Tiny Buddha

Tag: unworthy

  • Trauma Lies: Why Survivors Feel Like They’re Bad People

    Trauma Lies: Why Survivors Feel Like They’re Bad People

    “Trauma is not the bad things that happen to you, but what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.” ~Dr. Gabor Maté

    I used to have this pervasive empty feeling inside. I tried filling it by eating, working, being a wife, making my life look great on socials—anything really to make it go away. I went to church, worked hard, and tried to be a good person, hoping the hole would fill and my life would feel whole and complete.

    I went to therapy for the first time when I was sixteen years old. I remember telling my therapist about this black hole in the middle of my chest. It was bottomless and hot inside. I remember drawing it for my therapist, and one day we had a session where I went inside to see what was down there.

    Strangely, I don’t remember the outcome of that session, but I do know that hole persisted for years. Well into my thirties. I would have seasons of time where I was more conscious of it than others, but nothing, no matter what I did or tried, would make it go away completely.

    I went to school and became a therapist so I could learn all I could and help myself in ways others couldn’t help. Even with professional training, it still took a long time for me to sort out the bottomless pit that sat on my chest.

    I realize now that the pit was composed of several different things, but the primary motivator behind its ever-presence was the fundamental belief that there was something wrong with me.

    I believed everyone, in general, deserved to have a good life and good things, but I wasn’t so lucky. I didn’t really have a reason for why I believed this, just that this was my reality and I had to learn to live with it.

    I didn’t believe that I deserved to have anything nice or good. My life was meant to be in service and sacrifice to others so they could advance and have a good life. Once I began to study trauma and its impact, I was finally able to put the pieces together for why I felt this way.

    When we are kids, we don’t have any control over anything that is happening around us. We don’t get to say where we live, who we’re living with, where we go to school, or when we eat dinner. Nothing. The locus of control is completely outside of us.

    We are at the mercy of the environment around us. For those of us who were not so lucky to be in an environment where we felt safe and secure and had our needs met, this presents a life-threatening problem.

    We are mammals; we need connection for survival. It’s biological. When our safety and belonging are threatened, it feels like life or death because it is life or death. We need an attachment to our caretakers, our environment, and ourselves to survive.

    Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to express emotion. If I was sad or angry, I had to pretend I wasn’t, or I would not be allowed to be in the presence of others in my home. I was abused by my cousins, and I had to keep it a secret so I wouldn’t upset the connections of the adults who were around me.

    I was taught at church that if any boy was looking at me, touching me, or treating me badly, then I must be doing something to deserve it.

    My world was completely out of my control, and I was drowning in helplessness, pain, sadness, and disconnection. This isn’t a tolerable emotional state to maintain. I couldn’t control any of it, and neither can any other child who is experiencing events that dysregulate their nervous system with no one and nothing available to help calm, soothe, and comfort.

    We have only one choice in this instance. We shift the locus of control from outside of ourselves to inside of ourselves. We decide that we deserve bad things to happen.

    There are many ways this plays out for people. Some people decide they are bad; they were born bad. Some people decide they just don’t deserve good things or to be treated kindly because there is something wrong with them. They, for whatever reason, are unlovable.

    I fell more into the latter. I didn’t know what was wrong with me; I just knew something must be wrong with me, and that’s why so many bad things were happening to me and no one noticed or cared.

    This resolved the conflict of feeling helpless and out of control. This allowed me to stay connected to my family in any way I could and removed the helplessness that left me feeling vulnerable and afraid.

    We adopt the belief that bad things happen to bad people so we don’t have to be confused about why bad things are happening to us. It’s because we deserve it.

    This is something we all do when we are young and in situations that are out of our control. We find a way to shift the narrative to make us in control. If we determine that we are bad, wrong, unlovable, weak, or in any way at fault, then the helplessness and weakness are resolved, and we can move forward creating connections and safety within our family systems and culture.

    This sets in motion a paradigm, a core belief, that shapes all of our choices, interactions, assumptions, values, and practices for our whole life. This paradigm informs how we interact with the world moving forward. Buried inside the paradigm are deep feelings of grief, loneliness, shame, fear, and abandonment. These are intolerable feelings that are too overwhelming to keep in our conscious mind.

    For me, I unconsciously dug a deep black hole in my soul and attempted to bury the insufferable feelings that had nowhere to go.

    Trauma causes our minds and our bodies to split from each other. The lines of communication are severed or distorted in order for our stress response system to work effectively at keeping us alive.

    If you experience a trauma but have the opportunity to process it and have people to help you recreate safety, then the connection between mind and body can be restored.

    For those who experience trauma but don’t have the opportunity to re-establish connection and safety, the mind and body remain disconnected. With this persistent mind-body disconnection, the paradigm shift of internalizing that we are bad or deserve bad things gives us two choices moving forward.

    One choice is to shut down all feelings and go numb to emotion. We live in our heads and work really hard to be perfect, good, lovable, pleasing, and acceptable. We become workaholics, overthinkers, perfectionists, and incapable of tolerating any mistakes we make.

    We do this because we unconsciously want so badly to prove to ourselves and the world around us that we really are lovable and good people. We really are worthy of being loved and accepted. We love others well, struggle to set boundaries, and will do anything to be seen as acceptable.

    I can relate very much to this response to the belief that there must be something really bad and wrong with me. I must have done something to deserve abuse and neglect. These weren’t conscious thoughts, just an internal shift I made as a child to resolve the unresolvable. This isn’t unique to me; every childhood trauma survivor I know has done this.

    The other option we have is to stay connected more to our body than our mind. To emote and express all the sadness, anger, and rage inside. People with this response have big emotions. They are explosive, struggle with consistency, struggle to hold down a job, or have addictions. If you ask them why they are struggling, they will usually say, “I don’t know.” They really don’t know because they are in their bodies trying to express all the energy trapped inside, but their minds are checked out.

    Some identify mostly with one archetype, and some relate to being both. This is more of a spectrum than a black-and-white response.

    For me, I was numb 95% of the time and always in my head. If something did ever really get to me, then I would switch to big emotions and not think about what I was doing. I’d get blackout drunk, smoke a pack of cigarettes, buy $30 worth of candy, and eat it all in a half-hour. My behavior would be extreme until I could get back to my head and shut it all down. Can you relate?

    While neither response is good or bad, our society definitely rewards one response over the other. We praise the children who sit in the front of the class and act like “teachers’ pets.” We reward the workaholics and praise the overthinkers. This makes me really sad now that I am in recovery from being a pleaser.

    My recovery took years longer than it should have because it took so long for me to figure out that all the things that people told me were good about me were not actually me at all. They were all an attempt to prove my worth, and as long as I stayed connected to being seen as good and acceptable, I was playing a role based in shame rather than being myself. I couldn’t see it because the role was reinforced everywhere I went.

    There are some specific steps we need to take to set ourselves free.

    The first is to accept and feel the deep pain of realizing we were innocent children who had no control over the uncontrollable things that were happening.

    We didn’t cause it and didn’t deserve it. We were innocent children who deserved love, protection, and safety. There is no reason inside of us that we didn’t get that.

    This is often hard to accept. For me, it felt like I was going to die when I began to allow the pain to surface. This is because at the time of the events, the pain was threatening my connection, which threatened my life. That isn’t true anymore, but my younger self holding all the pain inside didn’t realize that until I began to let myself feel it.

    No one cries forever, and no one rages forever; it does eventually pass. It didn’t kill me, and it won’t kill you either, even though it feels like it might.

    My favorite quote from Dr. Colin Ross, the founder of The Trauma Model Theory, is “Feeling your feelings won’t kill you; it’s your attempt to not feel them that will.” I have found this to be such a helpful reminder in recovery from trauma.

    The second step is to allow ourselves to fully grieve.

    Expand your tolerance level for being uncomfortable and sitting with uncomfortable emotions. Learn to feel all your feelings without activating your stress response and going into fight, flight, or freeze. Be present with them in mind and body.

    This can take some significant work for those who have had complex trauma in their histories. It often requires the support of a professional in the beginning. What helped me most is grieving what didn’t happen as much as what did. The connection and support I didn’t receive. The protection that wasn’t given to me, etc. Grieve the life you thought you should have had but didn’t.

    The third step is shifting the responsibility (not blame) to where it belongs.

    If we stay in the mindset of blame, it keeps us stuck in victim mode. We are working now to be responsible for our lives and how we move forward.

    I hold my cousins responsible for their behavior. I hold my family responsible for the support they were not able to provide. I don’t blame them, but I don’t let them off the hook either. I don’t need to know if they’ll “pay” for what they did or didn’t do. I shift the responsibility for their behavior onto them and am not really bothered with their consequences or lack of them. It doesn’t matter to me.

    It took me a while to be able to say that. For so long I wanted them to get it. I wanted them to understand, take responsibility, or say they were sorry. Waiting for these things to happen keeps us stuck and tied to them. It doesn’t allow us to move forward and create the future for ourselves that we want and deserve.

    I am no longer taking responsibility for their choices, and I don’t need to think about or see how their future plays out.

    The fourth step is to take full responsibility for ourselves.

    This was a difficult step for me. I wanted to blame my past for my inability to speak up, be bold, take action, or feel someone’s disappointment.

    I can’t take responsibility for myself and create the life I want to live if I refuse to accept that my life is a series of choices I make from here forward. I am empowered now to decide who will be around me, what I do with my time, and how I show up.

    I have shifted the paradigm from the belief that I’m unworthy to the belief that I am just as worthy as anyone else. I can tolerate people being disappointed in me, frustrated by my choices, not liking me, or anything else. I decide how I want to show up every day, and I am the only one who can create my life.

    I have never thought of myself as a victim. In fact, I hated the concept, but I did have to accept that living in pleasing mode meant I was also acting like a victim, and that alone was my motivation for change. It was messy and took a while, but eventually I was able to build my strength and resilience to a point where I was comfortable getting to know and expressing my authentic self.

    The fifth step is giving ourselves the tools, grace, and time to let all this play out.

    Continue to get to know who you truly are; continue to feel and express difficult emotions as they come up without pushing them away or dramatizing them. And learn to hold more than one emotion at the same time.

    I can now feel true, genuine love for my family while also being sad and disappointed by the way some things went down. For me, it wasn’t all bad or all good. It was both, and through healing I can genuinely feel and connect to both.

    I have also had to grieve the loss of time. It took many years for me to recover from the black hole that drove my choices and decisions for most of my life. I sometimes wonder what could have been if I had been able to be my authentic self earlier. When these thoughts come, I grieve them, let them pass, and then go do something I love to do.

    It doesn’t matter how old we are when we recognize the paradigm. It can shift, but we are the only ones who can shift it for ourselves.

  • How to Wake Up from the Painful Trance of Unworthiness

    How to Wake Up from the Painful Trance of Unworthiness

    “When we experience our lives through this lens of personal insufficiency, we are imprisoned in what I call the trance of unworthiness. Trapped in this trance, we are unable to perceive the truth of who we really are.” ~Tara Brach

    Breaking free from the trance of unworthiness is a key part of our evolution process, both at an individual and collective level.

    Let me explain why.

    What I observe with clients and what resonates with my own experiences is that most (if not all) triggers, limitations we impose on ourselves, and fears of failure or success stem from a deep and profound trance we all find ourselves in at various points in our lives: the trance of feeling “not good enough.”

    Once we’re enmeshed in this trance, where we truly feel that low vibration of unworthiness, and the shame that comes with it, we want to hide.

    We want to ensure that no one discovers our perceived worthlessness, because that would mean rejection. And rejection is oh so painful. Because we still feel it as being abandoned from the tribe in our emotional body, emotion that’s imprinted during our formative years when our samskaras (impressions or patterns of thinking/feeling/reacting) are being created.

    Therefore, humans naturally want to avoid rejection as much as possible.

    From then on, we mask. We hide. We reject our true selves and put on a façade that we believe is valuable to the tribe, thinking that we’ll be loved for it. There are different types of masks we can opt for depending on our “culturescape” and family patterns of beliefs.

    Your mask might resemble being an achiever. Constantly doing, constantly setting yourself up for success in whatever way your tribe defines it (a university degree, money in your bank account, the size of your house…).

    Or your mask might be that of a “good girl” or “good boy,” a people pleaser. Staying nice, acting nice, not too ambitious, not too lazy, making sure you do not make mistakes or get in trouble because getting in trouble would be bad.

    Or it could be a mask of service. You serve others, forgetting yourself in the process because thinking of yourself might be seen as selfish.

    But all masks have limits. There comes a time when your mask does not serve you, or them. It serves no one because it is not you. So you end up fooling yourself and others into believing that the mask is you. And this misalignment feels awkward, tight, rigid, and stressful because it is stressful not to be yourself. It takes effort to constantly put on an act. It is tiring.

    So there comes a time when you get really tired of it. Maybe you call this the mid-life crisis or the dark night of the soul.

    It’s just that your soul is tired of the constant acting.

    But your mask is really holding on, fearing that if it were to fall off, everyone would discover how worthless you are. So it works hard to stay and punishes you with harsh self-criticism each time you go off track and maybe show a bit more vulnerability, a bit more of yourself.

    So how do you remove your mask? Well, it’s not easy. It takes effort and dedication. It’s a long, non-linear journey, more like a spiraling up and down movement. But it’s oh so worth it.

    I too had a big mask on for a long time, and figuring out who I was without it was uncomfortable. So much resistance. So much fear. So many limiting beliefs.

    I wore a perfectionist mask to keep myself safe for years.

    I had a perfect body (according to the standards that were imposed on me at the time through magazines, society’s comments, women’s comments on their bodies), a perfect level of fitness (monitoring what I ate, struggling with anorexia), a perfect job (engineering, as per my family’s expectations).

    I was a feminist, working woman (the strict version of feminism that was transmitted to me was to work full-time and not be at home because it was not valued) and an independent woman (able to do everything myself).

    On the other side of the trance of unworthiness, life is so different from what your mask was expecting you to live. Maybe the big house you live in is not what lights you up anymore, or maybe it is. But you might find more joy and love in the small moments of life.

    It’s so much nicer on the other side, so much more authentic; more energizing, fluid, and beautiful. Not all happy. But authenticity brings some lightness to your life even in the midst of life’s messiness.

    Here are a few key steps to practice to break free from the trance and rediscover your true self.

    1. Check in with your readiness.

    First you need to be ready for it. You need to be willing. You need a strong energy of yes to change and no to staying the same, in that loop of constant self-doubt and feeling unworthy.

    2. Practice radical honesty.

    Be radically honest with yourself that you have been wearing a mask that kept you safe for a while but was inauthentic.

    Feel the mask in your body. How do you feel when you wear it? What physical sensations do you experience? What’s the voice in your head like? What is your inner critic telling you?

    Observe all of it. Each time you are back in this sensation, with this inner voice, catch it. Thank it for all the good work and beautiful protective intention all those years but be firm: you are in charge now.

    3. Allow the feeling of discomfort.

    Spend some time in the discomfort of removing the mask and being formless. Feel the resistance. Observe the internal battle. Feel it in your body.

    After the internal resistance, there will be grief. Feel the grief fully. You are letting go of a part of yourself that defined you for most of your life. You will need to feel the loss. Take your time. There is no rushing grief.

    4. Ask yourself: Who do I choose to be?

    In your redefinition process, ask yourself who you want to be, what quality of being you want to embody. What lit you up when you were young, and what is lighting you up now? How do you want to show up in the world? How do you want to feel? You have the power to be whoever you want to be. What will you choose?

    5. Remember your inherent worth.

    Remember that you are inherently worthy of love. You were born worthy—a little newborn, a bubble of love. And you still are. Just as worthy of love, regardless of your age and the mistakes you made along the way. You are worthy of love because you exist.

    6. Embrace forgiveness.

    Forgive yourself for your mistakes. Forgive yourself for abandoning yourself so many times. Forgive others for anything they said or did that caused you to want to hide.

    7. Decide that it’s time to shine.

    It’s time to wear that new skin. It will feel weird for a while, but it will settle into something beautiful and relaxing. Eventually. Like when you meet someone you can be yourself with, it feels so easy and beautiful. Same feeling.

    The world needs the whole of you. Your unique identity. Your unique vibration. Live authentically. Cry when you need to cry. Share how you feel with love and courage, without blaming others. Shine brightly when you feel that energy. Follow those steps that take you toward the vision of yourself you’ve set, those inspiring, energizing steps.

    The journey is not going to be all rosy, but acknowledge the impermanence of the ebbs and flows in life so you can move through the challenging parts with trust.

    8. Do what lights you up.

    Do the things that make you feel awesome, whatever they are. For me, it’s yoga, walks, nature, spending time with good friends, and connecting with my kids.

    9. Spend time in nature.

    Nature brings out our authentic nature, our worthy nature, because nature is non-judgmental. Nature is authentic. Nature is powerfully beautiful. Nature is healing.

    10. Surround yourself with a supportive tribe.

    As you remove your masks, as you grow and heal, your relationships will shift. You might find that you cannot hang out with the same people you used to—because they might still be wearing their masks, and because they might struggle with your “new” vibration. That is okay and part of the process. Learn to let go. This will create space for new relationships to come through.

    Find a tribe where you feel worthy and valued!

    11. Be compassionate to yourself. 

    Because the mask will want to come back for a while, on and off, in different forms. Your inner critic will get loud. Be patient. Hold this part of yourself and the part s/he is protecting tight. You got this… until the next time where you peel another layer and release another mask.

    Don’t forget, the journey isn’t meant to be tackled alone. Getting support from friends, a coach, or therapist is incredibly valuable. It speeds up growth and makes it easier to have someone to guide and cheer you on along the way.

  • 6 Reasons We Ignore Our Needs and How to Stop

    6 Reasons We Ignore Our Needs and How to Stop

    “If you feel that you are missing out on fulfillment and happiness, but cannot put your finger on why, perhaps there is something deeper going on. Believe it or not, anyone can develop an unconscious habit of self-deprivation. Usually, this habit begins in childhood.” ~Mike Bundrant

    For all my adolescence and over a decade of my adult life, I was what men (and I’m guessing some female friends as well) would refer to as “emotionally needy.” And some did. To my face. With a sense of condescension and judgment.

    They were right. I was clingy, insecure, and fragile. I needed regular reassurance. And I was constantly on the lookout for signs that someone might reject or abandon me.

    I was also highly dependent on external validation because I didn’t believe I was worthy or good enough. And I treated myself like I wasn’t.

    I frequently deprived myself of the things that might make me feel happy and whole while numbing myself with other things that made me feel worse about myself and even more depleted.

    Instead of expressing my feelings about things that had hurt me, I attempted to drown and burn my emotions with booze, cigarettes, and weed.

    Instead of sharing myself authentically and pursuing relationships with people who seemed receptive and trustworthy, I shapeshifted and chased one emotionally unavailable person after another—repeating a humiliating pattern of rejection and neglect that felt painful yet familiar.

    And then there were the many ways I ignored my physical needs. Like pushing myself to work more when I really needed a break—so I could achieve something big enough to feel I was worthy of love. Or forcing myself to exercise when I really needed to rest—so I wouldn’t become big enough to attract the same abuse I’d endured as a bullied kid.

    I can’t remember exactly when it happened, but I eventually realized I was so needy because I didn’t value or honor my own needs—so I looked to someone else to do it. It was the ultimate in disempowerment. I was a fragile shell of a human being who desperately hoped someone would fill me up, and convince me I deserved it.

    But the irony is that when you don’t believe you deserve good things, you’re likely to sabotage or reject them when they come your way. If you even put yourself in the position to attain them.

    And the truth is that no one else can be responsible for meeting all our needs. And most people who try (and inevitably fail) are dealing with their own wounds—fulfilling some kind of savior complex that resulted from childhood trauma. Another pattern I know all too well.

    If we want to feel happy, worthy, and loved, we have to take responsibility for meeting those needs for ourselves.

    That doesn’t mean we can’t also form relationships with people who see our worth. Just that we won’t depend on their perception to maintain our own. And we won’t require anything (or much) from them to fill our own cup. Because we’ll not only have the awareness and tools to do it ourselves but the confidence that we deserve it.

    If you can relate to any of my story or even just some, there’s a good chance you also struggle with recognizing and honoring your needs. And this likely affects more than just your relationships.

    It might manifest as deteriorating mental or physical health. It might result in professional burnout if you push yourself to do too much, especially within a toxic work culture. It could also lead to a sense of emptiness and purposelessness if you continually ignore the voice inside that tells you you’re unfulfilled.

    The first step to changing all of that is to recognize that you’re devaluing and deprioritizing your needs and do some soul-searching to understand why.

    When we understand the conditioning and beliefs that have shaped us, we’re able to work on the type of internal healing that can lead to major external change.

    It was only when I healed my deepest core wounds that I was able to change my patterns because I was no longer building from a foundation built on trauma but rather one erected in its place from self-love. Self-love that started as the tiniest seed and eventually grew into a mighty tree—much like the one at the top of this site.

    Not sure why you ignore your needs? Perhaps, like me, you’ve experienced some of the following.

    6 Reasons We Ignore Our Needs

     1. You grew up watching other people putting themselves last.

    If your parents or caregivers constantly neglected themselves while trying to please other people, you might have learned from their example that it’s selfish or wrong to put yourself first.

    They probably thought the same, and maybe for the same reason. Patterns of self-neglect, self-sabotage, and self-destruction often get passed on from generation to generation until someone says, “No more” and does the work to break the cycle.

    2. You learned, by how you were treated growing up, that your needs aren’t important, or as important as other people’s.

    If your parents or caregivers ignored or neglected your needs, regularly or as a form of punishment, you might have concluded that you’re not worthy of having your needs met, or that you deserve to be deprived in some way whenever you make a mistake.

    You likely didn’t realize as a kid that when your parents failed to show up as you needed them to, it was because they were wrong, not you.

    This doesn’t mean they were bad people or even horrible parents. Once again, they were likely repeating what they experienced as kids because they didn’t know any better. (But now you do.)

    3. You believe that having needs is somehow wrong or a sign of weakness.

    You might mistakenly assume that having needs is the same as being needy—perhaps because someone else ingrained this belief in you, directly or indirectly. Maybe by invalidating your feelings, gaslighting you when you spoke up for yourself, or shaming you for asking for help.

    But as I realized, there’s a huge distinction between having needs and being needy. And more importantly, when you’re able to recognize and honor your own needs, you’re not dependent on other people to do it for you. Which is the exact opposite of being needy.

    4. You believe prioritizing yourself is unsafe because other people might hurt, judge, or abandon you.

    If you were hurt, judged, and abandoned as a result of trying to honor your needs in the past, you might carry a subconscious fear that this could happen again. Consequently, you might feel panic even thinking about honoring your needs.

    And if you’re anything like I used to be, you probably don’t realize you’re better off losing anyone you could lose by speaking up for your needs.

    5. You believe you need to earn good things and that you haven’t done enough to deserve them yet.

    In our achievement-focused culture, it’s easy to conclude that you’re not good enough if you haven’t accomplished something impressive. If this is true for you, you might be putting most of your needs on hold until you achieve something that makes you feel worthy.

    In my twenties I spent many days and nights glued to a computer, thinking everything would be better in my life if I could just find a way to make a mark—and some decent money in the process. It didn’t occur to me that I could feel better right in that moment by stepping away, taking care of my needs, and allowing myself to be present while doing something I enjoyed.

    6. You’re living in survival mode, and your needs aren’t even on your radar because you’re focused on getting through the day.

    If you’re living in a state of chronic stress, due to trauma, grief, or burnout, you’re quite possibly doing the bare minimum,  just trying to keep your head above water. When you’re in survival mode, you have no energy left to focus on your needs, big or small.

    I experienced this when I was at my worst mentally and physically, struggling with depression and bulimia while also suppressing deep trauma. And I went through something similar (but far less life-threatening) as a chronically sleep-deprived new mother, without a village.

    —

    If you were nodding your head while reading any of the above, you now have a good starting point for changing your patterns.

    The next step is to regularly check in with yourself and ask yourself two questions:

    • What do I need right now—physically, mentally, and/or emotionally—to feel and be my best?
    • What false beliefs do I need to challenge in order to meet that need?

    The first question requires you to get really honest with yourself and to let go of the instinct to judge your needs. Because they might be different from other people’s.

    You might need to share your feelings in a trusting space while someone else might not require the same type of emotional support in a similar situation.

    You might need to get up and move your body while someone else might be able to continue with the task at hand for longer.

    You might need time to yourself to recharge while someone else might be fine and even content with socializing for longer.

    The important thing to remember is you’re not them, and that’s not only okay but beautiful! Because honoring your unique needs allows you to show up as the best version of your unique self.

    As for the second question, when you pause and really think about why you might choose to deprive yourself, you give yourself the opportunity to challenge your instinctive behavior and overcome your conditioning.

    I’ve found that a tiny pause can be huge.

    In tiny pauses, I’ve realized I need to let myself cry instead of stuffing my painful feelings down, burying all hopes of joy with them. That this isn’t wrong or a sign of weakness but rather a precursor to feeling stronger.

    In tiny pauses, I’ve recognized that I need to get outside instead of isolating myself or forcing myself to be productive. That I don’t need to accomplish anything to be worthy of relief and connection.

    And in pauses somewhat longer, I’ve found the strength to speak up when someone mistreats or devalues me. Because I remember that, contrary to what I concluded when I was younger, I am worthy of love and respect.

    Knowing this is the key to honoring our needs. Because honoring our needs is the number one way we give these things to ourselves.

  • What Toxic Shame Feels Like: 9 People Share Their Experiences

    What Toxic Shame Feels Like: 9 People Share Their Experiences

    “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I change.” ~Carl Rogers

    My heart races as I raise my hand, eager to contribute yet terrified of the attention it brings. When the teacher picks me, the entire classroom turns toward me, putting me in the spotlight. I feel exposed. Shame floods over me like hot lava, twisting my stomach into knots and flushing my face with heat. I try desperately to stop it, but the throbbing intensity only grows. 

    I mutter words I can barely comprehend, feeling like a stranger in my own skin.

    In that moment of shame, I was an embarrassment to myself and all I wanted to do was vanish. This forty-year-old memory is as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

    Growing up in a status-oriented, conflicted home where love and connection were both unpredictable and scarce, I learned early on that I wasn’t safe to be myself in this world. I learned that to get my needs met, I had to change myself. That love and connection were unpredictable, and that I couldn’t just relax and be myself; I had to hustle for it.

    So, when the eyes of the classroom turned toward me, I couldn’t just be myself and answer the question. My programming told me that being myself equals abandonment and leads to rejection and pain. So I hustled to do things “right” to control the situation and avoid the pain of being exposed.

    But here’s the thing:

    When we’re disconnected from our authentic selves, we’re like a house on a shaky foundation—insecure, weak, and ready to fall into a mess at any moment.  And we feel that instability deep within. It’s precisely because of this disconnection that we’re overwhelmed with fear and anxiety, stumbling like fools through unfamiliar territory.

    These moments of shame were a regular part of my childhood. And it wasn’t limited to the classroom.

    When my piano teacher made eye contact, I instinctively looked away, wanting to vanish into the bench.

    When police cars passed me on the street, I’d quickly hide behind parked cars, fearing arrest for finding change under a school vending machine.

    I couldn’t explain these feelings; all I knew was the desperate need to escape that painful exposure.

    The constant anticipation of shame, never knowing when I would be engulfed in excruciating humiliation and loneliness, consumed me. It felt like a full-time job, and I fought against it with everything I had, desperate to regain control over the unpredictable.

    At school, I excelled, earning straight-A grades; at home, I became the perfect peacemaker, striving to manage the chaos of conflict. Eventually, I turned inward, seeking solace in a world consumed by counting calories, restricting food intake, and obsessing over numbers on the scale—a world where I exerted absolute control.

    Anorexia, perfectionism, and peacekeeping became my shields against shame for years. Despite the hospitalizations and brushes with death, they seemed like a safer refuge compared to confronting the raw agony of shame head-on, even if it wasn’t a conscious choice.

    There came a turning point in my journey. After years of battling anorexia, perfectionism, and the relentless pursuit of control, I hit a moment of truth. I realized the shields I’d built to protect myself were suffocating me, trapping me in a cycle of self-destruction.

    I then faced my inner turmoil head-on. With my boyfriend’s (now husband’s) support, I dove deep into studying everything I could about shame, healing, and self-discovery, eventually finding the most success with my own mix of radical acceptance, mindfulness, and somatic emotional release.

    Slowly, I started tearing down the walls I’d built, opting for vulnerability and authenticity instead. It wasn’t easy, and was full of setbacks, but it was a journey that enabled me to reclaim my true self from shame’s grip.

    Looking back, I wish I had known that shame is a fundamental part of the human experience—a challenging emotion that is especially prevalent among shame-sensitive individuals and those of us who’ve endured childhood trauma. Perhaps then, I wouldn’t have overlaid my shame with harsh self-judgment, letting those moments of shame carve themselves so deeply into my self-image.

    Instead, I might have understood that shame, while incredibly tough, is a universal emotion, particularly prevalent among those of us who’ve faced childhood traumas.

    As a culture, we need to grow in our collective understanding of shame. It’s high time we engage in open conversations about shame, fostering empathy and support for those struggling with it.

    That’s why I reached out to my newsletter subscribers and asked those who are living with shame to describe how it feels for them. Nine people shared their experiences. I hope through reading their quotes, it will help you deepen your own understanding of shame, and perhaps help you feel less alone. Here’s what they shared.

    1. I’m constantly trying to hide how messed up I am.

    “Shame feels like a constant pressure to not just do well but to go all out, trying to hide how messed up I am. I’m always worried that if someone sticks around or sees the cracks in my armor, they’ll never really love the true me. It’s like climbing this impossible mountain, always striving for perfection just to deserve love.” —Shelly P., 36

    2. I feel like I don’t belong with “normal” people.

    “I feel like I don’t belong with others. I cringe when I hear myself talking. I read too much into facial expressions and the look in people’s eyes, and it’s a constant reminder that I’m different from everybody else. It’s as if I’m from another species and I don’t belong with ‘normal’ people. I get this overwhelming feeling of being an alien, of being wrong, of being off, of having no right and place to belong. I have the urge to disappear. I want to curl into a ball, be smaller, and evaporate.” —Jen R., 24

    3. It’s discrediting any success I have.

    “I discredit any success I have as being expected. I view it more as‘ Great! You did what a normal person should be able to do’ or ‘Wow, am I that far gone in life that I’m celebrating bottom of the barrel normal behavior??’” —Kalisha C., 49

    4. It feels like every setback is deserved, even expected.

    “It’s a never-ending feeling of unworthiness, being unwanted, and an overall feeling that I’m utterly disgusting in every conceivable way. It’s feeling like I don’t deserve happiness; that every setback is deserved, even expected, because I’m so terrible. It’s not being able to look in the mirror without cringing, and every photo I see of myself is a reminder of my disappointment and failure.” —Angela H., 52

    5. It’s like I’m at war with myself.

    “There’s always something that needs to be changed, improved. If I’m shy, something is wrong with my shyness. If I speak up, I sound stupid. If my opinion isn’t popular, my opinion must be wrong. Everything about me is invalidated. It feels like I live in a self-imposed prison of self-hatred.” —Michele L., 50

    6. I’m always curating myself.

    “It feels like wanting to hide, to be unseen, unheard, and nonexistent to others. I’m always very cautious about what bit of information about myself I share, and with whom. When people get to know me, they’re often surprised by what I’m really like and they tell me how they had a different image of me in their minds. It’s like how I show up doesn’t match who I really am.” —Tina R., 28

    7. I can’t make eye contact.

    “It’s very physical for me: My skin feels hot and tingly, especially on my chest, my face, upper back, and the backs of my upper arms. I hunch forward, my head and eyes lower, and I feel frozen. I can’t make eye contact. My mind goes blank, and I struggle to think properly. And I often get angry and start blaming others. I get resentful and bitter. I hate everyone and I hate myself. It’s awful.” —John T., 32

    8. I’m always anticipating more shame.

    “Shame feels like being sucked into a black hole. It feels like everyone’s looking at me and judging me because I’m so pathetic. It’s so painful that I’ll do anything to avoid it. Anticipating shame and trying to avoid it causes me a huge amount of anxiety.” —Brianna F., 47

    9. And it feels like it will never go away.

    “I’ve done so much work on myself, had so many years of therapy, but it still feels like shame is untouchable, like nothing will ever make it go away  People tell me it’s possible to overcome chronic shame, but I’m not so sure. No matter how hard I try, every day still feels like a struggle. I feel like I’m broken, and nothing can fix me.” —Julia G., 32

    Can You Relate?

    If you’re nodding along with those quotes, rest assured you’re not alone in your journey to heal from shame. It’s entirely possible to heal, though it takes time and dedicated effort. Surround yourself with people, books, or therapists who understand shame from a positive perspective—those who can guide you with empathy and insight.

    It’s crucial to work with professionals who are at peace with their own relationship with shame. Therapists or friends who approach it with fear or condemnation may unintentionally perpetuate the cycle of self-loathing and judgment you’re striving to overcome. Seek out those who offer a non-judgmental space for exploration and healing.

    By engaging with shame compassionately and curiously, you open the door to profound transformation. Embracing shame as a teacher rather than an enemy reveals its hidden wisdom and leads to genuine self-acceptance and empowerment.

    After years of battling shame, I found my way out of the suffocating darkness not by burying or suppressing it, but by turning toward it. Educating myself about shame, I learned that it isn’t merely a byproduct of trauma; it’s a misunderstood yet inherently normal emotion with its own intrinsic value. This new understanding shifted my perspective from fighting against shame to approaching it with curiosity.

    I discovered that, despite its weight, shame holds invaluable power because it can teach us how to love ourselves—even in the darkest of times. When we experience ourselves as inherently flawed, it’s the perfect training ground for cultivating compassion and true self-love. And by caring for ourselves during the hardest moments, we’re reminded that even in our most vulnerable states, we are deserving of love and acceptance.

    Just as we cannot understand light without darkness, we learn to love ourselves through moments of feeling utterly inadequate. These moments, though excruciating, serve as catalysts for profound personal growth and transformation.

    Today, when I raise my hand to speak up in a public forum, I expect to feel a bit awkward and shy, and my face may even blush a little. But it doesn’t stop me from speaking up because I am no longer at war with shame. I know it’s just part of being the exquisitely sensitive human that I am. And I’m okay with that.

    *These quotes have been edited and condensed for length and clarity. 

  • 5 Things I Did Because I Didn’t Feel Good Enough and What I Do Now Instead

    5 Things I Did Because I Didn’t Feel Good Enough and What I Do Now Instead

    “You have been criticizing yourself for years and it hasn’t worked. Try approving of yourself and see what happens.” ~Louise Hay

    Since I was a little girl, I believed there was something fundamentally wrong with me.

    So I was always trying to find a way to fix myself and be worthy. To feel good enough.

    No baby is born thinking they aren’t worthy, and neither was I—or you.

    This came from our early beginnings.

    I had a very traumatized dad, who I now understand was struggling with his own pain from his childhood.

    He would lose his temper and torment me. Tell me I was nothing and no one. That I was unlovable. That nothing I did was good enough.

    As children, we just believe our parents. We cannot understand or fathom why they would say these things to us if they weren’t true. So we internalize the belief of not being good enough or not worthy.

    We all find our own way to survive this pain of not being seen or loved for who we truly are.

    These are the five ways I tried to fix feeling unworthy but actually ended up ruining my life instead.

    1. I tried to please and fix people.

    I wanted to please my dad. In fact, I lived for it. Whether I was going to have a good day or bad day was all dependent on my parents’ moods. I was only okay if they were okay.

    As an adult, this meant I gave my power away to people. I allowed them to take out their emotions on me, and I took responsibility for how they felt. I didn’t feel safe when people were upset, and I believed to my core everything was my fault because of this deep shame I was carrying.

    This was all learned in my childhood and has a name—codependency. A great book to read is Codependent No More by Melody Beattie. She explains in detail why we do this!

    2. I got into toxic, codependent relationships. 

    I was a magnet for relationships where it was all about the other person’s needs and feelings. The codependency had left me so needless and wantless that we became the perfect match for each other! They wanted to be chased and adored. I (unconsciously) wanted to ignore my own needs.

    I was used to chasing love in relationships without compassion and kindness and being blamed for how other people felt, so these toxic relationships felt normal for me.

    A codependent’s wounds can attract a narcissist. Narcissists are also traumatized children, and these wounds create a trauma bond. I had this in friendships and romantic love. These relationships were never about me, and my low self-worth got lower and lower as a result.

    They become almost my higher power. I was obsessed with meeting their needs. I thought if I could make them happy, they would choose me and then I would feel good enough.

    Sadly, that never happened, and I just got exhausted and sick in the process.

    3. I obsessed over fixing my body. 

    When your body is criticized in childhood, not just by a parent but by other traumatized family members and society, you conclude that it mustn’t be enough.

    I went from a confident little girl twirling to someone who hid in the corners of a room in baggy clothes. I didn’t want to be seen or noticed in case someone shamed me for what I looked like. That stung!

    So, instead of recognizing that other people had created this issue in me, I spent years abusing my body, through excessive exercise and dieting, to make it perfect. Then, when my body would change, people would still make comments on my imperfections, and I would emotionally eat to numb the pain.

    I also overate because I didn’t really care about nourishing my body. I hated it so much. I felt like it was to blame for all these horrible things people would say about it. I never considered for one moment that hurt people hurt people.

    4. I got myself into debt. 

    I worked from a very young age, but my dad didn’t allow me to access to the money I earned. He controlled how I spent it, which sent the message that I couldn’t be trusted with money. Safe to say, this didn’t create the healthiest relationship with money.

    If I earned it, I felt uncomfortable holding on to it, so I would overspend. I was more comfortable rolling in debt, as that’s what I felt like I was worth. I would always be clearing debt, and then when I would have money again, I would do something to shift the balance once again. It was normal for me to be in these feast-famine cycles with money, kind of like my love life and my relationships with my parents. There one minute and gone the next!

    5. I overworked and overachieved.

    Since I was a little girl, I tried to do whatever I could to get my dad’s approval and love. One way to his heart was through education and achievement, so I went all in as a child and adult. Working long hours to pass my exams, applying for qualifications he wanted me to get, even though I had no interest in the subject areas. I learned very young to work lots because, if I didn’t, he would get angry with me, and that felt scary. So I did what I could to try to keep myself safe.

    My dad has been gone for fifteen years, as he took his life in 2008, yet I still find myself doing this one! It’s part of my unconscious programming. When I feel unsafe or unworthy around work or even my business, I will push harder. I will forgo my own basic needs, like food and water, to meet a deadline.

    —

    All of these characteristics are what we call “trauma adaptations”—ways my little brain learned to survive in an unpredictable environment. Between birth and seven especially, children should be nurtured so they can grow self-worth and self-belief. But children that grew up like me were too busy feeling terrified and surviving, so it’s no wonder we got older and struggled.

    However, I have learned first-hand that no matter what age we are, we can change our adaptations with awareness.

    I began to get curious about how I spoke to myself, and I soon realized that I wouldn’t even speak to an enemy the way I was talking to myself. So I consciously started to speak to myself with kindness and compassion, like I would a friend. I also began listening to affirmations to help me rewrite this negative narrative I had in my mind.

    All of a sudden, I started to unconsciously say the affirmations out loud. I would say things like, ”I am worth so much more than that” and then gasp that I had changed my beliefs.

    I learned, mainly from books and podcasts, how to show myself love and care. I introduced this slowly into my routine. I was learning to become my own nurturing parent, the one I missed out on growing up. Like little seeds, my self-worth began to slowly grow.

    After that, I felt worthy of investing in support from professionals. They provided a safe space for me to explore my story and to get a different perspective. I also found somatic therapy and Internal Family Systems parts work really helpful for healing trauma and growing my self-worth.

    I still had relationships in my life that needed changing, which required boundaries and even walking away from some people, but I had to grow that relationship with myself first. Then I had the confidence to expect more in my relationships. When the relationship with myself was no longer toxic and abusive, I was able to stop chasing the unhealthy ones and walk away from the abusive ones.

    The seeds in my self-worth garden were growing, and my life changed as a result. My reality was a mirror of how worthy I felt within.

    Because I believed I was worthy of true love when it came to me, I didn’t run away; I welcomed it.

    I chose new career paths, as I realized I was worthy of having more money and working a job that fulfilled me, not one I had taken to please my dad.

    My relationship with my body is changing too. I show it love and kindness with how I feed it, speak to it, and treat it. No more extreme behaviors. I’m learning to love it just as it is.

    I realize now that I always had this power to love and care for myself. When I learned to do this, my story changed, and I began to feel more than good enough. It was never about anyone else giving that to me or outside validation. It was about ending the war that began inside of me when I didn’t get my needs met as a kid.

    I lovingly use inner child parts work to tend to my younger self, who sometimes falls back into her survival adaptations. I let my inner child know that she is safe now and that I am here to take care of her needs. That we no longer need to chase, overachieve, or overgive in order to be loved and accepted. That I love and accept her for all of her light and her darkness. For her shadow parts.

    I listen to her fears, her sadness, her grief—the way I wished someone listened to me when I was younger. I attend to her needs with love and compassion so she no longer has to search for love or validation in the wrong places.

    If you can relate to any of what I wrote, start planting seeds in your self-worth garden today and watch your story change.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Why I Had to Stop Judging Myself to Start Healing from Childhood Trauma

    Why I Had to Stop Judging Myself to Start Healing from Childhood Trauma

    “I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” ~Brené Brown

    A few years ago, when I began recovering from childhood trauma, the first thing I learned was that I needed to master the skill of self-awareness.

    However, becoming aware came with some pretty hard truths about who I was, what I did, and how I acted because of what had happened to me.

    Although I eventually found the courage to face some challenging experiences from my past, I wasn’t ready to forgive and accept myself.

    When I acknowledged the impact of my past trauma and abuse on my current life, I immediately started blaming myself. It was difficult to accept that I pleased people to gain validation and stayed in toxic relationships since I didn’t feel worthy or lovable. Therefore, I went straight for what I knew and was accustomed to—judgment, guilt, and shame.

    As Bessel van der Kolk explained in his book The Body Keeps the Score:

    “While we all want to move beyond trauma, the part of our brain that is devoted to ensuring our survival (deep below our rational brain) is not very good at denial. Long after a traumatic experience is over, it may be reactivated at the slightest hint of danger and mobilize disturbed brain circuits and secrete massive amounts of stress hormones. This precipitates unpleasant emotions, intense physical sensations, and impulsive and aggressive actions. These posttraumatic reactions feel incomprehensible and overwhelming. Feeling out of control, survivors of trauma often begin to fear that they are damaged to the core and beyond redemption.”

    Although self-awareness is the first step toward nurturing change in our lives, many of us reach for judgment when faced with uncomfortable truths about ourselves and our past experiences. Ironically, the lack of self-acceptance blocks us from healing and moving past what happened to us.

    Is it possible we sabotage our healing by being overly hard on ourselves?

    For example, victims of sexual assault are often held hostage by the shame they carry around. Since speaking about the assault is terrifying, they remain silent while secretly taking responsibility for the abuse.

    If guilt and shame are predominating emotions we carry inside, how can we move toward successful recovery and accept our wounded inner child?

    We do it by letting go of judgment for what happened to us and, instead of taking responsibility for the harm we experienced, we become responsible for our recovery.

    I remember when I was about seven years old, my father got angry because my brother and I were playing around the house and making noise. He slammed our bedroom door so hard that the glass shattered. As he was moving toward me with his face red and furious, I urinated.

    Any time I looked back at this experience, I felt an overwhelming sense of shame and promised myself that I would never get weak and scared of anyone.

    As I got older, I adopted a survival mechanism of being a toughie. I would put on the mask of a strong woman while suffocating on the inside since I felt fragile, weak, easily offended, and anxious.

    However, I couldn’t stand facing my weaknesses.

    Anytime I felt sad, vulnerable, or emotional, I would judge myself harshly. In a sense, I became my biggest internal abuser.

    After I got divorced, I was haunted by self-judgment and felt worthless because of what I allowed while being married. Disrespect, pain, neglect, and lies. How can a worthy person allow such things? I couldn’t stop judging myself.

    Eventually, I began working on my guilt through writing and daily forgiveness meditations. Although I started to understand the importance of acceptance and forgiveness in my healing and recovery, I was only scratching the surface.

    The real challenge arose when I confronted who I was because of what happened to me. My focus started to shift from blame to self-responsibility. Although it was a healthy step forward, it was a long and intimidating process. Since I was deeply absorbed in my victim mentality and filled with shame and judgment, accepting myself seemed like a dream I would never reach.

    It was difficult to admit that I had stayed in a toxic relationship by choice, manipulated people with my tears, and created chaos and drama in my closest relationships to gain attention and feel loved. However, the discomfort I felt was a sign that I was on the right track. If I was willing to keep my ego at bay, I could achieve progress.

    Here’s how I overcame self-judgment and began healing my childhood wounds.

    1. I began to open up and speak the truth.

    At first, I had to face how disgusted I felt with myself. Once I began talking about what happened to me while finding the space of refuge with my therapist, coach, and close friends, judgment began subsiding and acceptance took over.

    My favorite piece of advice from Brené Brown is to share our story with people who deserve to hear it. Whether you speak to a therapist, a coach, a support group, or a very close friend or a family member, make sure this person has earned the right to hear your deepest and most vulnerable feelings and memories.

    Speaking our truth in the space of acceptance is one of the most beautiful ways to heal and process traumatic memories and experiences. A safe space and deep connections are fundamental when healing ourselves, especially if we get hurt within interpersonal relationships.

    2. I acknowledged what happened to me.

    The breakthrough during my recovery happened after I read a book by Oprah Winfrey and Dr. Bruce Perry titled What Happened to You? Suddenly, so much of my behavior started to make sense.

    I wasn’t the sick, disgusting, heartless human being I considered myself to be. I was a wounded adult who didn’t address her traumatic experiences from her childhood while acting from a place of survival and fear.

    When we begin healing ourselves and find the causes behind our (often) unconscious and self-sabotaging behaviors, we become more understanding of who we are and move away from judgment. There is a power in asking, “What happened to me?” instead of “What is wrong with me?”

    Understanding yourself from an open and compassionate place allows you to reach for the love and acceptance your inner child craves. I don’t believe that we are broken or need to be fixed. We are worthy and whole souls whose purpose is to find our way back to ourselves and reconnect with who we are at our core.

    3. I learned to silence my inner critic.

    Learning to recognize the little mean voice inside my head was challenging. My thoughts of judgment were so subtle that they passed by me without awareness.

    The easiest time to spot critical thoughts was when I was meditating. Even during meditation, I judged myself: “Sit up, make sure you focus on your breath. Oh, come on, Silvia, do it better. You aren’t good at meditating. Your mind just wandered again!”

    Since we have about 60 000 thoughts in a day, I decided to focus on my feelings. By observing my emotional state, I became better at identifying what I was thinking and was able to step in to change it .

    I remember one particular night when I was feeling very depressed and hopeless. I asked myself, “What am I thinking that’s making me feel this way?” The answer I observed was, “No one will ever truly love you.” It was the first time I decided not to believe these thoughts. I sat down and made a list of people who showed me love, care, and compassion.

    If you often judge yourself, you may need some practice  and loving patience. However, if you are working on your healing, understanding and accepting yourself is a way of telling your inner child, “I love you, I am here for you, and there is nothing wrong with you.”

    —

    Once I discovered the positive effects of self-acceptance on my recovery, I realized that being overly hard on myself had nothing to do with healing but everything to do with the trauma I’d experienced.

    Today I understand that the little voice inside my head giving me all the reasons to stay stuck in survival mode is my inner child screaming, “Someone please love me.” And I am ready to do just that.

  • 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.

  • You’re Bent, Not Broken: A Mindset Shift That Can Change Your Life

    You’re Bent, Not Broken: A Mindset Shift That Can Change Your Life

    “Bent but never broken; down but never out.” ~Annetta Ribken

    I lived for a long time thinking I was broken beyond repair.

    Let me rephrase: I thought I was unloved, unworthy, scarred, and broken. What a package, right?

    It started young, never feeling like I was good enough for anything I did. Being the youngest of the typical modern recomposed family in the eighties, I never knew on which foot to dance and always thought I needed to bend left and right to be seen and loved.

    I carried this baggage under my badge of anxiety, feeling like no one and nothing could ever make me happy, that no one could love the real me, that nothing could ever make me feel worthy.

    It reached a point as I was entering my forties when all I wanted to do was disappear. I wanted to not be who I was. I wanted to die.

    I thought that was my only solution.

    I believed the world would be better without me.

    What I didn’t understand then is that by thinking I was broken, unworthy, unloved, and all the other awful things I told myself daily, I was pouring salt into old wounds that had no chance to mend until I stopped the self-loathing.

    The more I told myself I was broken, the more I was breaking my soul. The more I told myself I was unloved, the less I loved others and opened myself up to love. The more I told myself I was unworthy, the more I interpreted others’ words to mean the same.

    I didn’t know what I could do. I didn’t know how to get out of the storm I was stuck in. I didn’t know what could help me live in the moment and stop hurting from the past or getting scared of the future.

    How do you get out of hurting so much you want to die?

    For me: writing.

    It was the only thing I could do.

    I was losing friends left and right, closing up like an oyster, hurting myself and others with my words and actions—but my pen and paper were my salvation.

    I bled tears and words until the day I could take a step back.

    The pain, the feeling of being broken and unworthy was still here; I could barely look at myself in a mirror, even less love anyone properly. But as I was playing with my pencil not finding words for a poem I needed to write to survive, I kept pushing into a crack it had. And I pushed my nails into it, and I played with it, and picked at it and some more not really thinking what I was doing, desperately trying to find words, until the pencil broke in two.

    No, let me take responsibility—until I broke the pencil in two.

    I looked at the two pieces in my hand.

    I had played with that pencil’s crack until I broke it.

    My fingers kind of hurt, but I smiled.

    This wasn’t me. This couldn’t be me. I really didn’t want this to become me.

    I wasn’t two parts of one entity.

    I was still one.

    And if I was still one, I wasn’t broken, I was just scarred. I was just bent.

    From that moment on, everything shifted.

    I wasn’t broken, just bent. I could learn to love myself again.

    It became like a mantra I repeated daily.

    And if I wasn’t broken, just bent, then maybe I wasn’t unlovable but loved by the wrong people. And maybe I wasn’t unworthy but only surrounded by people who didn’t recognize my worth, or maybe I was blind to my awesomeness.

    And if I wasn’t broken, if I stopped playing with my wounds, then maybe the healed scars could tell a story. And if I could tell my story and help others in any way, maybe, just maybe my pain and hardship and years of anxiety and depression could become more than a feeling of brokenness.

    So maybe I wasn’t broken. Maybe I was indeed just bent.

    It was hard to say it out loud, it was hard to explain, but the moment I shifted my mindset, I felt a relief.

    I knew then I could rise from the traumas I’d gone through. Even the smallest ones.

    I could give myself a second chance at life by healing and sharing my story.

    I wasn’t broken; I was made to break the shell of my past and show that if I could do it, you could too.

    Because here is my biggest secret: I am no one, and I am everyone.

    My story is the same story as most of yours. I didn’t deal with my traumas, and they caught up. I thought I had dealt with the past by putting a bandage on it when I really needed an open soul surgery.

    I thought I could wear a mask and be loved for who I thought people wanted me to be, but this made me feel unloved to the core.

    I thought I was broken when I was only bent by circumstances I needed to untangle. I thought I was unworthy but I was capable of creating art with my scars and shining a light on the most common depression story ever to tell others they weren’t alone and could get out of it too.

    So don’t tell yourself that you are broken.

    Don’t think you need an extraordinary story to help others find their light.

    Don’t believe you are no one, because we are all no one, and we are everyone.

    I’m not a life coach, I’m not selling classes, I’m not even trying to save your soul. I’m just like you, trying to find a light of love and joy. And together, we are healing, and we have a story to write. A story about the power of choosing to see yourself as someone with strength, value, and purpose.

    Change your mindset today. See yourself as just bent, and don’t try to straighten yourself up.

    Allow yourself to be bent, and let the shift happen.

    Broken is irreparable.

    Bent is not.

    It’s not a big difference, but it might change your life.

  • How I Stopped Shrinking to Please People and Started Reclaiming My Space

    How I Stopped Shrinking to Please People and Started Reclaiming My Space

    “A woman in harmony with her spirit is like a river flowing. She goes where she will without pretense and arrives at her destination prepared to be herself and herself only.” ~Maya Angelou

    For as long as I can remember, I have struggled with feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness. I’ve grappled with the unshakable feeling that I am not enough no matter what I do.

    As a child, I was labeled by my family as being “too much.” Too bossy, too selfish, too energetic, too emotional. So I did what many little girls do when faced by those messages: I tried to take up as little space as possible.

    It started with me taking up less space mentally. I followed all the rules, stayed quiet when I disagreed with someone, and tried not to ask too many questions. A good girl behaves, after all.

    When I was in middle school, I began to take up less space emotionally. My mother compared herself to a “basket case” when she cried, so I learned not to cry. My father told me to “change my environment” to change my mood.

    I began to compartmentalize my feelings and avoid feeling “bad emotions.” To escape those uncomfortable feelings that I had labeled as bad, I would eat junk food and watch television. Above all else, I avoided being angry, because nice girls don’t get angry.

    The last step in shrinking myself occurred when I began to take up less physical space. I have been overweight for most of my life and remember first feeling self-conscious about it in third grade. As I grew older, I would spend a lot of mental energy trying to take up less space for there to be more room for other people.

    I would squeeze my thighs and elbows together on airplanes and buses to give other people more legroom. In high school and college, I would sit with my stomach squashed against the desk so people could walk more easily behind me. Unconsciously I strived to keep myself small and take up less breath so other people could have more oxygen.

    This went on until I was twenty-seven years old. I had graduated from medical school in South Dakota as the pandemic began picking up speed and went on to start my training as a general surgery resident in California. Unbeknownst to me, this training program would lead to my tipping point.

    At that surgery program, gossip ran rampant, criticism of the status quo was punished, and all residents were expected to keep their heads down at all costs. Two months into my training I was called into the program director’s office without warning.

    I was given a verbal warning not to “go over people’s heads” because of an occasion in which I asked the on-call physician a question related to a patient’s care plan to clarify my safety concerns for that patient. In the program’s eyes, it was not appropriate for a new resident to question the decisions of a more senior resident, for any reason.

    During those thirty minutes I was belittled and threatened. It didn’t matter that I had been working eighty hours per week with minimal supervision and dangerously high patient-loads. Nor did it matter that I had lost ten pounds in my first month of residency because I didn’t have the time to eat or drink or use the bathroom.

    No matter how small I tried to make myself, I was told that I was still too much. After giving up almost everything I had for the sake of others, I realized that if I were to give up any more space it might end my life.

    That was the moment something shifted inside of me. It felt like a light switch flipped in my brain. I had a profound sense of clarity that I couldn’t continue down the path I had been taking.

    From that moment on I began reclaiming my space. I ultimately left that program after finishing my intern year and moved to the East Coast to begin training at one of the most prestigious psychiatry residencies in the U.S.

    After three months in psychiatry residency, I realized I still needed more space. So I resigned from my job, bought a seventeen-passenger shuttle bus to convert into a living space, and moved in with my boyfriend to save money.

    I now have my own office in a co-working building, and I am creating the life of my own design. That’s not to say that my life is all rainbows all the time. I still have $200,000 in student loan debt to pay down and a lot of hard work ahead to build my business, convert my bus into a skoolie, and continue to grow as a person.

    But for the first time since I was a child, I look forward to waking up in the morning. I’m beginning to dress my body in clothes I enjoy, to express all my emotions (including anger), and to reclaim my space as a human on this planet.

    Despite everything that makes us feel afraid, guilty, or ashamed, we are called to live our lives authentically and unapologetically.

    Making ourselves small does not benefit others. In truth, when we lay claim to the space we need to grow, we create more room for others to do the same.

    Ask yourself if you have enough space to grow. Are you giving yourself the space you need to feel your emotions, to live in your body fully, and to express your thoughts and beliefs? If not, what is holding you back?

    I still struggle with feelings of inadequacy at times, but I hope you’ll join me in reclaiming the space we need to embody who we were meant to be.

  • How I Stopped Feeling Unworthy of Love (And Finally Learned to Receive It)

    How I Stopped Feeling Unworthy of Love (And Finally Learned to Receive It)

    “I hope you find love, but more importantly, I hope you’re strong enough to walk away from what love isn’t.” ~Tiffany Tomiko

    When I was in my early thirties, I briefly dated someone right after my divorce.

    It was one of those fast and furious things that had no label and left me wondering if I made most of it up in my head.

    It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. How many times had I ended up feeling rejected and abandoned? I was trying so hard to impress a partner, but no matter what I did, I only seemed to push them away.

    Tearfully, I shared my pain with a spiritual advisor and psychic and asked for her guidance.

    She suggested I consider the joy that might come out of pleasurable and easeful partnerships. She asked me, “Briana, why don’t you shift your energy and focus to that aim?”

    But it wasn’t so easy. I was attached and hung up on this guy. Why didn’t he love me like I loved him?

    Another thought popped into my head, which I hadn’t realized was there before.

    Before I could voice it out loud, she said, “Oooohhhh, Briana. I can hear you already. You think if you’re not in pain, then your art and other creative works won’t be any good.”

    I burst out into another round of sobs.

    Because it was true. I did think that way.

    I thought I performed at my best when I was at my most miserable, and if you took away my misery, I would not only be common, but worse yet… mediocre. I would truly be the bad artist I always thought I was.

    Every aspect of creative expression would become cliched, trite, and uninteresting. There wouldn’t be anything special about me.

    And so I would become unlovable.

    The drama proved my worth, one way or the other; the drama of performing well enough to earn love. 

    It wasn’t until four years after that conversation that I finally stopped clinging to my pain.

    Because I realized that pain didn’t make something (love) more authentic—it just made it more difficult.

    Maybe you know where I’m coming from. Maybe you feel that you, too, need to “chase” a relationship and suffer for it to really matter. For you to really matter.

    That’s just not true. There is a far better way to build relationships, and that’s what I would previously have called “boring” and “too easy,” but actually is about respecting your own, authentic self and opening up to love.

    Here’s what I’ve learned about letting go of feeling unworthy of love and finally learning how to receive it.

    1. Take off your mask.

    Like me, you might believe that to attract a lover and be worthy of love, you have to pretend to be a perfect partner, through things like making them feel wanted and desired, looking beautiful, and being funny, witty, smart, and interesting all the time.

    All of these tactics might very well appeal to a potential partner. Certainly, it might make them interested enough to get to know you better, and maybe even date you for a while.

    But none of that means it will soften their heart and make them fall into a soul-shaking relationship with you.

    In fact, while I used to think that I needed to pretend that I was something I wasn’t so that I’d be worthy of love, I just kept deterring the other person.

    Why?

    Because while the glitz and glamour are appealing, it also, on a deeper level, left me completely unavailable.

    In the same way, you are pushing away a partner by performing all the time.

    You see, your partner is going to feel as if they have to perform just as well, and while that may be exciting in the beginning, unless the mask comes off, it also gets exhausting very quickly.

    A loving partner will be less concerned about how many degrees you hold or how much you make at your job and more concerned that you’re passionate about what you’re doing.

    A loving partner doesn’t care how many facts you can recite. They may enjoy your company if you’re a great conversationalist, but that won’t necessarily make them feel something for you.

    The way to a partner’s heart is to make them feel safe enough to explore and experience their own authentic self.

    You do that by feeling safe enough to express yourself—without someone else’s permission.

    Because if you don’t communicate that you’re comfortable in your own skin, this partner won’t feel comfortable or safe opening up to you, either.

    And if a person can’t open up to you, warts and all, they can’t fall in love with you. It’s as simple as that.

    When you put on a performance instead of taking off your mask, you unconsciously communicate a fantasy of reality, because that feels safer than vulnerability. And then you energetically and non-verbally tell your partner that you can’t handle their vulnerability, either.

    And isn’t it freeing? You, in all your vulnerability, are the person they want and need in order to be their own, true self.

    2. Get in touch with your own feelings.

    What many of us do when we feel unworthy of love is numb our emotions and pretend we feel something other than we actually do.

    But a loving partner wants to know you’re angry when you’re angry and why you’re angry.

    Guess what happens if you’re acting one way, while feeling something else? That’s right, drama.

    If they think you’re angry, but they are not sure, because you’re trying hard to plaster a smile on your face, say, “I’m fine,” and stuff it down, you’re not really fooling anyone, just confusing them.

    Your energy and your verbal expressions are going to contradict one another, and that is the seed of dramatic conflict.

    And this type of drama is so annoying because you are effectively keeping a partner at bay, and refusing to connect with them, for fear that they wouldn’t like the “real” you.

    But because they can’t access “the real” you, there’s no real glue holding them there, and they wind up leaving you anyway.

    So show them what you feel, while letting go of the fear that they will reject you for doing so. By reconnecting with your emotions, you show up as your authentic self and make it safe for them to love you.

    3. Be open to meeting someone with the same level of consciousness.

    Around the end of August last year, I started dating someone. He wasn’t originally what I would have imagined for myself, but he turned out to be exactly what I need.

    Right from the get-go, things went really well; we talked for hours on end, and I felt an instant connection.

    There were butterflies, yes, but not the kind of gut-twisting, obsessive sensations I have had in the past, which usually means I should run.

    This was more like, “Ah, you fit nicely… and kinda feel like home. What took you so long?”

    He shows up with fresh flowers, texts me “good morning,” and sees the humor in situations like that time my cat got jealous and bit him when he tried to kiss me.

    While before, I would have instantly dismissed this type of relationship as being too easy (and the lack of drama would have shown me that it wasn’t real love), I now see it for what it is:

    A relationship in which partners join together from a place of inspiration, as opposed to a fear-based need to be filled up with the other.

    This is a partner who already has a higher level of consciousness and is looking for purposeful building. There’s no drama, there’s no chasing, and there are no games or acts.

    This is the key to feeling worthy of and receiving love—finding a partner who is open to the same. The criterion for attracting such a partner, however, is that you are ready to meet them.

    I wasn’t ready four years ago. It took me that long to go from believing that relationships had to be a rollercoaster of emotions to opening up to a loving partnership.

    Ultimately, it’s about you finding your authentic self and realizing that this version of you (the real version) is so worthy of love and should be loved. That’s the premise for a relationship that, instead of being soul-sucking and anxiety-ridden, is the perfect space for self-growth and joy.

  • If You’re Insecure and Afraid of Rejection Like Me…

    If You’re Insecure and Afraid of Rejection Like Me…

    “How brave the moon shines in her skin; outnumbered by the stars.” ~Angie Welland-Crosby

    I have this reoccurring dream where I am about to teach a yoga class. I stand to teach, and no one is paying any attention to me. They are all distracted or in deep conversation with one another and have no interest in engaging in the class.

    As I begin, one by one the students get up and leave. I am mortified and discouraged, though I continue to teach anyway.

    I wake up from the dream with a sinking feeling in my stomach and heaviness in my heart. Rather than indulge and spiral into sadness, I turn directly toward the aching.

    “Where is this coming from?” This is the question I ask myself as I dive into self-healing. Just as the body has the ability to heal itself on a cellular level when injured, we too have the ability to heal our emotional wounds.

    I have never been fired, from a job or relationship. I have always been the one to leave. This is not something I take pride in, rather I see a pattern that has developed over the course of my life since childhood.

    When I receive criticism, my insecurities are triggered. It must be because I am not good enough, as an employee, teacher, friend, partner. Clearly there is something wrong with me. My instinct in these situations is to run, to leave before anyone discovers my flaws, before I feel more hurt.

    I fear being abandoned or rejected, so at the first sign of conflict I retreat, like a turtle that goes into its shell the moment it senses danger.

    When I look back at my past I am left with overwhelming grief. As I peel back the layers further, I see more clearly the origins. Beliefs deeply rooted in childhood and cemented in adolescence. False beliefs of being replaceable, unworthy, not enough.

    Underneath the protective armor is an extremely sensitive and hurt little girl.

    A girl whose older sister locked her out of her room and refused to play.

    A girl who was teased by neighborhood kids for being weird.

    A girl whose best friend started an “I hate Shannon club” in fourth grade.

    A girl who always saw her friends as smarter, prettier, cooler, and more likeable.

    A girl who was desperate to be accepted.

    These deeply rooted wounds need proper acknowledgement in order to be healed.

    When we feel vulnerable or hurt, we tend to close off our hearts, gossip, turn to anger, or run away rather than address the discomfort. None of these behaviors will heal our emotional wounds. They are only temporary means of alleviating the pain. In order to break these old, conditioned patterns, first we must identify where the feelings are coming from.

    When We Feel Rejected

    Let’s face it, people can be mean. We ourselves can be mean.

    It can be hurtful and scarring to be left out, rejected, or on the receiving end of another’s harsh comments or behavior. But often, it isn’t as personal as we think. Often, others hurt us because they themselves are hurting. Perhaps it isn’t even intentional and the other is unaware they are inflicting pain.

    When we look beneath the surface of rejection, we ultimately discover feelings of fear and abandonment. But we can choose to change how we think about rejection, and consequently, what we feel.

    While we can’t control what other people think, say, or do, we can control how we receive and perceive. We get to choose whether we allow another’s comments to define who we are or how we feel about ourselves.

    There are some situations where walking away is the right thing to do. But not out of fear, spite, or in defense, but rather from a place of surrender and acceptance.

    We can redirect our energy to people and situations that are positive and enriching. Mutually loving relationships and situations where we treat one another with kindness, support, and encouragement. Where, rather than tear one another (or ourselves) down, we lift each other into the highest version of ourselves.

    There are countless situations that can trigger feelings of unworthiness, but I’d like to focus on two specific ones that have been particularly challenging for me.

    When a Relationship Ends

    Whether we chose to leave or not, there is often a deep sense of loss when a relationship ends. These feelings of loss can reappear at any time after we think we have moved on, especially when we witness someone else taking our place. A place that once made us feel special, valued, adored.

    I experienced this as I watched my ex’s new girlfriend move into a home that was once mine. The feeling of being replaceable. Even if ultimately, a relationship isn’t good for us and is no longer what we want for our future, watching someone move on can bring up grief and insecurity.

    Rather than indulge in these feelings, we can choose to be happy for the other. Happy they have found love and comfort in someone else. Happy at their own ability to heal and move forward with their life.

    Not always easy when we haven’t found love or comfort in another, we haven’t healed, and we aren’t moving forward with our own life. What makes it even harder is that we often reject ourselves when we feel rejected by someone we loved. The antidote? Focus on finding love and comfort in ourselves to reinforce that we are still worthy of love, and we don’t deserve to be or feel rejected—by anyone, including ourselves.

    When We Compare Ourselves to Others

    Jealousy is a destructive emotion and can be triggered by an off-hand comment, a sideways look, or a social media post.

    We are happy and content one moment, the next our ex updates their Facebook status to “in a relationship,” or we see a post from someone who appears to be doing better in life, and we are sent into a downward spiral that involves stalking profiles, comparing ourselves to another, anger, questioning our decisions, feelings of regret… the list goes on.

    In order to overcome the green-eyed monster, we must stop comparing ourselves to others and see our own unique gifts.

    Often it is the desire to be someone special that drives unhealthy behavior and thought patterns. Consider this: You already are special. You already are good enough, just as you are. Without having to change or do anything different. You can stop trying to be good enough and allow yourself to just be.

    When I recently experienced conflict in an interpersonal relationship, I was talking with my mom and I said to her in defeat, “I just try so hard to be a good person.”

    She said to me, “Well then stop trying. You already are a good person. You don’t have to try, it’s who you are.”

    The truth is, no one has come before you or will come after you with your exact qualities. You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone else or to yourself. The fact that you even exist is a miracle. What a gift. Allow who you are to shine, and allow others to shine, without insecurities, jealousy, or fear. Our true gifts are revealed when we recognize we are each perfect just as we are.

    It’s Time to Write a New Story

    Those old stories from childhood, the hateful words on the playground or rejection from others, they don’t fit any more. They never did. We unfortunately allowed them to mean something about us and replayed the same story over and over again. As adults we have the ability and awareness to see and break these old patterns.

    Just recognizing our old stories is a great first step. The next step is to create new stories that better align with who we want to be and how we want to feel. And the last step is supporting those new stories with our perceptions and interpretations.

    Instead of interpreting a breakup or layoff as proof of our unworthiness, we can tell ourselves there’s something better out there for us—and we deserve it. Instead of expecting people to reject us, we can focus on all the reasons we’re worth accepting, and recognize that if they don’t, it’s their loss.

    We can also help ourselves engrain these new stories by surrounding ourselves with people who support, value, and encourage us.

    As I continue on my own path to healing, I am so grateful for an amazingly supportive boyfriend and network of friends and family (including my sister, who has become my best friend over the years), as well as an incredible puppy who teaches me the meaning of unconditional love daily (I highly recommend a dog for healing emotional wounds). Even when I retreat or fall into old patterns, I continue to be surrounded by people who accept me, challenge me, lift me, and inspire me to be the best version of myself.

    My new dream goes like this: I show up to class to teach yoga and students arrive ready and willing to practice. They are engaged and excited to be there, and so am I. I am no longer insecure and fearful of rejection or abandonment. In this new dream, I give everything I have and allow my gifts to shine. In doing this I give others permission to do the same.

    We are the authors of our own story. The kind of story where we get to live our best life. We can rewrite our story if it no longer fits as we continue to grow and evolve on our path. What will your story say about you?

  • If You Think There’s Something Wrong with You…

    If You Think There’s Something Wrong with You…

    The root cause of suffering for many of us is believing that there’s something wrong with us. Psychiatrists’ and therapists’ offices are filled with people who are carrying this false belief, most often stemming from traumatic or painful childhood experiences, or even people telling us this directly.

    Sometimes we inferred this idea because we were treated badly as children and/or we didn’t get our physical or emotional needs met. Perhaps we were called selfish or bad because we “asked for too much,” or we were told we couldn’t have what we wanted because we didn’t “earn or deserve it.”

    Maybe we blamed ourselves for our parents’ fighting and/or divorce or issues that were going on in our family because we believed they were our fault.

    Our little minds drew conclusions, and for some of us, self-abandonment became the solution. We did this because we thought there was something wrong with us—welcome suppression, people-pleasing, and “good little boy or girl.”

    Without conscious awareness, we tried to be and do what others wanted us to be and do so they’d love and accept us. By doing this, we hid our truth. We also concluded that it wasn’t okay to feel how we were feeling, so we made sure we suppressed our emotions, especially those that seemed forbidden, like anger or sadness.

    All this disconnected us from our authenticity. Many of us live our whole lives according to how others told us we needed to be, and we’re never truly happy. 

    Because we believed it was wrong for us to be ourselves, some of us created symptoms like addictions, depression, eating disorders, anxiety, or even illness in the body.

    Now, we have more reasons to believe we’re “bad” or “wrong” because we may think that having these symptoms proves it. Welcome more self-hatred—now we’re living with a big inner debate. It becomes a no-win situation, and we frantically turn to escapism and/or we create numbing/survival mechanisms.

    We think, “I can only show the good me”—“good” according to the rules of our family and society—and “I can’t show the bad me,” which are just parts of ourselves that weren’t acceptable to our family or society. By doing this we never really experience inner peace; instead, we become fragmented beings.

    Welcome shame and shadow “hiding.” What’s that? Shadow hiding is denying or disowning parts of ourselves that were not allowed to be seen; we pushed them down in our shadows and put them in our “forbidden cage.”

    Most people think our shadows carry our deep hurt and pain, and that may be, but in our shadows also reside our authenticity, our lovability, our natural gifts, talents, and abilities, our creativity, and our greatest qualities.

    So, how does the idea that something’s wrong with us affect our lives? If we have this as our core belief, we may create symptoms like self-sabotage, anxiety, helplessness, hopelessness, and the other symptoms I mentioned above. 

    We filter our perceptions and points of view through the ways we feel about ourselves, and we let that feeling create our reality.

    We may deny our true desires and what really makes us happy. Sometimes we do this unconsciously; however, it shows up as procrastinating and/or self-sabotaging or saying we don’t know what we like or how to have fun and play—because we believe doing so isn’t okay.

    We may have a hard time speaking our truth and asking for what we need in relationships; we’ve become people-pleasing beings because we learned we needed to abandon ourselves in order to be accepted and be a good person.

    We may try to suppress, deny, or run away from any negative, sad, or unacceptable feelings because we were told that we were bad or wrong for feeling what we felt.

    If shame is running in our system, we’ll never feel like a good enough person. We may even feel like a failure, or we may overcompensate, trying to prove we’re good enough through success, fame, and accumulation, but deep inside we’re empty and not happy.  

    Just an FYI, there’s nothing wrong with these things; it’s the energy behind what we’re doing that we need to pay attention to.

    There are many ways this false idea plays out, especially in the energy of fear and doubt.

    So, here’s a bit of what it was like for me, having this false idea that there was something wrong with me. This belief was created from the messages I received and inferred when I was a little being, constantly being told that I was wrong, fat, ugly, stupid, selfish, and that I asked for too much.

    From my earliest memory I ate a lot; food comforted and soothed me. It gave me a way to focus my energy, numb my painful feelings, and keep me safe in an environment in which I was not accepted.

    Then at age thirteen my doctor told me to go on a diet, and at age fifteen I was anorexic, which made me feel even more wrong and bad.

    The anorexia was a symptom stemming from the feeling and belief that I was undeserving, bad, and wrong and that I needed to deprive myself in order to be accepted and loved. Kinda screwy, eh?

    What most people don’t understand is that anorexia isn’t just about starving our body; we’re starving ourselves from living. It’s self-denial, self-abandonment, and self-abuse, the opposite of self-honoring and self-loving.

    I took on the ways my parents treated me, and I became my own mean parent. I beat myself up daily with negative self-talk, cutting my wrists and face, bingeing, starving myself, and exercising compulsively. I was also depressed and anxious and took sleeping pills to sleep through the day.

    I was a slave to this way of being, stemming from the belief that there was something wrong with me and, going even deeper, that I was bad and wrong.

    I deprived myself of everything, not just food. I didn’t allow myself to get close to others or buy myself anything; I basically lived in lack, limitation, and fear daily. If I made money, it had to go into the bank, and I overworked myself to prove I was a “good girl.” I put myself in dangerous situations, like walking alone in bad areas at night, and stayed in abusive relationships because I didn’t value myself or my life.

    I was living in a trance, and no one was able to help me change. Even after going in and out of numerous hospitals and treatment centers and seeing therapists for over twenty-three years, I still lived with an internal war. I held on tight to the harmful ways I was living, because I believed I deserved to be treated that way; it was how I learned to cope and survive.

    So, how did things finally change? How did I get to where I am today? I finally took my healing into my own hands and found myself on a spiritual path. It wasn’t until everyone gave up on me and my body starting really deteriorating that I decided to learn self-acceptance, self-honoring, and self-loving.

    It was a process. I read many self-help books, but most of them only worked on the conscious level. It was like I was fighting against my own biology, consciously trying to change, but my energy patterning was saying, “No way.”

    I didn’t start feeling comfortable being true to myself and living in my body until I went to the root cause—until I understood why I was carrying this energy internally.

    By going to the root cause—what happened when I was younger—I made contact with my inner child, who was really hurting and crying out for love.

    Sweet little Debra was so afraid, and she didn’t feel safe because no one had ever comforted her or let her know that she was okay. She wanted and needed to know that she wasn’t bad or wrong, and that it was okay for her to come out and play; that she was now loved, accepted, appreciated, and safe.

    She was very hurt and angry, and it took a while for her to trust me. However, I stayed with it, and bit by bit I started feeling at peace internally through self-love and self-acceptance.

    What if instead of giving medication to someone who doesn’t truly need it, we gave them the prescription that there’s nothing wrong with them?

    What if we helped them peel away the layers of conditioning, helped them heal their traumas and unresolved issues, and gave them permission to love and honor themselves and embrace their authenticity?

    What if we stopped judging ourselves and making ourselves bad or wrong for who we are and instead loved and accepted ourselves unconditionally—especially those parts that weren’t/aren’t accepted by our family and/or society?

    What if we saw our shame, insecurities, and fear of being seen as parts of ourselves asking for compassion, forgiveness, unconditional acceptance, and love?

    What if we saw our “flaws” as beautiful and valuable aspects of ourselves, and we started finding approval for those parts of ourselves that were unaccepted by society?

    What if we moved from self-judging into self-compassion and self-loving and we allowed ourselves to feel however we’re feeling?

    What if we made friends with ourselves so that we felt at ease throughout the day? So we no longer tried so hard to be someone acceptable, and instead we flowed with our heart and soul?

    What if we changed things about ourselves and our lives because it’s an act of self-love—we improved because we want to, not because we need to in order to be accepted and loved by others?

    If we put in the work, there hopefully comes a time when we see that we no longer need to “fix” ourselves to be a certain way so that we’ll be accepted by others. And instead, we allow ourselves to be who we are, we love and accept ourselves unconditionally, and we change only if we want to, not because we think there’s something wrong with us. Because there isn’t. And there never was.

  • For People Who Look in the Mirror and Cringe

    For People Who Look in the Mirror and Cringe

    “Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are.” ~Brené Brown

    When I was fourteen years old, I vividly remember the first time I put my fingers down my throat and made myself puke.

    I remember feeling fat, ugly, unworthy, and like I was not good enough. I felt as if I had no control and I was unable to effectively process the strong emotions I was feeling. Binging and purging allowed me to temporarily release these feelings, to numb them out, and created a fallacy of control in my life.

    From that day on, for the next twelve years of my life, I became consumed with food, weight, working out, and binging and purging.

    I measured my value based on the inches on the measuring tape, the letters on my clothes, and the numbers on the scale.

    I measured my self-worth on the severely skewed perceptions of beauty that I held.

    The way I viewed myself led me down a lifestyle of numbing my emotions with substances, putting myself in risky situations, and hurting the people I loved most.

    My self-hatred kept me blocked off, emotionally numb, and gave me a false sense of control in my life. I became adept at constantly wearing a façade of masks—smearing a smile on my face was second nature to hide the ugliness and shame that I felt in every pore of my body.

    And although over the years I have overcome my disordered eating, the battle with self-love continues. I sometimes wonder if I will ever be able to silence the constant push and pull from the internal thought patterns and dialogue that goes on in my head.

    The one thing that gives me some solace (and sadness) is knowing I am not alone.

    Because, no matter your age, gender, race, family make-up, or religion, the majority of us struggle with some sort of skewed self-image, negative self-talk, and self-limiting beliefs that keep us stuck in the perpetual cycle of questioning our worthiness.

    Although the stories we tell ourselves based on our personal life experiences, traumas, and joys are unique to us, they are collective to the human experience.

    This post is for anyone who looks in the mirror and cringes…

    Who cry as they measure their self-worth by the letters on their clothes, the numbers on the scale, or the amount of “likes” they get on social media…

    Who judge themselves for the jiggle of their bellies, the cellulite on their legs, or the wrinkles on their face…

    Who take out their perceived inadequacies on their bodies, harming it through their method of choice—substances, eating disorders, self-harm, risky behaviors.

    This post is for the women who are researching the next fad diet, fretting about the color of their roots, their wrinkles, or their weight as they contemplate spending their savings on cosmetic surgery trying to live up to society’s filtered expectations of how a woman “should” look.

    For the men who are measuring their masculinity based on the size of their penis, the look of their muscles, or the hair on their heads.

    For the transgendered and Cis community who feel trapped in a body that is not aligned with the essence of their true being.

    For the people who refuse to look in a mirror, fearful of what they may see.

    For the people who feel like they will never be good enough, strong enough, or worthy enough.

    I want you to know: You are beautiful enough. You are good enough. You are worthy enough.

    I know if you are reading this right now, you may be skimming over those words thinking “yeah, yeah.”

    But slow down and read them again.

    You. Are. Beautiful.

    You. Are. Good. Enough.

    You. Are. Worthy. Enough.

    No matter your age, size of your pants, number of dimples or pimples you have. No matter the size of your muscles, the hair on your head or the wrinkles in your skin.

    You matter.

    Your life matters.

    The world needs your essence. Your love. Your personality. Your spirit. Your uniqueness.

    In a world where we are inundated with an average of 6,000 to 10,000 advertisements a day telling us how we should look, how we should live our lives, and who we should be, in a world where social media is a filtered lens skewing reality, allowing only glimpses into the realities of others’ lives, it can be easy to add fuel to the fire of self-deprecating thoughts and feelings of unworthiness.

    What I learned from my personal struggle with body image, self-hate, and pure distain for every inch of my being, is that self-love is going to look different for everyone, and it is going to take time to undo the decades of self-deprecating self-talk.

    But it can be done.

    The rise of body-positivity and self-love movement is encouraging, yet it can also leave you feeling as if it is one more thing you are failing at because you just can’t bring yourself to fully embrace those lumps, bumps, tiger stripes, pimples, and dimples just yet.

    Through my experience I have found if you start small and give yourself grace and compassion you can start shifting your mindset around how you view yourself. Below are the steps I took in my journey that you may find helpful for your own journey.

    Do the deeper work.

    Begin to understand how your subconscious mind and self-imposed limiting beliefs from your personal experiences are keeping you stuck. Neuroscience shows us that we can reprogram our subconscious beliefs. Start being the scientist of your life and figure out where these feeling come from so you can start becoming aware of them. The first step in changing any habit/belief is awareness.

    Start small.

    Focus on the features you love about yourself. The first body part I started liking was my fingernails. Yes, my fingernails. But as I got used to saying I loved my fingernails I moved on to other body parts and kept the snowball going.

    View your body as your partner, not your enemy.

    This body does so much for you day in and day out. Shift into a perspective of gratitude for all the amazing things it does. Those thighs help you walk, that belly processes nutrients to fuel you, those wrinkles are proof of years of love, life, and wisdom. Start using the holistic healing powers of your breath. Begin partnering with your body on how you can help each other.

    Do an inventory of your strengths.

    If this is hard for you to do, then reach out to someone you love and ask them to tell you, in writing, what they love about you or see as your strengths. Seriously, this is scary. I get it because I did it. And I am so grateful I did. I reached out to three of my closest friends and family members and asked them what they saw in me. I did this over eight years ago and still have these letters taped in my journal so that I can read in times when I cannot see what they see.

    Consciously choose to focus on what gets you excited in life.

    It is so easy to waste our valuable time comparing our lives to others, focusing on what we hate about ourselves, or getting stuck in the perpetual cycle of negative self-talk. Instead, consciously choose to chase your curiosity.

    Have you ever set intentions for your year or your life? Setting intentions is one of the most powerful tips I adopted when I began my self-love journey, as it allowed me to focus on the bigger picture of who I wanted to be, how I wanted to show up each day, where I wanted my life to go, and what my definition of happiness truly looked like.

    Can you imagine how much passion, happiness, and love we would exude into the world if we were able to switch out the time we spend putting ourselves down into building ourselves up?

    We would change the world.

    You truly are so much more powerful that you know.

  • Why Rejection IS Sometimes Personal (but Not About Your Worth)

    Why Rejection IS Sometimes Personal (but Not About Your Worth)

    “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” ~Eleanor Roosevelt

    It’s not about you. It’s about them. It’s their loss. Don’t take it personally. It doesn’t mean anything.

    Well-intentioned people have told me these things many times to soften the blow of rejection. And I wanted so badly to believe them, but how could I?

    When someone doesn’t want you, it’s hard not to take it personally. They don’t want you. It must mean something about you, right?

    When five college theater programs rejected me, when guy after guy ditched me, when countless potential friends avoided me, I thought for sure it meant I wasn’t talented or lovable.

    I beat myself up, put myself down, and wished I could be someone better, someone people wouldn’t so quickly write off.

    I tried to reframe it, to consider that it really had nothing to do with me. I knew this thought was supposed to comfort me, but something told me this wasn’t right—and it wasn’t my low self-esteem.

    Eventually, I was able to look beyond the simplicity of black-and-white thinking and recognize a beautiful grey area.

    That grey area was the key to bouncing back from rejection. It was the key to learning about myself. And it was the key to changing how I showed up in the world, and how I experienced it.

    In the grey area, rejection sometimes is about us, but not about our worth.

    In high school, I had tremendous potential as an actress and singer. I got cast in lead roles plenty of times, received abundant praise for both my dramatic chops and my comedic timing, and represented my school choir at a national competition.

    I had talent; I know this now. Still, with the benefit of hindsight, I also know that my college rejections did mean something about me.

    I didn’t take care of myself back then. My throat was constantly hoarse due to aggressive bulimia. And I was terrified of judgment, which made it difficult to be present and throw myself into my monologues.

    But none of those things meant I was untalented or unworthy. They meant I needed to be kinder to myself, to strengthen my confidence, and to grow as a person and performer.

    As a teen and in my early twenties, I had a lot to give in relationships. I was compassionate, good-hearted, and loyal to those I cared about.

    I was lovable; I know this now. Still, with the benefit of hindsight, I also know that my inability to sustain relationships and friendships did mean something about me.

    I frequently looked to others to fill gaps in my self-esteem. I obsessed about myself while blinding myself to their needs. And I was clingy, insecure, and unwilling to heal the pain that caused me to focus all my attention on winning their approval.

    But none of these things meant I was unworthy of love. They meant I’d experienced tremendous pain and I needed to heal and learn to love myself before I could truly love or be loved by others.

    Some rejections really weren’t about me—like when a casting director was looking for someone older.

    Most times, there was a lesson for me in the rejection, some area where I could learn and improve. But the lesson never had to do with my worth as a person—only about my potential for growth.

    This isn’t a mindset I adopted quickly or easily. 

    For years, I hated myself when I failed or it seemed people didn’t want me. Even the tiniest rejections would push me down to a dark, dirty place of “There’s something wrong with me.”

    And it was awfully tempting to stay there. In a way, it felt safe. It was a place where I could hang out without getting shut out.

    In accepting my inadequacy, I was free to shut down and avoid future rejections. What was the point of trying when I knew I was the problem, and there was nothing I could do about it?

    If I plain and simply wasn’t good enough—if I was intrinsically unworthy of all the things I wanted—then I could stop putting myself in a position to have this disheartening truth confirmed.

    Or, perhaps even more depressing, I could lower the bar on what I wanted so that it aligned with what I believed I deserved. I could seek out jobs that dissatisfied me, men who looked down on me, and friends who devalued me.

    Because that’s what happens when you conclude that you’re unworthy and undeserving—you find people and situations that confirm it.

    Like I did in my mid-twenties, when I casually dated a man who said I was lucky he spent time with me because I wasn’t really a great catch (while torturing myself by living in NYC but not auditioning because I thought I wasn’t good enough).

    I know now that I am good enough. I deserve so much more than I once settled for, despite all the rejections I received. And I have a light I can share with the world, if I choose to kindle it instead of stifling it.

    In a way, I’m grateful for those rejections. They enabled me to identify areas for growth, to develop confidence while making progress in those areas, and to tame the cruel, critical voice inside that hurts far more than anyone else’s rejection.

    We all have a voice like this, and it has a knack for getting louder right when we need compassion the most.

    When we’ve failed to achieve something we wanted, it likes to obsess over all the reasons we probably shouldn’t have put ourselves out there.

    Really, it’s trying to keep us safe by discouraging us from putting ourselves in a position to be hurt again. Just like our friends are trying to protect us from pain by telling us it really isn’t about us.

    But safe isn’t a place where we learn or grow. It’s not the key to feeling alive, engaged, challenged, or proud of the way we’re showing up in the world.

    To feel those things we have to first tell ourselves we’re worthy of those feelings—no matter how much room we have for growth.

    We have to tell ourselves that we can achieve more than we think, but we are so much more than what we achieve.

    We have to live in that grey area where failures and rejections provide information, but not confirmation that we’re not good enough.

    I’m not always open to that information. On days when I’m feeling down on myself, it’s tempting to interpret “no” as “no, you don’t matter.”

    Even those days are opportunities, because I get to practice telling myself, “Yes, you do. Now prove it. Keep learning. Keep growing. And keep showing up, because you have so much more to give.”

  • 5 Vital Lessons for People Who Feel Like They’re Not Good Enough

    5 Vital Lessons for People Who Feel Like They’re Not Good Enough

    Sad Woman Behind Bars

    “What if I fall? Oh, my darling, what if you fly?” ~Erin Hanson

    Like most people, my life has had its share of ups and downs.

    My household growing up could be best described as a roller coaster. There were times of excitement and happiness, then there was the plummeting into darkness, shame, and self-loathing.

    Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I felt that I was a mistake, unloved, and unwanted by my father. His mood swings and verbal abuse would come raging like a storm without any warning, and without any end in sight.

    He often told me that I wasn’t good enough and that I was the reason for all of his problems.

    I was often frightened to go home and face him. When my mother would have to go out of town, I would insist on staying with a friend because I didn’t feel safe being alone with him.

    I was extraordinarily lucky to have such a warm and loving mother that provided me the love and support I needed to keep going. Despite all of her good intentions and love, though, I still found myself falling into a deep hole of depression and severe anxiety.

    Some of the happier times that I remember from my childhood were the years that I was in gymnastics. It made me feel alive and free to express myself.

    However, that too slowly led to destruction, as soon I began competing. My obsessive need to please others caused me such significant levels of anxiety that I decided to quit. I was only twelve, and my dreams of becoming an elite gymnast were over. 

    Though it was a good decision to move on from that life, I was still left with this feeling of shame because I couldn’t mentally handle the pressure. I felt that I had let everyone down, including myself.

    Also, without this release, my anxiety levels continued to increase, leaving me feeling on edge and awkward in my social interactions.

    As I entered adolescence, I found it harder and harder to put myself out there, in fear that others would judge me. I worried that they would think I wasn’t good enough, cool enough, skinny enough, smart enough, or pretty enough.

    I eventually created this hard exterior to prevent people from getting in and knowing the real me.

    I believed for a long time that this wall was there to protect me; however, all it did was prevent me from building relationships with others, or even a relationship with myself.

    For many years I self-medicated in various ways to deal with the pain and to allow myself to let my guard down just enough to find a solid, small groups of friends.

    It wasn’t long before I became so depressed and anxious that my family doctor put me on medications to “fix me.” They numbed me so much, though, that I medicated myself on top of that to feel alive, which of course was a recipe for disaster.

    After years of taking these medications, I couldn’t function without them. I’m became so desperate to feel alive that I took myself off of them cold turkey. This was not a pleasant experience. I went through a period where I secluded myself away from my friends and family and fell back into old habits.

    I eventually managed to pull myself out of that hole after some intense therapy and self-reflection; however, I still struggled daily with my depression and anxiety.

    Fast forward several years, after I graduated from my Masters program, and I found myself happily married, spending time with my close knit friends again, and working daily on myself.

    I had finally cut out everything negative in my life except for chain-smoking cigarettes, and then I became pregnant with our first child.

    My husband and I were ecstatic, but making that final step to quit smoking so suddenly threw me for a loop. Since it wasn’t just me now, I made the decision to try something new, yoga.

    At first it was hard, boring, and frustrating. I didn’t get it. I kept going, though, and about the time I was six months pregnant I was finally getting the hang of it.

    I didn’t just like it; I loved it! It has been just over five years since I walked into that first yoga class, and I am so thankful for everything it has taught me.

    Here are the top five ways that I believe yoga has saved my sanity. It taught me that:

    1. Practice makes progress.

    For someone that struggles with perfectionism, this mantra has been a lifesaver.

    When I first started my practice, I felt frustrated because I couldn’t make my poses look like the advanced yogis in the room. The reality was that those yogis didn’t accomplish those moves in their first class. It took time, patience, and self-acceptance to get there, and those poses could continue to progress from there.

    There is no such thing as perfect but rather always room for growth. Striving for perfection is a no-win battle in all aspects of life, for perfection is a defining wall that we create in our own minds.

    2. We have to acknowledge our own successes.

    I have never been one to take compliments well. I doubted them and worried that they were insincere.

    Even as I became stronger in my practice, I didn’t feel secure enough to attempt difficult poses in a class full of people. I feared that someone would find flaws in them or think I was a show-off.

    It wasn’t until about a year ago that I finally decided to just go for it. Since I made that leap, I have been able to grow so much more in my confidence and praise for myself.

    If you can’t be proud of yourself, how can you expect others to be?

    3. We need to surround ourselves with positive, happy people.

    Ever heard of the phrase “You become who you surround yourself with”?

    The yoga community is filled with joy, support, and kindness everywhere you turn. Although I am still not the most outgoing or social person, I embrace the positive energy every day when I am in a yoga class.

    Everyone there has come there for a purpose—to better themselves. We all have our own stuff going on in our lives, but have taken a moment to come together and to take care of ourselves.

    4. We can conquer our fears.

    The first time I saw someone in crow pose, I convinced myself that I could never do something that difficult. I just knew I would fall on my face and everyone would laugh at me. I resisted even attempting it because I was scared of failure.

    The thing is, though, sometimes we have to fall to then pick ourselves back up and try again.

    Once I started practicing and finding success, I become braver every day on my mat and found that I could, in fact, accomplish much more than I ever believed I could. We are stronger than we think we are.

    5. It’s okay to let ourselves be vulnerable.

    There is a moment at the end of every yoga class when you lie on your mat in shavasana, with your eyes closed, and just breathe.

    The idea of surrendering yourself in a room full of strangers is terrifying. This pose has taken me forever to feel comfortable in. It taught me that it is okay and actually good for the body and mind to let it all go and just be. This is when you can find peace within yourself.

    —

    It has now been twenty years since I quit my gymnastics career, and I have finally found something that has allowed me to get that same sense of freedom that I once felt as a child.

    I know that every day after I finish my yoga class, I have let go of the enormous amount of tension that I constantly carry with me, and I feel content, relaxed, empowered, and proud of myself for what I have just accomplished.

    I truly believe that yoga has saved my sanity and taught me how to love and respect myself. But you don’t need to go to a yoga class to learn these lessons. You can make the choice to let go of the pressure, tackle your fears, and celebrate yourself for being bold, brave, and vulnerable.

    Sad woman image via Shutterstock

  • The Real Reason Some People Always Seem to Push Your Buttons

    The Real Reason Some People Always Seem to Push Your Buttons

    “Our sorrows and wounds are healed only when we touch them with compassion.” ~Buddha

    I always felt invisible whenever my husband and I got together with a certain couple.

    Every time we saw them, it triggered feelings of rejection because they would go on and on about themselves and never ask about how I was doing or feeling. I went home feeling ignored and sad every time.

    Finally, after putting up with this non-reciprocal relationship for a number of years, I decided that it was best for us to break free from it. 

    For the longest time I couldn’t figure out why this self-absorbed behavior bothered me so much.

    Eventually, the light bulb went off and I realized I kept hoping that one day this couple would validate me, in the same way that I kept hoping and hoping that one day my father would validate me.

    You see, my biggest negative childhood trauma was feeling invisible and unworthy of my father’s love. So anytime someone, like this couple, ignores me and I feel invisible, the little girl inside me feels pain.

    You may have people that trigger the young vulnerable parts of you, leading you to feel unloved, unworthy, and invisible.

    This little girl that is frozen in time in my psyche felt worthless and not enough.

    She eventually had had enough of me ignoring her, and she sought redemption by making me have a two-year battle with depression, anxiety, and panic attacks.

    Antidepressants and therapy took the edge off, but they didn’t heal the source of the hurt.

    I was searching for answers on how to permanently get rid of emotional scars, like a gardener looking for a way to dig up and discard the roots of stubborn weeds. My search ended when I discovered a little known powerful, rapid, and different method of healing emotional scars through self-led re-parenting and unburdening young parts of toxic memories.

    The young parts of you that hold negative emotions of shame, guilt, rejection, abandonment, and unworthiness need the love and reassurance from you that they never got when they first experienced negative events.

    I went back into the old toxic experiences that created the faulty beliefs that I was unlovable, unworthy, and not enough. I “re-parented” that little girl by telling her she is lovable, worthy, and enough.

    I explained to her that Dad didn’t know how to show his love. He was acting from his wounded parts, and that’s why she grew up in an environment that was filled with emotional misery.

    The little girl now understands what happened, and she’s able to believe that she is worthy, enough, and lovable because I told her she was. She is no longer frozen in time and has come into the present with me, where she resides in my heart.

    As a result of loving this young part, I recovered from depression, anxiety, and panic attacks for good.

    I also stepped into my father’s shoes and now know that validating me is something he was not capable of, because of his upbringing. I have forgiven him and now have compassion for him instead of anger.

    I am so thankful that this couple was in my life. They gave me the gift of identifying my most painful emotional wound.

    Who pushes your buttons? What is the gift they are giving you to help you identify your most painful wounds?

    This re-parenting technique that resulted in unconditionally loving myself has positively and permanently shifted my happiness set point and boosted my self-esteem and confidence.

    Nothing is holding me back from being happy now and in the journey to living to my potential and making a difference.

    My wounded part showed up as depression. Your wounded parts may show up as health and weight challenges; addictions such as eating too much, drinking too much, shopping too much, and procrastination; self-sabotage; anger; perfectionism; or overachievement.

    The following steps will help you heal your emotional scars at their source, delete the limiting beliefs that keep you stuck, and reprogram your brain with positive beliefs.

    1. Identify who triggers you.

    Which feelings do they trigger? Who is the parent, teacher, sibling, or old boyfriend/girlfriend with whom you originally felt this way?

    2. Step into this person’s shoes.

    Understand how much pain they are in from their own past. This will help you have compassion for them and forgive them.

    3. Access the young part of you that acquired the faulty beliefs as a result of interactions with this person.

    Examples of faulty negative core beliefs are: “I’m not lovable,” “I’m not enough,” “I’m not worthy,” and “I’ll never amount to anything.”

    4. Recall a scene that made you believe you were bad.

    Be with that part and give it the love and reassurance that it never got when that event happened. Tell it that it is lovable, worthy, and enough. Soak in the image of your loving self of today kissing, loving, and hugging this young part.

    5. Unburden yourself of the original negative feelings and beliefs.

    Imagine the ocean washing away the faulty beliefs of “I’m not lovable,” “I’m not worthy,” and “I’m not enough.” This energetically releases the bad memories and beliefs from your body.

    6. Bring that young part into the present.

    Have it be part of your team to move you forward and be happy.

    Healing myself through this technique has allowed me to create a new narrative for my life story. I now believe the Universe purposely gave me negative experiences for the evolution of my soul.

    These events gave me the gift of finding my life’s calling. 

    You too can figure out your life’s mission by healing your emotional scars first. Then you can figure out the new narrative that helps you make lemonade out of your lemons. As a result, you can live fully with joy and purpose before you die. 

    When you heal the emotional scars that keep you unhappy, you can significantly improve your happiness set point and positively change the course of your life.

    So, if you have people that push your buttons, thank them for being in your life. They are a gift because they help you find the source of your deepest wounds, which hold you back from being shameless and confidently showing up as the happiest version of you.

    Do you have emotional scars that are triggered by certain people?

  • Release the Fear of Not Measuring Up and Share Your Light

    Release the Fear of Not Measuring Up and Share Your Light

    cartwheel

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

    I believe that it is part of the human condition to want love and connection with others. For some of us this comes much more naturally and abundantly than it does for others.

    The universal thing we all share is that at some point along our life journey, there will come a time when our self-worth is on the table for questioning.

    I can clearly recall the first time my self-confidence was rocked. I was seven years old and full of energy, life, and good old-fashioned cheer.

    I spent endless summer hours skipping rope, riding bikes, playing tag with the neighborhood kids, and had recently discovered the art of performing cartwheels on the back lawn—what a rush!

    At the time we lived in a duplex. My mom was a single mom. My dad passed away when I was only six months old, leaving my older brother Eric and I behind.

    Of course I didn’t realize it at the time, but while my mom was the most amazing mom around, I didn’t have a male role model in my life and must have really felt that loss.

    My mom and I still share a giggle over a story from when I was two years old. I very eagerly staggered out into the street during a holiday parade to profess my love or “wuv” for the policemen and firemen as they passed by.

    It just so happened we had a police officer living next door to us. It was a warm summer evening and he had guests out on his deck enjoying a barbeque. I also just so happened to be outside once again, perfecting my cartwheel.

    I remember gearing up to showcase them my newly honed skill. I composed myself and very deliberately set off down our bumpy, sloped lawn toward their deck.

    I gave them one impeccable cartwheel after the other, without any break in between, until I reached the end of the lawn and the start of the blackberry bush.

    I turned to face them with a victory smile and a silent “ta-da!” but instead of receiving anticipated applause and approval, I was met with roars of laughter and a snicker: “Wow, what a showoff this one is!”

    I was instantly deflated and utterly crushed.

    I clearly remember feeling the heavy pit in my stomach, and the accompanying sting of tears and hurt I fought back as the heat rose from my belly to my cheeks. At seven years old I stood there with my heart wide open, looking for approval only to feel squashed and ashamed.

    Fast-forward another twenty-eight years and it all sounds a bit silly to me now, yet somehow the hurt is still quick for me to recall.

    This was, of course, not the experience that taught me the great life lesson of expressing and honoring my worth as a human being.

    That came much later with far more extensive bruises, bumps, and lessons, but this memory is one that stands out to me because it was the first time I ever thought to myself “Maybe I am not good enough, and maybe I never will be.”

    I don’t believe there is a human out there that doesn’t have this inner child in them that yearns for the reassurance that they are okay. Most of us have had at least one experience somewhere along the line that has left the lingering question of whether or not we are good enough.

    I think we all carry these wounds around with us. Some of us face unthinkable things and suffer from much deeper wounds and fears than others.

    I guess the point is, at any given time we are surrounded by others that have felt insecure and unloved, that worry about being worthy of belonging and can relate to what may be one of our biggest fears.

    I just can’t help but think if we all gave ourselves permission to not be so hard on ourselves, or to each other, the ride could be a little gentler. When we come back to that place in life where our hearts are open, we are less likely to be so critical of others and of ourselves.

    The simple act of sharing a heartfelt smile with a stranger on the street, or praising a young child for being completely amazing by just being who they are, is empowering and contagious.

    When we loosen our grip on our fear of looking foolish or not measuring up, and instead share our light and love with others, the magic of life seems to naturally unfold.

    The best part is, we help give others the courage to do the same, to find their way back to remembering how totally awesome and worthy they are right now as they are.

    I should add that while I never did become a gifted gymnast, I will on occasion bust out my best cartwheel moves on the back lawn with my kids, or on the beach just because. Now I always follow it up with a “ta-da” and a pat on the back I deserve for purely being human.

    Photo by Louise Palanker

  • Getting to the Root of Pain to Work Through It and Be Happy

    Getting to the Root of Pain to Work Through It and Be Happy

    Deep Thought

    “The secret of joy is the mastery of pain” ~Anais Nin

    I come from a family of runners. They run from pain, emotions, and uncomfortable feelings.

    My mom was 17 when she moved to Texas to get away from her overbearing mother. She couldn’t deal with the pain of never being enough for her parents or herself. She left her parents, extended family, and friends behind in Mississippi without a second glance.

    A recovering anorexic, she was looking for something, anything that would ease the pain and prove she was okay.

    My father arrived in Texas in his 40s, after leaving his home country of Chile to sail the world. He was looking for something better, something bigger, something to make him feel complete.

    When my parents met, my mom was 17 and my dad was 42. It was far from a match made in heaven, but somehow they ended up with their first child within a year—my brother. A year later I was born to an already overstressed mother with no family support system.

    From as far back as I can remember, I knew something wasn’t right. I have always been a sensitive person, and I could feel the stress and anger my mom held within even as a toddler.

    I didn’t understand these emotions, even though I knew they were there. I assumed, as most children do, that these emotions were directed at me. I decided I had to make things right, because I had obviously done something wrong.

    My mom was prone to spontaneous outbursts of anger, so I made it my mission to make her happy. I did everything and anything I could for her and my dad. I knew when I showed emotions it would upset my parents, so I learned to hold my own feelings in.

    I taught myself that I was unworthy and flawed, and that I should be happy that my parents took care of me.

    Eventually, the pressure I put on myself became too much. Every time my parents fought, I blamed myself for not pleasing them, for not doing enough to make them happy. (more…)

  • We Are More Than What We Do: Allowing Our Authentic Nature to Shine

    We Are More Than What We Do: Allowing Our Authentic Nature to Shine

    Light Will Guide You Home

    “The light at the end of the tunnel is not an illusion. The tunnel is.” ~Unknown

    In this society of ours, parents teach their children to do, to perform, to produce. We learn that to be adult, we need to be “productive members of society.” At social gatherings, more often than not, the first question among strangers is “What do you do?”

    My first memories include identifying so deeply with my movie director father that when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always replied, “A writer and director.”

    Then life happened, and I spent decades acting out the painful and abusive relationship I had with my mother. Although I wrote almost daily, my life settled into a hand-to-mouth survival existence that had nothing to do with writing.

    A string of abusive relationships with men took the place of my unresolved relationship with my mother as I continued to act out the trauma of my youth in a repetitive cycle, all the while trying to keep a roof over my children’s heads and food on the table.

    All thoughts of any kind of career fell away and were replaced by anxiety, depression, and the urgent need to pay this month’s bills.

    When my mother died, much to my surprise she left me everything she had in the world, and I was able to buy a home and live for several years without worrying about money.

    During that time, I quit my job and started to write in earnest. My goal was to publish a memoir about growing up in a motion picture family in Hollywood and share the lessons my childhood taught me about love.

    These are the vastly over-simplified facts of my life. Less obvious was my growing self-identification as “writer” and a subtle yet mounting despair as time passed and I struggled to find a publisher or an agent to represent me.

    Recently, in a rare moment of absolute clarity, I realized that I had come to identify so deeply with the book and the rich and enviable career of my wonderful father that I saw both as extensions of myself. (more…)