Tiny Buddha

Tag: whole

  • Dancing with Darkness: How to Reclaim Your Whole Self

    Dancing with Darkness: How to Reclaim Your Whole Self

    “Shadow work is the way to illumination. When we become aware of all that is buried within us, that which is lurking beneath the surface no longer has power over us.” ~Aletheia Luna

    For years, I believed healing was about transcending pain. I took the courses, read the books, learned every energy-healing technique I could find, and became a healer myself.

    And for a while, I felt better. I had breakthroughs. My anxiety lessened.

    My depressive episodes became fewer. But they never fully disappeared. Even after all the inner work, there were still days when I felt unbearably low. Days and nights when my thoughts raced, full of fear and doubt.

    I told myself that if I was truly healing, these feelings shouldn’t exist anymore. That if I was really evolving, I wouldn’t feel this way.

    And worst of all, if I was a healer, how could I possibly still struggle?

    Surely, I was doing something wrong.

    I started questioning myself. Maybe I wasn’t “good enough” as a healer. Maybe I wasn’t doing enough inner work. MaybeI just wasn’t meant to be on this path.

    So I doubled down. I meditated longer. Journaled more. Cleared my energy. Did affirmations.

    And yet, the sadness still found me. The anxiety still whispered its fears. No matter how much I tried to fix myself, these emotions refused to leave.

    It wasn’t until I stopped fighting my pain that something shifted. I realized I had spent years treating my emotions as something to get rid of. But healing isn’t about eliminating pain: it’s about becoming intimate with it.

    So instead of suppressing my darkness, I started getting to know it. Instead of running from my emotions, I sat with them—fully present, without trying to fix them.

    I let my sadness speak through poetry.

    I let my anxiety move through dance.

    I let my shadows express themselves through art, writing, and stillness.

    And something unexpected happened. The more I embraced my pain, the less power it had over me. The more I let myself feel without judgment, the more compassion I had for myself.

    I learned that healing isn’t about reaching some perfect, pain-free version of yourself. It’s about integrating every part of you—even the ones you used to reject.

    I realized that being a healer doesn’t mean being free of struggle. It means having the courage to meet yourself exactly as you are—without shame, without resistance, and with deep, unwavering love.

    Because healing isn’t about erasing your darkness.

    It’s about learning to dance with it.

    What is the Shadow Self?

    Our shadow consists of the parts of ourselves that we’ve been taught to hide: our fears, suppressed emotions, unprocessed pain, and even our untapped strengths.

    Maybe you were told as a child that expressing anger was “bad,” so you learned to suppress it.

    Maybe you grew up believing that vulnerability was weakness, so you built walls around your heart.

    The shadow isn’t just made up of things we perceive as negative; it can also include hidden gifts. Some of us hide our power because we were taught it wasn’t safe to shine.

    Some of us suppress our intuition because we fear being wrong. Some of us bury our true desires because we’ve been conditioned to think they’re unrealistic or selfish.

    But here’s the thing: Whatever we suppress doesn’t disappear. It just works against us in unconscious ways.

    Our unhealed wounds can show up as:

    • Feeling stuck in the same painful patterns
    • Emotional triggers that seem to come out of nowhere
    • Self-sabotage, procrastination, or fear of success
    • Overreacting to certain behaviors in others (often mirroring what we reject in ourselves)
    • Feeling disconnected, numb, or unfulfilled despite “doing the work”

    So how do we begin integrating our shadow instead of fearing or avoiding it?

    5 Ways to Begin Shadow Integration

    1. Get curious about your triggers.

    One of the easiest ways to identify our shadow is to pay attention to what triggers us.

    Have you ever felt an irrationally strong reaction to something? Maybe a passing comment made you feel deeply insecure, or someone else’s confidence irritated you.

    Our triggers are messengers. They reveal wounds that are still waiting to be healed and integrated.

    Reflection prompt:

    • Think about the last time something upset or irritated you. What was the deeper emotion beneath it?
    • Does this remind you of a past experience or belief?
    • If this was a message from your inner self, what would it be saying?

    When we can sit with our reactions instead of judging them, we open the door to healing.

    2. Identify what you’ve been taught to suppress.

    Many of our shadow aspects were created in childhood. We learned that certain emotions, traits, or desires weren’t “acceptable,” so we buried them.

    Ask yourself:

    • What parts of myself did I feel I had to hide growing up?
    • What qualities do I judge in others (and could these be aspects I’ve rejected in myself)?
    • What dreams or desires have I talked myself out of because they feel “unrealistic” or “selfish”?

    For example, if you were taught that being sensitive meant being weak, you might suppress your emotions and struggle with vulnerability. If you were raised in an environment where success was met with jealousy, you might unconsciously fear stepping into your full potential.

    By bringing awareness to these patterns, you can begin to rewrite them.

    3. Practice sitting with uncomfortable emotions.

    Most of us weren’t taught how to sit with our emotions. We were taught how to suppress, avoid, or “fix” them.

    But emotions are not problems. They are messages.

    Instead of pushing away sadness, frustration, or fear, try welcoming them as temporary visitors.

    Try this:

    • When a difficult emotion arises, pause, and say, I see you. I hear you. I am listening.
    • Notice what sensations arise in your body.
    • Breathe deeply and allow yourself to sit with it, without rushing to change it.

    The more you practice this, the less power your emotions will have over you.

    4. Reconnect with your inner child.

    Much of our shadow is rooted in childhood experiences—times when we felt abandoned, unworthy, or unsafe.

    Healing these wounds requires reparenting ourselves with love and compassion.

    A simple inner child exercise:

    • Close your eyes and imagine your younger self standing in front of you.
    • Picture them at an age when they felt most vulnerable.
    • Ask: What do you need to hear right now?
    • Offer them the love, validation, and reassurance they may not have received.

    This simple practice can be incredibly powerful in healing past wounds and integrating your shadow.

    5. Express what you’ve been holding back.

    Shadow integration isn’t just about recognizing our hidden parts. It’s about allowing ourselves to express them in healthy ways.

    If you’ve suppressed your voice, start speaking up.

    If you’ve buried your creativity, allow yourself to create freely.

    If you’ve been afraid of taking up space, start owning your worth.

    Challenge yourself:

    • Identify one way you’ve been keeping yourself small.
    • Take one small step toward expressing that part of yourself this week.

    When we integrate our shadow, we reclaim the full spectrum of who we are.

    Embracing Your Whole Self

    Healing isn’t about becoming perfect. It’s about becoming whole.

    The parts of us that we once rejected hold immense wisdom, creativity, and strength. When we integrate them, we unlock a new level of self-awareness, freedom, and inner peace.

    So, the next time your shadows appear, instead of running from them, try sitting with them.

    Instead of fighting your fears, try listening to what they have to teach you.

    Instead of rejecting the parts of you that feel unworthy, try offering them love.

    Because healing isn’t about erasing your darkness.

    It’s about learning to dance with it until it, too, becomes light.

    I would love to hear from you: What’s one part of yourself you’re learning to embrace? Drop a comment below.

  • How Our Emotional Triggers Can Actually Be Great Gifts

    How Our Emotional Triggers Can Actually Be Great Gifts

    “Be grateful for triggers, they point to where you are not free.” ~Unknown

    Your triggers are your responsibility. I know, it doesn’t land so nicely, does it? But it’s the truth. The moment you truly understand this, you let others off the hook and you’re able to actually see triggers as gifts pointing to where you’re not whole.

    I’ve heard this many times before and felt like retorting with, “But, he/she/they did….” Just because your triggers are your responsibility doesn’t mean that others won’t do hurtful or infuriating things. It just means the only thing you can control is your side of the street. EVER. That’s it.

    Recently, I was out of town and my husband stayed home with our two younger children. I was at my oldest daughter’s softball game when he texted pictures of sushi and asked me to guess where they were. I could tell right away. It was a restaurant near our old house that we used to go often that had shut down during the pandemic.

    I found myself so triggered by the mere memory of it that I responded with, “I remember THAT place quite well.”

    That’s the place we ran into someone my husband knew. Someone I would eventually dislike, maybe even momentarily hate. Someone who years after this innocent run-in would, along with my husband, participate in causing me great hurt.

    It stung, the blindness of it all, the complete disregard for my feelings just as if it had happened yesterday and not close to a decade ago. Interesting how this was the image in my mind’s eye and not the dozens of other times we enjoyed sushi as a family.

    My husband then proceeded to tell me they had reopened and the kids were enjoying themselves. Well, here I was, triggered, feeling this anger rising from my gut and moving into my heart, and they were stuffing their faces with sushi. How nice. I wondered if he even knew, if he had picked up on that sly remark. Did he even remember? Could he sense the change of energy from afar?

    Normally, when I’m triggered, I will lash out, say something snarky, and maybe say or do something that would only lead to a fight. He would absolutely know I was triggered, and I would graciously remind him it was hisfault.

    This time, I walked myself off the ledge, reminded myself that my trigger is my responsibility, took a breath, and made a mental note to dig in at a later time. For the time being I would sit and watch softball and shove this firecracker of a trigger to the side. It seems silly that a sushi restaurant could trigger so much underlying anger, but let me tell you, it did.

    The following day I took the four-hour drive home. I had two teenagers in the car with ear pods in their ears and their faces glued to their phones. This was the perfect time to dig in, as there was nothing but road ahead of me and time to kill.

    I started a mental conversation with myself about this trigger, the same process I would undertake with a client in this same predicament. What about this place was so triggering?

    The memory of being in the restaurant and running into this person flashed in my mind’s eye. There was a back and forth of questions and answers, like a ping pong match happening inside of my head. The mind asking away and the answers rising up from below.

    I peeled layer after layer, until I found myself at the bottom of the dark well, the root of it all, “It’s my fault. It’s my fault I trusted someone enough to hurt me.”

    There it was, this decades old root that had enough charge to take down an entire city, enough charge to strike back and hurt someone deeply when provoked. The present moment so tightly wound in a much deeper, far more ancient wound.

    Aah, it was never about the sushi, never about what anyone else did or didn’t do; it was only ever about me. It was only ever about this false belief that was wrapped in responsibility and armored with guilt and shame. The map is absolutely not the territory.

    Tears streamed down my face. I tried to hide them behind my sunglasses and keep my composure in the silence of the car. I grabbed from the stack of Chipotle napkins in the center console (I know I’m not the only one), dabbed my face, and blotted my nostrils.

    The tears kept coming; they were the release of trapped emotion and relief. They were the realization of the amount of ownership and responsibility for the actions of others that I had decided to take so long ago in order to self-protect.

    When someone’s actions hurt me in either benign or malignant ways, I blamed myself for not having armored up enough to prevent the “attack” from happening in the first place. I should have known and done better, but I hadn’t and, hence the trigger, the subconscious reminder of the pain and shame. It’s unrealistic; there’s no amount of armor one can wear to prevent themselves from ever getting hurt by someone else.

    Our triggers are our responsibility. They point to where we are not whole, where we are wounded, and if we have the courage to unravel them, we find liberation. Our liberation. We find the truth beyond the story or the incident.

    It’s not easy to let others off the hook. It’s not easy to turn the tables on ourselves, to ask what is this bringing up in me? What belief lies buried deep in the unconscious yet, ultimately, has immense control in my life? Oftentimes, it something painful we’ve kept ourselves from looking at—something we, more than likely, have no consciousness around.

    Triggers are a gift only if you have the courage to unravel the tight hold they have on you, only if you choose to uproot the belief that holds the charge. Awareness is everything.

    What I now know is that if I ever hear this restaurant mentioned or brought up again, I won’t be triggered in the same way I was that day on the softball field. The charge will have dissipated. I would know that I am only ever responsible for my circus and my monkeys, not the hurtful actions of others.

    I am also aware this process isn’t a one and done. It may take continual reminders until the trigger ceases to carry any charge at all. Healing, after all, is a journey and a process.

    So, next time you find yourself triggered, I invite you to stop, take a breath, and ask yourself a series of “why” questions followed by “because” statements to see if you can’t get to the root of it all, which is where you’ll find your gift.

  • You Always Were and Always Will Be Whole and Complete

    You Always Were and Always Will Be Whole and Complete

    “Always engage in the quest for life’s meaning, which is inner peace.” ~Longchenpa

    When is a person complete? When have they finally “made it”?

    Is it when they find love? Success? When they prove themselves?

    I must have asked myself these questions a thousand times growing up. As soon as I recognized that you could be deemed successful or not, accepted or not, loved or not, I wondered where I fit in.

    I questioned whether I was on the right path and when I would finally arrive. I wanted to be a total package. You know, the real deal. A real catch. In a word, complete.

    Of course, at the beginning, I didn’t have much to go on. Just the minor dramas and bothers of middle-class suburbia, but I put those pieces together as best I could and set off to become complete.

    During adolescence, being complete meant getting the good grades, wearing the right sized jeans, and being “nice” or “sweet” or “cute.”

    Later it was awards, relationships, and status.

    Then came the Ivies, the ring, the house, the kids.

    I wanted to be successful, so I did what I was supposed to. I followed rules, checked boxes, and really applied myself.

    I wanted to be happy, so I planned out everything with precision as if my lasting happiness lay in getting the details just right.

    I wanted connection, so I tried to please everyone. I figured it was easier that way and a small price to pay for being universally loved.

    When all was said and done, I was good, but I could have been kinder.

    I did everything I said I would, but I could have done more.

    I was a real powerhouse, but I didn’t feel confident.

    And I still wondered when I would feel complete.

    At least half of me felt unsuitable to be seen by the rest of the world.

    I was painfully shy. I gave myself a pep talk every day just to make it out of my room. I cried without warning. I worked out too much and didn’t eat enough. I wore too much makeup.

    By adulthood, I’d become hurried and hardened.

    I denied myself the simple pleasures, and I didn’t even remember what listening to myself felt like. And as much as I longed to be known, I avoided being seen.

    There was no room in my life for sweet contentment or stillness. Living was about getting to tomorrow, not being right where I was.

    Somehow, I must have confused complete with perfect.

    Complete meant existing within a narrow scope of our human experience. It meant having all of the light and none of the dark. Having flaws or struggles made me less than. (I held my attachment to my ego against myself, too.)

    So, round and round I’d go.

    The more I held on to these beliefs, the more they let me down. I didn’t feel successful, happy, or connected, and I sure wasn’t confident. None of my planning and plotting stopped me from being hurt or rejected. None of the hardness made me stronger.

    How can anyone feel complete when they only ever accept a fraction of themselves?

    There were plenty of times I considered letting it all go and making a big change, but I feared that my empty hands wouldn’t find something else to hold on to. We need a way to understand how the world works and where we fit into it. Once we’ve got it, we’ll hold on—even if it hurts.

    All I ever wanted was to feel secure, connected, and fulfilled, and you don’t just let go of that. But, I also felt misled, and I was ready to uncover the truth.

    I started by asking different questions, like what gives a person meaning, how do you define success, and what makes a person whole?

    Whole. It was an interesting thought. Whereas complete felt like finding the missing pieces and becoming something, wholeness felt like being what you already are.

    Slowly, softly, things shifted.

    I started looking at the whole of me, not just the shiniest parts. This wasn’t easy. We all have that side of us we’d rather not see, and I’d pushed mine far, far away.

    Even with this desire for something deeper and more authentic, I worried that maybe I’d missed my chance. Maybe I really was incomplete.

    Oddly, that’s when it clicked.

    Those parts of me, even the one struggling with this whole being whole thing, are all part of my wholeness. Being whole means seeing perfection and imperfection, hurting and healing, fear and courage as one in the same. It’s the shadows that give the light away.

    Okay, I thought. What if wholeness included all of me?

    Like being a painfully shy child?

    Or the years of abusing my body?

    Or crying in the car outside work?

    What if it included the dysfunctional relationships I stayed in too long and the healthy ones I ran away from?

    Or the ways I allowed myself to be changed and the times I resisted authentic expansion?

    This shift has been richer than being kinder to myself, though I have learned to be my own best friend. And it’s deeper than having confidence, though I feel bigger and stronger than ever before.

    This shift toward wholeness is about loving the whole of me fully and openly. Not in spite of the flaws but including the flaws. It’s those parts of you that you probably don’t want to see, the ones that are struggling to keep up, that need your love the most.

    I’m not perfect about this by any means. Sometimes I forget and slip into old patterns, sometimes on autopilot, and sometimes with full awareness of what I’m doing. But perfect has nothing to do with it anymore.

    There’s nothing to hide or change when you’re focused on wholeness. Being whole is simply a matter of being.

    Whole is complete in itself, and it’s always enough.

    Right now, whether you’re standing in the shadows or basking in the light, you are whole.

    You’ve hoped and dreamed, doubted and feared.

    You’ve surprised yourself (for better and for worse).

    You’ve done exactly what you set out to do.

    You’ve fallen flat.

    You’ve succeeded and failed, fallen and risen, hurt and healed.

    You’ve loved, lost, and lived to love again.

    You’ve stood in the shadows and danced in the light.

    You’ve sung and cried, whispered and yelled.

    You’ve been winter, and you’ve been spring.

    In your lifetime, you’ve learned to crawl, to walk, to run, to soar.

    You’ve said just the right thing at the right time and the things you didn’t mean.

    You’ve been right and wrong, hard and soft, fearless and afraid.

    You’ve felt pride, shame, joy, sorrow, serenity, distress.

    And you will again.

    All the things you’ve done and the things you’ve seen, the people you’ve known, the heartbreaks you’ve stitched back together, the plans you’ve made, and the plans you’ve had to let go, the celebrations and growing pains are part of your wholeness.

    Maybe you’re feeling like you’re really not okay. You’re still whole.

    The key to making this shift is trusting in the process of working it out as you go and picking up the little gems along the way. No part of this needs to be perfect.

    So, take a step, any step in the direction that feels closer to whole.

    If you can, give thanks to the shadows as much as you would to the sunlight.

    Thank you falling for teaching me I won’t break.

    Thank you sorrow for reminding me to care for my heart.

    And learn to look at all of yourself from the most loving perspective. You are the exact right combination of experiences, insights, strengths, and imperfections that make a person whole.

    You always were and always will be wholly beyond compare.

  • How to Be Whole on Your Own and How This Strengthens Your Relationships

    How to Be Whole on Your Own and How This Strengthens Your Relationships

    “Only through our connectedness to others can we really know and enhance the self. And only through working on the self can we begin to enhance our connectedness to others.” ~Harriet Lerner

    Three decades ago, I married the man with whom I knew I would spend the rest of my life. We each had a rough childhood and had learned a lot about surviving, defending, and protecting ourselves. However, we did not know much about how to maintain a successful relationship.

    We took numerous classes on communication, learned to fight fair, and filled our goodwill bank accounts with lots of positive actions. However, despite our best efforts, something was still missing.

    There were times that the relationship felt smothering, and new types of problems kept arising. I got sick of saying “we” all of the time instead of “I.” Once when I was sick and slept in a different room, I was equally fascinated and worried by how much I enjoyed being by myself.

    Yes, we had learned to reconnect, to repair our troubles, and to deepen our intimacy. However, we had not yet figured out the crucial step necessary for keeping your relationship healthy.

    When it comes to love, we have two essential tasks. One, as most of us know, is to learn the skills and practices that allow relationships to thrive. The other lesson is less familiar to most people, but it is even more important. We must also learn how to love ourselves.

    By self-love, I do not refer to the type of vanity that is fed by money, power, influence, a gym-toned body, and the admiration of others. What I mean is the kind of love that leads to self-care, not only of our physical health but also of our minds and hearts.

    It’s the kind of love that creates for ourselves the time and space to develop and to use our talents. It’s the kind of love that frees us to discover and to foster our true purpose in life.

    To become truly wholehearted in our loving, we have to look at when we have acted in a “half-hearted” manner and when have we been “closed-hearted.” Also, we have to examine when it is that we have responded in a “hard-hearted” way.

    Our biggest challenge is to achieve the “whole” in wholehearted. In order to love anyone in a wholehearted way, we need to make ourselves whole first. We must integrate the two forces—the “me” and the “we.”

    Let me be clear about the three things that are not wholeness:

    • A constant state of happiness
    • An ongoing state of acceptance, love, and balance
    • A perpetual feeling of well-being

    Wholeness truly means accepting “the whole enchilada.” The hard, the sad, the mad, the scared, and the glad are all parts of you. The gratitude and the resentment together make you whole.

    Your acceptance of all the pieces of yourself makes you whole. Here are five practices that can each help us find our wholeness.

    1. Spend quality time with yourself.

    I once heard someone say that spending time with yourself is the greatest practice you can do, and I didn’t understand at the time what the speaker meant.

    While alone, I always felt like I was “by myself.” I mistook being alone for loneliness. It took me years to discover the pleasure of walking in nature, exploring an art museum, or hanging out at a farmer’s market loving my own company as much as with another person.

    2. Each day, check to make sure your self-esteem is balanced by your self-criticism.

    People sometimes mistake self-love for self-indulgence. Challenging myself when I am not living up to my own standards is important, but it must be done with compassion. Learning to love yourself despite your imperfections allows you to accept other people’s imperfections.

    3. Find a practice that centers you.

    Sitting in a lotus position and concentrating on breathing allows some people to find focus; there are also other practices like Zen meditation, walking meditation, Vipanassa meditation, and many more.

    In addition, there are methods of centering that are just as powerful for self-reflection; dance, art, writing, and prayer are just a few examples. What they all have in common is that we can use them to check in.

    4. Take an inventory of where you are right now. Explore it in your mind.

    Body: Am I satisfied with the ways I nourish my body? How can I make even better choices? Examine your nutrition, exercise for strength, flexibility, endurance, and cardiac wellness as well as all of the other kinds of self-care you can practice.

    Mind: Am I feeling fed, challenged, expanded, and interested? Am I growing?

    Spirit: Am I satisfied with the definition I have for spirit? How can I get more in touch my spirit? Is there a place within me where I can find peacefulness, wisdom, and guidance?

    Emotional: How am I coping with my current challenges? Is there a flow of different feelings, or do I find myself stuck on one emotion? Do I feel balanced?

    Social: How am I connected with the people in my life (family, friends, partner, coworkers)? What’s working, and where do I want to make changes?

    5. Develop a daily gratitude practice and begin by showing yourself appreciation.

    Ask yourself about the victories you have had during the week. Acknowledge when you did something that was brave. Thank yourself for taking the time to feel gratitude.

    As you explore these five techniques, you might discover others. You will find you already have wholeness inside; you just have to find the keys to open the door.

    When we feel good about ourselves, we’re more likely to feel generous toward others; it’s a symbiotic relationship. We feel grounded and centered enough to take risks and to reach out to others. We feel safe by acknowledging our shortcomings and forgiving ourselves, so we are able to open up to our partners wholeheartedly.

  • 5 Love Lessons to Help Your Relationship Thrive

    5 Love Lessons to Help Your Relationship Thrive

    Couple Silhouette

    “Some people come into your life as blessings. Others come into your life as lessons.” ~Mother Teresa

    Going by experience, I should have been petrified of men and marriage.

    Forced into an arranged marriage at twenty, something that is common in India, it took me over a decade to draw up the courage to leave a toxic, abusive situation and to chart my own path in a conservative society, with two little kids to fend for.

    But due to an inner conviction in the workings of a larger universe, I somehow made it through with my sense of wonder (and humor) alive.

    Despite the social stigma, the day-to-day struggle of being a single mom, and the hardship of my first full-time job, I was driven by hope, not fear. When I look back at those difficult, grey years now, I see the magic, not the misery.

    Because, you see, I was optimistic when it came to life and love. A voice inside me constantly said, “Life is meant to be joyful. Relationships are meant to make you whole.” I was convinced that my first experience had been an exception, not the rule.

    On cue, I met a man who expected his woman to be strong, independent, and to take care of herself. He expected an equal partner, not a legal slave.

    We had a torrid romance with no thought whatsoever of the future, and then decided to marry like good Indian folks (and save on the rent).

    And so, it’s the vows of matrimony again for me. But this time, I am not the blind, impotent, self-styled victim of the first time around. Every day brings with it lessons—wholeness is a process, after all—as well as blessings.

    Here is what I have learnt about love and relationships.

    Accept everything.

    There’s a lot that comes along with a committed relationship besides a new nameplate on the door. Hers is the face you see first thing in the morning when you wake up. His is the mess in the kitchen you clean up after he’s done making fish curry. Hers is the laptop that is never put on charge until you do it.

    What’s the solution? Acceptance. What you resist persists, and what you accept doesn’t bother you anymore.

    Accept your partner, wholeheartedly, warts and all, for better or for worse.

    I used lessons learnt from motherhood and applied them to my relationship with my life partner. Like my child, no matter what my husband does, he is mine after all. Love is best served unconditional.

    Honor yourself.

    Keep in mind there is a difference between accepting your partner and accepting abuse.

    I walked out on my first husband because I could not accept him as the man with supreme spiritual and legal right over my body and life. In a healthy relationship, both people feel empowered and free.

    Respect who you are, your dreams, and your passions. Do not compromise on any of them. Only when we respect and honor ourselves can we truly respect and honor others.

    You’re potatoes in a sack.

    Relationships and living together cause friction, like potatoes rubbing up against one another in a sack. But the thing to remember is that the bump and grind serve an important purpose; they polish us, peel the dirt off our beings, and clean us out.

    Every time your partner behaves in a way that bothers you, use it to search where in your being your anger begins. Every time your partner hurts you, use it to discover your deepest sore spots. Your partner is just the trigger; the anger or hurt is already within you, craving to be heard.

    Kids and partners and parents can be irritating to live with, but we must be grateful for the opportunity they give us to become cleaner, shinier versions of ourselves; to uncover our oldest suppressed wounds; and to rid ourselves of them once and for all. (Of course, nothing is permanent but let’s save that for another post.)

    Your partner is a reflection of you.

    This is a difficult lesson to learn: that your partner is a reflection of who you are. In that case, I must have been a terrible person in my first marriage and I must be a very admirable person this time around.

    But, no. I’m the same person. What has changed is the way I see myself.

    Our relationships aren’t about our partners. They’re about us. We make happy marriages when we are happy people, when we love ourselves, when we respect our own needs and desires.

    We make unhappy marriages when we’re bruised inside, when we devalue ourselves, and when we abuse our own sacredness.

    So the most significant way of ensuring a long, happy love life is to love yourself first, above all else.

    We do not become whole because our partner is in our life. On the contrary, our partner is in our life because we are whole. (And because wholeness is a process, our partner then makes us more whole. Go figure.)

    Love is a verb.

    Love is hard work. Love is gritting your teeth because he left the toilet seat down, shaking your head because the bills weren’t paid on time, clenching your fists because she is immersed in his phone during ‘us-time’—and then forgiving it all because you know you’re not perfect either.

    Love is giving your best shot, showing up, being there, hugging for no reason, making up after a fight, and doing the laundry in the middle of the night. Not because you have to, but because it’s yet another way of demonstrating your love, and you just can’t get enough of those.

    A decade ago, I walked out of a toxic relationship, stoically seeing it as a lesson I needed to learn. Today, I count both my relationships among my blessings—the bad one taught me to value the good one.

    That’s the thing about love: it starts from within and works equally in all directions—ourselves, our lovers, our families, our exes, our friends, our past, our future. When we open our hearts to love, love opens the world to us.

    Couple silhouette via Shutterstock

  • Why People Who Feel Complete on Their Own Have Stronger Relationships

    Why People Who Feel Complete on Their Own Have Stronger Relationships

    Couple Holding Hands

    “Self-love, self-respect, self-worth: There’s a reason they all start with ‘self.’ You can’t find them in anyone else.” ~Unknown

    One day, somewhere around the age of twenty-seven, with a rich background of long-term relationships, dating, alone time, and searching for the man who would complete me, it hit me.

    Why was I looking for someone to complete me when I believed that every person could be whole by him or herself? Why did I feel like something was missing, and why was I building my hopes on someone I had never even met?

    I realized I had been looking for someone to believe in me, someone who would encourage me and give me the confidence to know that I was good enough to go after what I wanted.

    I didn’t trust myself to make the right decisions for my life. I was looking for approval so I could believe that the way I acted and the things I did were right.

    Right after this realization came a deep recognition: I am the only one who can truly know what’s best for my life. Even when I make mistakes—and for sure I will—it doesn’t mean that I can no longer trust myself.

    It just means that there is a new part of myself that I’m not at peace with or just not familiar with yet. And it’s time to explore, discover, and choose if I wish to change and improve that part of me.

    I felt so good that I decided to declare myself a complete woman, out loud, to the universe. I announced with pride that I was whole as I was, by myself, and if I felt that something was missing or out of key in my life, it was up to me to find and fix it.

    It was up to me to believe in myself, to trust myself, to listen to my intuition and follow my gut, to pick myself up when I fell, and to keep encouraging myself when I felt stuck or weak. I would be my approval, and I would give myself confidence.

    I felt good about my declaration and decided to take it one step further. I announced that I would stop my search and not look for a partner anymore. I would celebrate, enjoy life, accomplish my wishes and dreams, and I would do more than fine by myself, with myself. I truly believed in it. I felt it. I felt whole.

    With all that self-empowering, I knew that I would still want to keep the partner option open. After all, love between two people can be a beautiful thing, and there was no reason for me to dismiss it if it came into my life.

    But in order to keep myself from getting lost again, to keep my promise and stay tuned to myself, I decided to put in writing all the qualities I’d want in a man if I were to be in a relationship again. Qualities I believed were beneficial, encouraging, empowering, and right for me. 

    Removing the fear of staying alone and knowing that I wasn’t incomplete without a man gave me the strength and courage to clarify what I wanted, without compromising.

    I wrote the list in a positive tone and in present tense, as if this man already existed. Some of the things I wrote included:

    • The man I’m with accepts me for who I am.
    • When I’m with my man, I can be myself. Totally.
    • The man I’m with supports me and encourages me to fulfill my dreams.
    • The man I’m with believes in mutual and individual growth.
    • We can share everything—every thought, every emotion—knowing we are there for each other, to support without judgment.
    • We do our best to improve our communication so we can understand each other.
    • We always see challenges and difficulties in life as an opportunity for mutual and personal growth.
    • We’re open to giving and getting feedback from each other.
    • We always find life interesting, both when we’re together and apart.

    Satisfied with my finished and complete list, I confirmed my thoughts by reading it out loud to the universe. Then I put my list aside, as my work was done.

    I continued my life as a new whole and happy woman. This liberated me from feeling like I was lacking.

    It was an amazing freedom! I was more confident. I was less restrained around other people, especially men. I laughed louder, danced more freely, and looked straight into their eyes with no shame and without worrying about how they saw me.

    I developed myself as a therapist. I started to sing out loud, a thing I always desired. I felt blessed and in return, bliss.

    After a few months, a special man came into my life. And like real life should be, it wasn’t all sparkling and perfect from day one. We worked, invested, and developed our relationship intensively, being 100% honest, sharing every emotion and feeling that came up. Working it out together proved worthwhile.

    Six months into the relationship I realized that my list was fulfilled. I was an empowered woman with an empowered, loving man by my side.

    I never imagined how much a supportive relationship could benefit from my personal growth, my belief in myself, and my ability to become stronger.

    This experience has taught me so much about not only myself but also about how to be a good partner in a relationship.

    The most important thing that helps our relationship be so successful is that from day one I asked my partner to make the same promise I made to myself—to always be honest and true to yourself, to be whole and complete on your own, without anyone’s approval.

    It’s our personal responsibility to take care of ourselves, to feel joy and fulfillment in our life. No other person can make us feel whole in the long run if we don’t feel whole on our own.

    Completing ourselves doesn’t guarantee we’ll find the perfect partner, but it does open us up to the possibility of stronger, healthier relationships, based in mutual respect and empowerment.

    Couple holding hands image via Shutterstock

  • Keep Shining Your Light, Even When You Feel Broken

    Keep Shining Your Light, Even When You Feel Broken

    “I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.” ~Hafiz

    I keep a prism hanging near the entrance to my home. Its beauty, made possible only by the broken nature of the glass from which it is constructed, serves as a constant reminder that even the broken pieces within each and every one of us can serve as a source of light. It’s a lesson that took me some time to learn.

    Shortly after graduating from college, I took a long, brutally honest look at my life and realized that it had become stagnant and nearly joyless. I was entrenched in a profoundly unhappy relationship, working too much, and laughing too little. I decided then to make a change.

    I acknowledged that the lies I told myself—that I was unlovable, somehow broken, or a victim of an abusive past—had created a world in which deep happiness was seen only in glimpses.

    I accepted as truth that I had not just a right to find happiness but a duty to do so, and I dedicated myself to its pursuit. I ended that relationship, negotiated better hours at work, and set my mind to finding joy. 

    On an academic level, I did everything I could to ensure the growth of my spirit: I cultivated meaningful relationships, I kept a gratitude journal, I did yoga. I read and discussed countless books and articles about age-old wisdom and the secrets of happiness.

    Through dedicated action and a commitment to growth, I was able to rewire my brain to invite and accept happiness in myriad ways.

    But, on a personal level, my path was less clear. Some days I was astonished by the sheer beauty of life and felt fully connected and present. I had profound moments of clarity in which I knew that I was a part of the great fabric of the universe and, as such, deeply beautiful.

    But some days old patterns of dysfunctional thought would creep in. 

    I was astounded to find that my perception of my appearance could throw an entire morning off, or that I still struggled to understand why any person should love me.

    I battled disappointment and sadness as I grappled with those unwelcome thoughts. In those moments of darkness, I began to question whether I had grown at all.

    Meanwhile, friends, family members, and acquaintances would confide in me that my approach to life, cheerful nature, and natural light was an inspiration to them. As I shared some of the wisdom that I had learned during my journey toward self-discovery, I helped those around me ease their own suffering. Yet, still I questioned myself.

    I wondered, “How can I help anyone else when I don’t feel whole?” 

    It was during one of those moments of deep uncertainty that a dear friend urged me to acknowledge my own light.

    He asked me to imagine a world in which I hadn’t shared my joy, a place devoid of the little transformations I had made.

    I had to admit that if I had allowed those moments of darkness to overshadow the clarity I had achieved, the world would be a tiny bit less bright. I acknowledged that it was my duty to prevent that.

    I had to set aside fear—fear that I was not good enough, not complete enough—in order to allow my light to shine.

    There is a quote by Stephen Cope, from The Great Work of Your Life, that I have hanging in my bedroom. It reads, “Each of us feels some aspect of the world’s suffering acutely. And we must pay attention. We must act. This little corner of the world is ours to transform. This little corner of the world is ours to save.”

    With that in mind, I am able to act—to offer love, support, help, and kindness when I can. I am able to shine. It is, in fact, our suffering that allows us to transform the little corner of the world that is ours.

    The path to self-growth is not linear. It is a meandering journey through mountains and valleys, and occasionally there are more lows than highs. But it is a journey ever onward, and it is our light—that same light that exists in every one of us—that guides the way, if only we allow it to shine.

    Invite yourself to embrace every aspect of your being. Perhaps there will be times that you feel less than whole, but when those moments come, encourage yourself to remember a time when you made the world a more positive place. Regardless of where you are on your path, that moment mattered.

    The moment you share your light, the world becomes a brighter place.

  • What We Need to Do Before We Can Have Happy, Loving Relationships

    What We Need to Do Before We Can Have Happy, Loving Relationships

    “Once you have learned to love, you will have learned to live.” ~Unknown

    Ever since I was a young girl, relationships have fascinated me, particularly romantic ones. I had beautiful fantasies of my perfect partner appearing and completing me. We would fall in love and live happily ever after.

    As a child, I believed that being in a romantic relationship, and especially being married, meant lasting happiness. All the love and joy I would ever want or need would be mine when “the one” arrived. Daydreams of my soul mate filled my tween brain.

    This fairy tale view of relationships didn’t disappear when I came of age, but followed me into adulthood when I married a man that I knew in my gut simply wasn’t right for me.

    At first, it was exciting to be someone’s wife and to have a husband, but my high expectations quickly created tremendous disappointment for me. We both demanded that the other change, and the relationship quickly became one filled with resentment and contempt.

    After struggling to “work on” our relationship and seeing no improvement, we separated and eventually divorced. I was devastated and bitterly blamed him.

    He was the “bad guy” and I was the innocent victim. I lacked the awareness necessary to examine my own actions and learned nothing, except to fear entering into another relationship.

    The only thing that I knew for sure was that I never wanted to go through such a painful experience again.

    I had no idea that I had any power at all. I felt like I was at the effect of what others said and did, and I was so easily wounded. The world of men and relationships felt very scary and I was apprehensive when I re-entered the dating world.

    In what I now understand was an attempt to protect myself, I made terrible judgments and generalizations about relationships and men.

    My reality reflected these fearful thoughts, and in the year following my divorce I dated men who were perfect examples of the stereotypes I adopted. Even though I had left my marriage, nothing had truly changed and, in fact, through my own fear had grown worse.

    In spite of this, having a relationship with a man still remained a strong desire. I certainly didn’t want to repeat the past and I refused to settle for just any romantic relationship. With absolute resolve, I vowed that I would have a healthy, happy, close, and loving relationship.

    This became my intention, and I became passionately committed to learning and doing whatever I could to get me there.

    For over a year I studied the ways in which romantic relationships worked and how they could be close and loving, but was discouraged and frustrated by most of what I read. It seemed that most of what I learned required the effort of both partners.

    While I understood that a happy, healthy relationship takes two people, I knew I had to first work on myself.

    My question became: “What can I, and I alone, do to create a close, happy, and loving relationship?”

    As I studied over the next few months with this new distinction, I noticed something unexpected and wonderful unfolding.

    I had shifted from how to find the right man and get him to give me love and make me happy, to learning who I had to become in order to create and maintain a close, loving relationship.

    This was a brand new way of looking at things and a brand new way of being that was incredibly exciting for me.

    For the next two years, I learned as much as I could and put into practice everything I was learning. It yielded radically different results than I had ever gotten before. All of my relationships greatly improved, including, and especially, my relationship with myself.

    My relationship with myself had always been love/hate. Now, as I became more and more aware that I truly am empowered to create loving relationships as well as a wonderful life, I began to see myself and others in a new light.

    My new understanding of myself and others became: We are all infinitely and eternally beautiful souls, intrinsically worthy of love.

    Each one of us are intrinsically worthy of love, not because we are entitled to other people giving it to us, but because we are love. We are all whole and need nothing outside of ourselves to complete us. These words weren’t new to me, but for the first time I understood and felt the truth of them.

    For so long I had been trying to force others to give me love, manipulating them, making demands, giving with an expectation of receiving in return (also known as barter), and it only led to frustration and resentment.

    It struck me all at once that everything I had learned over the course of three years was truly about giving love joyfully from a place of being love. Wholeness was the name of that game.

    I was no longer concerned with trying to find the perfect man, fix relationship problems, or change anyone else.

    Although I’m not perfect and never will be, I’ve had increasing moments of awareness and clarity when I was able to keep the focus completely on my self. Not focused on my “needs” and how I can get those met by others, but what I could do to become more whole and full of love so that I’m more focused on giving than taking.

    Interestingly, my original intention in studying relationships was only to improve my own chances of having a good, lasting relationship with a man. It was my hope that I would learn some tricks to get a good man interested and then to get him remain attracted enough to me to shower me with gifts, affection, attention, and praise.

    What I have learned and continue to learn is infinitely better.

    What I’ve learned is how to use the resources that lie within me, that lie within each of us, to be the kind of partner that naturally has a close, loving, happy, healthy relationship with her mate without always “working on it.”

    As most of us can attest, this kind of struggle never works long term. I learned to grow through my experiences in my relationships, become more loving and more whole, and give from a place of joy, which effortlessly creates a close, loving, happy, healthy relationship.

    This journey to “love enlightenment” has been amazing so far, with many ups and downs, as I’m sure it will continue to be.

    The wisdom I have gained has been invaluable for creating positive change not only within myself and in my relationships, but in my entire life. I have learned to be a better partner for my partner, for myself, for everyone I know and meet, and for the world at large.

    The goal is not to reach some destination, but to understand more about what it means to be whole. Perfection isn’t possible, but perhaps your intention could be to become more aware of what you are giving and being, and let it be love more and more of the time.

    In short, through your relationships with others grow more into the truth of who you are at the core of your being: you are love.

  • You are Enough: A Tiny Manual for Being Your True Self

    You Are Enough

    “Waking up to who you are requires letting go of who you imagine yourself to be.” ~Alan Watts

    When I was in third grade, I loved to hang upside down on the monkey bars on the playground of my all-girls school in Philadelphia.

    I would lock my little pale knees over the gray steel rods and then carefully let my hands go to swing upside down, like a pendulum in a pleated skirt.

    This meant I had to bravely trust that my normally feeble strength would be sufficient to suspend me.

    It was always a victorious feeling when the backs of my knees started to burn. This meant it was time to carefully return to earth on own my terms.

    Alix – 1, Gravity – 0!

    One day, a clump of dead grass attached itself to the sole of my Stride Rite. As I was flipping off the bars, it dropped into my mouth. I hit the ground gagging and spewing, completely grossed out.

    Doubled-over and hacking out the grass was not a little noisy. I made quite the scene; however, it failed to attract the attention of my teachers.

    They didn’t rush to my side to see why I was, for all intents and purposes, throwing up.

    “Throwing up” was a golden ticket to go home from school and I wanted to cash in.

    This is because I spent the first third of my life believing that in order to be validated, something needed to be physically wrong with me.

    The only attention I felt worthy of was sympathy. I thought ailments made me interesting.

    I was the kid who wanted a sprained ankle so I could get crutches. Do you know what the attention-getting street value of crutches is in kid world? It’s like friggin’ crack!

    And a broken leg? Think of the signatures!

    I wanted poison ivy so I could have bandages, “to keep from scratching.”

    The concerned questions were like gold: “Oh no! Are you okay?”

    I wasn’t going to let the fact that I am not allergic to poison ivy stop me from tapping into this potential cache of boo-boo love.

    One summer evening with the aid of red and orange magic markers, I drew a mock rash on my arm.

    Then I test-drove it with my family, who didn’t buy it. Thankfully, this ridiculous bit never made it out of R&D.

    To be clear, I got plenty of positive reinforcement at home. I was supported from dawn ‘til dusk by my loving family, for which I am intensely grateful. But I never felt like it really counted. In my kid’s mind, I reasoned that they had signed on to love me, and were biased.

    Plus, I was just one of those souls who required validation from the outside world.

    I felt that once I left the confines of my nest, that unless I was limping or retching, I was otherwise invisible. I needed to be a victim of something in order to matter.

    That day on the playground when my teachers ignored my blatant—and legitimate!—dead grass upset, I felt even more unseen which I didn’t even think was possible.

    Aren’t these paid-professional grown-ups supposed to acknowledge me when I’m in distress?

    Since I no doubt possessed a Chicken Little-esque flair for drama, they had probably grown immune to my antics by this juncture.

    I would cling to any and all ideas of pain in order to get the symp-attention that I craved.

    When I look back at this period in my childhood I just have to laugh at myself. Not only was I highly theatrical, but my level of insecurity was semie-staggering.

    Clearly, I did not think I was enough. In fact, it’s taken me the better part of three decades to make peace with the idea that I am not only enough, but that I am exactly who I am supposed to be.

    Growing up in the seventies and eighties I had all of these notions, largely fed by TV, pop culture, and my peers, about who I was supposed to be:

    The Breck Girl, a Charlie’s Angel, Wonder Woman (but I’d be happy to be Lynda Carter), and a career-bound (not a stay-at-home) Barbie.

    As I matured into my teens, I began to shed this billboard perception about life.

    My head was turned less by action-hero ladies with perfect hair and more by, well, if I’m being completely honest, cute boys who listened to the “right” music and wore Polo cologne.

    Now eager for their approval, I shaped myself into who I thought they wanted me to be: The girl in The Smiths’ “How Soon Is Now?” video.

    This only got me so far.

    When I graduated from high school, I moved to New York to model for a large agency. This was a dream come true.

    Before long, I was trying to figure out who the modeling industry wanted me to be: Edgy? Sexy? Wholesome? Commercial? Editorial? There were so many options and would never be a clear answer.

    Having looked at my life from the outside in for so many years was a hard habit to break.

    I was like a junkie for other people’s approval, permission, information, and maps.

    I thought everyone except me was issued a handbook about life.

    They seemed to “get it” while I was constantly scrambling to find my place in their world.

    Of course, I was laboring under a massive illusion that I was the only one who felt this way.

    Again, I have to look back and laugh.

    One day during my early twenties, the universe let me look under the hood and I was let in on a cosmic secret: tons of other people feel like they’re living without a manual. Lots of us are winging it, and being a little lost is how we actually come to find ourselves.

    This epiphany was such a relief that I stopped trying to be what I thought others wanted and started getting really good at being me.

    I would love to say that this powerful shift happened overnight, but no.

    The “just being me” remained a nuanced confidence-building process for a few more years (ten?) until I was able fully step into who I am in the world today.

    The wonder of it all—and another cosmic gut-buster—is that the more I align with my whole self, the more the world rushes into to meet me where I am.

    I venture that if there actually were a handbook issued at birth, it might go a little like this:

    1. You are a miracle. Never forget this fact. Just the science alone is mind blowing.

    2. You are unique. No one will ever be as good at being you as you are. Seriously.

    3. You are enough. Always. Never doubt this. There is nothing to add, but feel free to expand.

    4. There is always more to learn, but that is not failure; it’s a gift. It can be fun too.

    5. Every obstacle is an opportunity to fall further into the miracle that is you.

    6. Commit to being the best version of you every day. Recalibrate definition of “best” as needed.

    7. Leave room for others when they fall off the wagon of their own miracle.

    8. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive. Forgive every which way. Forgive him. Forgive her. Forgive you.

    9. Compassion is the key to forgiveness. Compassion means you feel the humanity in others.

    10.The more you forgive, the more you’ll enjoy being you, because the lighter your load will be.

    11. In the end, as in the beginning: You. Are. Amazing.

    Photo by Emilian Robert Vicol

  • Becoming the Person You Want to Find

    Becoming the Person You Want to Find

    “Pursue compassion and self-awareness. Then, one day, love will tap you lightly on the shoulder and say ‘I’m here.’” ~Unknown.

    The other day, I met a boy. With one glance, I was spell-bound, overtaken with that “This is the One” type feeling, the sensation they say you will have when you “just know.”

    I’ve only had this feeling once before in my 25 years, and since he ended up marrying someone else, I knew this strong intuition was not always an indication of reciprocity or even truth. When I gush about a man I am “in love with,” my friend always replies: “Wow, that’s great! Does he feel the same way?”

    And I’m so enraptured that I don’t really bother to consider that this love could be one-sided. Indeed, when I confronted the situation, I was crushed to find out that the giddiness I was feeling was not returned.

    This moment was an invitation for me to look deeply at my tendencies to fall for others, idealize them, and give them power that belongs to my own dreams instead of theirs.

    For years, I have relied on my intimate partners to be my biggest fans, believing in me when I wouldn’t or couldn’t believe in myself. But this time, I received the wake-up call that unless I have confidence in my own path, and am settled in my own truth, no one else who is whole will be attracted to my plea for them to fill in my gaps.

    It is time for me to look at those missing pieces, wonder why they are there, and love them until they overflow.

    Noticing my patterns of feeling strong, then suddenly needy and dependent on external reassurance, I started to examine where my self-worth really comes from. So far, it seems to be fed from the outside in.

    For example, I keep a sticky note on my laptop with a list of “nice things” people say for an extra boost when I’m feeling low. A positive comment will send me soaring with confidence, while even a suspicion of a negative opinion or remark will send me spiraling into self-doubt.

    It is clear that now is the time to notice these tendencies, and begin first and foremost by loving and accepting them. Since “what you resist persists,” denying or rejecting these unhealthy habits would be a sure-fire way to keep them thriving.

    On the other hand, a wise friend suggested that if I go curiously into my darkness, with the intention solely to explore and learn, then transformation is more likely to occur as a symptom or side-effect of that inquiry. So I began to simply witness my thoughts without judgment.

    It turns out that for days and weeks after meeting him, I couldn’t get this man out of my head. The rejection I felt was akin to what I experience after a breakup.  In those cases, it is easy to confuse the complaints of my bruised ego with an indelible attraction to this person. (more…)

  • 6 Questions That Will Make You Feel Peaceful and Complete

    6 Questions That Will Make You Feel Peaceful and Complete

    Woman painting

    “The best place to find a helping hand is at the end of your own arm.” ~Swedish Proverb

    When I was in my mid-twenties an unhealthy relationship with an unhealthy guy sent me packing off to the corner of New Mexico to find myself. In a new age, self-discovery kind of world—a hubbub of a town filled with people in transition—I was graced to meet many powerful healers, gurus, shamans, and teachers.

    I became a workshop junkie. I went on Shamanic power journeys to spiritual centers around the world, chanted with Indian gurus, and became a certified yoga instructor and Reiki master.

    I got rolfed, (and got more intense body-work by thick-boned Maoris) and rebirthed with conscious breath work. I studied parapsychology and quantum dynamics, did past-life regressions, memorized mantras, unraveled koans, and collected crystals and tarot cards.

    I went on vision quests in the desert, called leading psychics, mapped my astrological chart, figured out my Enneagram number, dreamed lucidly for nights in an upright chair, and drew down the moon in Wiccan circles.

    I had psychic surgeries, soft-tissue chiropractic work, drank herbal tinctures and elixirs, bought every kind of healing essential oil, collected a library of self-help books, and did inner-child work, gestalt dialogues, and did loads of homework with several life coaches.

    I know. It’s crazy, huh?

    I was a perpetual seeker. Because of an innate sense that there was something wrong with me and a belief I picked up as a child that I was “bad,” I constantly looked outside of myself to find respite, feel loved, and to know my worth.

    Even though my unhealthy relationship was dysfunctional, that man gave me a gift that I wouldn’t discover for years. There was something he always said to me that would have saved me from grasping to know myself for so many years, if only I could have really heard it and made it my own.

    Whether he meant it or not, he would say: What’s not to love about you?

    If I could only for one minute stop and realize this truth, I could have found my peace, and not from a man or spiritual teacher or seminar. I would have been freed from a need to find something outside of me. I would have come to know my own heart. (more…)