Tag: wisdom

  • No Piece of Advice Is Right for Everyone, at All Times

    No Piece of Advice Is Right for Everyone, at All Times

    “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain ability to function.” ~F. Scott Fitzgerald

    Ever been inspired by a quote or an article you read on a self-improvement site like Tiny Buddha?

    I mean so inspired that you instantly and wholeheartedly started to apply the advice—no questions asked.

    Not only that, but in your inspiration, you started to brag about your newfound wisdom to all your friends.

    You just couldn’t shut up about this new piece of wisdom!

    If a friend was going through a breakup, you now knew just what to say.

    If a friend was complaining about an annoying person, again, you now knew just what to say.

    The piece of wisdom seemed perfect not just for every situation, but also for everyone!

    Well, at least you believed this to be true.

    So you applied the advice for a few weeks and everything was great in the world. This is, of course, until it wasn’t.

    As time went on, you began to have that dreadful feeling that something felt off.

    Oh no!

    In fact, a small, dreadful thought started to cross your mind—that the knot you felt in your guts was due to the advice you’d been wholeheartedly following.

    “But it can’t be,” you told yourself.

    You held on to the piece of advice for dear life. I mean, it became part of your identity!

    And after all, you’d already raved about the advice to all of your friends.

    You were then reminded of another piece of advice that spoke about discipline.

    Ah, that’s what it was.

    You felt a small sense of hope that it was just you and not the advice that was erred.

    Phew. You just have to be more disciplined, that’s totally what it was.

    So you ignored that feeling that something was missing for a bit longer. 

    Until one day, you came across another inspiring article on Tiny Buddha—one that seemingly conflicted with the advice you’d been such a big advocate of.

    “How can this be?” you wondered.

    Gulp.

    Before you knew it, you knew something had to change.

    But it couldn’t be tossing out that one piece of advice you’d been crazy about for the last few months.

    But then it hit you like a Bruce Lee kick to the face.

    You eventually started to realize, maybe the single piece of advice wasn’t the cure-all for that eternal feeling of fulfillment that you had hoped for.

    So what did you do?

    Conflicting Advice that Makes You Ignore One or the Other

    I once got inspired by a piece of social advice that not only inspired me, but worked!

    The advice talked about learning to genuinely become interested in all types of people because absolutely everyone has something interesting to share.

    So true.

    I talked to so many people and learned so many things!

    Along the same time, I also got inspired by another piece of advice that I got from the improv community. The advice talked about a philosophy called “Yes and…” which essentially talks about always keeping an open mind and to start every sentence with agreement—hence “yes and…”

    Those pieces of advice together worked beautifully. I started to see everyone as somebody worthy of learning from.

    Life became more beautiful when I didn’t easily get annoyed at everyone and instead saw everyone as someone who could help me on this journey called life.

    The advice seemed to be the best thing ever! At the time, I bragged to everyone about my new philosophy. I felt happy and didn’t think I’d ever stop practicing my newfound wisdom.

    All was good and beautiful.

    This is until it wasn’t.

    At this point in my life, I was spending a lot of time socializing, which at first was all great. However, after a couple months I realized I hadn’t done anything worthy of being proud of toward my career goals. This is when I started to feel like something was off.

    Now to add to it, around this time I came across an inspiring article on valuing my time and about the power of saying no. Super inspiring and made total sense. So what did I do?

    After some reflection, I decided to completely ditch the other seemingly contradicting advice that no longer served me.

    I started to find myself so much more productive. The advice was working. Once again, I was on cloud nine.

    “Just the advice for me!” I thought.

    I remember even hating that I’d spent so much time following the other piece of advice. At the time, I was staying at a hostel and remember I would secretly judge people who spent a lot of time socializing like I used to. I would say stupid things to myself like “These people are so not driven. How can they always be drinking?”

    I was very content with my new ability to say no and stay productive. All was good once again.

    Until, you guessed it… it wasn’t.

    The newfound wisdom, mixed with the fact that I had already slowly started becoming less interested in people, made a beautiful recipe for becoming antisocial. Not only that, but I was excusing my antisocial behavior with “I’m just valuing my time.”

    Then it hit me: Yeah, I was more productive, but I was feeling disconnected. I grew unhappy. Before I’d felt connected, but not productive. I’d grown unhappy then too.

    I now realized, for myself at least, there’s no single piece of advice that is good on its own.

    I had taken the social advice to the extreme and then taken the seemingly conflicting productivity advice to another extreme.

    Both made me happy in the short term, but not in the long-term.

    I now realize, both pieces of the conflicting advice are true and good, just not all the time.

    Conflicting Advice Working in Beautiful Harmony

    I came to learn that valuing my time was good. However, giving others my time is invaluable.

    Learning to say yes and being open-minded to everything is good. However, learning to say no is invaluable.

    Having great pride in myself is nice, but having extreme humility is very rewarding.

    Learning that I’m important and should learn to put myself first was nice, but learning that others are also important and that it’s nice to put others first sometimes is also very rewarding.

    Ironically, I think the single best piece of advice is that there is no single best piece of advice.

    Embracing Each Other’s Unique Experiences

    Just because following a piece of advice doesn’t exactly work for me anymore, doesn’t mean the advice was wrong or unrealistic.

    This is what I allowed myself to believe.

    One had to be right and the other had to be wrong.

    Now I see it happen quite often and especially when I reflect on my own life:

    Someone follows a piece of advice like “follow your heart” until they realize that following their heart has repeatedly gotten them into trouble. Then they start bitterly bashing that advice to friends and promoting decisions purely based on logic. The thing is, we have to learn when it’s appropriate to follow your heart and when it’s just plain dumb.

    But it’s still good advice; it just depends on where you are in life and the experiences leading you to the moment.

    Imagine a man known for boring people with endless rambles comes across an article on the importance of being able to lead a conversation. This advice is neither good nor bad, but in context, probably not the best piece of advice that this specific man should be listening to.

    Make Mistakes and Let Others Do The Same

    I’ve realized life is never black and white.

    There isn’t a one-size-fits-all piece of advice.

    And this, in my opinion, makes life beautiful because it encourages us to let go of judgment.

    In fact, I’d argue that what makes life beautiful is the lack of right and wrong. The courage to explore what you think will make you happy, even if others will judge you, is beautiful. Heck, even if you yourself will judge you!

    I’m sure that in two years, I’ll have to learn to adjust again as I continue to grow. Maybe I’ll look back at this article and not agree with some of my own points.

    It doesn’t mean any of my points are less true or more right.

    The belief that there is rarely an exact right or wrong has also helped me become more understanding of others. In any given situation, someone’s idea of right might be my idea of wrong and vice versa—as should be, because we all hold different values and aspirations.

    Looking back, I’m embarrassed at the way I would spend so much time judging others. I will go as far as admitting that many things I used to judge were actually things that I was subconsciously jealous of.

    Today, I hold a lot of traits that the five-year-younger version of me would judge. In fact, some of these traits are now my favorite things about myself.

    So, here’s a fun game to play with yourself:

    The next time you feel the inclination to say something is either right or wrong, bite your tongue for just a few seconds.

    I mean literally bite your tongue.

    Is there even just a 1% chance that your judgment of what is right or wrong is only subjective?

  • How I Stopped Feeling Guilty About Doing What’s Best for Me

    How I Stopped Feeling Guilty About Doing What’s Best for Me

    “A good rule of thumb is that any environment that consistently leaves you feeling bad about who you are is the wrong environment.” ~Laurie Helgoe

    Do you ever worry that if you fulfill your needs you will disappoint others? Do you ever feel guilty for doing what’s best for you?

    For years, I felt guilty about taking time for myself. I thought that being alone, away from the rest of the world, meant being selfish. This was especially true in one toxic relationship that kept dragging me down because I was afraid to make a change. As a peaceful, compassionate person who’s always been a good listener and a giver, I was drawn to his unstable and needy behavior, thinking that I could help him change for the better.

    But after two years of having to deal with constant putdowns from a possessive partner who thought I was selfish every time I craved alone time, I knew I was nearing my breaking point.

    I remember one night, after an exhausting day at work, I joyfully looked forward to a relaxing evening. As I drove home, all I could think of was taking a hot bath, brewing a fragrant herbal tea, and putting on my favorite fluffy pajamas. Under the dimmed light of my reading lamp, snug in a warm bed, I got lost in the world of mystery and imagination that made my soul come alive.

    Just a few minutes into my reading session, I received a text from him, demanding me to “get ready in ten because we’re going out, and you don’t have a choice.”

    At first, I ignored the message and went back to my reading, since he’d made plans earlier that week to see his friends. Then he called but I didn’t pick up. Finally, after several attempts to reach me, he came rushing to my apartment, banging on the front door.

    I pretended to be asleep and didn’t answer. The truth is that I was frightened and reluctant to open the door given his usual aggressive behavior.

    I didn’t want to confront him because I knew he wouldn’t understand. I felt mentally and physically drained for having to constantly explain myself and for letting him manipulate me yet again. I was fed up with having to come up with believable reasons why I needed time for myself, and I was sick and tired of constantly changing my plans for him.

    But as he left, I started to feel horrible. I felt guilty about avoiding the situation and for not being able to stand up to him. What made me feel even guiltier was that I’d finally done what I was afraid to do for so long. I’d listened to my inner guidance and done what was best for me.

    Still, instead of going back to reading and enjoying my evening ritual, I opened up a one-pound bar of chocolate and slowly devoured the massive amount of fat and sugar in a matter of minutes. Instantly, I got back into my “happy” mood, thinking life was good again. But then, as the guilt of eating so much sugar slowly sank in, I found myself back at square one, feeling even worse.

    This happened over a decade ago, when I struggled with a full-blown sugar addiction. To compensate for my inability to say no, being a perfectionist, and staying in a toxic relationship, I’d eat sugar. A lot of it. I was so drawn to sweets and chocolate that I couldn’t go a day without eating at least a whole bar. It was part of my daily routine and something I considered normal.

    Sugar was the answer to all my hardships. It was my biggest excuse for staying where I was and not doing anything about my life.

    Unsurprisingly, I struggled with self-blame, feeling that I was deeply flawed because I was an introvert. In childhood, I was ashamed of being regularly humiliated by my math teacher in front of the whole class and continuously bullied by some of my classmates and older students. Later on, the same guilt haunted me in similar ways, but as I grew older, it became a part of me, almost like a sickness.

    After that day, I decided to end the toxic relationship that made me doubt my worth and scarred me emotionally for years. I finally found the courage to confront the person who’d used blaming, shaming, and threatening to cover up all of his wrongdoings.

    Throughout our whole relationship, I apologized every time he hurt me because I felt guilty for making him feel bad. I tried so hard to be the perfect girl who never made mistakes, never spoke her mind, and never messed up. I found myself agreeing with everything while my conscience screamed the opposite. For so long, I tried to fix what was broken. I felt hurt, lonely, and betrayed.

    The truth is that I believed I was responsible for what he felt. For his actions. For how he saw me. I was afraid of being judged, so I diminished my value to make him feel comfortable. And I was slowly losing myself.

    I became an obsessive perfectionist, paralyzed by the fear of not being good enough. Everything I did had to be absolutely perfect. But no matter how hard I tried, it was never enough to meet his expectations.

    Now, I know that the guilt I felt that night was the reaction I’d gotten accustomed to, my place of comfort that told me I was safe. But no matter how guilty I felt for doing what I felt was right for me, I gained invaluable courage to start making a change.

    It took a great deal of work, patience, and understanding, as well as learning through growth and change, to know what I wanted out of a relationship and how I wanted to be treated.

    I started with forgiveness. I forgave myself for not listening to my intuition and for treating my body and mind badly. Knowing that I cannot change the past and that I do not actually want to go back there, I became mindful of the mistakes I’d made and learned invaluable lessons.

    When I became honest with myself about what I wanted, I began to take care of myself, preserving my health, nourishing my body, and nurturing my soul. I made my priorities clear and realized what was important to me. I started eating healthy and exercising regularly.

    Finding the courage to put an end to my unhealthy relationship inspired me to take action and do something about my serious sugar addiction, which was slowly but surely destroying my health. I signed up for a wellness course that I’d been telling myself I would enroll in for months. Just reaching this place was a huge success for me, at the time.

    I remember the moment I got there, I freaked out, unable to catch my breath. All I wanted to do was leave and never return. I thought I wasn’t ready to give up sugar, since it was keeping me safe and comfortable. All I could think of was getting one more bite of my favorite chocolate while promising myself, “I’m quitting tomorrow.”

    After days of crying in agony and successfully completing the workshop, I decided to continue without sugar for the whole month. I promised myself that I would let go of the one thing that was making me happy momentarily but holding me back in so many areas of my life.

    And that’s when something incredible happened. I noticed that the more I held off sugar, the more I pushed myself to pursue other things. I started waking up early and meditating. I began making better food choices and training for long-distance running. Postponing the immediate gratification and choosing not to eat what was actually hurting me, made me a much happier, more productive person.

    I became completely aware that my vice provided a powerful short-term relief, but in reality, it was forming a vicious cycle that was leaving me feeling vulnerable, empty, and regretful.

    After I’d forgiven myself, I forgave others. No matter how hard it was, I found the strength to forgive anyone who’d harmed me and asked for forgiveness of everyone I had unknowingly or deliberately wronged in the past.

    Forgiving someone means that you are letting go of bitterness and resentment toward that person. It doesn’t mean that you need to contact them or continue having them in your life. Not at all. They don’t even have to know, but in your heart, you know that you have no sourness left, only love and acceptance.

    And finally, I accepted myself for who I am and for having my own needs. I went back to reading daily and taking courses and certifications to better myself and improve my skills. I started trusting my innate needs and desires because I finally realized that it’s up to me to decide how I spend my time and how much alone time I need.

    As introverts, we feel guilty for not talking enough, for not going out as often as we think we should, and for avoiding social situations because we need time alone. We often end up in toxic relationships because we give, we love, we care about other people’s feelings, and we don’t want to hurt anyone.

    But our alone time is so vital to our well-being that if we don’t listen to our needs we end up feeling frustration, resentment, and the inevitable fatigue that goes with them.

    Living life according to your own needs doesn’t make you a selfish person. It’s perfectly okay to spend time away from others, to fulfill your need to read, write, create, and explore. It’s okay to want to be alone and to enjoy it. It’s okay to do whatever you need to do to feel fulfilled, balanced, and connected to yourself.

    Never feel guilty for doing what’s best for you or for prioritizing what you value in life. Never feel guilty for being honest about how you feel, and never apologize for being you.

  • 3 Things the Dying Taught Me About Living Well

    3 Things the Dying Taught Me About Living Well

    “Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.” ~Mahatma Gandhi

    I am a hospice chaplain.

    I provide spiritual care to the dying and their families.

    I do this by being present with them. I listen to their fears, worries, joys, concerns, and regrets. I listen carefully to what is said, and attend thoughtfully to what is not said.

    When people find out what I do for a living, the reaction is almost universal: “Wow, that must be hard. I could never do it.”

    I totally get it. In fact, years before doing this work, I remember reacting to a hospice volunteer in a very similar way. I was terrified of death. I didn’t like thinking about it or talking about it. I certainly never thought I’d spend my days comforting the dying.

    What I didn’t understand back then was that the dying weren’t another species. They are beautiful and courageous human beings who don’t stop living just because they’re dying. They are no different from the rest of us, except that they are more keenly aware of the preciousness of their time on earth.

    To my surprise, spending time with the dying has taught me a number of important lessons about living.

    Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

    1. It’s not too late.

    Most people who offer lessons from the dying often say, “Don’t wait.” Of course, I can testify that I have also learned this from the dying. I’ve had patients tell me that they wished they had pursued things they’ve always wanted to do. These conversations can be heartbreaking.

    But I’ve also journeyed with others who have taken up new interests as they were dying. One patient started painting as a way to process her feelings and emotions about dying. Self-taught, she discovered she had a knack for it and soon was creating beautiful works of art to share with family and friends.

    Another patient who had a long and difficult marriage decided to make things right with his spouse after receiving his terminal diagnosis. Many people in this situation would understandably say something like, “We wish we’d done this sooner.” Instead they were saying, “This diagnosis brought us back together.”

    What these incredible examples have taught me is this: It’s not too late. Though I fully resonate with the advice, “Don’t wait,” the problem is that many people believe they’ve already waited too long and that it’s already too late.

    They believe it’s too late to start a hobby, career, or pursue a lifelong dream. They believe it’s too late to mend a broken relationship or start a new one.

    If there’s something you’ve been putting off for months or years, the advice “Don’t wait” is sound. If you feel like your time has passed, know that as long as you’re breathing, it’s not too late.

    As the saying goes, “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now.”

    2. It’s okay to not have all the answers.

    We place so much pressure on ourselves to be know-it-alls.

    It’s one of the reasons why we shun death. There are no easy answers. As a hospice chaplain, I often get asked questions like, “Why is this happening to me?” or “Why is life so unfair?” or “Where will I go after I die?”

    Most patients aren’t expecting me to give them the answers to these questions. They simply need someone to hold space for them to wrestle with their deepest hopes and concerns.

    And when it comes to dying, no one’s an expert. I remember sitting with a highly intelligent person whose career required him to have many answers. During one of our visits, he admitted to me that he was not an expert at dying and he’s just as scared as everyone else. He too was wrestling with the same questions we all must wrestle with at some point.

    There’s something incredibly freeing about dropping the know-it-all act. Rather than using our knowledge and intelligence to gain a sense of superiority over others, we can share in our common humanity. We can feel safe to admit to one another, “I don’t know.” Dropping the act deepens connection and intimacy between people.

    3. It’s okay to not be okay.

    I once had a patient who during our first visits expressed that he was okay with dying. He lived life the best he could and felt at peace with his life.

    But as his health declined, it was clear that he was not okay with dying. He was young, had kids at home, and felt like there were things still left for him to do. He became increasingly anxious about the dying process.

    During one of our meetings after having wrestled with his change in disposition, he concluded, “I realized that I need to be okay with not being okay.” Paradoxically, facing his discomfort with dying helped him manage his fears and even brought him to a deeper level of peace.

    So many of us spend our energy convincing ourselves and the world that things are okay when they’re not. We carefully curate our social media channels so only the highlights are featured. We love the idea of controlling the narrative our lives.

    When we do this, we’re denying ourselves the opportunity for personal growth that begins when we can look ourselves in the mirror and just admit that we’re not okay.

    Contemplating Death Will Help You Live

    Contemplating one’s own death can be challenging and scary, but it doesn’t have to be. The lessons I’ve learned from the dying have helped me appreciate life more. It’s helped change my perspective on what’s important and what’s not. It’s helped me to make better decisions.

    I can’t say I’m fully over my fears of dying, but I am more comfortable contemplating it. And I’m grateful for the lessons I’ve learned so far and for the lessons I’m yet to learn.

    How might contemplating your death help you live better?

  • You Know What’s Best for You, So Stop Giving Your Power Away

    You Know What’s Best for You, So Stop Giving Your Power Away

    “Insight is not a light bulb that goes off inside our heads. It is a flickering candle that can easily be snuffed out.” ~Malcolm Gladwell, Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking

    If there is just one thing I would absolutely love every person on this planet to understand, it is their own inner knowing. And if I could have two things, I would add the power that inner knowing gives to each of us.

    When it comes to what’s best for you, your own opinion is the only one that counts—and you can use it to change your life.

    It’s easy to be brainwashed in this society because right from the get-go, when we have no choice but to be dependent on others, we are taught to believe that others know better. This inadvertently teaches us to suppress our own desires, feelings, ideas, and opinions about the world.

    My parents, probably like yours, had very strong views about what was right and wrong. If I stepped outside those boundaries I was punished rather than left to experience the natural consequences of my thoughts and actions. That introduced self-doubt into the equation, and other damaging emotions like worry, anxiety, fear, guilt, and so on.

    With emotions like this in the mix, reinforced over many years, taking action based on our own insights becomes difficult. At best it’s fraught with an obstacle course of emotional bombs waiting to be set off along the way. At worst, we stagnate, freeze, and live our lives according to the opinion of others.

    As Malcolm Gladwell says, it’s too easy to snuff out the insights your inner knowing gives rise to—especially after years of suppressing them.

    When our parents enforced their boundaries and opinions, they were most often well-meaning, and they were likely just repeating the cycle of what they were taught. But it’s that generalized and pervasive trust in authority, that is perpetuated by well-meaning people, that causes the issue.

    I was not taught to trust my instincts or intuition; these weren’t words that were even a common part of my vocabulary. Yet, who else can I truly trust? If I live my life according to the opinion of others, can I ever be happy?

    We are each this unique cocktail of highly complex DNA, experiences, and feelings. Other people can inspire me, yes, they can reflect back to me what they are hearing, seeing and/or feeling from me, but I am the only one who can actually answer what is best for me. I started to really get this almost twenty years ago.

    “If it sounds ‘off’ to you, it probably is. Trust your instincts,” he said.

    This was on a phone call taking place across the Atlantic Ocean in the middle of the night. A mentor of mine, in a successful network marketing business, had turned whistleblower. He gave interviews for the national press and was featured on Dateline NBC.

    I’ll never forget it. I had been part of that business for seven years. There was nothing wrong with the plan to make money; it was legitimate. There was a personal development ‘system’ that sat alongside it that also worked well; the growth I had undergone was undeniable and worth every penny.

    It was the secretive approach of those in positions of influence, the concealed gains from the ‘system’ and the part that played in their projected lifestyles of success to entice others to follow suit, that was the problem.

    At best, there was a lack of transparency. At worst, I could say there was a deliberate attempt to deceive in order to continue to line the pockets of those in positions of influence. I had suppressed the “there is something I’m not being told” feeling often. When I heard what my mentor—one of the previous elite—had to say, I felt a sense of relief; I could trust my intuition after all.

    That was in my twenties. Between then and now I have done a lot of work to try and retrieve my sense of who I am, what the inner me actually thinks and feels about things. It isn’t easy; I can never ‘undo’ the experiences I have had, but I have come to look at them in a new light.

    I have learned that all anyone has to offer is an opinion. It doesn’t matter what the subject is, who the person or body is, or how highly you hold them in your esteem; it is simply an opinion. Just look at how many ‘experts’ in any given field disagree. The only truth is one that is felt by the heart, and it differs from person to person, from moment to moment; it is as unique as that cocktail that we each are.

    Stepping authentically into the world isn’t easy. The feelings attached to those earlier opinions, boundaries, and consequences are part of the fabric of who I am, but I step anyway.

    And with each step, together with my new vantage point and the support of others who cheer me on in this quest, my confidence gathers and new habits form. Best of all, I feel happier inside, like life is for the taking now, not in some imaginary future when I’ve satisfied everyone else’s needs.

    Each time someone asks for my advice, I always remind them to take only what resonates. But it is no surprise to me that people more often than not doubt themselves and look to others for answers. Someone once left a comment on my blog with contact details for a guru they viewed as having solved their problem for them, but that just told me they had given their power away.

    It’s great when I can look to others as support, or even a facilitator, but if I see them as the person who solved my problems for me, I become reliant on them again and again. I increase their power and decrease my own, in my head.

    And that is the real issue. This is about our thoughts, the things we believe to be true.

    The only reason someone else is able to appear as if they have solved my problem for me, is because I don’t understand and can’t see my own part in solving it. The very fact that I see whatever it is as a problem creates a resistance in me to seeing the solution. It’s like when I ‘lose’ my keys. I tell myself that I “can’t see” them and this literally blinds me to them.

    Other people’s problems don’t seem as insurmountable, though; we tend to hold less doubt about others’ abilities than our own. So someone else’s belief in us to solve it, particularly someone held in high esteem or purported as a guru, lowers our resistance to the solution that has been right there for the taking all along.

    There is only one time when I don’t fully trust my intuition, and that is when I am having fears and self-doubts. I am always aware of my entry into to this world, the well-meaning opinions that shaped my early beliefs. I know how much self-doubt I still hold despite years of focusing on things to build my self-esteem.

    While I have a great gift for understanding others and their dilemmas, when turning that on myself in moments of stress, I know my ability to read between the lines can develop into more of paranoia. That is when I find it useful to look to someone else to help facilitate me seeing what is truly going on.

    But there are other pointers—the things happening around me, the way my body is feeling, the dreams I am having—all these things can tell me what is really going on beneath the surface more objectively than my mind.

    While ideally I would have liked to have been born into a world that taught me to nurture and value my inner knowing, my intuition, right from the outset, simply becoming aware of it and practicing using it often also gets great results.

    For example, moving to New Zealand, even moving within New Zealand to a new city in recent years, these have been intuitive moves. While my head could explain the rationale, overriding all of it was this sense of “it felt right.”

    Trusting what feels right for us, and having the courage to follow up on it, this is what gives us the power to create our best life.

    I sometimes get blog comments from people who really push and prod me on this point, a point that I think is absolutely critical to understand—that any one of us has the power to change our life at any point.

    It doesn’t matter if you are lonely, penniless, homeless, overweight, underweight, sick, really sick, feel useless, are an abusee, an abuser, or even a psychopath, while there is breath in your body and conscious thoughts in your head, I believe we all have the power to change, with no exceptions.

    I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s possible.

    A quick Google search will fill your cup with example after example of people who have turned their lives around. Libraries and bookstores are filled with in-depth accounts of people who have changed their lives for the better. The inspiration is there, the tips and tricks and opinions are there, you just need one thing—to believe you can.

    And, as I have said, if you can’t quite believe it of yourself consistently enough to keep going, find someone who believes in you until you begin to prove them right.

    While other people can’t live your life for you, they can help boost your confidence when you want to make changes. If you need to increase your self-confidence, find those who support the kind of changes you’d like to make and let their belief in you be the thing that nudges you forward. Today, with online communities and forums, it is easier than ever to find what you need. Though you will be surprised at how other people show up in your life when you least expect it.

    Start by creating a conscious awareness of your self-defeating thought patterns and behaviors. Becoming aware of what is going on is crucial since 90% of our thought patterns are just a recurrence of yesterdays’ and, like anything we do repeatedly, we become less aware. The easiest way to turn this around is through meditation and taking some regular time to just contemplate.

    Take the time to hear your own thoughts, to truly feel into your own feelings, to begin to trust your own intuition. This is your true opinion of anything, and it’s the only one that counts. With it, you can start to contemplate positive changes in your life, looking for examples of when things have worked out for you in the past.

    And, finally, consider a life where others you know are equally aware of their own thoughts and feelings, their own insights and intuition. A world where people are focused on their own authentic happiness rather than in pursuit of trying to be ‘good enough’ to satisfy others’ standards. To me, this feels like a happier world—less judgmental, more free; free to evolve. We can help create this world by showing the people around us what it looks like to trust ourselves.

    Consider taking this step for yourself, and your loved ones, and you will not only change your life for the better, you will have changed our world for the better.

  • Why Your Positive Attitude Might Be Hurting You

    Why Your Positive Attitude Might Be Hurting You

    “Positivity is a dogmatic insistence on turning away from what is painful.” ~Susan Piver, Wisdom of a Broken Heart

    What if I told you there may be a flaw in positive thinking?

    How could being positive possibly be unhelpful?

    To some extent, positivity can be beneficial. In my life I’ve found optimism to be quite wonderful, crucial even.

    Being around people who are generally positive is just far more pleasant than being around people who are constantly negative. Life seems a little bit more manageable when you can practice gratitude. Smiles are had and spirits are lifted with simple platitudes like c’est la vie and it is what it is! Not only is it helpful, but optimism can actually provide a number of benefits.

    There was a study done by the University of Kentucky where nuns were rated on a positivity scale based on their diaries in the 1930’s. Sixty years later researchers found that some of these ladies, aged seventy-five to ninety, were still alive. The survivors were mostly the women who scored high on the positivity test, insinuating that happiness leads to a longer life.

    Happiness expert and psychologist Michael F. Scheier says that optimists do better in life than pessimists because they’re problem solvers and have better coping mechanisms. Dealing with trauma from earlier in my life has been made much easier by having these two things at my disposal.

    In her Broaden and Build Theory, psychologist Barbara Fredrickson has discovered a model of how positivity interacts with resilience. She states that people who are more positive have more physical, psychological, and social resources. They may be better able to exercise, more able to keep away from rumination, and they have the best of buds to cry to.

    When my grandmother died, I was devastated. How could I possibly draw positivity from death? Well, it turns out that I can and I did. My coping mechanism was to gain life lessons. In fact, her passing was the catalyst for me to get sober. I began to cope in a healthier way, without the crutch of substances. I had to adapt to see the sunlight, and optimism brought me there.

    I now have great positive coping mechanisms like meditation, playing hockey, and the ability to discuss emotional matters with others. I regularly practice gratitude; I even write a daily gratitude list and send it to a friend. I express my appreciation for things like my job (which isn’t always perfect), being able-bodied, and having financial security.

    Don’t get me wrong here, I love optimism; I just can’t help but look at where it fails us.

    I used to be the “fine” queen. When someone asked me how I was doing I was always “fine.” Whenever something happened, maybe someone did something to wrong me, like the guy I was dating being a real jerk, it was “fine.” I was the girl who kept the smile on her face.

    I was bubbly and eternally positive, no matter what the situation. While on the surface this may seem like a wonderful trait in a person, in practice it meant that my needs weren’t being met, I was letting people treat me poorly, and I wasn’t always listening to my mind, body, or spirit.

    To grow from this has been a long journey of realizing that it’s okay (even important) to slow down and take a look at what’s going on. It’s necessary to give my feelings space and let them come out to play. I learned this through heartache after heartache. Breakups, dreams crushed, and death—all of these things helped me to discover that I deserved my own presence.

    Heartbreak shook me to the core, leaving me feeling like I’d never be okay again. The feelings I had at that time demanded to be felt; there was no getting around it. In order to move past the suffering, I needed to feel it. I couldn’t tell myself I was fine or that everything was going to be okay. I just needed to sit with the hurt.

    Sure, there were good things that came from heartbreak like lessons learned and new opportunities, but there were also times when I just needed to feel, heal, and deal. I needed to look my heartache squarely in the face, cry, and let my facing it begin to repair the damage done.

    My dreams were crushed when I got into an Ivy League university and realized that I couldn’t attend for financial and personal reasons. I was totally devastated. Through this, though, I realized that it was okay to hold my sadness. I was allowed to hold joy for being admitted in the first place while I could also leave space for my tears.

    Man did I spill tears when my grandmother died. It felt like my heart had been put through a meat grinder, and the pieces were never going to fit back together again. I cried in the grocery store and at the mall, I couldn’t mask what I was feeling. I couldn’t plaster that fake smile on, and when someone asked me how I was doing, the answer was often “not so good.”

    Little did I know that these experiences were gifts, moving me closer to being with myself. They encouraged me (with much force sometimes) to be with my truth, to be with the heart of the matter without turning away.

    Allowing and visiting feelings may take the form of letting myself cry without redirecting my attention anywhere else. Just giving myself the space to cry without judgment. Letting myself cry until there are no more tears to spill, or even telling myself that it’s okay if I don’t stop crying when I’d like to.

    It’s also leaning in, asking myself, “What’s going on, darling?” and listening to the answer, however difficult. It’s being able to sit with that raw feeling of vulnerability in my chest.

    Instead of being with what’s in your heart, many people put up a wall. Susan Piver puts it beautifully in her book Wisdom of a Broken Heart, “Positive thought is a method of stepping away from what ails you rather than toward it.” You’re often stepping away with avoidance, because who wants to feel the tough stuff?

    Leaning into that takes work and courage. It’s a societal norm to avoid feeling pain. We hate it; we’ll avoid it at all costs. That’s just what we do: mask our struggles. At work, in life, even in relationships with loved ones.

    There’s a pressure to be okay and put a game face on. This pressure comes from the idea that you should always aim for positivity, in all cases. This is what Susan Piver coined the “Cult of Positivity,” continually turning away from what is uncomfortable and painful. I have two big bones to pick with “positivity:”

    1. I don’t believe the bad in the world has happened because you were too negative.

    2. I don’t believe that looking at the bright side of things is always the answer to solving life’s problems.

    There are those who believe that positive thinking undoubtedly makes their lives much better. In many ways this is true. However, not so much when it comes to what happens to you in the world. No matter how positive you think, the outcome of your cancer is going to be the same.

    Alternatively, you can have wonderfully positive thoughts and still end up homeless or jobless. I dislike the idea of a “positive mind, positive life.” It ends up victim-blaming because people may feel at fault for something they had no control over.

    I’ve experienced this as someone who deals with mental health issues. I’ve had people tell me to just suck it up and think more positively. Don’t you think if it was that easy there wouldn’t be mental illness? No one wants to be depressed. It’s just not that simple.

    Optimism doesn’t cure crippling bipolar or bring you out of a depressive funk. Telling someone that they can control the outcome of their illness is just placing blame when there’s no blame to be had.

    The idea that someone has control over all outcomes in their life baffles me. For example, the book The Secret is about the Law of Attraction. What you put out in the world is what comes back to you, according to author Rhonda Byrne. If you put out those positive vibes you’ll reap the rewards, like a good seat at the movie theater or a gorgeous partner.

    This insinuates that you deserve it when bad things happen to you just as you deserve it when good things happen. It’s similar to some sort of merit system. I don’t believe a tragic accident happens because someone didn’t practice enough positivity. On the same token, even something like hitting the lottery is pure luck rather than an expression of a manifestation.

    Next, always looking on the bright side to answer life’s problems is just a way to avoid feeling. It’s superficial. It’s okay, important even, to be sunny, but it becomes problematic when your feelings are lying untouched below the surface. There’s nothing to be gained by lying to the world and saying that everything is fine when it’s not.

    Sometimes I feel like I need to “practice gratitude” when I’m sharing my struggles with a friend. I’ll tell them all about what’s ailing me, then I’ll quickly bookend my concerns with something I’m grateful for.

    While gratitude is a magnificently powerful practice, I may be selling myself short here, missing out on digging just a little deeper into what’s going on. Instead of turning away from my suffering, I could turn toward it to take a peek and to let it be felt.

    So, what to do with all of this? Next time a close friend says “good” when you ask them how they’re doing, try asking them how they’re really doing. You’ll likely take them off-guard, but it’ll worth it to help them open up. Listen to their answer.

    In yourself, watch for those moments where you’re quick to shut a feeling down. Look out for “buts,” like when you say, “I had a crummy weekend but it’s totally fine.” Practice just letting the tough stuff hang there. Don’t try to make it better for a moment.

    Of course, eventually, you do want to move on, and positivity can come in here. Once you’ve looked squarely at your stuff, then is the time to find something to be grateful for. It’s the time to make a joke or spew a platitude. Then you’ve really honored yourself, allowed yourself to be seen. Because only when you’re seen can the real healing begin.

  • Why My Chronic Illness Can’t Stop Me from Making a Difference in the World

    Why My Chronic Illness Can’t Stop Me from Making a Difference in the World

    “We are each gifted in a unique and important way. It is our privilege and our adventure to discover our own special light.” ~Mary Dunbar

    What is one eye-opening experience should everyone have?

    I stumbled upon this question a few weeks ago and it got me into deep introspection.

    The first thing that came to my mind made me feel both happy and sad. The smile faded as soon as it crossed my face.

    Let me explain…

    My Eye-Opening Experience

    One eye-opening experience I had and believe everyone should have is spending time with poor kids.

    I love children.

    I’m one of those people who gets wowed when kids can count one to three or recite the alphabet by heart. I was a teacher, and the kids were my favorite students. I’ve met and played with a lot of kids, but my experience with poor kids was extra special.

    In 2012, my friend invited me to visit some kids in a community that I had never heard of. I wasn’t from an affluent family, but I had never seen real poverty up close.

    Tiny and crowded homes made with light materials, no electricity and/or running water for many families, and malnourished, sick, and dirty kids.

    We visited them at least once a week to teach family values, spirituality, and hygiene. We fed them, played with them, and most importantly, we loved them. These were fifty to a hundred kids ages two to sixteen.

    Our leader tasked me to interview ten kids in a span of ten months. The organization that sponsored our feeding program for two years required us to submit these reports monthly.

    I had the privilege to choose which kid to interview per month. I chose kids with different personalities. The shy ones. The playful ones. And the wallflowers.

    I will treasure those interviews forever. The one-on-one talks with these children were life-changing for me. They were the intimate encounters I looked forward to every month.

    I got the rare chance to know their stories in a deep way.

    It was heartbreaking to hear that some kids missed schools because they didn’t have food to eat. Some kids were made fun of because of how they looked. Others had to scavenge and collect recyclables in the streets to sell and help their families earn some money.

    Despite the cold meals and floors, lack of basic needs, and other daily struggles, they had a sparkle in their eyes and sweetness in their smiles. Their resilience was so unbelievable that I had no doubt that one day, they will change the world.

    Words are not enough to explain my thoughts and feelings through this experience. But this experience has given me a new set of lenses that allowed me to see the world in a different way.

    I learned to be more generous, self-giving, loving, and compassionate. The words “gratitude” and “appreciation” became deeper and more meaningful. I learned to view this life beyond me.

    This was my weekly routine for three years until…

    I Had A Relapse

    I stopped going and seeing these kids. Now, this is why the thought of this eye-opening experience gave me mixed emotions. You see, I’ve been fighting chronic illnesses for about ten years, but in 2016, my health took its turn for the worse.

    My dizzy spells became more intense and frequent. I couldn’t stand the outdoors because it was either too hot or too cold for me. I was like a battery that wouldn’t charge up.

    I’ve accepted that my doctors couldn’t give me straight answers (yet) on what has been going on with me. But it was frustrating when my world came to a halt. Again.

    While my recovery has been consistent (slow and steady), I still don’t know if I can go back and serve these kids again. I don’t know if my body could still handle it.

    In a way, I felt my chronic illness robbed my purpose and self-worth once again. I just wanted to serve. What’s wrong with that?

    But one day, I thought that service to humanity takes different forms, shapes, and sizes. Nothing is too big or too small. As long as you give with all your heart.

    I realized I could get around my chronic illness and still help make a difference one life at a time.

    Nothing fancy. Nothing grand. Just me and my warm and sometimes wimpy heart.

    Modern Calligraphy

    Initially, I did this for myself. It was out of boredom, stress, and frustration.

    When I was mostly homebound, I looked for a new hobby that would help me get out of my head and feel the excitement of trying something new again.

    Affirmations, verses, quotes, and words of encouragement that spoke to me took me on a whole new level when I see them beautifully written in bouncy and flowy letters. Every stroke helped me focus, meditate, and relax. Even when the strokes were shaky, I was amused by the work of my hands.

    When I became a little more confident, I decided to share my creations with the world. I set up a public IG account with the goal to edify women with chronic illness through modern calligraphy.

    I also make notes for family and friends extra special with the beautiful and free strokes of modern calligraphy.

    World Vision

    I may not be able to serve and spend time with dozens of kids all at the same time, and that’s okay. Changing one kid’s life would be more than enough.

    Last year, I decided to sponsor one child through World Vision. It was another opportunity for me to have a personal connection with a child from a poor community.

    It’s a humbling experience to help the child to pay for school supplies, uniform, and other expenses. Through this program, her community benefits, too.

    My eyes and heart well up when I get their regular updates with photos, community reports, child’s progress, and more.

    Writing

    I’m introverted. I’ve kept a lot of my deepest thoughts to myself. Last year, I decided to be a little bolder and vulnerable by sharing my journey through writing.

    I’ve realized that every story matters. Every story is special. Every story heals.

    Most importantly, we can learn from each other.

    What’s Next

    You don’t need to do something huge to make a positive difference in the world. Regardless of your time, resources, and individual limitations, you can make an impact.

    I encourage you to create a small service project before the year ends. Before that voice of doubt whispers that it’s impossible or it won’t make a dent in the world, let’s sit down and plan for this project.

    Below, you will see a list of questions that serve as your starting point.

    Skills/Talents/Passion: What can I offer?

    1. What did I love to do as a child?
    2. What types of things do family or friends usually seek my help for?
    3. What are my interests?
    4. When do I feel most joyful?
    5. What do I do most naturally?
    6. What is the idea or vision that keeps me up at night?
    7. What am I doing when I feel the most authentic?

    Time: When will I do it?

    1. How much time can I set aside for this project?
    2. How often do I want to do this?
    3. How long can I do it?
    4. When can I start?

    Recipient: Who will I serve?

    1. Where do I feel the happiest?
    2. Who do I care about?
    3. Who are the people going through what I’ve been through? Or going through similar challenges?
    4. Who needs my skills and talents?

    You may not know the answers to all of these questions right now, and that’s okay. Take all the time you need and go through them again whenever you can.

    And remember…

    Small things add up. Small things make bigger things. Small things create ripples.

    Start where you are with what you have.

  • You Have to Feel it to Heal It: The Only Way Out is Through

    You Have to Feel it to Heal It: The Only Way Out is Through

    “Emotional pain cannot kill you, but running from it can. Allow. Embrace. Let yourself feel. Let yourself heal.” ~Vironika Tugaleva

    I plodded up the half-mile hill that led to my house, my backpack weighing heavily on my shoulders in the insistent summer heat. The mild breeze that drifted off the Boston harbor was a cruel joke, hinting at coolness but offering no respite.

    Recently heartbroken, I felt tears streaming hotly down my cheeks for the third time that day as the pain of my ex-partner’s absence crashed swiftly on my heart.

    I reached out to a trusted friend seeking solace. “Sobbing again” I texted her, knowing she would decipher the pain behind my words. She hesitated for a moment before responding: “Duh.”

    I hiccupped mid-sob, surprised.

    She went on: “Feel it. It’s going to hurt. But every moment you’re sobbing, you’re doing the work. Every moment you’re hurting, you’re healing. The only way out is through.”

    I stared at the screen, digesting her words. That was the last thing I’d expected. I’d expected to be coddled or encouraged to look at the bright side. I’d expected to be force-fed an ice cream cone at J.P. Licks.

    This was different. For the first time in my grieving process, I wasn’t told to gloss over my feelings with a coat of rose-colored paint. Someone I trusted was encouraging me to feel my pain in its entirety. Through her eyes, my pain was valid and productive—a necessary step on my journey toward healing.

    Her direct acknowledgement of my suffering was the permission I needed to truly feel my pain instead of avoid it. Instead of worrying that I wasn’t trying hard enough to be happy—instead of worrying that I was taking “too long” to heal—I felt like I was doing everything properly.

    I could celebrate the work I was doing, even when that work was breaking into sobs, for the third time that day, on the half-mile walk home.

    My pain and grief had meaning.

    It could serve a purpose.

    It could serve me.

    Since then, I’ve developed a new way of looking at pain:

    When we allow ourselves to fully experience painful or uncomfortable feelings, we are doing work. Sitting with our feelings instead of disengaging or distracting ourselves is work.

    Once we accept that we are doing work, we can silence our internal critic that believes that feeling pain means we’re “doing something wrong.” Instead, we begin to understand that feeling our pain is important and productive.

    When we understand the true nature of our work, we can summon compassion for ourselves as we move through our uncomfortable feelings on the path to healing, peace, and wholeness.

    This framework has changed my life. I’ve applied it to my most acutely painful emotions, like heartbreak, as well as milder ones, like unease.

    Last month on a stormy Friday night, for example, a tide of anxiety rolled through me. Instead of texting my friends or sweethearts to organize an impromptu rendezvous—a surefire way to distract myself—I turned on my air conditioner, donned the biggest sweater I could find, and cuddled my pillow as I watched the rain streak down my window.

    It felt uncomfortable. I felt the familiar tightness in my chest and shortness in my breath.

    “You’re being anti-social!” nagged my inner critic. “You’re being boring. It’s Friday! You’re not trying hard enough.”

    I took a deep breath and put my hand over my heart. I am doing work, I said firmly into my heart. This is important. I kept my hand on my chest, repeating these mantras in time with the falling rain, until my inner critic’s voice was an echo of an echo.

    When I woke up the next morning to a clear blue sky and a bout of energy, I took pride in how I’d weathered the storm, so to speak. I learned that my anxiety was impermanent and, most importantly, manageable. 

    Then there are those darkest moments of sorrow, the moments when grief shakes even our sturdiest foundations. When we lose a loved one. When illness consumes us. When we experience a tragedy so emotionally excruciating that it redefines our very understanding of pain.

    In these moments, when we can’t find a single silver lining for miles, we can summon the courage to sit with our sorrow. We can find solace in the truth that there is simply nothing else to do.

    Experiencing our grief—if only for moments at a time—is work. This is the work of living on this Earth, of being human, and of surviving the universal rites of passage that mark our lives as we age.

    When I feel existentially lost, isolated, and convinced of the meaninglessness of my pain, I take a moment to witness the people around me. I watch people walking hand in hand at the park, or reading novels on the train, or sunbathing at the beach.

    Somehow, the vast majority of people around me have weathered similarly painful times. The mere fact of their existence, when I’m certain I will shatter into nothingness, is strength enough to soldier on.

    Before I learned the benefit of sitting with my feelings, doing work of this nature didn’t appeal to me. Why wallow in sorrow when you could just do something about it? I wondered. 

    When I felt uncomfortable, I would find a way to occupy my time and distract my heart. I’d burrow my nose in a screen until I was only dimly aware of the world around me; call one friend after another, repeating the same painful story, swimming concentric circles around my pain without ever diving in; grab a pen and scribble a to-do list to feel the rush of purposefulness at the expense of true catharsis.

    In retrospect, it’s easy to see that my “coping strategies” were no such thing.

    When we distract ourselves from our pain with a flurry of motion, we fool ourselves into thinking we’re being productive. We fall victim to the addictive high of the quick fix. But as any hard worker in any field will tell you, there is no substitute for good, hard work. Work that gives us a sense of our own intrinsic worth and yields desirable results. 

    Which begs the question: Given the undeniable difficulty of this brand of work, why do it at all? What is the reward for expending such mental and physical effort?

    Different folks will offer different answers. As for me, I’ve always believed that our purpose on this earth is to live our richest, most beautiful lives. Anything less seems like a terrible waste of the gift of conscious experience.

    I believe that in order to live such lives, we must live our essential truth. Living our essential truth means making the conscious effort to feel the spectrum of our pain, magnificent and minor. It means giving ourselves permission to feel emotions as they are, and rid our lives of the pressures to conform, perform, and self-delude.

    When we act in accordance with our deepest feelings, our lives become simpler. Instead of constantly choosing how to act or what to say—spurring waterfalls of anxiety and self-doubt –there is always one choice: the choice that is true for us. The choice that we feel in our hearts.

    The next time you are hurting, uncomfortable, or lonely, feel your pain. Feel as much of it as you can bear. Your pain is a necessary step on your journey towards healing. And remember:

    You are doing your best.

    You are healing at exactly the right pace.

    You are doing work.

    Your work has meaning.

    It can serve a purpose.

    It can serve you.