Tag: strength
-
How to Turn Your Sensitivity into Your Biggest Strength
“Never apologize for being sensitive or emotional. Let this be a sign that you’ve got a big heart and aren’t afraid to let others see it. Showing your emotions is a sign of strength.” ~Brigitte Nicole
We have a problem in the modern world that needs to be addressed.
It impacts huge numbers of the population but is so ingrained in our culture that it’s easy for us to overlook how dangerous it can be.
This problem is the denial of sensitivity.
We often associate sensitivity with weakness, but when we learn how to manage our energy and emotions we can actually become more controlled, empathetic, and driven.
Most people suppress their sensitivity, not realizing that it’s a very powerful source of productive energy once they can learn how to accept it and direct it toward something positive.
For a large portion of my life I would feel emotions very intensely, whether it was while watching movies or noticing the feelings of those around me. I guess you could say I was a natural empath.
Unfortunately, I did what most people do in Western society—I cut these feelings off at the source, intellectualizing everything and separating my head from my body.
However, over time I eventually learned that the more I avoided feelings, particularly negative ones, the longer they would persist. It was almost impossible to let go of things. It wasn’t uncommon for unresolved issues that I hadn’t thought about in years to come up in a dream.
Now through meditation and mindfulness practices I’ve learned to sit with my emotions and use sensitivity to feel more joy, be guided by my gut, and employ all that emotional energy in creative and constructive ways.
Why Do We Deny Our Sensitivity?
According to Researcher Elaine Aron, about 15-20% of the population are highly sensitive due to the nature of their nervous systems. These people generally have an inclination toward overstimulation, emotional reactivity, and empathy.
Whether I fall under this umbrella or not never interested me that much. What interested me was that our culture often finds it culturally inappropriate to experience or express sensitivity, even though there are millions of us living somewhere on that spectrum who could get much more out of life if we just learned to use our emotions!
How Can You Turn Your Sensitivity into a Strength?
There are many ways to do this, and it’s partly going to be dependent on you as an individual. However, there is an overarching point to keep in mind, and that is to accept yourself and your emotions as they are, not to repress or avoid them or to feel guilt for having them.
Repression or avoidance often leads to what are known as meta-emotions, emotions about emotions, such as being angry because you are sad, or feeling guilty because you are excited.
You want to stay as far away from a lot of these as possible, as they can be confusing and dangerous. Just try to experience the emotion as is and accept it for what it is.
Recently I had an experience whereby I caught myself doing just this. I found myself in a social situation feeling frustrated with someone else’s behavior. I then became judgmental of my own frustration—it didn’t fit with my self-image of being cool, calm, and collected—and this morphed into anger at myself.
After a five-minute dance of unnecessary negative meta-emotions, I was able to catch myself and realize that it was okay to just allow myself to feel frustrated. The person I was dealing with isn’t perfect, and neither am I.
Sitting with Your Emotions
Most people have a whole host of conscious or unconscious avoidance behaviors that stop them from feeling both negative and positive emotions. Their sensitivity can make it seem like the experiences are too overwhelming, so they intentionally cut them off.
This can be something as simple as turning the T.V. on after work to avoid reflecting on the problems of the day, to avoiding commitment to a lifelong partner or drinking to numb the stimulation of complex social environments.
In fact, one way I personally used to deal with this was to read books, particularly about psychology, philosophy, or spirituality. By doing so, I was ignoring or intellectualizing any confronting emotions I had, which gave me an excuse to ‘deal’ with them without actually dealing with them.
I’d also find myself diving head first into new projects or jobs or even sometimes travelling to new cities, because at the time they seemed like a quick fix solution to any uncomfortable feelings I was experiencing.
To counteract this tendency, which we all share to some degree, we need to recognize an emotion when it is there, accept it for what it is, nonjudgmentally, and physically sit with it for moment before letting it go.
Make Use of Your Passion and Creativity
One trait that often comes with being sensitive is being passionate and creative.
Sensitive people are often artists, and vice versa, as they are more aware of their emotions and better able to communicate them to others through their work. Sadly, traditionally schooling tends to value science and business related skills from an early age, and so as children we may be encouraged away from our creative endeavors.
If you feel you are passionate about something you should never shy away from following it, no matter what anyone else says. You should use any strong feelings you have as a compass that tells you what you want to be doing with your time.
Take Breaks and Reflect
Sensitive people often tend to be very reflective. If they spend too much time in intense environments (which is most of the time in large cities) they can become overwhelmed.
We can use this to our advantage by engaging in reflective practices such as journaling, and allowing ourselves time to let our batteries recharge.
By taking specific time out of our day to stop and think, whether that be at home or in nature, we can become more aware of our situation and the subtle nuances that are impacting us in our day to day lives.
Suppressing our sensitivity is never a healthy option. If we can learn to manage it with these practices we can use it to our advantage and allow it to become one of our biggest strengths.
How have you managed your sensitivity? Have you found any ways that help you to use it to your advantage? Let us know in the comments!
-
It’s Okay to Need a Little Help
“Don’t look for someone who will solve all your problems. Look for someone who won’t let you face them alone.” ~Unknown
It’s 2004, and I awake in a student college in Melbourne, Australia. This comes as no surprise, because, at the time, I lived there.
I groggily stagger to the shared bathroom on my floor, to perform my morning washing routine. There’s nothing unusual about my lavatory procedure, so I’ll omit the details, for all of our benefits.
So far, so good. Already I’m full of optimism for today.
As I wash my hands, I glimpse myself in the mirror and notice my majestic, messy bed-head.
I often sport a disturbing, motley “I’ve just fallen out of bed” look for entire days, as I forget to check in the morning that I look sufficiently acceptable to go outside.
I usually see myself in a mirror just before I go to bed, and invariably feel retrospectively ashamed that I’ve had tufts of hair beaming in assorted directions since I woke up.
On this day, however, I notice my unconventional tufty hair and take immediate, drastic action, slapping the top of my head with my wet hands to encourage my mane into an acceptable shape. I stride out of the bathroom, feeling satisfied.
Universe 0, Neil 1. One triumph already: not appearing for the entire day as if I have just fallen out of bed. What an excellent start to the day.
Sadly, I only take a few steps before the soapy water I unthinkingly applied to my head pours into my eyes, burning them immediately with painful chemicals.
Still, no need to panic. I’m an adult, I can handle a little soapy water. I am aware of the process for fixing a foamy intrusion into the eyes. As per the plan, I don’t even break stride, simply rubbing my eyes to remove the water.
Unfortunately, this only makes things worse. It feels like I dislodged my contact lenses and got the soap in behind them. Now everything really burns.
Okay. There’s no need for alarm. I simply need a new plan. I’m already most of the way to my bedroom, so I can slip in there, find the sink, wash my eyes out, replace my contacts with chemical-free fresh lenses, and then we’re all sorted. I’m still destined for victory today.
I take another step toward my bedroom door, eyes screwed tightly shut.
I fumble for my keys and pull them hurriedly out of my trouser pocket. Sadly, in my haste they slip out of my hand and fly somewhere into the dark void in front of me.
Uh-oh.
I squint my eyes open slightly and shut them immediately. I can’t see a thing through the caustic chemical tears. What the hell is in this soap, I probably would wonder if I weren’t so distracted by the agony behind my eyelids.
Right. Time for a new “new plan.” The corridor is small, so it can’t take long to locate my keys, get into my room, find the sink, wash the soap out of my eyes, replace the contacts, and then—finally—victory!
No need to cancel the celebratory parade for how awesome today will be. Yet.
I scrabble on the floor for a moment, then another moment, and then another slightly longer moment.
I seriously can’t find my keys. In making the “new new plan” I significantly underestimated how much I rely on the ability to see.
The discomfort of squatting and bungling around is adding to the stinging in my eyes, and I realize my new highest priority needs to be getting rid of this infernal soap.
(With hindsight, this should probably have been the priority from the beginning.)
Taking stock again, I come up with a new “new new plan.”
I’ll go back to the original shared bathroom and wash my eyes out there. Then, using my regained power of vision, it will be trivial to find my keys. After that, I can let myself into my room, replace my lenses, and finally I can leave for breakfast. Still victorious. Definitely.
I stand up, face toward the bathroom, and charge ahead at maximum eagerness.
SMACK!
I run face first into the wall, having apparently completely lost track of which way I was facing.
I crumple to the floor, like a sack of idiotic potatoes.
At this point, I finally admit that I am defeated.
I have no new plans. No “new new plans.” No plans of any kind whatsoever. My face hurts from hitting the wall with it. My eyes hurt from the chemicals I foolishly rubbed into them. I cannot solve either problem.
As I lie there, blankly failing to handle the situation, I hear the voice of the pretty girl from down the corridor:
“Do you… do you need any help?”
Yes. Yes, I need help.
And not just with simple things like a morning routine.
I’ve suffered from anxiety all my life. And the main lesson I’ve learned is that keeping it to myself only makes it worse.
Yet I’m less willing to ask for help when I need it most because I don’t want to look weak. I’m scared of the judgment it might bring.
But I’ve found that, in reality, people judge us far less harshly than we do ourselves. Being honest about needing help makes us seem strong, not weak.
Whether it’s a major problem like daily anxiety, or a silly thing like getting soap in my eyes, I’ve learned that it’s crucial to just be honest about it with someone I trust.
Whatever you may be suffering through, there are those who would happily suffer through it with you, if only you’d let them. Maybe you know them, maybe you haven’t met them yet.
But, trust me, you’re better off seeking help than trying to do it all alone.
We can help image via Shutterstock
-
You Have the Strength and Wisdom to Thrive Through Hard Times
“And in the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.” ~Abraham Lincoln
Nothing can ever really prepare you for a cancer diagnosis, but it can quickly turn your life into an unplanned story.
Diagnosed at the age of twenty-eight with ocular melanoma, I was treated with surgery and proton beam therapy, and gratefully continued on with my life (though certainly a changed person).
But every year I went for a MRI of my liver/abdomen because if ocular melanoma spreads, it most likely goes to the liver. And every year when I got a clean bill of health, I felt grateful.
I didn’t live my life waiting for the other shoe to drop, though there had been other challenges along the way—being hit by a car and having shoulder surgery, struggling with infertility for years, and finally becoming pregnant only to have a miscarriage.
For each of these challenging situations, I would cry and experience the heartbreak, but then ultimately dust myself off and get back into being an active participant in my own life.
On August 27th 2013, I was diagnosed with Stage IV liver melanoma. After a misdiagnosis at one hospital I had switched care, and essentially spent almost two months in limbo about the state of my health.
Now, being treated at one of the best facilities in the world and going through two rounds of treatment in the past year for an incurable cancer, I have quickly learned a thing or two about life, and how I want to live it.
My hope is that by sharing how I approach a life-changing situation, it may empower you to think about your own health and happiness.
Follow your heart and your gut.
When you face a cancer diagnosis—or any life-altering crisis—it can seem like your internal GPS is off-kilter, or sometimes even broken altogether.
What I’ve learned is to throw that map out the window: forget about where you think you’re “supposed” to go and listen to your heart (and your gut).
You have the answers inside of yourself; you just need to find a quiet place where you can sit with your thoughts and breathe, gently blocking out the commotion of the outside world.
Meditation can greatly help with this. All the direction that you really need is already within you, it’s just a matter of tuning into it and really paying attention. When you listen to your heart, you can never really be lost.
Advocate for yourself.
Listening to your gut comes especially in handy when dealing with a medical diagnosis or some other kind of life quandary. It’s important to gather all of the information, bring somebody with you, and get second and even third opinions.
The first hospital that found lesions on my liver through a MRI dragged out the process of having it biopsied, telling me along the way that if it came back as cancer it would be Stage IV and “very hard to treat.” I was given few treatment options and even less information, which all led to a very scary few weeks.
When the biopsy results finally came back, they were negative, but my gut was telling me that it would be still be smart to find out what these lesions could be. So, despite the fact that both my oncologist and my primary care doctor at the time said that I didn’t need to see a liver specialist, I decided to see one anyway.
It’s because I advocated for myself and listened to my internal GPS that I was able to put together an amazing team and start treatment at a different hospital. My gut told me this was the place to be, and I’m glad that I listened.
It is more than okay to want to be happy and healthy; it is your birthright. Gratitude swells for my doctors, who are amazing, and we need these medical professionals greatly to heal. However, it is still so incredibly important to get multiple opinions, ask questions, and speak up if something doesn’t feel right.
Your health is in your hands, and nobody else’s. You’re not being difficult, you’re being smart.
Make friends with your inner ally.
I’ve also learned to listen to my gut much more when it comes to what is best for me. In the past I felt sucked in by what I thought I “should” be doing. A people-pleaser by nature, it was often very difficult for me to say “no” to things that I didn’t really want to be doing (and truth be told, it still can be).
It took a cancer diagnosis for me to admit that what my life coach calls my “inner ally” had been right all along: it is more than okay to often times say “no,” create boundaries, and take better care of myself by reducing as much stress in my life as possible.
Though there are still plenty of times when I have to do things that I don’t want to do, just like everybody, or I give of myself because I want to (and because there are so many in my life who deserve that), being “selfish” sometimes just feels like putting my health as a priority, and my gut (and heart) is a lot happier for it.
I’ve also learned that, most of the time, people get over your “no” a lot faster than you would suspect, and you wind up feeling grateful that, instead of doing something that you didn’t really want to be doing, you took that time and devoted it to yourself.
Tapping into your “inner ally” can be a powerful way to figure out what will truly make you happy and healthy.
Pay attention to the dark days.
There will be some, especially if you are being told that you’re facing a challenge like cancer.
There are some days when I feel so angry and resentful of those around me who don’t have to worry about the things that those with cancer do: dying at a young age, leaving a spouse, and perhaps never being able to have children.
These are real fears for me, and if I ignored them, I wouldn’t be giving myself permission to grieve for the life that I had before I was diagnosed.
I try to allow myself to cry or feel angry when I need to, which then enables me to be able to move forward with my life with more authenticity.
My positive outlook on life and on the situation is because I listen to what that inner voice is telling me, which is not to ignore the pain. It’s through the processing of this anguish that I can then recharge my batteries and gather the strength to do what needs to be done: continue on with my KBCP (Kick-Butt Cancer Plan).
Tap into whatever is going on for you, and while it can be scary, you may actually feel lighter afterward.
Journal, meditate, cry, get in touch with that anger in a way that feels like afterward, you can then release it and move forward. But don’t go it alone; see a therapist or lean on anybody in your life who you feel truly understands you, and will listen.
Believe in yourself.
When I was about sixteen years old I was diagnosed with a learning disability.
I was attending a private school, and my parents were told by my math teacher at the time that I would never be able to pass her class, and therefore would never graduate from high school. So did I want to try and re-take the class with a different teacher, or did I want to transfer to the public high school and take an easier math class?
I couldn’t stand the thought of somebody telling me that I couldn’t do something. So, when doctors insinuate that people with melanoma may not live past a certain age, I take it with a grain of salt and listen to my own inner strength, which tells me that they don’t really know what I’m capable of.
And that math class? I re-took it, got a B, and not only graduated from high school, but from college and graduate school as well.
—
Finding quiet times to tap into what direction my gut is guiding me toward has served me well, and what I love the most about my internal GPS is that it’s mine. Wherever I go, whatever happens, nobody can take that away from me.
It is because of these life experiences that I now know that deep down inside of myself I have the strength and the wisdom to thrive. And you do too.
Strong woman on mountain image via Shutterstock
-
Overcoming the Fear of Vulnerability and Unlocking Your Power
“To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.” ~Criss Jami
Wanting to avoid pain and shield ourselves from it is natural—and, by the way, completely not possible, because as we close up to protect ourselves against pain, we also block out the light that reflects from it.
Despite our best efforts, the boundaries that we’ve built around our hearts to protect us from feeling pain, discomfort, and hurt are the very chains that keep us tethered to it, disallowing us from feeling the opposites—joy, love and passion.
Only in embracing our true nature, at our deepest core level, as emotional, vulnerable, and feeling beings are we able to tap our resilient inner strength.
Have you ever tried to cross your arms in front of your heart while smiling or laughing at the same time? Try it. It feels weird. You may be aware that you’re smiling or laughing, but you sure don’t feel like it.
Or, try throwing your arms up wide with a big open heart like you just crossed the finish line of an amazing race, and see if you can wear a frown or angry face. It simply feels unnatural. This is because we are feeling beings and our heart center is our core feeling center.
When we block our heart, we block the feelings as well, and when we open our heart it feels unnatural to be anything but joyous.
Our feelings are indicators of our current alignment with our soul’s path and higher energy source.
I used to stuff feelings down deep, especially negative ones, not understanding that by doing so I was suppressing my unique intuitive guidance system.
Feelings are there to teach us something about ourselves and reveal to us our true desires. It is only in a state of vulnerability, when we drop the armor around our hearts, that we can truly access these feelings and lessons to become centered, strong, and wise.
My early childhood and adolescent years were largely dysfunctional. I grew up broke for the most part in an unstable household, where my father, who was an alcoholic, was also verbally or physically abusive.
This environment imprinted on my young developing mind a perception that the world was difficult. I viewed the world through a lens smudged of struggle, and this perception became my reality as I felt I had to muscle my way through life in in an effort to not end up like my past.
As a result, I spent the better part of three decades unconsciously building walls to protect myself from these fears and insecurities I knew as a child.
Vulnerability meant emotional pain, so I developed thick skin growing up. From the vantage point of others, I had a good front of just being strong-willed and determined; and my fear of being judged by my dysfunctional upbringing was somewhat minimalized.
As I made my way through life, I’ve always seemed happy enough, pretty enough, and smart enough, yet I grew acutely aware there was a happiness ceiling I was hitting my head on, fully conscious of the fact that it simply was not high enough.
While I experienced happiness regularly, when it came to feeling joyful, there seemed to be a disconnect. I was too guarded and allowed myself to become hardened, stiff, and in a state of resistance.
I thought that in order to be strong and powerful I had to be tough and put up a good fight, putting up protective layers of resistance. Ironically, in an effort to be strong, I was giving up my power.
My happiness was largely contingent on other things happening or not happening as if it was out of my control. I now can attribute this disconnect as a result of resisting my true authentic nature and not staying open and vulnerable to the calling of my inner Higher Self, due to the layers of walls and blockages I have built.
There came a point in my life after my father’s traumatic death to cancer when I decided I no longer would accept going through my days hardened, disconnected, or defensive. I had not fully forgiven him at the time of his passing, but I made a conscious choice then, and now it’s a daily evolution, where I choose to surrender to my vulnerability instead of hiding from it.
Through yoga, meditation, and a lot of conscious intention setting, I began to shed these walls one layer at a time, revealing each time the softer side that I’ve always known to be a core part of my being—the side that is moldable, connected and resides with a deep inner knowing; the part that changes, grows and allows.
These days I choose to take my power back and wear my heart on my sleeve, where it belongs. This doesn’t mean I’m overly emotional, but I do allow myself to be vulnerable, to drop my resistance and feel my way through my experiences, reflecting as needed in pursuit for higher meaning behind anything that would otherwise cause me pain.
I’m acutely aware that everything is fleeting or temporary, and because of this I try my best not to take things for granted. With this awareness I feel I have no choice but to completely absorb the moment by allowing myself to be vulnerable and truly deeply feel.
The challenge lies in discerning what beliefs no longer serve you and understanding that, while you have emotions and deep feelings, you are not these emotions or feelings, and rather they are there to help guide your life’s experiences.
If we move through life mistaking vulnerability for weakness, or build walls to hide from our vulnerability, we stifle the fruition of the very experiences we long for, and true love, joy, passion, and freedom will fall painfully at our feet, appearing out of reach.
To be vulnerable is to be in a state of trust and courage. From this state, all things are possible and our drive, willpower, and strength align with who we really are, not what we fear.
Any strength that lies outside of vulnerability is a façade built by fear. It must be shed to allow our completely raw and unrefined truth to shine through, so we can deeply experience all of life’s’ beautiful sharp edges.
Joyful woman image via Shutterstock
-
Emotions Are a Strength, Not a Design Flaw
“Eyes that do not cry, do not see.” ~Swedish Proverb
Just get over it. Don’t be so sensitive. You should toughen up and grow a thicker skin…
I’ve heard this advice so much over my life, but I’ve never seen it make anyone happy.
Advised to toughen up with thicker skins so we can protect ourselves, we end up just bottling it up inside and pushing away how we feel, hoping it looks like we’re strong.
It’s like trying to avoid our own shadow. We believe it’s gone because it’s behind us, but it’s totally visible to anyone else who cares to look.
Instead of becoming stronger, this denying and rejecting behavior makes us more susceptible to danger, more fearful and wary, resulting in confusion and unhappiness, because we’ve thrown away the information we need to survive and thrive.
The Rhino’s Lesson
While I was in South Africa, volunteering for an animal conversation charity, I found myself in close proximity to a wild rhino in the early hours of the morning.
She was beautiful.
With only a few feet between us and little shrub to block her path, she did not seek to fight or flee; she just stood there.
Although rhinos are quite blind, they have other strong senses, including smell, hearing, taste, external touch, and instinctual felt sense (internal and external nervous systems).
They have thick, layered, armored skin that protects them from sharp, thorny bushes, but they are not insensitive and tough.
In fact, their survival and ability to thrive is wholly dependent on their sensitivity.
She didn’t run or charge because she didn’t feel I was a threat.
Sensitivity Is Power
Sensitivity means to be connected and aware of all our senses.
Our bodies are descendants of mammals, so we’re sensory beings.
This means, like the rhino, we are designed to use sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, and felt sense to navigate the world around us and survive.
This sensory information creates an internal response to everything, including danger and safety, separation and bonding, otherwise known as emotions.
It’s a fact: We’re all emotional, male and female!
Unlike our animal cousins, though, we have an evolved conscious awareness to this emotional information, so they become defined as feelings—the language of emotions to which we attach judgment.
Instead of responding naturally and appropriately to this navigation system, we stress ourselves out, worry, shame, analyze, get embarrassed, get scared, get stuck, don’t act, ignore, or do the total opposite of what our body tells us to do.
The rhino does not question the sensory information the brain collects; it just acts appropriately either by running away and avoiding the danger or standing still to assess and inquire.
Or, it might run toward it, threatening with the full force of their size, strength, weight, and their strong, sharp horn. They don’t do this because they are bad tempered but because they must still protect their well-being, even though they are naturally shy, curious, and non-predatory.
Confusing Safety and Danger
Our brain continually processes sensory information to inform our responses to a situation or person by encouraging slowing down, moving toward or further away.
Teaching us to ignore, shame, disregard, and disconnect from this emotional sensory information leaves us unarmed, unprotected, and unsafe. It’s like being in conversation but only talking, never listening, and assuming what the other person thinks and feels.
The result:
- We’re unaware of danger, so we don’t know how or when to protect ourselves.
- We’re unaware or unsure if the people we choose to surround ourselves love, accept, and respect us, or are out to harm, belittle, or control us.
- We lose the ability to know what is right for our happiness, peace, and love.
- Our brains rewire to associate fear and danger with safety, and love and kindness with danger and being unsafe, so we seek the wrong thing.
This would be like the rhino ignoring her survival senses, walking up to a pack of lions, and saying, “Hey, I’m just as big as you, can I come hang out…”
How A War Zone Becomes Your Norm
This behavior is most obvious in adults who experienced abusive childhoods or were parented inconsistently by alcoholics, drug addicts, or the mentally unstable, and if they were conditioned to be good girls and boys and shamed for expressing anger, desire, or tears.
In these environments, a child absorbs the message “Don’t express how you truly feel.”
If they accepted the sensory information they received, they would have had to accept that their home environment, where they needed to be cared and protected for survival, actually felt unsafe and rejecting to live in.
It’s unimaginable for a child to acknowledge that the parents who they love might not be safe, even if they come to see a difference in other families.
They learn not to respond appropriately, as it would result in possible physical danger, punishment, and abandonment. So they disconnect, desensitize, do as they are told, try to please to make it safer, and stop trusting their feelings, because they lie and let them down.
If they continue this behavior into adulthood, they will keep seeking out the familiar—hurtful, disappointing, painful, unstable, rejecting, or even dangerous relationships and circumstances, to mirror the feelings of childhood.
Getting Emotionally Reconnected
I used think women who cried were pathetic. I thought they should just get over it and pull themselves together, as this was how I saw my own emotions.
Every feeling I had was buried away, unspoken, and unshared, branded as either a sign of weakness (as regards to crying) or unacceptable (if it was anger). I considered every other feeling bad and dangerous.
My exterior had toughened up until I was cold and as hard as an ice queen.
I chose abusive lovers, friends, and bosses over and over again, even though when I met them all I had the same uncomfortable, withdrawing feelings. I just ignored them and believed I must be wrong. And I jumped into, at worst, dangerous and, at best, rejecting and unloving environments.
Part of my self-discovery was learning to get out of my judgmental head and back into my body, and trusting its natural ability to know my boundaries and how to protect myself, so I could begin to make the right choices for my health, well-being, and happiness.
I sought people who showed me how to demonstrate my emotions openly and gave me permission to feel angry and cry. I came to understand my body’s language, so, if I felt something, I got real and responded appropriately.
If I felt happy and safe, I smiled.
If I felt safe and laughed, I opened my mouth wide and laughed wholeheartedly from my belly.
If someone tried to disrespect me, I called them on it or walked away.
If I felt desire to touch and be touch, I trusted my intuition.
No longer confused and distrusting of my sensitivity, I didn’t need to waste my energy fighting and denying how I felt.
I was now open to love and intimacy, no longer terrified of it as dangerous, or afraid of rejection, because I felt safe in my ability to know and accept the truth.
I was now listening to the whole conversation and all the information I was receiving, so that like the beautiful rhino I could own our greatest strength of all: our emotional instinct to navigate the wilderness and know who is part of our herd.
Photo by Francesca Romana Correale
-
How to Turn Pain into Strength and Wisdom
“The pain you feel today will be the strength you feel tomorrow.” ~Unknown
Some would say that when it rains, it pours—a fitting statement for the events that have recently taken place in my life.
In mid-September my life took an unexpected turn. My wife, to whom I had been married for only four months (having been together for six years prior), had been acting strangely toward me.
She was suffering from fits of depression that would range from her sobbing on the couch to sitting by the fireplace, drinking heavily while listening to songs that would make your heart break into pieces.
I did everything I could to try and get her through this depression—date nights, random events—but nothing seemed to work.
Meanwhile, life wasn’t through drizzling on me.
My grandmother was diagnosed with stage 4 heart failure and her time was short. This was going to be the first time that I would experience death in my family, so I was distraught over facing such a strenuous reality.
To fear death is natural in human beings. It’s the only certainty that we face. “Challenging” would be an understatement to describe the hurricane that was bellowing in me.
When my grandmother passed in early October, it was strange. I was extremely sad and yet happy to see she was no longer suffering. Then I felt guilty for feeling happy at all for her death.
Having no control over my emotions was exhausting. I was at my weakest and I needed my wife to help me through it. Unfortunately, she was taking solitude in the comfort of another man.
I caught her late at night talking to a coworker about how she longed for him, how she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She was surrounded by a graveyard of empty beer bottles and even more cigarette butts. I waited up all night for her to wake up from blacking out to explain her actions.
When she woke and I confronted her, she yelled, “I’m bored with my marriage!” which floored me. Immediately, she begged and pleaded for me not to leave and promised that this would never happen again.
I gave her several chances to prove that she would change her actions. Finally, at Christmas, after I moved out and all her chances expired, she admitted to sleeping with the coworker. It was over. Two weeks later I filed for divorce.
With the final divorce hearing approaching, my grandfather (husband to my late grandmother) also passed away. For some reason, this news didn’t have the same impact on me as when my grandmother passed.
Was it because I’d loved her more? Was it because I’d become heartless? Was it because of my impending divorce? Or was it because I had become so numb from everything that I finally reached a breaking point and collapsed emotionally? The answer to them all was no.
It dawned on me as if waking from a dream. Learning to manage my emotions in the proper way, by allowing myself to embrace reality, gave me a strength that will define me for the future. I was becoming a new, empowered being.
The rain had been thoroughly pounding me on the head. But now, I have learned, the rain was treating me like a flower, preparing me to bloom.
I have become more adaptive to the painful emotions due to all of my experiences. That doesn’t mean I’m invulnerable to them—far from it, actually. It simply means that the knowledge I have now will allow me to face future challenges wisely.
When life keeps giving you its toughest blows, it will help to:
Fully experience your emotions.
The largest mistake people make is masking their emotions. This is counterproductive and will lead to health problems in the future.
When each emotion comes, feel it. Your body will tell you when it’s enough. Cry, scream, and cry again. Let it out and submit to the beginning of a process that will take time to complete. To feel is to be human, embrace it!
Challenge your perspective.
Life isn’t always going to be on a downward spiral. When it is, you can find ways to focus on the positive instead of the negative. Perspective plays a key role in acceptance. Here is what I used to help:
In regards to my grandfather’s death, I told myself: He was a WWII vet and lived a full life for over nine decades; he wasn’t able to take care of himself and quality of life was lacking; and he was finally together with my grandmother again.
In regards to my dissolving marriage, I told myself: I deserve better than how I was treated; there was nothing more I could do; and I was being dragged down to dangerous depths, and now I was free.
Surround yourself with the right influences.
During these times you’ll find out, like I did, that there are some people you can count on and some you can’t. Take this opportunity to weed out those in your life that may be holding you back.
For those who have family and friends to lean on, use them. If you don’t have anyone to lean on, reach out to a therapist. I have a great therapist and family. I cherish them. If that doesn’t work, focus on building new positive relationships. I’ve made several new friends lately that have been a breath of fresh air in my life.
Stay (or become) active and avoid negative coping mechanisms.
It’s useless to focus all your energy on events that you no longer have control over. Instead of wasting time in this way, get active in your everyday life. See how you feel after a week of jogging for ten minutes a day. Jogging not your thing? Find something else. Get interested in an activity that gives you a spark.
Meanwhile, if you are dealing with depression, sadness, or anger, stay away from alcohol and substances, which will only magnify your pain. You are not “drowning” your sorrows. Instead, you are providing them with fuel.
Accept and forgive.
Holding onto hatred and resentment only poisons you. It keeps you forever trapped in the past, focusing on an element that you’re letting define who you are today. Learn to let go.
This is easier said than done, of course, and it’s not something that will happen overnight, either. The only way to truly learn to let go is let time heal. You’ll know when you get there.
Accepting that life will eventually knock you hard on your rear is a stepping stone to growth. Constantly trying to avoid hardship and pain will only prove detrimental to you.
Despite all the pain I experienced in a six-month timeframe, I now see this beautiful world we live in through an exciting new lens.
Each experience, each moment that you have is precious and dear. I challenge you to make the best out of even the worst circumstances. Like me, you may be amazed at the power, wisdom, and strength you gain after maintaining a positive drive.
Photo by Hartwig HKD
-
Finding the Strength to Leave: Run Toward, Not Away
“You don’t need strength to let go of something. What you really need is understanding.” ~Guy Finley
It was 11pm on a Monday night and yet again I was chatting online with my friend about the woes of my failing marriage. “I just need a knight in shining armor to take me away from all of this,” I said.
“Not real life,” she said, “but you’re bright and strong, and you’ll be fine.”
I didn’t feel strong. All I could see was a mountain of practical reasons why I had to stay in this relationship: our two-year-old twins, the expensive rented house with ten months remaining on the lease, marital obligation, family expectation…
The fact that I was no longer in love with him, very unhappy, and at times even scared of him didn’t seem to register as important in the face of money worries and how I would cope as a single parent. My weakness was finding ways of keeping me stuck. I was hiding from the inevitable.
I wanted the knight to bring me money and emotional support so that I didn’t have to be strong. I could bypass my own lack of strength if I could rely on someone else’s.
Every day I felt the acute pain of ignoring my inner voice and carrying on with a marriage, and a life, that was sucking the energy and what little strength I had left out of me.
I looked for reasons to stay. For reasons I could hold up as fact and persuade myself that staying was the best thing to do. Anything but face up to the huge upheaval that leaving would cause.
No matter how bad his behavior got, and how many times I considered I’d hit rock bottom, I convinced myself that happiness wasn’t for everyone. And I stayed.
My inner voice continued to scream at me that this was all wrong. I went round and round in circles. I found problems and obstacles to leaving him everywhere I looked. And I stayed.
I found reasons to leave too, good reasons. But I couldn’t summon up the strength to act on them.
Then I started writing. Every day. Pages and pages about how I felt and what I wanted out of life and in a partner.
Some days I wrote fiction—short stories featuring protagonists remarkably similar to me. Other days I wrote non-fiction, describing my hopes and dreams in detail. Like a diary entry from a life I didn’t really have.
Fiction or fact, the themes were the same. Ideas recurred. My real desires became clearer to me.
I wanted a happy family. A husband who was present more than he was absent. Someone who preferred spending time with our children and me to his friends and work colleagues.
Yet I had no intention of doing anything about it. They were just words—dreams, wishes, unattainable nonsense. That took the pressure off finding the strength to make any of it happen.
But now I understood what I was looking for out of life and in a partner. I longed for a man who loved and respected me, and the realization that wasn’t what I currently had started gnawing away at me.
All the bad things that had happened, and which were still happening, were not enough to make me leave him. But seeing a glimpse of how my life could be if I left him was starting to give me the strength I had been missing up until then.
I couldn’t run away, but I could run toward.
It took time. But my inner voice became less desperate and more encouraging. I found myself using my writing to run through real practical options about where I would live and what work I could realistically do instead of focusing purely on the unlikely and improbable.
At some point I found the strength to talk to him. I told him I wanted to leave. He took it well; he seemed to understand what I was saying. He too was unhappy with the way things were.
But he still tried to talk me out of it. All my steps forward and I had to take some back now. It knocked me for a while, but I kept focusing on what I could have.
I kept writing about it every day.
It actually didn’t matter that some of what I wanted might never happen. Meeting someone else—particularly someone resembling a knight in shining armor—could happen, but probably wouldn’t.
But that didn’t matter. All I needed was the possibility. The vision of what my life could be. A dream to hold onto.
For the first time in years I could see what I wanted and was able to make a rational decision to go in search of it. It didn’t really boil down to strength after all—more an unshakeable conviction that there was something better out there, and an unwillingness to ignore that knowledge.
All that took months. The ten months remaining of our joint lease ran out and with it so did I, taking our children with me.
No knight has since turned up with money or emotional support. One day he might, and he’d find that I didn’t really need him after all. In the end I managed just fine on my own.
I found the strength to leave my marriage by writing every day until I understood what I wanted in a partner. In the end it turned out to be quite simply someone who will love and respect me, and be a caring father to my children. I haven’t found him yet, but I’m happier now that I’ve left the person who definitely wasn’t him.
You might find your strength to leave another situation—your job, a toxic friendship—by writing as well. It’s about finding clarity on what you want instead. Giving you something to go toward rather than run away from.
And I hope when you find your clarity, you’ll find your strength, like I did.
Photo by geralt
-
6 Lessons from Nature on Living a Peaceful, Fulfilling Life
“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” ~Lao Tzu
Five years ago, I was feeling really stressed (like millions of other people in the world). I was working full time in a job that was draining me of every single ounce of energy I had.
I had nothing left to give to myself or those I loved at the end of each working day; life had turned into an incessant cycle of getting up, going to work, coming home, working, and going to bed.
During this time, I read about so many people who were also unhappy with their lives. People who had reflected upon their existence and realized that this was not harmonious with who they were.
I read about these people who inspired me with awe yet at the same time felt a sense of desperation. That could never, would never, be me, I thought. And while these conflicting thoughts existed, I became increasingly stressed out and more and more unhappy.
There were things I enjoyed about my job (and still do). I became a teacher because I felt fortunate in having had such amazing support throughout my own education and wanted to offer young people that same help and guidance in return.
But at the same time, I was changing as a person and I wasn’t the same being I had been six years previously when I had chosen that path. For my own sanity, health, happiness, and the happiness of those I loved, I knew something had to change.
And then it did. My partner and I decided to move to a rural area of Herefordshire and buy a hundred-year-old cottage.
There is no quick fix for happiness and I realized that the most important way to become less stressed was to change my way of thinking. But living in the countryside has undoubtedly contributed to my increased levels of calm.
There is nothing like walking down a tranquil country lane, whatever the season, and just observing the sounds, smells, and landscape.
I walk the same route regularly but this never bores me. With every single day, let alone season, something has changed and yet there is also a sense of constancy in nature, which I find incredibly comforting.
The Lao Tzu quote about nature not hurrying embodies something I find I’m continually trying to work on—slowing down my daily pace. All too often we rush through our days, anxious to get things done at the fastest speed.
When I’m aware that this is happening, I make myself stop and think: Why am I doing this?
The pace of our world is frantic and seems to be constantly increasing. Despite this, I support the belief that life is not a race.
Going faster doesn’t necessarily equate with accomplishing more or better. In actual fact, the opposite is usually true. If you slow down, you make fewer mistakes, are able to think more clearly, and act with purpose.
For me, this also results in feeling calmer and being more aware of my surroundings and those around me. This can only be a good thing.
Frequently, we might tell ourselves that we must do such and such but in most cases, this feeling of having to do something is only a result of pressure from within.
I personally believe that it’s important for our own sanity and health to slow down (and I apply this to driving, walking, and breathing on a regular basis).
So this quote got me thinking about what we can learn from nature…
1. Determination
Nature is pretty hard to stop. Weeds and grass grow with dogged determination (much to the frustration of the lazy or time-pressed gardener). Many baby birds and other young offspring grow up against a huge number of odds; they are determined to survive.
With determination, it doesn’t matter how fast (or slowly) you move through life. If you are determined, if you have a goal and a plan to reach that goal, you’re already a long way toward it.
2. Strength in adversity
Have you ever pruned or cut back a plant only to wonder whether you ever actually did, because now the greenery has exploded into an amazing array? I used to be reluctant to cut any plants back until someone told me that they actually ‘like’ it.
I suppose it’s nature’s fight for survival; you cut it so it puts even greater energy into growing more.
Nature could decide to give in and plants could just shrivel up and die. But they don’t. In life, when things seem tough, we usually have two choices: give in or give more.
Choose to mirror nature and decide to face problems rather than run from them.
3. Adaptability
Nature can be incredibly adaptable. Just think about the four seasons. Animals and plants alike adjust to cope with the changes in climate and meteorological factors.
Humans are no different. We put on an extra sweater or two in the winter but can be less adept at managing with changing circumstances. Since change is one of the only certain things in life, try to accept this and see it as a positive thing as far as possible.
You might not be able to control life events, but what you can control is how you respond to them.
4. Storing inner strength
When autumn arrives, nature seemingly goes into shut down. But actually, wonderful things are going on, ready for when the plant and animal kingdom come into full swing once more.
Take a leaf out of nature’s book and nurture inner strength when times seem sunny so that when the clouds appear, you don’t give in.
5. Collaboration
One thing nature does really well is working together. Bees and flowers are just one of the many examples of this. Bees collect nectar from flowers to make their honey while the flowers get a good deal out of it by their pollen being spread by their furry winged companions.
You might be a real people person or perhaps you prefer your own space. Either way, the world is one huge partnership of human beings.
There are so many things that we simply could not do without the help of others. Look around you; everything you see has been thought of by a human, designed by a human, made by a human (okay, perhaps with the help of a machine, but still). I find that thought pretty amazing.
I’ll never meet most of the people who somehow are connected to my life, but knowing that every single thing I do I am able to do because of someone else is pretty awe-inspiring. In so far as you can, see people as teammates rather than competitors or adversaries.
6. Consistency
With the exception of an extreme weather occurrence, nature is pretty darn consistent. Want to be a super fit runner? Jogging every three months isn’t going to get you there; try to stick to a once weekly routine.
It doesn’t matter if the day or time has to change as long as you hit that road/treadmill/country lane once a week. Maybe you want your garden to look pristine and something to be proud of. Again, get out there regularly rather than spend five hours slogging away once a month.
Whatever your thing, be consistent.
—
Whether you live in a rural area, town, or city, nature is all around us. Harness the power of nature to live your life and slowly accomplish your dreams.
Photo by Mint-Flower
-
Vulnerability Is a Sign of Strength, Not Weakness
“I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” ~Brene Brown
I was raised to be determined. I was raised to put my head down and solider on during tough times, and I was raised to never be vulnerable, because being so meant you were weak.
Whether these were the intended lessons, it’s hard to say, but somewhere deep inside that is how I interpreted the messages from those who had influence in my life.
Throughout most of my life I carried these messages like suits of armor protecting me from invisible opponents, sure to strike when I least expected it.
Each time I unbuckled the armor and exposed my raw, tender skin to what I thought vulnerability looked like, it was only a matter of time before I was left broken hearted, disappointed, or worse yet, full of shame and self-hate.
Looking back on memories, I am reminded of a time when I fell madly in love, the type of love where you are brave, do not hold back, and lead with your heart.
Unfortunately, I later discovered that the person I was involved with was leading two lives, and would be on “business trips” while they spent time with me and then the reserve with their other life.
It all came crashing down after they “claimed” a death in the family, and when I called to give my condolences to the family, the supposed deceased family member answered the phone.
The lessons I learned during these perceived attacks left me carrying a heavy imaginary backpack full of reasons as to why I could not be vulnerable.
In my mind, this determination was a brave path to be walked alone, and it proved just how independent I was, unlike those who “needed” people in their life.
It’s been a slow evolution from this point, which reached a low five years ago, to now. In fact, sometimes it has seemed so slow that I thought I was inching backward.
With an instinct to push, question, and doubt, buying in to the vulnerability bandwagon has been a tough sell.
Despite reading a plethora of self-help, transition, and any other inspiring books I could get my hands on, it never seemed to make a difference. Something just was not connecting inside of me.
During a personal development course three years ago, the facilitator used an actual full backpack to show me what the weight of my self-defeating story felt like.
He then had a group leader push down on the pack with the goal that I would eventually give in to the weight and to the story in my head that was holding me hostage.
During the demonstration, I could feel the weight of the pack getting heavier, my legs shaking, my stomach muscles twitching with fatigue, and my head pounding from my tenacious spirit fighting desperately to hang on to my story of why vulnerability was bad, I was determined, and I didn’t need anyone.
After what seemed like an eternity, I did give in, and although I wish I could say it was like a light switch and I immediately embraced a new way of viewing and practicing vulnerability, that wasn’t the case.
Over the last three years it has been more of a slow sunrise, and on days when I felt brave and could trust who I was connecting with, I was able to open myself up even for just a moment and let people in.
I always thought it was my strength and determination that inspired people. However, what I have learned over the last five years is that those qualities in fact intimidated and kept people at a distance.
When I felt my weakest—when I could hardly get out of bed and face the challenge of a new day after a relationship had ended or when I was laid off due to a company downsizing—I dug deep and found the courage to ask for help from very supportive friends and my running group teammates.
I was overwhelmed with support, encouragement, and people saying how I was inspiring them in their own lives.
During this year of significant change and transition, I am proud to say that I have not put the armor back on. Being open to my vulnerability has allowed me to connect with people on a new level and embrace life lessons I definitely would not have learned previously.
In moments when I felt alone, digging deep, finding just an ounce of courage inside and asking for help, and admitting when I did not have an answer to a challenge I was facing has brought deeper, more meaningful relationships into my life.
In addition, I am now developing a calm in my life that has allowed me to embrace a new level of happiness.
Looking back on that demonstration with the backpack three years go, what I remember isn’t how long I resisted or even that I surrendered in the end. I remember how it inspired others who saw that I found the courage to give in and embrace what I feared the most after fighting so hard.
Strength isn’t about fighting; sometimes it’s about letting go. Having the courage to be vulnerable, even when it feels insurmountable, is the first step on the journey to a wholehearted life.
Photo by Beth Scupham
-
Celebrate Your Strengths Instead of Pushing Yourself to Be Better
“Make the best use of what is in your power and take the rest as it happens.” ~Epictetus
Performance reviews. Assessments. Evaluations. The dreaded annual review. Most of us have run into some kind of quality assurance technique while employed in the American workforce, or at least know someone who has.
Evaluations are a regular part of life at my place of employment and something that I am very used to by now. Typically I get good scores and the evaluation includes plenty of praise and positive acknowledgement, along with whatever constructive criticism is appropriate to the work that is being evaluated.
Usually I can look through the evaluation form, note what needs to be noted, and move on. I can accept feedback when needed, use it appropriately, and in turn notice the strengths of others and acknowledge them along the way. I do pretty well, really.
Most days, doing pretty well is enough. But sometimes I get the feeling that there is something missing. That I could still do better. That enough isn’t actually satisfactory. That if I’m not constantly evaluating how I’m doing and striving for something better, there’s something wrong. That in acknowledging others, my voice gets tired and there’s not much left for acknowledging myself.
Even though I can plainly see the strengths in others and even verbalize them regularly, I don’t always notice and acknowledge them in myself. I have a tendency to want acknowledgement but brush it off when it arrives.
I crave being recognized for doing well but hardly know how to react when that craving is satisfied.
When I receive feedback—even when it’s positive—my default reaction is usually set to “how could I do this better?” It’s easy to get stuck inside the idea that there’s always room for improvement, and then turn a blind eye to what has already been improved or what doesn’t need to be.
There is nothing wrong with striving to better one’s self, growing professionally, building skills, or figuring out how to be more effective at what we choose to spend our time doing. But I think that sometimes we spend all of our time figuring out how to better ourselves, how to grow professionally, how to build even better skills, or how to be even more effective.
We get so caught up in growing and getting better that we forget to honor the life we have right now.
I know I get caught up in our culture’s mantra of “more, better, faster” more often than I care to admit.
What if I could take my usually positive outlook and mold it into a way of being that sets my default to accepting wherever I am in my job, or my relationships, or my life situation? What if I could celebrate what is?
What if I could put the focus on the strengths and gifts that I have—like being able to see the good in a challenging situation, or finding the joy that hides under anxiety, or baking a really good loaf of bread, or always knowing where the keys are—and then accept whatever comes from that focus?
What if we all focused on what we already excel at, or what we have bettered already, instead of that thing we feel is a weakness that needs fixing?
Perhaps the intent to celebrate the perfection that we already are would allow us to evolve into a collective that is founded on acceptance and peace and less focused on longing.
Maybe accepting the perfection that lies beneath our struggles can help move us into a space beyond what we think is possible—a space that knows no limits and a space that is simply enough. Period.
Seeking to grow and building on knowledge and presence of being invites excellence by creating space for that excellence to exist and thrive. But perhaps we cannot expand without first truly seeing ourselves as complete.
It could be that the excellence I invite by way of acceptance is different from what I have been taught to strive for over the years. It could be that “living my strengths” means moving slower, or pushing forward less. It could mean resisting the urge to try to be something I’m not. It could mean listening to understand more and listening to respond less.
I think it also means stopping to notice the beauty of a pebble in the rain, or hearing the gentle rustle of leaves when the wind changes direction, or feeling the warmth of the sun after the fog lifts.
It means looking into the eyes of someone different and seeing truth reflected back.
It means accepting myself as whole and complete, and letting that acceptance grow into my own version of perfection.
I could say there is no such thing as a perfect life and that there is always room for improvement and growth. I think I’d be right.
I could say that every life is perfect if allowed to be. And I think I’d still be right.
Living through strengths is not easy. But living through our strengths sets us up to find our unique version of perfection. Accepting whatever that perfections looks like reminds us that we are enough.
Photo by Gregory Tonon
-
Why Letting Ourselves Be Weak Is Actually the Key to Becoming Strong
“To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.” ~Criss Jami
“You have to be strong.”
Those were five words I heard without end after my father was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer on Black Friday 2012—a day that couldn’t have been more aptly named.
In the months following, I marched, ran, skipped, crept, stumbled, crawled, and dragged myself through the darkest valley of my life. This was uncharted territory. This was an unprecedented season for us.
My dad was a fitness junkie, running and biking every morning, performing aerobics daily like a champ, and going for the occasional swim when the mood struck. The possibility of cancer had never arrested our attention—why would it?
Like so many others, I believed I’d have my dad for decades to come, that I would see his salt-and-pepper hair gradually transform to powder white as the crinkles stretching from the corner of his eyes grew in number.
The usual questions that plague souls affected by cancer surfaced, as if some clarion call had gone out to the nether world. Questions like:
Will the surgery be successful? (It was.) Will the oncologist order chemotherapy? (He did.)
When will this end? When will my dad know peace and strength again? When will our lives go back to normal?
The answers to those questions were a long time coming, until my dad was moved to ICU and put on life support in early September 2013, his organs failing.
“Be strong,” came that ceaseless whisper. “Be strong,” well-wishers said. “Be strong. Be strong. Be strong.”
And in the nine months leading up to that ICU transfer, I had been strong. I had remained unmoved and unaffected by any bad news, choosing to believe in a different outcome—besides, one must yet hope.
I was like the unshakeable lighthouse tower you often see in paintings, standing tall in the midst of a tumultuous storm, gray skies, roaring waves, and angry sea breeze everywhere.
Then one day, the feat of being that strong tower was simply too much to bear. I’d built a dam to keep back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me, but that dam couldn’t possibly stand the weight of those emotions forever. It gave way.
I sobbed like I’d never sobbed before in my mother’s arms. And so long as we’re being honest, I’d say I sobbed every day thereafter.
This expression I’d so feared, this display of vulnerability I had for so long resisted and avoided, had at long last caught up with me. Yet I felt no shame or embarrassment. I felt no anger with myself or disappointment in my supposed weakness.
Instead, I felt other things.
Release.
Freedom.
Peace.
Love.
It was then that I realized that in my efforts to be strong, I had been denying myself the very feelings I’d wanted to experience all along.
Too often, we build walls around ourselves in the midst of grief, pain, or challenges, inflating ourselves up to be proud people who don’t need anyone’s help, people who are getting by just fine, people who are strong enough to weather the storm on their own.
We close ourselves off to feeling anything in the name of self-preservation. We distance ourselves from emotions that scare us because of how weak, vulnerable, incapable, or unable they may make us seem to our loved ones.
However, it’s only through allowing ourselves to embrace that weakness and feel those daunting emotions that we invite love in to strengthen us.
It’s actually a beautiful thing for someone to be weak for that reason, because in that weakness, we rely and depend on others to build us up again, to make us strong, to comfort and encourage us.
An incredible bond is established between you and another person when you embrace your weakness. In that moment, transparency, honesty, and open communication win.
Not only have you both reached a new level of personal growth and grown in your intimacy, but you’ve also given that individual an incredible gift: the opportunity to demonstrate their friendship, loyalty, and love for you by being there, by being a friend, by being present, and by enacting love.
When we bottle our emotions in and suppress them, however, never letting anyone see into our soul, then we are denying others an amazing opportunity to show up for us.
We are denying our relationships the opportunity to expand, evolve, and grow to a new level. And we are essentially stopping the flow of love between us and others—life-saving love that has the potential to give us more strength than we ever thought possible.
So I made the decision to embrace my emotions and whatever weaknesses happened to visit me, to welcome the vulnerable position that would put me in.
If someone wanted to hold me while I cried, I let them.
If someone wanted to be a listening ear, I spoke from the depths of my heart.
If someone wanted to take me away from the hospital scene for a good meal, I didn’t decline the invitation.
If someone asked me how I was doing, I answered with honesty, even if it meant admitting that I was hurting and devastated.
Again and again, I felt the flow of love between myself and those around me. It was uplifting and intoxicating; empowering and encouraging. It was love like I’d never seen it in action before—the type of love that can only be perfected in our very weaknesses.
I had a role model throughout it all: my dad.
I don’t even wish I could tell you he faced cancer stone-faced and unmoved by the unending dirges of prognoses.
Instead, when the pain was too much to bear, when the figurative nights were blackest, when there seemed to be no light penetrating the all-encompassing darkness of cancer, my dad would cry, he would pray for one normal day, and he would openly talk with me about the weakness he felt.
But it wasn’t weakness I saw. In those moments, when he opened himself so entirely and became vulnerable before me, I saw only strength. I saw only courage. And on the morning my dad’s heart beat for the last time, the sun laying bricks of gold across his hospital room while I held his hand in mine, I saw only inspiring beauty.
Even now, as I write this, it’s with tears painting trails down my face. I embrace what we might call weakness because I know now that it’s in my weakness that I find strength. It’s in my struggle that I find determination; it’s in my challenges that I find perseverance; and it’s in my vulnerability that I find love, peace, and the will to go on.
Have you been spending too much time hiding behind walls in an effort to be strong? Have you been distancing yourself from others, fearing they will think you weak? Have you kept your emotions at arm’s length because they intimidate you, scare you, or fill you with uncertainties?
It’s time to give yourself permission to feel. It’s time to embrace the very vulnerability you shun and in doing so, discover the love, joy, and peace that waits for you on the other side.
In the end, it’s through our weaknesses that we become strong again.
In loving memory of my dad, ‘Bear.’ 04-01-1952 – 09-15-2013
-
Forgiving and Letting Go When You Feel Resentful
“The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” ~Mahatma Ghandi
My childhood was in many ways a nice childhood. I feel like a complete twit to complain about it. I know other people have gone through so much worse. I’ve read really difficult childhood stories and my heart literally bleeds for these people.
Growing up I was shy, un-confident, and withdrawn. I treated school mostly like a prison sentence. I put my head down and tried to do my time without falling in with the wrong crowd.
My parents were, and are, good parents. They provided financially for my brother and I really well. We had food on the table every evening, and we lived in a nice house. I was never beaten or abused physically in any way, shape, or form. I was lucky.
I love both my parents so much; I’d do anything for them. However, my love for my parents has led to so much confusion and turmoil inside of me. Why did they never reciprocate it?
My parents never told me that they loved me. They never hugged me or told me that everything was going to be okay. I can’t even remember being told “well done” or “good job” for something that I did. Instead, on occasion they told me that I was “lazy, stupid, and fat.”
It would’ve been so easy for them to comfort me occasionally and tell me that everything was going to be okay. Just two minutes of reassurance every so often and I truly feel that I would’ve been a happier kid. My quality of life would’ve been so much greater if I’d received that little bit of love.
Every day I was scared of school. I felt sad and alone. Anything remotely social would cause my heart to race and adrenaline to fill my little body.
At night I’d fantasize about having a girlfriend and also having conversations with girls at school. I’d dream about what I’d say to them and how cool I’d be.
Alas, the next day I’d keep my head down and talk to no one. Every evening I’d be at home playing on my computer, in my room alone, trying to quietly distract myself.
Even now, after a decade of working on myself, I occasionally get feelings of fear and self-doubt. “Am I good enough?” I wonder. It has literally taken me years of meditation, self-help, and exposing myself over and over again to scary situations to heal myself.
I’ve asked my mum several times if she loves me and she tells me “to stop being stupid.” She says that she demonstrates love and that she doesn’t believe in saying things. She demonstrates love by providing for me.
As a boy and now, I like to receive my love verbalized and given through touch.
I’m not writing this looking for sympathy. I actually feel a little silly sharing it. There are so many people that have had more difficult lives than me.
I am writing this as someone who is far more confident than I once was. That being said, my life isn’t perfect.
Overall, I’m doing great, but this is only after so much struggling, pain, and heartache.
I definitely could be richer if I hadn’t had to spend many years of my life healing myself. I could be more successful if I’d had the confidence at a younger age to take certain opportunities. I could’ve had more friends if I was more outgoing at school, college, and university.
My life would’ve definitely been easier without the need for me to constantly struggle against inner pain and fear.
When things are going well, it’s easier for someone to forgive. When I’m making money and one of my books is appearing in shops it is easy to forgive. “No problem Mum! I love you anyway!”
It’s easy for “gurus” to preach about how you should forgive when they get up on stage. Of course the guru is happy; things are going great in their life!
In fact, they have probably rationalized that their success is because of their difficult upbringing. How much easier is it to forgive a difficult past when you are rich and successful? It definitely takes the edge off things.
The challenge of forgiveness, though, is when things aren’t going great—when life’s expectations aren’t being met. These are the times when forgiveness is a challenge. Truly letting go can be a lifetime goal, and it’s not easy.
The first step to forgive is to learn about the person that has wronged you. Find out about their past. Did their mother or father show them love? Did they feel safe growing up?
My mum was from an orphanage and was never shown love from her adoptive parents. She was provided for and that was about it. On top of that, my mum was bullied at school because she didn’t have a real family and she was told that she was “stupid, lazy, and fat.” Sounds familiar.
Most boy bullies were bullied themselves, either by a father or an older brother. When you look into their past and background, it will then be possible to understand that person.
The next step is to forgive yourself and realize it wasn’t your fault. No one is born unconfident or shy. These are learned behaviors that are developed from our environment.
It would be completely unreasonable to blame myself for anything. I felt scared and alone, and I did what any child would do, withdraw.
The final step is to forgive the other person. With the knowledge and understanding you have acquired about the other person it should make this a bit easier.
Wish that person well and, if possible, send them your feelings of love. Resentment and anger only hurt the person that is carrying them around. There is no benefit in holding onto these or having a victim story. Stories are pointless. Let go and live in the now.
Finally, if you are struggling with forgiveness, remember that you can transform negative emotions into the drive to be a better person and create a better life.
Experiencing pain makes you stronger, and being wronged by others helps you understand what you believe is right so you can better for the people around you.
Because of your past, you have an inner drive plus emotional empathy, which allows you to be a truly amazing individual. Your painful experiences have given you gifts. Use your courage to explore them.
And if you find you’re still struggling with forgiveness, don’t give up or lose heart, because tomorrow is always a new day.
Photo by Nicole Abalde
