Tag: strong
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When You Feel Down or Stuck: How to Effectively Be What You’re Not
“Success is achieved by developing our strengths, not eliminating our weaknesses.” ~Marilyn vos Savant
I often hear the words “be yourself.” I love those words, and I truly believe that everyone should strive to be the truest version of who they are. There’s nothing more attractive than a person who is just so utterly themselves, even when society tries to push them the other way.
Strong willed people are some of my favorite types. They can be righteous. They can be overly moral. However, they know what they want, they know who they are, and they know that nobody else determines their definitions of themselves.
They stand up for what they believe in. And most importantly, they stand up for others when it matters.
As somebody who is quite strong willed myself, I appreciate the beauty in the statement “be yourself.” However, I have also come to appreciate the softer side of letting go.
This includes being wrong sometimes and even admitting it. This also includes opening my mind to the possibility of all possibilities; seeing the positive in the negative, understanding the behavior of those who may seem morally corrupt (to me), taking benefit from the other side of a passionate debate, and learning information when I want to reject it.
As somebody who preaches the importance of being yourself, I admit I have a trick up my sleeve that has something to do with pretending to be who you’re not. Yup! I feel deliciously devious even just saying that.
This trick is well known in the world of Positive Psychology, a term coined by Martin Seligman, Ph.D. in psychology.
So what is this trick? Well, when you find yourself feeling down and depressed, it can help tremendously to ask yourself:
“What would the happy version of me do at this moment?”
Not only does this get you into a goal-oriented state, but it also takes a load off the negativity that you might be feeling. It takes your mind state from “oh woe is me” to imagining what will actually make you happier. It’s proactive.
When you can imagine yourself being something greater than what you feel at the moment, you actually flip on a little switch in your brain that will attempt to propel you toward that image.
This can work not only when feeling down, but with any goal you may have in mind.
“What would the healthy version of me do?”
“What would the brave version of me do?”
“What would the successful version of me do?”
You’re not shaming yourself in any way; you’re only gently shifting your mind set into one that is proactive and ready to take charge of your life.
When I was struggling with feeling low, oftentimes I’d lie in my bed in the morning and not want to get out of it. It felt like there was no point.
I was given a beautiful child at the age of twenty-three, and even though she has been the light of my life, at the time my identity felt as though it had been ripped from my very soul.
The relationship I was in at the time was manipulative and emotionally abusive, probably on both sides. I didn’t feel like myself and I felt very restricted. My carefree spirit turned into a negative, depressed, shriveled up little hole inside my heart.
Now, this might sound odd to some, but I have always been impressed with warrior-type women. I believe that I possess some warrior qualities within myself (we all do), and when I think of them, I feel strong, like I could take on anything!
One day it just clicked. As I was lying in bed, not wanting to get out of it, I thought to myself, “What would the warrior in me do?”
Out of bed I jumped! I continued to use that saying in many different ways and for many months. Now it has become a part of me.
I am that warrior woman.
I am strong enough. I am not a victim of life’s circumstances. I create my life and everything in it. I don’t react to life. I make life what I want it to be.
To me, a warrior is not a victim. A warrior makes her life what it is; she creates it herself.
When I shift my mind into this realm, I realize that other people do not control me; I control myself. Nobody is in charge of how I get to feel.
In my relationship, I had been putting that control into somebody else’s hands, and when I decided to take back control over my life is when I finally realized the relationship was not going to work either way. Unfortunately, we had to part ways, but lessons were learned and I was finally able sit back and breathe.
Try this tool out for yourself, and see how it changes your perspective the next time you’re feeling stuck.
Who knew that pretending to be who you’re not (in a positive way) could strengthen the qualities that you never knew were inside of you?
Photo by Ohfooy
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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
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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
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Hang Up the Superhero Cape: We Don’t Have to Do It All Alone
“When we can no longer change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.” ~Viktor Frankl
In the spring of 2008 when my son was only seven months old, I received a text message from his stay-at-home dad while I was at work. The text read, “He’s in the crib.” I did not respond because those five words said everything I needed to know.
My son’s father had left us, and worse, he had left my son alone in his crib. I was at work fifteen miles away.
Adrenaline is an interesting thing. I don’t remember many details about that day except the text and the number of red lights I drove through to get to my son. Four.
No one is ever prepared for events like these at any time in their life. Trauma, loss, and adapting to change are hard for all of us and for the people around us, as well.
I come from a family culture that encourages “being strong,” which translates roughly into not asking for or needing help and continuing on with life as if all is well—at least on the outside.
In fact, I have spent most of my adult years cultivating a life of self-sufficiency and independence, and I approached this experience no differently. I went into action mode and didn’t allow myself too much time to think about or feel the emotional impact of what had happened.
I did not miss a single day of work through all of this. I just woke up, did what I needed to do, and went to bed. Every day.
When my son went through a superhero phase, I wore the outfits too. It fed the image I had of myself as able to take on anything life wanted to throw at me. And I could even do it in white vinyl boots.
Self-sufficiency worked well for me in the past as a single person, but not as a single parent.
Facing this new life that involved another person (my son), using my old coping skills, slowly caught up with me in the form of health issues, depression, and problems with relating well with others in almost every area of my life.
It become clear to me that something had to change. But I was not ready to let go of the idea that I could handle everything. If anything, I thought what I needed was more money, a different home, or maybe a different job.
On some deeper level I knew that I had to internally change, but I convinced myself that to do so was impossible with my current life situation. I had to be strong.
Instead of starting up the face of what I perceived as an impassable mountain, I clung to the hope that something external would change and I could do life the way that I had always done it.
I did not or could not see that holding on to my old way of relating to the world was requiring far more energy and resulting in far more pain. I was not living self-sufficiently. I was still in survival mode, which is never a viable long-term solution.
But then, as often happens to the most stubborn of us, I hit bottom. I was ill, alone, and worried about my son’s future, with or without me.
That was when I finally embraced the possibility that I could completely let go of and live my life without ground under my feet. This would require me giving up my current self-image. And I had no idea what the outcome would be.
What I learned was that by making these internal shifts, my life would improve without anything (or anyone) changing around me.
Hang up the superhero cape.
I became willing to let go of the idea that I could (or should) do everything, be everything, and handle everything on my own.
Notice that I said, “Became willing.” I hung up my superhero cape and relinquished the badass title. But the cape is in the closet and I admittedly peek at it now and again. I just don’t let myself put it on unless it’s Halloween.
Engage in a daily mindfulness practice.
I went back to a consistent yoga and daily meditation practice.
When I stopped the constant activity and started paying attention to what was going on inside of me, I began to notice how quickly things come and go if we let them be. Happy, sad, joyful, anxious—here now and then gone.
This daily practice has helped me learn to stay in the moment and not take my thoughts very seriously. So, when the urge to put on the superhero cape returns, I gently say, “thinking.”
Practice gratitude.
I began to accept my life the way it is rather than hoping it would one day change. By practicing mindfulness I spend less time in my head planning how I would like things to be one day.
When I wake up in the morning, before I get out of bed, I say thank you and smile. I do the same when I go to bed. It is such a small act but with such profound results. Try it.
Give freely and receive freely.
The giving part is pretty easy for me. But asking for and receiving help is still an ongoing challenge.
Staying in the moment helps identify the feelings that arise that try to convince me that asking for help is a sign of weakness and that receiving help makes me a burden.
The truth is that giving and receiving help are two of the greatest gifts we can give to ourselves and to others. When we drop the superhero cape and receive from others, we are allowing them an opportunity to be of service, feel good about themselves, and to improve their karma!
Don’t take life personally.
It takes a lot of useless energy to determine why things happen. I could spend hours replaying the events of my life with different endings, wondering what I could have done differently or trying to determine who is to blame.
The truth is, no matter how much we try to exert control, we will all face challenges and we will all experience suffering at some point in our lives. No one is exempt from pain. No one.
In fact, taking some time to recognize the extent to which people suffer is a useful exercise that helped me develop acceptance of my own situation and allowed me to develop compassion—for myself, for my son’s father, and for others.
It’s a spiritual work-out.
Many people have great ideas to help you in this process but few talk about how hard it can be. It can be hard, but not as demanding as being a superhero.
It also feels, at times, very confusing to travel a great distance in how I respond to the world only to find myself completely lose it—I mean really get hooked back into the old ways one day with a partner or at work or in traffic.
Don’t get too caught up in an end result. If thoughts come up about what a waste of time all of your efforts to date have been, just notice them and gently say “thinking.” You might need to say, “thinking” a few dozen times. This is good. It is all good.
Breathe.
Probably the single most important thing you can do to change your life for the better without changing a thing around you. Take a deep breath.
Let it be.
Photo by Zach Dischner
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A Lasting Romance Is Built on Flaws: 6 Tips for a Strong Relationship
“Let our scars fall in love.” ~Galway Kinnell
We all bring our own baggage to any relationship. I know that my past relationships have shaped my approach to love and romance. When we seek out that special someone to share our life, the disappointments of our past relationships tend to get in the way of new discoveries.
It’s human nature to size up a potential partner by drawing from past experience.
There are so many ways to catalog the possible flaws: He’s too short. She’s too tall. Too fat. Too thin. Not enough education. Too much education. Or you become judgmental about how much your date eats or drinks or how they interact with other people.
The perceived flaws get in the way of making a connection.
It’s like the three bears’ approach to dating, looking for that partner who is “just right.” Too often we make the mistake of looking for a mirror of ourselves in a partner.
After a while, I realized that the perfect mate doesn’t exist. There is no “right” person who has everything on my perfect mate checklist. And even if I found someone with everything I was looking for, wouldn’t that relationship become dull with time? They’d be too much like me.
I finally figured out that it’s better to seek out a partner who understands and shares my failings; someone who would complement my worst characteristics. To find my soul mate, I first needed to be able to look inside, examine my character defects, and change them or embrace them.
As I got older, I stopped trying so hard. I started to relax, be myself, and invite women to accept me for who I am, flaws and all.
I can be geeky. I can be arrogant. I can be aloof. I can be a real know-it-all. I can be selfish. I have any number of character defects. But by taking my own inventory and laying my faults on the table for all to see, I could invite someone to accept me for me.
I finally married at age fifty. It took me that long to figure out that I had to be true to myself in order to be true to a partner. And now I have a beautiful wife and two terrific stepchildren who love me for me—flaws and all.
Like any family, we have our fights. When we forget how to tolerate the other’s defects, my wife and I can get into a real shouting match. It’s at those moments that I have to remind myself to embrace our flaws and follow some simple rules:
1. Communicate.
I tend to live too much in my head, and when I listen to my own inner voices too long, I lose touch with what’s real and start imagining the worst. Good communication solves that problem.
My wife and I share our feelings, our anxieties, our hopes, and our dreams. We communicate, but we try not to take on each other’s problems as our own. Just simply saying “I’m having a bad day,” or “I don’t really want to talk about that now,” we can stay connected and leave the doors of communication open without getting into a fight.
2. Respect each other.
Even when we disagree I always try to give my wife the respect she deserves. When we do fight, we try to practice fair fighting, being respectful of the other party and hearing their side. If you are considerate of your partner, it’s easier to find a middle ground.
3. Respect each other’s space.
And we make sure we give each other space. We each have friends and activities we pursue on our own.
My wife will go out with her girlfriends to hear a local band or see a ballgame, and it’s understood that I’m not welcome. I also work at home and we have set ground rules around my hours and my workspace. For example, my wife keeps our house spotless and she knows that, even though I am a slob, my office is off-limits; it’s my space.
4. Rely on each other.
No matter what we are doing or how busy we get, we know we can count on each other for support.
I try to call on that support when I really need it, so I don’t take it for granted. And if my wife needs help with a technical problem or is worried about the kids, I make time to assist or lend a sympathetic ear.
As we have grown together we have become better at triaging crises; if a problem can wait, we set a time aside to deal with it when we can both give it our full attention.
5. Take your own pulse.
I try to stay in tune with my own moods and feelings to make sure my inner demons don’t affect my family.
When my inner voices start to whisper to me, I can start blaming my family for my own failings. It’s then that I pause, take a deep breath, and try to distinguish what is real and what is imagined. It eliminates a lot of family drama.
6. Keep the romance alive.
Despite busy schedules, my wife and I take time out for each other. Friday is date night and it’s sacrosanct. We go to dinner, take in a movie, or find some activity we can share and enjoy together. We also work to make time on weekends for joint activities, even if it’s grocery shopping or a trip the hardware store together.
After many years of self-examination and soul-searching I understand that I am the only constant in any relationship. When I found a partner willing to love me for my flaws as well as my good points, I knew I had found the right mate.
Even when I screw up, the foundation we have built tolerating and even celebrating each other’s faults and foibles, our humanness, is strong enough to withstand anything.
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When You’re Pretending to Be Fine: 9 Tips to Deal and Heal
“Our strength grows out of our weaknesses.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
I never thought I’d want to kill myself.
All my life, I’d been a strong, independent woman, building a business from home, raising two wonderful sons, and staying happy and positive throughout.
If you’d told me I’d one day consider taking my own life, I’d have laughed and said, “You’ve got me confused with someone else!”
But after twenty years and two sons together, my husband and I decided to split up.
So what? Separation and divorce are commonplace. You just cope with it like everyone else. I was strong, so not coping would mean I was weak.
But it hurt and hurt and hurt. And eventually I just wanted to stop. I couldn’t put my boys through that, but I couldn’t see another way out. So, while pretending to everyone that I was fine, I thought about it. Seriously.
What Do You Pretend?
Coping with everything life throws at you is tough.
Juggling all your different roles, trying to be all things to all people, and “shoehorning” so much into every day.
You and your needs aren’t even worth a mention on your very long to-do list.
You feel guilty and inadequate and worry that someday all those plates you’re spinning will come crashing down. You’re an amazing somebody who often feels like an invisible and overwhelmed nobody. Feeling lost and alone, living in silent despair.
Not always much fun being a grown-up, is it? (more…)
