortly after that decision.

    I used my severance package to start over in Denver. I didn’t know anyone, and I had never been there.  I wanted to see how I’d react to the challenge.

    If you never put yourself out there, you’ll never have the space you need to truly grow. Exposing yourself to life’s contrasts is crucial to living it fully, and you can’t do that without involving a little risk.

    4. Make the best of any situation.

    I thought the lay-offs I witnessed were an isolated incident…it was 2008. My confidence approached arrogance as I surfed into Denver. What I didn’t know is I was riding the first tidal waves of the recession.

    I was honest-to-goodness shocked that no one cared about my three years of corporate ladder climbing.  Shocked! I tried desperately for a year, getting only one interview out of hundreds of cover letters. It should have been the worst year ever. It was incredibly stressful, don’t get me wrong, but it was also one of the best years yet.

    I met some the raddest people I know, soaked up all Denver had to offer, dreamed new dreams, started meditating, and learned that when I sought strength internally, it was always there. It wound up being a year of delightful transformation.

    It’s always our choice what we make of any situation. We can stare at our worries and fret; or we can figure out how to enjoy even dire circumstances, while doing our very best to correct them.

    When I could try no longer, I had to head back home to Alaska. I could have done so with my tail betwixt my legs, but I went tail a waggin’ and my chin held high.

    5. Face yourself.

    Returning to my small hometown was really challenging. I felt like everyone thought they knew me, even though I’d been gone for nearly a decade. I hated the feeling of trying to overcome these preconceived notions; yet at the same time, I was projecting old experiences onto others right back, assuming I knew who they were.

    I felt confined, and defined. My joie de vivre eventually faded, slowly, almost too slow to notice; but by the time I left I could barely summon a spark.

    I felt incredibly alone, like the only person I had to turn to was myself—which was okay, because turning to face ourselves is exactly what we have to do to overcome the darkness.

    Shadow work, or “casting a light on your dark side,” is best done during tough times. Think about how why things are so dark; how did you contribute to it? Ask yourself if you have patterns in your behaviors, thoughts, or beliefs that are getting in your way.

    What emotions are you experiencing? Isolate them, and then lean in to them, really feel them. This will help you process them, and only then will they be released, allowing you to move on.

    6. Truly and wholly love yourself, all of yourself.

    I’ve messed up, many, many times. I chose the proverbial scenic route, for sure. I haven’t even scratched the surface of the missteps I’ve made. You know what? I love myself for it. Those “mistakes” have led me to a place of true self-understanding and knowledge. We can only ever truly love what we truly know.

    Embrace your detours, as they are life’s clearest education. We may not choose to learn the hard way in the future, but we should never regret our past. Own it.

    Apply the wisdom that you have gained from trying experiences to create awesome ones. Most importantly, have a sense of humor about it all; the hard times, the great times, your achievements, and your shortcomings. They make you you, and you are beautiful.

    So I sit here, thirty-one, six months into starting over in Portland Oregon, nary a possession to my name, with a sense of fearless excitement about what’s coming. I live to grow, and I grow to live. I am open to whatever experience life has in store for me, ready to get a great laugh at whatever’s coming next.

    Photo by Irina Patrascu

  • Silencing Your Inner Critic: You Don’t Need to Torture Yourself to Grow

    Silencing Your Inner Critic: You Don’t Need to Torture Yourself to Grow

    Woman in a field

    “You yourself, as much as anyone in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” ~Buddha

    I was tortured by self-hatred for most of my life.

    There were aspects of myself that I had a hard time loving. I didn’t like that I am competitive, that I was not a blonde with blue eyes, that I am not good at math or managing money.

    I did everything I could to hide these things. I was over-caring, over-helping, and over-accommodating others.

    I think I did a pretty good job of not being myself. This created additional psychic pain in me. I felt like Picasso who was not allowed to paint or Mozart who was banned from approaching another musical instrument again.

    The funny thing is, I was the one doing it to myself. I was no longer a child under the mercy of my critical, perfectionist parents (who were in pain and unconscious themselves). I had become my parents! I had become my worst critic.

    I wondered, “Why am I so mean to myself? What could I have done in a past life or in this lifetime that could warrant such self-torture?”

    Interestingly enough, even when I tried to conjure up the filthiest, sickest scenario, I had a hard time hating that imaginary person doing the crime.

    I had worked with criminals in a prison. I knew their stories and what they went through. It doesn’t condone their behavior, but I could see the chain of pain and lack of love that was passed on to them, and then from them. I just couldn’t hate them.

    If I couldn’t hate these criminals, why did I hate myself so much? It seemed so illogical.

    Then I remembered reading about the inner critic. I looked into it further and started getting to know this beast. In addition to my inner critic, there were many parts of myself that had helped me survive.

    I had an inner protector, a hermit, a social butterfly, a flirt, and many other parts that served a purpose.

    For example, “The Flirt” was helping me make friends and gain clients and extract the juice out of my relationships by being playful. “The Hermit” knew when I needed to recharge my mental, emotional, and physical bodies. “The Social Butterfly” helped me find and attract communities that met my different needs.

    They all had a job to do, but they needed to be in balance.

    Some of these selves were created out of necessity when I was young and didn’t have enough safety and kindness in my life. But I was no longer that little girl. Some of these selves were such loyal servants that they never left me all my life. I recognized this with gratitude that came out of nowhere.

    Suddenly, instead of hating my inner critic, I felt a sense of compassion for how hard she had been working to keep me safe from rejection, ridicule, abandonment, and many other rational and irrational fears. I decided that I didn’t want her to work so hard anymore. She had done a great job.

    Maybe I was selfish, lazy, negative, arrogant, and bitter. So what? Aren’t all these parts of me and personality traits so human? How many people do I know and love who have some unpleasant or unbalanced qualities or habits? Many. Their qualities do not make me not love them. Those are their quirks.

    So then came the self-inventory.

    Do I make a genuine effort to call myself out on my stuff when I am conscious enough to see it? Yes.

    Do I make an effort to make amends with people I have hurt? Yes.

    Am I someone who genuinely wants to be a balanced individual who serves others? Yes.

    Then what is the problem?

    Does this mean that I was going to let it all go and be a mean, bitter, selfish, codependent woman?

    No.

    How about if I cut myself some slack? How about I practice being gentle with myself and give this poor inner critic a break?

    “I no longer need to torture myself to grow.”

    Oh, that felt good to say it to myself. I took another deep breath to let this new reality/belief set in. I felt freer, and more loving toward all of life.

    I knew that I had to work at sustaining and integrating this new belief. I had, in the past, had big revelations but had taken the wisdom for granted. Then I would slip back to my old behavioral and thought patterns.

    Back then I didn’t understand that our brain needs to integrate new concepts in the same way we learn a new language.

    So I immediately made a plan. It didn’t have to be a perfect plan, but had to be something I could stick to, since I knew that our brain learns by repetition.

    I wrote down affirmations that felt right to my heart. I started a running “What I love about myself” list. I started writing down things I was even shy about. “I love my hair. I love my toes. I love my sense of humor. I love my fragile, sensitive heart.”

    I was finally on paper. And it didn’t look so bad. I started reading it out loud to myself every day, and adding to it.

    My neediness toward people started decreasing. When I made plans to hang out with them, I noticed that my secret need was no longer to be comforted, approved, or supported by them. I was just open to every encounter for what the exchange would bring for everyone involved.

    The shift wasn’t overnight, but I kept at it. The more love I felt for myself and the less I gave my full attention to my inner critic, the happier I became.

    My energy shifted. People were attracted to me as clients and friends. After three months of isolation, I was being invited to parties, camping trips, and concerts. I picked where I wanted to be and who I wanted to be around. I listened to my inner child and followed her nudges.

    These are the steps I followed in learning to love myself:

    1. Get to know your inner critic, its voice, and its intentions.

    Activate your observer self and listen to what it is saying as if you are hearing it on the radio. Recognize that this is an old tape repeating the criticism of society and the people who raised you to ensure your emotional and physical safety. It is running on autopilot.

    2. Take some time to yourself; go deep inside.

    Explore what you could have done to deserve this much self-hate/criticism. Look for an example of a person or situation where you can’t hate someone who’s made a mistake, even if you wanted to.

    Let your brain help you find proof that you don’t deserve your self-criticism. When you find it, you will create a crack in that thought pattern. But that alone is not enough to break it open and get it to release.

    3. Make a realistic plan.

    List three things you can do to raise your self-esteem. These can be as simple as: “I will say ‘I love you’ to myself ten times a day,” or “I will look at myself in the mirror and identify things I like about myself every morning before leaving the house.”

    The trick is that they need to feel doable to you. This is your plan. You are in charge of what you want to do. Make it a joyful and fun one.

    4. Stick with the program.

    I find that I get the best results when I keep track of it. Seeing a day or two of missing my exercises or meditation bothers me and motivates me to get back into it.

    5. Start hanging out with people who make you feel good.

    These are the people who see and experience you as who you really are. Let people who love you reflect the real you back to you. Start hanging out with people who could use cheering up. Reflect back to them how you see them. Practice the balance of receiving and giving.

    6. Know that you have the power to take the reins from this inner critic.

    It has been doing a great job, but it doesn’t need to drive the car anymore. Once you decide this, the rest is pretty much practice and patience.

    My inner critic was so harsh that it was hard for friends to watch me hurt myself that way, but I’ve learned to love myself. You can do it too.

    Photo by MrVertrau