Tiny Buddha

Tag: unhealthy relationships

  • How I Used Self-Help to Justify a Toxic Relationship and What I Now Know

    How I Used Self-Help to Justify a Toxic Relationship and What I Now Know

    “You can ignore reality, but you can’t ignore the consequences of ignoring reality.” ~Ayn Rand

    The first person who introduced me to personal development was my ex. He once said, “It’s like you’re already doing some of these things.”

    What a compliment, right? Being a high-level person on the path of constant evolution, self-revolution, always changing and growing. Who wouldn’t want to be that?

    Beyond the compliments, I also felt a kinship with many personal growth concepts because they reminded me of some aspects of psychology and philosophy. If I could watch Seligman’s TED talk about positive psychology, why couldn’t I listen to a Tony Robbins lecture? It didn’t seem like a huge gap.

    The books filled my thoughts with wisdom and magic. The audios filled my grocery store trips and bus journeys with fiery motivation. In so many personal development gurus, I felt I had real friends who truly understood me.

    Self-help, and my ex for that matter, caught me at a sensitive time in my life. I had recently hit rock bottom and decided to change my life. I quit drugs, clubs, and smoking. I stopped pathologically lying and hurting myself for attention.

    I wanted to be alert and lucid. I wanted to explore and reach my potential.

    One thing that empowered me about personal development was getting rid of the victim mentality and shedding my traumatic stories. I didn’t have to carry the past around the way I did. What was the point? It just made me miserable and regretful and vengeful, never leading to anything productive.

    At first, the idea of taking responsibility for my destiny felt like a tough pill to swallow. I was supposed to take responsibility for the abuse I’d endured in various family and romantic relationships? But when I examined the situations closer, I could see that I had a side in co-creating those dynamics. I wasn’t simply a victim of what people were doing to me. I was constantly triggering their actions and reacting to them. I was part of a cycle.

    What was at first difficult evolved over time into a new approach to life. All I had to do was find a way to hold myself responsible for my emotions, for my life, for my behaviors. No matter how other people acted, I always had a choice.

    I carried this empowerment with me day to day; it helped in many ways. It helped me quit a day job I disliked. It helped me take charge of my career. It helped me let go of being annoyed and held back by the toxic actions of grouchy cashiers and judgmental family members. But taking responsibility for my part in everything started harming my life long before I recognized what was happening.

    I carried my victimless self-empowerment to the street corner where my ex drunkenly yelled at me in public, calling me all kinds of names, as I escorted him into a cab. I carried it to his house where he threw coat hooks at my face and cussed at me before passing out in the bed. I carried it the night I woke up to him vomiting all over the bed after another blackout-drunk night. I carried it through the years I lent him thousands of dollars to gamble away on affiliate marketing while paying my bills and our bills, cooking, cleaning, and providing him with unlimited emotional support, day in and day out.

    Back then, I had a blog. I wrote about finding self-love through obstacles in my work, reaching self-understanding in difficult encounters with yoga teachers and friends, learning from negative reviews, and so on. I didn’t blog about my ex’s alcoholism or verbal abuse. It felt like I was being respectful. If I was going through a hard time—which is how he framed it every time I told him I wanted out—I’d want the same thing.

    He kept me addicted to promises of a future where he’d get better. Sunk-cost bias is a real thing. He would cite Elon Musk’s first wife and how she was there for all the awful things and never got to enjoy his success. He wouldn’t want that to happen to me: to see him at his worst, support him through it, and then not get to enjoy his best. At the time, these justifications made perfect sense.

    Personal development taught me to lose myself in the service of others. It felt right to give to him as unconditionally as possible. Most of the time, I honestly felt like a good person. When he was spewing insults in my face as I remained nonreactive, I felt like I was holding space. That’s what holding space is, right?

    The trouble is that when someone yells and screams while drunk, they’re not safe, no matter what kind of space you create for them. By the next morning, all progress is lost. This is something I could see happening, but I denied it. I learned to find tiny shreds of growth and hold onto those as proof that I should stay.

    Taking responsibility for my part wasn’t the only thing keeping me there. It was also the stories about how I’d drawn this situation upon myself.

    Sometimes, I’d bring up that he was a completely different person when I first met him: patient, kind, loving, and curious about exploring my personality, my body, my views. He’d claim the way he was at the beginning was unsustainable. How could I have expected anything else?

    When we met, I was in the middle of healing sexual assault trauma. When he and I would get close to being intimate, I would sometimes freeze up and turn away. He once said this rejection was difficult for him and unsustainable.

    The first time we had sex felt like a violation. The moment I realized what happened, I felt like running away, but I didn’t. After all, I’d had a few drinks and wasn’t on my guard. Besides, I already had triggers about this kind of thing. How could I blame him without also blaming myself?

    The first time he yelled at me, I sat in front of my mirror, crying, looked myself in the eyes, and said, “If he did it once, he’ll do it again. You know that. Run. Go. Now.” But I didn’t. After all, I’d hurt people I cared about when I was at my worst. I changed. How could I deny him the opportunity to do the same?

    I filled up private journals with angry words. Then, I burned them. I thought: Isn’t this what any evolved person would do? Holding onto past traumas and breeding rageful narratives seemed like unhelpful patterns. I reframed my bypassing as patience and kindness and, worst of all, unconditional love.

    Anger, it turned out too many years later, was a useful signal I kept ignoring. This felt strange to discover. How could I have missed it? After all, personal development is crawling with ideas about decoding your emotions, honoring yourself, and respecting boundaries. For a few years after I got the courage to leave, I kept asking myself: How could I have been so intent on practicing self-awareness while ignoring the most blatant issues in my life?

    Ah, but I hadn’t been ignoring them. I was experiencing excruciating chronic pain symptoms and explaining them away with physical causes. Too long after leaving my ex, I began to understand how these unaddressed issues had begun as dissociative symptoms in response to violation. I also realized how much worse these symptoms became from living for seven years with a person whose presence felt like a violation. How could I have stayed in that environment daily while also daily practicing (and, embarrassingly, also teaching people about) the art of self-love?

    It took me years of soul-searching and decluttering and truth-speaking and running around in circles trying to heal the physical and emotional symptoms of feeling chronically unsafe to even begin to understand the answer. It’s simple: There’s a lot of wisdom out there, and there are many contradictory wise messages. We hear what we want to hear.

    I do believe that personal development can be used to truly improve a life, to help people reach their highest potential. I have also experienced first-hand how we can use it to keep ourselves in toxic situations. It’s not like self-help is to blame for me staying with him, but it didn’t help me escape either. It’s not information that helps us at the end of the day. It’s courage. It’s honesty. It’s community.

    Unfortunately, community is something I didn’t have when I began realizing all these things. I thought I did. I thought I had many friends who were deeply into self-healing and self-love and emotional authenticity. But when I started to get real about the things that were affecting me, like sexual assault and repressed rage and the war back home and my indigenous roots and the predators inside the “conscious community,” I felt more and more alone. After years of supposedly inspired living, I had no real friends to turn to when things got rough.

    With all the advice columns and how-to articles and 10-step lists, somehow personal development had left out the most important part: humanity. Learning to be ourselves alone and with each other.

    Again, it’s one of those things that we only see when we want to see them. As Lao Tzu said, “The greatest wisdom seems childish.”

    I read so many books and listened to so many audiobooks searching for answers about how to become the best version of myself, but the opportunities, the lessons, and most importantly, the answers had been there in front of my face all along. I just had to be brave enough and honest enough with myself to see what was already there.

  • 7 Ways Childhood Trauma Shows Up in Your Romantic Relationships

    7 Ways Childhood Trauma Shows Up in Your Romantic Relationships

    “Love is the greatest miracle cure. Loving ourselves creates miracles in our lives.” ~Louise Hay

    When you are unlucky in love, you tend to blame yourself for not being enough and maybe blame fate for not giving you a break already! Everyone else around you is in happy, long-term relationships, but you just can’t get there.

    You might come to the conclusion that there is something wrong with you—you’re too old or too fat—and all the good ones are already married, and you will just die alone! You never think for one moment that your relationship history is playing out a dynamic from childhood.

    I felt like this for thirty-seven years of my life. It was like I kept dating the same man but in different bodies. The way I felt was always the same. Always chasing after someone who was unavailable in some way. Some had addictions, some were in relationships, some prioritized other people, but the underlying feeling was the same. I am not good enough to be loved.

    Other times I avoided relationships all together, or I was the one running away from the ones who did want me, telling myself that they were not what I wanted. In all situations it ended in the same way—me single, feeling incredibly lonely and hopeless. Looking at everyone who could manage a relationship wondering what was wrong with me.

    I continued aimlessly looking for love in all the wrong places, completely unaware of how my childhood was impacting my relationship choices. Thankfully, I began a journey of healing that started by reading and listening to self-help content. I became aware of Pia Melody and the concept of love addiction after reading her book by the same name.

    This relationship behavior I kept repeating was actually a trauma response. I had grown up with a dad who was emotionally unavailable and very much focused on his own needs. Unconsciously, I was finding him in these other relationships. It got worse after his suicide.

    Since then, I’ve learned a lot about how our childhood trauma plays out in relationships. Here are seven ways it can happen:

    1. You are in a relationship but don’t feel loved.

    You are in the relationship you once wished for, but you still feel this emptiness and feel like your partner is to blame. If they did x, then you would feel loved and enough.

    You blame them and they trigger you. But are you expecting the love and care from them that you are not even giving to yourself? Are you filling up your own love so that their love is just a bonus? Are you even noticing the ways they show you love? It may be different to your love language. Maybe things are not right, but are you working on repairing the issues rather than blaming or ignoring them?

    Our first relationships (with our parents or childhood caregivers) teach us about attachment. If your relationship with your parents was sometimes really loving but other times they were cold and distant, you didn’t grow up with love being available and consistent. Which is why relationships can make you feel anxious and you can over-give and feel lonely in a relationship.

    2. You are the fixer in love.

    When you date or even marry, your partner tends to be the broken bird that you are obsessed with fixing. Or they might be a narcissist who is all about their needs and you taking care of them. Either way, you have found yourself in toxic relationships that don’t feel safe or good.

    They could be an addict and you pour all your energy trying to save them while feeling depleted and unloved. You become almost obsessed with how you can save this person you love so much. It’s quite possible you’re repeating a dynamic with one of your parents.

    For example, I very much repeated a pattern of finding men to fix because my relationship with my dad was all about his needs and his struggles with his mental health. I was always saving him, and when I did, I would receive love from him. I thought this was love, so I repeated this unconsciously in other relationships.

    3. You chase unavailable love.

    You spend all your time and energy chasing after someone who is not available in some way. They need fixing, have addiction or family issues, are in a relationship already, or won’t commit to you. But you think of them day and night. You are obsessed with getting them to choose you, but they don’t and this spirals you into despair.

    You just keep trying and sometimes use other addictions to numb the pain. I was addicted to a psychic line at the height of my love addiction with an unavailable man because I was looking for confirmation that we’d end up together. This is what launched my healing journey, as it really did make me feel insane at times, especially when the object of my affection kept coming forward and then running away.

    We often will attract people who are playing out their attachment trauma from childhood with us. Often one that is opposite to us. So if you chase love, you may attract someone who runs away.

    4. You avoid relationships entirely.

    Falling in love feels like too much and it just makes you feel so anxious, so you might avoid relationships entirely and seem to function better single. But the loneliness is intense. You wish you could be held at night.

    You will do things to avoid these feelings, like overwork, take care of others, keep your social calendar super busy, numb with TV, drink all the time—whatever you can do to not feel your feelings!

    If you even attempt to go on a dating app your heart races and you feel terrified. So you run back to your safe single life, wondering what is wrong with you that you can’t even go on a date.

    5. You ignore the red flags.

    The object of your affection does things that don’t feel safe, yet you don’t say anything out of fear of losing them. You have no idea how to set a boundary and ignore warning signs that this person may not be good for you—how they talk to you, put you down, deny your reality, or even get physically violent.

    Since you grew up with a parent that did the same to you, it feels almost normal. Even though your body will tense up around them, you are used to that. You stay too long in relationships that don’t make you feel good, where you get very little. You feel like this is the best you can get, so you focus on the good rather than noticing the bad.

    6. You feel suffocated in your relationship.

    You are in a relationship that feels safe and easy, but then your brain starts to question it all. Am I attracted to this person? Do I feel suffocated by them? Are they the right one for me? You will convince yourself that they are wrong for you and end the relationship, as you have no idea what healthy love even is. It makes you feel so anxious to end up with the wrong person.

    7. You don’t think you can get better.

    You are in a relationship because you don’t want to be alone, but it doesn’t make you happy. But you don’t think you deserve any better. The fear of leaving and being alone feels like too much, so you just stay. Resenting the other person for not making you happy but not taking any action to make your situation better.

    —

    Many of us fall into more than one of these categories.

    Without healing and inner work, we unconsciously play out patterns from the past and stop ourselves from having a fulfilling relationship.

    We can’t even objectively see what is wrong because so much of what we are experiencing in our relationships is based on our past trauma wounds. We don’t know what we don’t know, and if no one  modelled a healthy relationship for us growing up, how can we know what it is ?

    I had no ideas my parents’ relationship was unhealthy because the constant fighting was my normal, so I had no idea I could have something different.

    Romantic love felt stressful for me for many years. I was either pining after them or they were driving me mad. I didn’t know there could be any another way.

    But understanding my relationship patterns and where they came from has been a game changer for me.

    Now, after a journey of healing the past relational traumas with my parents through therapy, books, and support groups, I know how to have healthy love. What changed was I learned how to love myself and care for myself the way I wish others would love me.

    This changed everything…

    As my relationship with myself improved, so did my relationship with men. I am now married, and thankful my marriage is nothing like my parents’. When there’s conflict, we have the tools to move through it and come out stronger.

    We have a strong relationship in large part because I have done a ton of inner work and healing. Unlike in previous relationships, I now know my own worth, and I also know how to express my needs and boundaries with love and kindness.

    I finally took responsibility for my behavior and moved out of victim mode. This changed the relationships I attracted, not just romantic. I now knew how to treat myself with love and respect, and this meant the quality of love I received was healthier as a result.

    Our internal issues play out in our relationships. Once we heal on the inside, everything changes.

    Love yourself the way you wish to be loved by someone else. Notice when your relationship is triggering negative emotions and ask yourself, “What do I need?” Start to give yourself what you need and then you will learn to ask others for what you need. Showering yourself with your own love will change everything.

  • Why Codependents Don’t Trust Themselves to Make Decisions and How to Start

    Why Codependents Don’t Trust Themselves to Make Decisions and How to Start

    “Slow, soulful living is all about coming back to your truth, the only guidance you’ll ever need. When you rush, you have the tendency to follow others. When you bring in mindfulness, you have the power to align with yourself.” ~Kris Franken

    Codependency previously created a lot of pain and agony in my life. One of the ways it manifested was in my inability to trust myself. I would overthink decisions to death, fearful that I would choose the “wrong one” or upset someone if they didn’t agree or were disappointed by my choice.

    I was terrified of “making a mistake,” and I exhausted myself trying to collect everyone’s opinion (to ensure they would be pleased with me) before finally settling on a choice.

    As annoying as it was, for me and everyone around me, I couldn’t seem to stand firm in my decisions. I longed to be more confident in my choices but couldn’t understand why it was so hard for me.

    Growing up with an authoritative, controlling parent, I didn’t have the opportunity and support I needed to feel my feelings and let my intuition guide my choices. I didn’t get to learn from my mistakes. When I made a mistake, it felt like death. I was often blamed, shamed, and criticized, all too much for my empathetic system to bear.

    I learned that if I placated and pleased, others were happy. And because I became so others-focused from such an early age, I never learned how to build my muscle for good decision-making.

    Feelings and emotions were not welcome in my world, so my only way through was to disconnect from feeling at all—though I felt responsible for others’ mood swings and feelings. I learned that sharing my needs or opinions was triggering for others, and I didn’t have the skills to navigate the weight of that. All this combined felt mentally paralyzing, so I began to look outside of myself to others for advice and guidance eventually.

    When you’re reliant on other people’s opinions and guidance, you’re much like a feather in the wind—susceptible to any small or big gust that comes along. You aren’t in control of your life, and you give others way too much power over how you feel.

    One of the best ways to begin to build self-trust and heal from codependency is to begin feeling your feelings again, living from the neck down as I like to say. Moving from our cognitive thinking brain (because I know you know making decisions shouldn’t be this hard) to the wisdom of our bodies.

    I believe that in order for us to really build this self-trust muscle, we have to learn how to trust our feelings. And that requires us to build a sense of awareness around why we might be codependent in the first place.

    Perhaps, like me, you were programmed from an early age not to trust your inner knowing, or intuition. This results in low self-worth. And this happens for a number of reasons.

    • You were abused or neglected (physically and/or emotionally).
    • Your feelings and needs were minimized.
    • You were judged, shamed, or mocked for your feelings, maybe even being called “too sensitive.”
    • Your feelings and needs weren’t as important as other people’s.
    • You didn’t have at least one parent or caregiver validating your feelings and sense of worth. You didn’t have someone mirroring back to you your value.

    If you experienced any amount of neglect, or had emotionally unavailable parents, like me, you probably learned to suppress your feelings in order to survive. And what we resist persists, so those feelings that we try to shove down only intensify.

    3 Tools to Build Self-Trust

    These three tips might help you learn to trust your inner wisdom so you can make decisions from an empowered place.

    TOOL #1: Do a daily check-in of your feelings.

    When we check in with our feelings regularly so we can meet our needs, we learn to trust in our ability to do what’s best for ourselves.

    When I first started doing this, I would set four alarms on my phone. When the alarm went off, I would do a quick check-in by asking myself, “What am I feeling? What am I experiencing right now?”

    Often, we run through life, not checking in to see how we are doing and feeling (especially if we struggle with people-pleasing and codependency). We do a lot of things every day, all day—go to work, make decisions, parent our kids—but we often don’t check in with ourselves and ask if we need to shift something.

    This is a big part of self-love, checking in and asking, before I have this conversation with my child, my partner, my boss, or customer service rep for my computer, what’s going on with me? Oh, I’m feeling ornery or hungry; here’s how I can address that before I have this conversation.

    You can also do this by journaling. Keeping track of your feelings in a journal can be a beautiful way to understand, process, and look back on your experiences.

    Here are some journaling questions to help you get started:

    • What do I need to hear from myself?
    • What do I need to do for myself to feel my best?
    • What do I love about my life right now?
    • Today I woke up feeling (fill in the blank).
    • Am I living a life aligned with my values?

    TOOL #2: Reparent your inner child.

    Reparenting your inner child is a beautiful way of giving your inner little one the things that he or she needed and never received in childhood. You become the parent you needed when you were a child. And, by giving to yourself what you didn’t receive then, you free yourself from the past.

    So much of reparenting yourself is about making choices every day in your own best interest. It’s becoming aware of your patterns and behaviors, understanding why you do what you do, and carving out time to give yourself what you really need. When you give yourself what you need, you start worrying less about other people abandoning you because you know you won’t abandon yourself.

    One of my favorite ways to reparent myself is to give myself the words I never got to hear as a small young child.  Words like:

    • I love you.
    • I hear you.
    • You are perfect and complete.
    • You didn’t deserve that.
    • I see that really hurt you.
    • What do you need right now?
    • That must have been very difficult for you.
    • I’m so sorry that happened to you.
    • You are smart.
    • You did your best.

    TOOL #3: Practice creating safety within.

    Because we, as codependents, were raised by either emotionally unavailable or narcissistic caregivers/parents, we developed what I refer to as “a hole in the soul.”

    Our parents’ responsibility is to mirror back to us our worth and value, but when they fail to do that, we will look to someone or something outside of ourselves to show us our worth and, in essence, feel safe.

    It’s an endless battle of trying to fill that hole. Low self-worth, self-value, self-esteem, and self-regard are typical for codependents. We look outside of ourselves for safety and approval, becoming dependent on that next hit or rush. That safety might last for five minutes, five hours, and if we’re lucky, a whole day.

    One of my trusted and reliable systems for safety was shopping. I would spend frivolously, buying things we didn’t need with money we didn’t necessarily have. This created a lot of stress and conflict between my husband and me, and further decreased my self-trust.

    He couldn’t understand why I had this insatiable push to spend, and I didn’t either. I just knew that my system felt safe and relaxed once I made my purchases—until the excitement wore off, which usually happened quite quickly, and I was back in the store, searching and spending, trying to get my next fix.

    I had a lot of stress and guilt because I knew what I was doing wasn’t healthy. Yet it was compulsive. I couldn’t stop.

    I longed for the connection and safety that I never received as a child but didn’t know how to get it in healthy ways. So I suppressed my needs in relationships and tried to fill that hole with shopping.

    It didn’t happen overnight, but once I learned how to create that feeling of safety within myself (with lots of support through trauma-informed coaching, therapy, breathwork, meditation, and proper nutrition, and after learning to speak up for myself), my codependent strategies (shopping, relationship addiction) slowly seemed to disappear.

    I no longer needed to rely on my old strategies because I knew how to trust myself and offer myself what I truly needed.

    I invite you to try this: Close your eyes and imagine something that makes you feel at ease, calm, and safe (maybe your favorite forest or beach, perhaps a little cabin nestled in the woods). Notice where the sensation of ease lives in your body. Be with it for a moment—just sit with and experience it. That feeling you just created was created by you. It is yours.

    Every time you do this exercise you release the belief that you can’t create this feeling alone. That you can’t be trusted, and that you must rely on things outside of you to create safety.

    When I first started this practice, I had to implement it every time I entered a store. I took a few moments while I sat in my car and created that feeling of safety within. That way, I felt a sense of calm and ease as I was shopping, keeping my prefrontal cortex online so that I could make rational purchases that I felt confident and good about.

    I started to build evidence that I could, in fact, trust myself to make healthy decisions. It was incredibly empowering and freeing to walk into a shop and simply admire the textures, patterns, scents, and products without feeling an overwhelming compulsion to put things in my cart that I simply didn’t need.

    Every time we connect with ourselves this way, we prove to ourselves that we can create safety within. And every time we make healthy choices from that place of internal safety, we deepen our trust in our ability to discern and do what’s best for us.

  • How I Stopped Chasing Men Who Hurt Me and Found Healthy Love

    How I Stopped Chasing Men Who Hurt Me and Found Healthy Love

    “There are two things you should never waste your time on: things that don’t matter and people who think that you don’t matter.” ~Ziad K. Abdelnour  

    “What is wrong with me?” I asked myself. Crying in the dark of the night. “Why doesn’t he love me?”

    I’d tried to fold myself in all the ways I could to be loved and accepted, but it was never enough. I found myself repeating patterns of chasing men who just didn’t want me. Same cry in the night, different men.

    The more I chased them, the more they ran away, and the deeper I lost my self-worth. 

    I was addicted to them. They were my drug. These men who were wounded and just needed a loving, caring woman to come save them. I wanted to be the answer to their pain so then finally, a man would choose me. Finally, I would get the love I had longed for and chased my whole life.

    I always chased men that were unavailable in some way. They may have been addicts, in other relationships, or just not ready for a relationship. The more they didn’t want the relationship, the harder I would chase.

    I would be up late in the night, full of anxiety, obsessing about them. So preoccupied with trying to make them love me that I forgot to take care of myself.

    I had no boundaries and would accept any kind of awful behavior. It would break my heart and I may pull back for a moment, but then they would notice and come toward me, so the pull-push cycle would begin again.

    I lacked self-love and self-worth, and this pattern was destroying what little I had. I felt like nothing and like there was something fundamentally wrong with me.

    My happiness, my everything, was tied up in receiving validation from these unavailable men. The older I got, the worse it got, and the more obvious it was that something was not right. My friends were getting married, having children, and moving forward. But I was stuck ruminating about my latest obsession.

    I even drove my friends mad! No matter what they said to me, it wouldn’t stop me chasing a fantasy. When they stopped listening, I rang a psychic line multiple times a day for validation that the man I wanted was ‘the one.’ So not only did my self-worth disappear but my bank balance with it.

    It was exhausting and brought me to my knees in my mid-thirties.

    Then I noticed something. If someone was interested in me, available, and wanted to move forward, I would feel suffocated and tell myself there was no chemistry. But if someone showed some interest but was not available, I would want them more than anything.

    I felt like there was something really wrong with me because of this pattern, but I was determined to change, so I could have healthy, loving romantic relationships.

    I read You Can Heal Your Life, by Louise Hay, and decided to change my beliefs.

    Here are the five things I did to heal so I could open up to a healthier relationship:

    1. I adopted a daily self-care practice.

    It became painfully obvious to me that I knew how to love others but not myself. So I began with adding some practices to my day to help me build self-love.

    I listened to affirmations on Spotify and read them to myself looking in the mirror. I tried meditation and hot baths to begin my journey. I was always researching new ways to show myself love. In addition to developing a self-care practice, I invested in support to help me get better, including therapy.

    2. I began doing inner child work.

    I went back to my earlier story through meditation and discovered that younger-me was always chasing after my dad’s unavailable love. Trying to help him, to be seen. Trying to fix him so he would tell me I was enough. Seeking his validation, his connection, because he was unavailable due to his own childhood trauma. My inner child had internalized this to means I was unlovable.

    I began to say affirmations to a photo of my younger self. “You are loveable,” “You are enough,” “You are worthy.” I would literally talk to her and ask her how she felt and what she needed. I would imagine playing with her and showing her love.

    I explored my inner child’s story and learned lots about attachment theory. I realized that I had disorganized attachment from my father’s inconsistency, and that this was not my fault but just part of my old programming. The great news was I could change this! A book that helped me was Healing Your Attachment Wounds, by Diane Poole Heller.

    When I recognized why I sought love from men who couldn’t give it to me, that ache for unavailable love lessened.

    3. I set clear intentions.

    I grew up on my dad’s little crumbs of love. It made me feel starved for love and attention, so later in life, I would accept them from any man who showed me interest. Even if they weren’t the right fit for me. I had no idea what that was!

    When I realized this, I compiled a list of what I didn’t want. I tuned into what brought me pain and unhappiness growing up. Things that made me feel unsafe. These became my red flags. For example, emotional unavailability, anger, shouting, gaslighting, denying my reality, and addiction were a few items from my list.

    I became conscious about what I didn’t want so I wouldn’t blindly go into a relationship that made me feel unsafe again.

    I also compiled a list of things I did want—must-haves like kindness and safety.

    4. I ended contact with unavailable men.

    This was a hard one and felt very uncomfortable. I took a step back from my ‘drug.’ I even unfollowed people on social media to allow myself space to heal. Sometimes I would have a bad day and make contact, but slowly my addiction lessened.

    To support myself through this process, I read books, listened to podcasts, and even trained for a marathon to give me another focus. Books like Father Therapy, by Doreen Virtue, and Facing Love Addiction, by Pia Mellody, helped me to understand my pattern. I also found communities where I could share my story and not be judged.

    I learned how to stop numbing the pain from my past with these unhealthy relationships by learning how to soothe myself and let my wounds heal.

    5. I dated myself.

    I stepped back from dating and focused solely on learning to love and date myself. To start, I took myself on a trip for three days in Italy. I took my books, went on tours on my own, and journaled about my story. I  regularly spent time with myself and even found new hobbies. Before, I had been so obsessed with these men that pleasing them was my hobby.

    I found ways to enjoy my own time and have fun! To feel whole and enough on my own. I took myself to restaurants and treated myself to gifts. I became the person I always wanted. Validating, attentive, kind, and fun!

    Sure enough, in time, I found an emotionally available man who chose me and was everything I wrote on my intention list. He had no red flags, unlike any of my previous partners. He makes me feel safe every day, and most importantly, he gives me space to continue the most important relationship in my life. The one with me.

    If you can relate to this pattern of choosing emotionally unavailable partners, just notice the behavior. It is not you. It is just a behavior you are doing to keep safe. Thank this part and know that it is possible to change and find your healthy love.

  • No One Was Coming to Save Me: The Insignificance I Felt as a Kid

    No One Was Coming to Save Me: The Insignificance I Felt as a Kid

    “Never make the mistake of thinking you are alone—or inconsequential.” ~ Rebecca McKinsey

    I can still remember it as vividly as if it happened yesterday.

    Our kitchen was small. Only enough room for a few people, and there were four of us kids scrounging to get our hands on the rest of the leftovers. It wasn’t a fight, but I can say with certainty that there was an underlying assumption that whoever got their hands on it first was able to claim it, so there was competition.

    I grabbed my spoon first and then went to the fridge to get my food when my dad grabbed the spoon out of hand.

    “Dad! Give it back!” I said in my most rude teenage voice.

    Not a second passed and his hand met my cheek with a blow that knocked me to the floor. There must have been a loud noise as I flopped to the floor, hitting the dishwasher, because my mom, who was doing laundry, came running inside to see what was going on.

    I lay there helpless on the floor, not struggling but also not fighting.

    I looked up at my mom, who looked back at me, then at my dad. She gave a sigh of disapproval, turned the corner, and walked away.

    Still on the floor, I looked up at my brother who was eating at the bar that faced where I was lying. He looked at me chewing his food, continued to eat, and said nothing.

    This was the first time I remember feeling alone. It was a reminder that hit me like a ton of bricks that nobody was coming to save me… nobody. 

    Of course, this reality check didn’t come without consequences. It most certainly left a hole in my heart and closed off parts of me that later became nearly impossible to break. But I survived. I just learned to survive without the parts of me that were open to love and compassion.

    While the trauma of getting hit by a parent has repercussions, I believe it was the ignoring of suffering that had more catastrophic consequences for me.

    Having both parents fail me at the same moment and then looking up to see my brother carrying on with his life as if nothing was out of the ordinary was complete devastation for me.

    In that moment, it was a reminder of my worth, and it was a reminder of my insignificance within my family. 

    And that became my voice for a large part of my life.

    It’s funny, though, because I never remember feeling alone as a kid, and it’s probably just because I never understood what that even looked like. It took years of trying hard to sit with my feelings to understand that what I was feeling was insignificance. Years.

    Not having the vocabulary around my feelings made normalizing them so difficult. Now I can look at what I was feeling with confidence and not give it more weight than it deserves. I can label it, feel it, look at it objectively, and move on without taking it personally.

    Today I realize that feeling lonely, unseen, and insignificant was simply a product of emotionally immature parents, not a reflection of who I was. But as a kid, I internalized it as a problem with myself because I couldn’t properly label it and assign meaning to it. Instead, I made what I was feeling a part of my character, and thus I subconsciously became a magnet for all the things that would validate that “character flaw” in myself.

    I dated people who treated me like crap and sought out mean guys. I had friends who were hurtful. And all the while I felt like I had a problem that made me unlovable.

    And I’m not gonna lie, I’m a lot of “too-much-ness” for a lot of people, but emotionally mature people cannot just handle me, they can love me too. Because while I am a lot, I’m also full of a lot of love too.

    I tell this story because I realized that naming our feelings is foundational to learning to communicate without projecting blame onto others. This isn’t just true for children going through a difficult time. This is true for many of us adults who just never learned the vocabulary around what certain feelings even look like.

    When we own our feelings, we’re less likely to blame other people for causing them because we understand where they originated and know it’s our responsibility to work through them.

    My feelings of insignificance will probably never go away when it comes to my relationship with my family. Mother’s Day was difficult for me this year because it brought back those same feelings of loneliness (and a bit of sadness), but they no longer hold the same weight. I now can see my feelings at face value without judging myself and my character as a result.

    Instead, I know that…

    I am not insignificant, and I am worthy of love. And that is why I have created a life full of love and meaning in my own family.

    My “too-much-ness” is only “too much” for those that don’t have the ability to see the beauty in me. And that is why I surround myself with only those who see me through a lens of love.

    There is value in learning what our feelings are, defining them, recognizing what they look like, and realizing how they can run us ragged if left unchecked. If you do one thing this year, learn about your feelings so they no longer can control you.