Tag: wisdom
-
Why Introverts Feel Drained in Groups and How I Preserve My Energy
“In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you.” ~Deepak Chopra
When I was younger, I was always referred to as “the quiet one.” I didn’t mind it; I knew I was much quieter than most people I met. Not speaking and spending time on my own was natural for me.
Friends and workmates recognized this but would still often ask me if I wanted to join them when they were going out, even though they knew I would usually say no. They understood me as quiet, but they didn’t really understand just how much I disliked the whole socializing thing and how much it would drain me.
I’d always loved time on my own. Even if I was somewhere amongst people, as long as I didn’t have to speak or engage with others, I was fairly content. In both situations I could retreat to my own inner world.
My thoughts and imagination were never boring; there were always observations to make about myself, the world, and other people. There was a sense of coming home whenever I became quiet. There was a familiar comfort in my inner world.
For the first half of my life I was a very shy introvert. While I’m not so shy anymore, I’m still introverted.
From Quiet on the Outside to Quiet on the Inside
In 2001 I discovered meditation at the recommendation of my brother, and one of the first things that became extremely obvious for me was just how active my mind was.
There was a very clear realization—that just because I was “the quiet one” did not mean I had a quiet mind. This might sound obvious, but before I started meditating, I didn’t realize how busy my mind was.
My inner world was full of noise. Thoughts triggering emotions and emotions amplifying thoughts in a vicious, neverending cycle . It was comfortable and familiar, but when I paid attention I realized it wasn’t peaceful.
Prior to this realization, I’d very much identified with the noise in my mind. The constant stream of thoughts, emotions, and stories created a certain sense of self. The flavor of how I knew myself.
How does a fish objectify water when it has lived in it for its entire life? Contrast. It needs to experience what it feels like outside of water.
For me there was a similar experience happening through meditation. I started having experiences of an inner quiet. In the beginning it was only moments, but it was like being taken outside of my usual sense of self, allowing me to objectify the inner environment I usually resided in.
It was uncomfortable because I was used to the comfort of my usual inner monologue, stories, and moods, but a part of me that realized I am not the thoughts, emotions, dramas that made up my usual sense of self.
Although there was a comfort that came with the familiar, it was far more peaceful outside of it, since my mental environment had become polluted. Still, my active mind did not want to let go easily. It took time. I could have given up when I felt discomfort and resistance to seeing the reality of my mind; however, there were two things that helped motivate me to keep going.
The first was the relief I was starting to feel. Just like the peace that would usually come when I had time on my own after being with people, or when I’d spend time in the quiet of nature after being in the noise of the city, this relief came from letting go of my thoughts. It was more than a craving for quiet. It was a longing for depth… inside myself.
The second motivator, which I believe should pique the interest of any introvert, was that I was starting to feel less drained in group situations or events. I was still an introvert—I still preferred time on my own—but the negative side effects of being around people were shifting.
Understanding the Main Difference Between Introverts and Extrovert
I always knew I was an introvert, but I never really understood what it meant in greater detail until last year when I heard Faris Khalifeh from Quiet Leadership in Vancouver speak.
I’d understood introversion very basically as someone who tends to be quiet and prefers time on their own. As I learned from Faris, a major distinguishing trait between introverts and extroverts is that introverts gain energy by being alone and tend to get drained in groups. Vice versa for extroverts.
I believe one of the reasons introverts get so drained among groups of people is because they are not quiet on the inside. Much like stress is an internal reaction to a stimulus (external or internal), for an introvert there is an internal reaction to our natural sensitivity when in groups of people, creating a certain stress that drains our energy. Quietening our mind changes our reactions.
For me, the combination of my naturally active mind and sensitivity created an internal environment that made group events draining. In group events there was so much stimulation happening around me that even if I was only connecting with one or two people I would eventually become drained.
For clarity, there’s no more stimulation happening around an introvert than an extrovert; it’s that the introvert is usually far more sensitive to it.
I remember a work dinner many years ago. There were about eight of us, but we’d gone to a pub, so there were a lot more people in the space. I was chatting with a work friend, but the ambient noise from all the conversations happening around me was pulling my awareness in all directions. Sensory overload. Too much information at the same time. It was very difficult to relax, and I was more distracted than present.
It was like being immersed in a soup of chaotic ambient noise. I wished I could just leave! This outer noise added to my own inner noise, amplifying my thoughts and inner monologue:
“That couple over there is having an argument. When will this evening be over? The man behind me is drunk; I hope they ask him to leave. There’s an awkward tension between those two workmates sitting together; they don’t like each other. I’m running out of things to talk about. Who actually enjoys this atmosphere? Maybe there’s something wrong with me?” And on and on.
All of this created a general sense of stress and agitation in both my body and mind. Over a couple of hours, I was gradually drained.
I often wondered if I was the only one who found social events unpleasant.
The problem was, I had nothing solid to rest on. The constant stream of thoughts and emotions that run through our mind give us a familiar sense of self, but for me, a familiar sense of self based on my active mind was not a very stable place when I was so sensitive.
Sensitivity was not the problem; a lack of stability was. Sensitivity is an amazing gift, but without some stability it feels like chaos.
The Antidote
The antidote that was emerging for me was stillness.
Stillness created a stability and grounding. It was extremely nurturing and recharging by itself, and the more I cultivated a relationship to it the more it was there where ever I went.
Even though I was still sensitive to the ambient noise at group events, I had a stable center, an inner quiet that created a separation between me and the noise. Without the separation, I was the noise, and it drained me. With stillness, I was stable and free, and my energy was preserved.
Introverts tend to accept that having their energy drained in groups is an inherent trait of their personality type. While this is true in the usual introvert categorization, I believe it doesn’t have to be like this. I was not looking for a solution to being drained at group events; I’d simply accepted this is how I was. But I was wrong. The solution presented itself as a side effect of my meditation.
I’m not suggesting you will transform into an extrovert and gain energy by being in groups. I’m still an introvert and I still love time by myself, but being at group events does not drain me like it used to.
As introverts, at some point we have to engage with people and attend extroverted events. I share my experience with you because these situations do not have to be a point of stress or anxiety. Stillness provides a stable resting place that can change our relationship to group situations.
Stillness is your superpower!
Though meditation is one of the best paths to stillness, it can also help to use the exercise below, which I call “Finding stillness amidst the chaos.” I would not call it a meditation in the truest sense, but I would call it a training for your mind.
Finding Stillness Amidst the Chaos
1. Go to a crowded place, preferably where there is a lot of noise. A busy food court at lunchtime is a good one. Perhaps before a conference or event when everyone around you is talking. The more people, the better.
2. Remain quiet and start listening peripherally to all the people talking. Don’t listen to individual conversations or voices. Listen to them all at once. The peripheral noise.
3. If thoughts come into your mind, just let them go and return to the peripheral noise. Don’t judge your thoughts.
4. As you listen peripherally to the noise for a couple of minutes, start to notice there is the chaos of the noise all around you, but you are not the noise. This is important! There is a separation between you and the noise. It’s like the noise is a tornado and you are in the eye. Notice the stillness in the center. It’s the place from where you perceive the noise.
5. The key here is that the noise and chaos are in the periphery and stillness is in the center. Thoughts will come and go, but keep your awareness with the peripheral noise and center of stillness.
6. Pay attention to how you feel more stable when you can do this. You can still be aware of the noise, but you are not affected by it, because you are not the noise.
It may take some time to get the hang of this, but like anything else, with practice you will see progress. You may even find this fun. Don’t worry, you’re not becoming an extrovert—you’re just cultivating your stillness superpower!
-
Loving Yourself When You’ve Become Addicted to Self-Improvement
“Whatever purifies you is the right path.” ~Rumi
I’m tired of being good. It’s time to be deliciously free.
How I wish I could say that without rushing in to assure you that I promise I’ll still be good.
The truth is, I worry. Less than I used to, but still, I do.
I’ve probably had every kind of worry you could imagine. There’s the kind about things that haven’t happened yet, things that didn’t but very nearly could have, things that are highly unlikely if not impossible, things that are commonplace; I’ve worried about the things I want and the things I don’t, the purpose and the impermanence of life.
Underneath, they all seem to stem from the same big fear that I am not good enough.
This worry manifests itself as indecision, overthinking, holding grudges, and comparison. My expectations and criticisms originate there.
Peek inside my head in my most afraid moments and you’re sure to find a motivational poster gone horribly wrong:
We all have the same twenty-four hours, so what’s your excuse? Hustle! No pain, no gain! Stop playing small. Take massive action, go all-in. They’re crushing it, why aren’t you? The steps to success are quick, easy, and proven. Do whatever it takes. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. The universe loves speed. #YOLO.
I’ve spent a lot of time and mental energy on what I thought was self-improvement. Now, I’m seeing it for what it really was: self-medicating. The pressure to always be moving, always be achieving, faster, faster, hurry up and keep up was an addiction.
This addiction was a symptom of losing trust in my own worth.
I’d wear the way I treated myself like a badge of honor as if it somehow made me more worthwhile. Yet, I criticized myself about it, too. “Don’t be so rigid,” I’d command myself, followed up quickly by, “But be more disciplined.”
I thought for a while that my worries were about control, but now I’m seeing that control was never the problem. I thought maybe it was perfection I sought. That wasn’t it, either.
This was never really about success or approval, and certainly not improvement. What I’ve been seeking all along is freedom, and that’s what scared me the most.
My indecision wasn’t about the decision itself, it was about doubting my ability to decide freely. Staying in relationships even though they hurt me wasn’t about the love or the loss, it was about doubting my right to choose myself, freely.
Underneath every fear, every worry, every grudge and comparison was doubt in who I am, what I’m worth, and what right I had to take up the time and space to figure this out.
And now that I see things more clearly, I am clear about what I truly want. I want liberation.
I want to free myself from the ghosts of the past and fears of the future. I long to be free from shame and the barriers I’ve built against my own peace. I want to use my voice freely and heal my steadfast heart. I want to freely and lovingly inhabit this body that’s stood by me no matter how much I’ve abused it.
I want to rise up, thank the day, and carry on. Freely.
Even as I’m writing these words to you, I’m learning what I need to do to stop the cycle.
I need to practice making different choices and voicing different beliefs: Time is not money, it’s medicine. I need not be so disciplined but discerning. Not productive but perceptive.
I’m learning the difference between moving quickly and moving honestly, and I’m replacing “should” with “I can if I so desire.”
Oh, and I feel the resistance to this. The resistance is withdrawal, and it’s a natural part of the recovery process.
But even with this insight, the fear of the unknown and the craving of familiarity are still there.
Who will I become if I were truly free?
What value will I have?
What if I fail?
What if I disappoint?Each time I set myself free, I will fly back to my cage until I trust the process of healing and love myself unconditionally.
This is the painful part about finding and expressing yourself that no one really talks about. Loving yourself and trusting fully in your inherent worth is risky.
You will surely fail at your previous rules and fall short of your old expectations as you explore new, more open ways of being. Someone is bound to be disappointed when you start existing as yourself, for yourself. The people who thought they knew you when you were only a fraction of yourself will say you’ve changed. They may not know what to do with you anymore.
There may be judgment and misunderstanding. There may be rejection. You may feel lost. You may get less done, things may take longer, your work may be less popular or less profitable.
And there will be the trappings of who you said you were everywhere. I still have a drawer full of makeup and hair products, perfume, and high heels that I will never use again. Maybe it’s time to let that version of me go.
As you move closer to freedom, the ghost of who you tried to be will linger, haunting you. It will show up as a craving for likes and shares, for affirmation from someone else of your worth.
Little by little, as you shed the security blankets put down over the years, you will move away from the conditions of your worth. Through forgiveness, setting and enforcing boundaries, more authentic yes’s and no’s, and growing more clear in what you want and where your true priorities lie, you will find new depths of freedom and space. It will be empowering and terrifying.
What I’m discovering now is that you need to meet these challenges with grace and compassion.
Letting go gives you space, but it needs space, too. Space brings solace and allows expansion. If you need to, stabilize. There’s no need to feel like a complete stranger in your own skin. Seek comfort and familiarity, but do it consciously. If you fall into old patterns, treat yourself with kindness, not judgment. And then carry on, consciously.
Have the courage to ride the cravings out. Resist the habit of proving your worth and earning your freedom. The doubts will try to convince you that they’re making you better, more worthy. Remember that it never worked that way before.
I’m seeing now that what I do or don’t do, how far I do or don’t go, what I do or don’t achieve has never been the question. The question is, what frees me?
I may not know what my freedom holds, and I may still face that uncertainty with some degree of fear, but I’m learning to trust that the pins and needles of waking up are the cure to what’s really ailing me.
The greatest opportunities are not found in safety or certainty. Just as in facing any fear, the old beliefs about your worth need to be threatened in order to be changed.
Each time we practice asking ourselves what will set us free, we’ll learn to speak the language of our intuition that much more fluently.
Each time we practice validating our own perspective, we’ll learn to distinguish between wisdom and sound bites that much more naturally.
One layer at a time, we will build a foundation of trust in ourselves and our inherent worth, and I have to believe that this will set us free.
-
Maybe It’s Not All Good or All Bad
“You are the sky. Everything else—it’s just the weather.” ~Pema Chödrön
A farmer has a horse for many years; it helps him earn his livelihood and raise his son. One day, the horse runs away. His neighbor says sympathetically, “Such bad luck.”
The farmer replies, “Maybe. Who knows?”
The next day, the horse makes its way back home bringing with it another horse. The neighbor says with a smile, “Such good luck.”
The farmer replies, “Maybe. Who knows?”
The following day, the farmer’s son rides the new horse and seeks to tame it. In the process, he breaks his leg. The neighbor says sympathetically, “Such bad luck.”
The farmer replies, “Maybe. Who knows?”
The last day of the story, the military comes to the village to draft all able-bodied young men to fight in a war. The son is exempt from the draft due to his broken leg. You can guess what the neighbor said, and how the farmer replied.
This Zen Buddhist parable illustrates that we never really know exactly why things are unfolding the way that they are, and that labeling them as “good” or “bad” is useless. It only gets us wrapped up in the ups and downs.
Riding the car of this dichotomy only takes us on a roller coaster ride while our emotions are following whatever storyline is in front of us.
Because I’m a human, I do this all of the time. I think that something fits neatly into either category, and I place it there then try to not look back. Usually that ends with those contents spilling out all over the place. Like when I try to make certain foods “good” or “bad.” Food has no morality, and categorizing it in this way just brings me shame.
David Allen explained that the Taoists have their own way of interpreting the complication: the yin and yang symbol. “Good” flows into “bad” and the two are even contained in one another. They can’t really be separated.
How I’ve Found the “Good” in the “Bad”
Not too far out of college I had a cushy tech job that I absolutely adored. I relished in the fact that I was doing what I loved, and that I had been promoted to that position after working really hard.
The perks were great. We had flexible hours, leaving room for naps on my work-from-home days. My favorite perk was a giant snack room, full of all kinds of goodies. We were swimming in startup benefits, and by all measures, I was happy. However, I didn’t realize I was overworking myself until I collapsed.
The long hours had taken a toll on me, emotionally and physically. My romantic relationships had also gotten me down. I’d been causing myself a lot of pain by continuously going after emotionally unavailable people. I had also been neglecting self-care, sleeping much less than my body required. My mental health deteriorated to the point where I no longer felt safe in my own skin.
I’d struggled with my mental health throughout my life, but I thought I’d gotten to a good place. Turns out I was wrong. My mind had been slowly building up to a bipolar explosion that mixed mania and depression.
My mania manifested itself in staying up too late, having impulsive sex, and taking on way too many responsibilities at once. My depression took the form of feeling worthless and losing interest in things I loved, and my hunger was either through the roof or absent. Suicidal ideation was a big part of the mix. This was the scariest part—the fact that I’d lost the will to live.
As a result of all of this, I had a breakdown. I could often be found writhing in emotional pain, my brain wanting me dead. How quickly this “good” turned to “bad.”
Because I was deemed unsafe, I was taken by ambulance to a locked ward. Turns out when you show up to the hospital telling them you’re suicidal, they cart you away to a locked facility of some sort.
Everyday things like my laptop cord and makeup mirrors were taken from me, lest I harm myself. I slept in a hallway of sixteen girls, and a nurse opened our doors every fifteen minutes at night to check to see if we were still breathing. The food was subpar at best.
I wanted to die. I had a total mental health collapse and realized I had been running myself ragged at this job. I had to quit it because I knew that this hospital stay wasn’t going to be a quick fix. I had seven more hospitalizations that year, and I thought that my life was over.
While reflecting on what had brought me to this point, I realized that not only was the job overly demanding on my time, the office had terrible boundaries, with lots of people dating one another (including myself at one point). Most harmful, though, was the unlimited stash of anytime booze. I’m a recovering alcoholic, and though I was able to stay sober, this wasn’t a healthy environment for me.
Later, reflecting on the time I spent hospitalized, I realized my experiences weren’t all “bad.”
My time in and out of psych wards has reminded me how strong I am—the strength it took to get help instead of killing myself was something I didn’t know I had. I thought I’d stay on the path to destruction for much longer, but my will to live came through.
Also, I was shown, despite my skepticism, that I’m indeed never alone; my loved ones showered me with support. People regularly visited me in the hospital, and their presence helped me heal.
My friends showed up without judgment, holding space for all of my big feelings. They brought nothing but love (and some snacks). It was vulnerable to be seen in the condition I was in, but my friends proved they could be trusted to be with me in this state. Many of them had been in my shoes before, so they held compassion for what I was going through.
Most of the friends that visited were AA companions. They were people trying to stay sober, just like me, and we were living many of the same values like acceptance and taking life one day at a time. With their support, I continued on the path of healing both inside and outside of the hospital.
I’ve even managed to find the “good” in alcoholism. In fact, I now believe it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. My recovery has brought me beautiful friendships, immense personal growth, and ridiculous amounts of resilience. I’ve learned to be there for another person without constantly putting myself first, and I’ve grown to be a better partner.
It took eighteen months of rest before I was ready to go back to work. I struggled with feeling inadequate and useless during this time. I was so accustomed to working like a maniac that rest felt foreign to me. But I’m now finally well enough to work, though I’ve gotten a job that pays much less than my last one and it isn’t even close to as prestigious. I’m calling it my “get-well job.”
I’m still working through some shame around it, wanting to call this “bad,” even though I know it’s a mix of things. Instead of calling it “bad,” I do my best to return to “maybe” with a shrug.
I’m not saying that I’m able to be perfectly non-judgmental and unattached, living without worry at my job and feeling perfectly confident when talking about it. But some days I can just let things be what they are. I can notice that voice inside that’s yelling at me and I can soothe it. I can create a new script and I can practice radical acceptance by not fighting against what’s going on in my mind.
Looking back, I called my job “good” and the psych wards “bad,” though there were no clear categories. Good is great, but it doesn’t last forever. Bad can hurt, but it doesn’t last forever either. There was a bit of a mix of everything. Much of life is this way.
I don’t know why things happen the way that they do, and I never know what’s going to happen next. Perhaps this job will benefit my life in ways I could never predict. Maybe it’ll keep me where I’m at, or make things worse; I just don’t know.
The thing is, though, once I start to move past outcomes I can be more present to and flexible with what’s happening.
I can just enjoy learning to use the espresso machine at my new job rather than worrying about what people think of my new job choice. I can practice gentleness around my mental health, remaining non-judgmental when I have a difficult day. I can do this instead of thrashing against what is, letting my mind carry me to dreams of what could be and feeling angry about how things are.
I can work with whatever emotions come up, knowing that it’s all the path. I can’t prevent life from happening and I can’t always force what I want to happen. What I do have control of is l how I react to everything, and today I’m trying to have a “maybe” attitude.
No matter what happens, I know I can handle it. Being knocked down by my job and mental health reminded me that the human spirit is wildly resilient. I got back up; I did it very slowly, but I did it.
-
How to Be Less Anxious About Things You Can’t Change
“One of the happiest moments is when you find the courage to let go of what you can’t change.” ~Unknown
Over the last few years, I’ve had to deal with a frustrating problem.
It’s something that’s not uncommon, but it can be debilitating, and it has affected me every day. Some days have been incredibly tough, and they’ve tested my tolerance and my patience.
The problem is chronic back pain.
Every day I get up, knowing that throughout the day I’m going to have a discomfort that could oscillate between a mild annoyance and an intense burning. At some point, it’s going to distract me. Either while I work, while I eat, while I meditate, while I exercise, and sometimes while I sleep.
You’d think by now I would’ve gotten used to it, that it would’ve become the unwelcomed friend that I’d learned to live with. Unfortunately, that’s only the case sometimes.
But I am (slowly but surely) learning firsthand the value of something incredibly profound that the meditation teacher Shinzen Young once said:
“Suffering = Pain x Resistance.”
When it comes to the suffering we experience when dealing with physical pain, it’s not always easy to know exactly what is pain and what is resistance to that pain.
In my own situation, every now and then, when the pain is very uncomfortable, I’ll start to ruminate. My mind will begin to make up stories about how severe the pain is, how much worse it’s going to get, what I could’ve done to prevent it, and anything else to resist the experience.
But there are certain things you can’t know and certain things you can’t change. I’m doing the best I can to try and prevent the pain—I’ve seen a number of specialists, all with varying opinions.
My focus now is, how can I reduce the resistance and alleviate the suffering?
This is broadly related to another important existential issue and something that I want to explore with you in a little bit of detail.
We all have to deal with situations that we have no control over; illness, death, and loss are inevitable. I’m going to share with you how I’ve faced this, in the context of my back pain, but it’s highly likely that you’re going through something comparable in your life right now. It might be something less obvious, like a part of your job that you’re not entirely comfortable with, or it may be a lot more serious, like the terminal illness of someone you love.
Either way, we’re facing the same question: How can I be less anxious about the things I can’t change?
Here are four things I’ve done to manage this anxiety.
1. Keep track of the stories my mind is telling me about any situation.
One thing that you realize by paying attention to your pain is that the mind is a master storyteller. The natural response to any uncomfortable situation is to create a mental novella equipped with a list of assumptions, a worldview, and a timeline about the past and future.
Your job, however, is to tease out fact from fiction. If I have pain when I’m working, my mind might start to tell me the story of how I’m going to be late to the project I’m working on, or that I’ll never figure out how to overcome the pain, or any number of things that one, aren’t either true or knowable and two, aren’t the least bit relevant to the situation at hand.
If you write down a list of the ideas you have about the thing you can’t change, you’ll start to see recurring themes and you can see the movie that’s playing in your mind without getting absorbed in it.
2. Meditate on the pain and resistance and figure out which is which.
Remember the Shinzen Young quote I shared earlier: “Suffering = Pain x Resistance.” Well, understanding when resistance to the situation is making up the bulk of your suffering is an incredibly useful skill to learn.
You can do this in meditation by inquiring into your thoughts and feelings. I may ask myself “If I could accept this pain completely, just for a few moments, what would the pain feel like?”
If the pain decreases significantly, it’s clear that the experience was dominated by resistance. If, however, there is little change, then it’s the physical pain itself that is the problem. More often than not I’ve found that resistance is worse than the pain itself!
3. Highlight the positive aspects of the thing I can’t change.
This is pretty much good old-fashioned re-framing. Focus your attention on what’s positive about the thing you can’t change, and very importantly, celebrate the little wins.
For example, I try to tell myself, “My back hurts today, but at least it’s not stopping me from going to the gym.” And if I have a day where the pain is less serious than other days, I’ll make a mental note of it, and try to express it in some form, e.g.: “My day was good. I got a lot of work down and it was relatively pain-free.”
4. Practice the art of letting go.
This practice is something that comes hand in hand with noticing resistance. We don’t often think of letting go as a skill, but it is. In the same way we can become adept at holding onto something, we can learn how to do the opposite.
There are two aspects of letting go that you can practice. Firstly, the depth of letting go; that is, how completely can you consciously let go of something that is bothering you.
If I have a pain in my back and I exhale deeply, telling myself it’s okay, but five seconds later I’m thinking about how frustrated I am about the pain—well, I have a lot of practice to do.
The second aspect is how appropriately you can do so in the moment, i.e.: how good your timing is.
For example, if you spend all day worrying, but then you get home and right before falling asleep you let go, then your timing needs some work. If, however, you catch your mind telling you a story in the moment, and you can objectively see that it’s just a story, you’re on the right track! Meditation is one way to help you see things as they come up in real time.
Learning to become less anxious about things you can’t change is an incredibly valuable life-long skill. It’s unfortunate that typically we have to come to learn this through real challenges and discomfort, but making the best of tough times is one of the beautiful things about being a human being!
When have you learned to be less anxious about things you can’t control? Let us know in the comments; we’d love to hear from you!
-
Why I Won’t Let the Fear of Failure Hold Me Back
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal; it is the courage to continue that counts.” ~Winston Churchill
I am scared of sharks. Often when I’m floating in the ocean on my surfboard, amazed at the vastness before me and my relative smallness in the world, my mind drifts toward what may be lurking below.
I know that I am more likely to get injured during the car ride to the beach or get struck by lightning when I get there than be attacked by a shark. I also know that, according to the US Consumer Product Safety Commission and the International Shark Attack File, there are more injuries every year from unfortunate encounters with buckets and toilets than sharks (no lie).
Although at times, I can feel the fear run through my entire body, I have never let that fear drive me from the water. Logically, I know it’s an unfounded fear caused by dark tales, media sensationalism, and the movie Jaws (thanks a lot, Mr. Spielberg). If only it were that easy to talk myself down from my worst fear: failure.
Sharks I can handle. Failure? Well, that’s something entirely different.
Fear of failure keeps me up at night and causes anxiety that can lead to chronic pain and depression. I once had a “lump” in my throat for a year. I went to the doctor convinced that I had some sort of mass growing, but no. It turns out it was an anxiety symptom (and a rather common one at that) brought on by my attempts to grow my abstract painting and essay writing business.
That doctor’s visit was a huge wake up call for me. I mean, working on my art was supposed to be liberating and elating. Instead, I found myself bound up internally, unable to maneuver freely through this new life that I was creating for myself. I was jumpy, irritable, and terrified.
At first, it was hard for me to identify where all this fear was coming from. I spent months writing about my anxiety and little by little, came to the conclusion that failure is my monster hiding under my bed.
Self-Induced Pressure is My Worst Enemy
I put a lot of pressure on myself to be a good mom, a caring and supportive wife, to contribute financially to our household, to be a “success.” I have always felt that I don’t do enough.
Even though I would wake up early to paint or write, go to my day job, pick up my daughter from school afterward and take her to her extracurricular activities, go home and bake cookies for little league bake sales, cook a nutritious dinner for my family, read to my kiddo before bed time and spend time with my husband after she’s all tucked in… I never felt that I was doing enough.
When I began focusing on my business full-time, I would get up to write and submit articles and press releases to various media outlets. I would paint daily and document the process for my social media feeds. I applied and was accepted to various art shows. I took online marketing and PR courses. I maintained a blog, built a website, created an art pop up shop, and developed various revenue streams.
Guess what happened? Not much financially, but I totally exhausted myself, felt like I was getting nowhere, and wondered why I fail at everything I do.
I realized that the anxiety that I have felt the majority of my life had nothing to do with my circumstances. I’ve struggled with anxiety because I’ve always chased “success” without defining specific goals, and without specified goals, there was no way to measure successes. No matter what I did, it was never good enough.
I would make a beautiful meal and apologize if it was overcooked just a little. I would sell a painting but be irritated that I didn’t sell three. I would attempt a new painting technique and would determine that it was no good because 200 people didn’t like the photo on social media.
It became clear to me that no matter what I did, I was going to struggle with this fear of failure, so I knew I had some redefining to do.
There was absolutely no reason to pursue my art and writing if it was going to turn me into even a larger stress case than I already was. Working for other people was stressful enough, but at least it came with a steady paycheck. So, I made a decision: I had to let go of this incessant thought that nothing I do is ever good enough.
Learning to Have Faith That I Am Doing the Right Thing
In the past I’ve questioned whether I’m doing the right things, and this has only fueled my anxiety and fear of failure—because failing would just prove that I should have been doing something else.
Now, I choose to believe that I am doing what I what I was put on earth to do. That I was given the gift of art and creativity, and it would be irresponsible for me to not pursue it.
For one thing, I wouldn’t be happy, and I believe that being happy is our first priority as humans. Without happiness, I would likely live a frustrated, unfulfilled life, and that would have a negative effect not only on me but also on the people around me.
I may not meet my own high standards through my current path, but I must have faith that by paying attention to my gifts and attempting to learn more about them every day, I am always making progress.
If I am consistently working on the very thing that I was created to do, then there is no failure. In fact, the only way I can fail is to ignore my gift. In becoming an adventurer and diving deeper into myself and my creative life, I have already succeeded. Really, the only way I can fail is if I abandon my creativity.
Failure Is Part of the Path to Success
It’s tempting to avoid any decision that might result in failure. But the only way to ascertain what works is to try different things. That means facing uncertainty and risking that things might pay off and they might not.
You know the saying “When in doubt, don’t”? This may be applicable when thinking about paddling out into fifteen-foot waves or buying a $300 pair of boots, but not in implementing a new marketing tactic or trying a new painting technique. I might fail when I try new things, but if I don’t take chances, I’ll definitely never succeed.
“Failure” Is Just Another Word for “Learning”
Earlier, I mentioned that I had created a pop up shop on my website. I thought that if I repurposed my art for throw pillows, tote bags, and canvas prints I would create a brand-new revenue stream, at affordable prices, therefore making my art accessible to more people. Sounds like a good idea, right?
Well, not only did it not make money, it took valuable time away from my painting and writing, and I learned that creating new manufactured goods is not in alignment with my vision of bringing awareness to ocean cleanups and coastal environmental health.
At first I was completely bummed. My new idea had failed. But did it really? By creating the shop, I actually learned a lot.
For one, I learned that my love for the ocean and my care for the environment trump my desire to manufacture products. That’s huge! Sure, I felt embarrassed for all of the live videos that I had posted trying to sell my goods. But whatever! I learned an important lesson about what I don’t want to do with my art.
I have realized that by even attempting to make a living from my art, I am taking a chance. I may have to get another day job in the future, but I also just may rent out the house and use that income to get in the surf van and take my “artventure” on the road. There are no right or wrong decisions here except the one where I’m constantly beating myself up. I’m getting off that crazy train right here, right now.
We all have moments where we are paralyzed by the possibility of failure. But by choosing to look at failure as just another way to see deeper into ourselves, we can diffuse that fear.
My fear of failure will always have one hand on my shoulder, trying to pull me back from the cliff’s edge, telling me that there is no possible way I can leap that far. But the truth is, unless the cliff in front of you is a literal cliff with a fifty-foot drop, falling might not be the worst thing in the world. In fact, the only way to truly fail sometimes is to not take the leap at all.
I don’t let the unreasonable fear of that great white shark encounter keep me out the water, so why should I let failure keep me from doing what I love to do?
From this point on, I choose to thank my fear of failure for looking out for me in the past and trying to protect me from the sharks. However, it’s time for me to dive into the unknown with awareness that there will be some stumbling and most likely some falling. But in this infinite journey of art and growth, failure is just a scary shadow lurking beneath me that might turn out to be nothing at all.
Lighting, buckets, and toilets? Well, that’s another story…
-
How Micro Habits Can Help You Reach Big Goals
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” ~Lao Tzu
Many of us have big, grand goals for our lives.
These goals can be tied to our work, or maybe starting a family, or ideals for a new home with that family, or travel to an exotic location we’ve long dreamed about, or pretty much anything else. Oftentimes these goals can seem a very long way from where we are presently in our lives. In fact, sometimes they can seem so far away that they appear to be totally out of reach.
As a consequence, too many of us give up even trying to make these things happen. And that’s a real shame, because sometimes all that is required to make them so is putting one foot in front of the other in their general direction.
The Pressure of Big Steps and Overnight Success
Part of the reason we give up is that we put ourselves under pressure to make things happen quickly. We try to make grand, sweeping changes in our lives and expect overnight change. If this doesn’t happen, we can quickly become discouraged and quit. We lose sight of any and all progress we may be making toward our goals.
Perhaps we try to uproot and change all our habits at once, and it doesn’t happen. These habits may have been part of us for a very long time, yet we expect to change them swiftly.
This cycle can repeat again and again. It can be really disheartening. We try so hard but get nowhere fast.
What I’ve found, in making significant positive changes stick in my own life, is that often the small steps and habits that underpin them do not get enough attention. In fact, I believe there is an untapped magic in these seemingly small habits. They can support even the largest of goals.
From a Writer Who Didn’t Write to One Who Writes Lots
While writing doesn’t pay all my bills, I am most definitely a writer. I think a part of me always has been on some level. It’s something I am incredibly passionate about. It’s something I spend much time and energy on.
I meet lots of writers and want-to-be writers in my travels who talk of writing their first book or starting their own blogs. Truth be told, I think most of us think there’s a book in us that we will write someday.
When I dig a little deeper, it never ceases to amaze me how many of these same people haven’t yet developed a regular writing habit. It’s like wanting to run a marathon with their only preparation being walking 800 yards to the shops on a daily basis. The odds of it happening are slim, very slim.
That’s a shame, as writing a first book, or starting a blog, is a pretty amazing milestone for anyone who has a passion for the written word and sharing their ideas.
I shouldn’t be surprised this is the case, though. You see, I was one of these people for too many years. I promised to write more than I actually wrote. I thought about the books I was going to write without writing a word. I thought about ideas for articles without committing a single word to the page.
Thankfully, this has changed in the last several years. In fact, it’s changed to the tune of seven books and counting and hundreds of articles written for my own blog and other blogs. I’ve even been lucky enough to share several articles here with the wonderful Tiny Buddha community (thank you, Lori!). My words have now been read across the planet in many countries. My books have been purchased from most corners of the world.
I share this not to brag but to let you know that I have skin in this writing game, and any ideas that follow have been hard won and tested. Most importantly, none of this would have been possible if I had continued to stay in the self-imposed blocks I had put myself in.
Breaking the Big Goal Down into Smaller Steps (Write One Line)
When I was starting my writing journey, almost everything I read in terms of advice for the writer included some form of “write so many (500, 1000, etc.) words a day.” Well, this never really worked well for me. I tried it, and I failed regularly.
With full-time commitments elsewhere (an unrelated job, friends, hobbies, a relationship), the pressure of trying to hit a certain word count just did not fit for me. So, after many failed attempts to force it, I finally gave myself permission to try another route. I broke this down into an even tinier habit. I decided to commit to writing just one line a day.
Some days that one line turned into many pages of ideas, sometimes it was just one line. That’s okay; the habit and practice proved to be the important part of this process. It was something that worked for me, and I could stick with. It was something that pulled me out of my writing inertia and got me moving in a positive direction.
Why This Works
If we make the entry point low enough, we avoid the excuses not to do something. However, if we also make the entry point meaningful, we ingrain a habit that supports regular practical steps to get to done.
Five hundred words a day may be a more meaningful target for other writers, and it’s a target that is often shared by writers of note. Some writers commit to “two crappy pages a day.” Personally, I like to make the point of entry even lower at one line.
What I’ve found is that, more often than not, one line turns into many, and just getting started creates momentum. It also allows me to be liberal with how I use my time. I don’t feel pressure to have one big writing block per day; I can find time for multiple opportunities to write instead (a little and often approach sprinkled through the day). For those of us that also have external responsibilities and unrelated jobs, this approach can be especially useful.
One line is also a low enough entry point that I don’t feel bad if I miss a day completely. And sometimes I do have days where I won’t write a word. Not the trendy advice of the day perhaps, but it works just fine for me. I feel no guilt about missing a day but often find I’m twice as productive the day after a day missed and will get lots of ideas down.
A seemingly small habit has been the catalyst for much positive change in terms of my writing.
How We Can Apply This to Other Goals
My example includes my writing because this is something I’m passionate about. Writing may not be your thing, but the good news is, it doesn’t have to be. This approach travels and works for all sorts of goals. I know because I utilize it regularly for lots of personal goals.
What I’ve also found is that what appears to be a small habit change and new behavior can start to have a compound effect. We create positive momentum. We set ourselves up for success.
Tiny steps in the direction of a goal are still steps in that direction. There is a real magic to be found in linking steps together consistently. Big goals are fine as a guiding star, but they need to be supported with smaller steps. Developing these tiny, positive habits can support even the largest of goals. Wishful thinking will not.
Want to write a book? Get started by developing a regular writing habit. Maybe try my example of one line a day to get that done or try something else that will work for you.
Want to run a marathon? Commit to packing your kit for the morning as one micro habit. Then link this with other micro habits that support your goal, like committing to increasing your mileage gradually week by week. Don’t expect to run that marathon tomorrow unless you’ve already put lots of work in to get there.
Whatever your goal is, develop a regular practice to help get you closer to it. Set up simple habits that support this happening and that keep you accountable, while still being achievable. Commit to this, and amazing things can happen.
Micro Habits—Simple, Not Easy
This micro habit approach is incredibly simple, and that’s exactly where the power of it is. There are no tricks, hacks, or ninja secrets to concern ourselves with. No sales copy or complex points of entry to worry about. We can set our own rules or have no rules. It’s so simple it can, and will, work for us if we commit to it.
Simple doesn’t mean easy; this approach still takes work. And that’s a good thing, as our goals will be all the sweeter if we’ve applied ourselves along the way.
The larger the goal, the longer this process may take and the more habits we may need to stack together. We can, however, commit to embracing the process and journey for its own end, rather than being focused purely on the destination (the where we want to get to).
Give the micro habits approach a try in earnest. You may be surprised by where it takes you.
-
The Shy Person’s Guide to Making Your Dreams a Reality
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” ~Marianne Williamson
Light poured into the studio. We sat in a circle on the hardwood floor. We did some deep breathing and then the facilitator asked us to think about what we really wanted and didn’t have yet. She instructed us to speak it out loud in the present tense, as if it were already happening.
I was at a co-working space in downtown Toronto, and this was the daily opening where we set our intentions for the day and sometimes did reflective exercises like this one.
She started, “I own a yoga studio on the beach in Hawaii.” The next woman went. And then it was my turn.
As I saw my turn was coming, my breath got short. Anxiety coursed through my body. I didn’t feel ready. “Ummmm…. this is really scary,” I said. “I don’t know what to say.”
For a long time I’ve had difficulty saying what I want. When I was a teenager, I wouldn’t tell anyone when I had a crush on someone. I remember my younger sister would tell anyone who would listen that she had a crush on the boy in the McDonald’s commercial, and I was jealous of her boldness, but still wouldn’t tell a soul about my crushes.
My best friend in elementary school always had a boyfriend, and I never did. I didn’t date in high school either. I felt ashamed. I thought there was something wrong with me and that nobody liked me.
I thought that if I told my friends about my crush and then the person didn’t like me back, I would be seen as a failure. So it was better to keep my mouth shut.
And now, fifteen years later, I’m still scared to ask for what I want.
I’m thirty-one years old. And this was an incredibly safe space. I was surrounded by sensitive and supportive women, but I was terrified.
I put my face in my hands and made some high-pitched noise that I’m not even sure how to describe.
I sat up and looked at everyone. “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to try to say one sentence about what I want.” The butterflies in my stomach started going nuts.
“Why is this so hard??”
“Okay, breathe,” I said, then took a deep breath. “I want to have a big life.” I took another breath. “I want to impact a lot of people.”
The facilitator gently coaxed me, “Can you rephrase that to the present?”
“I have a big life. I’m impacting a lot of people,” I said, “I’m a healer.” And then I really felt like I was going to vomit.
Even in a circle of kind quiet women like me, it was incredibly difficult for me to claim my truth.
When I was growing up I was sensitive and shy, and to be totally honest I still am. When I was twenty-three years old, I landed my dream job working with marginalized youth. And when I was twenty-four, I burnt out from that job.
I understand what it feels like to want to make the world a better place but to get totally exhausted trying to do it. I want to help other sensitive souls realize it’s okay to rest, and to support them to heal, find their voices, and share their gifts.
But I had no idea that talking about what I wanted would be so hard. I’ve done a lot of work on myself: years of therapy and I’ve even spoken at conferences in front of large groups of people. And yet, somehow, saying these three sentences in front of six other kind, sensitive women seemed more difficult than everything else.
And honestly, if the question had been about my darkness, my cruelty, the part of me that hates, I would have no problem going into it. I can speak about my darkness with relative ease.
But my light? My gifts? Please bring me a trashcan to throw up in first.
Best selling author and spiritual teacher Marianne Williamson really hit the nail on the head with her quote “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”
This is me, 110%.
And although it’s difficult, I also know how incredibly effective it is to claim what you really want. It wasn’t until I went very public about what kind of qualities I wanted in a partner that I met the sweet and passionate guy I’m dating now.
I was sick of online dating so I actually made an entire webpage about the qualities I wanted in a partner. I posted it on Facebook and asked my friends to help me find the right person—and it took some time but eventually it worked.
I now know that if I’m not able to speak openly about my goals in life, I’ll never be able to fully go for them. And the same is true for you.
The good news is, if you’re shy like me and are having a hard time asking for what you really want, there are small steps you can take to start to go for it.
Here’s the Shy Person’s Guide to Making Your Dreams a Reality:
1. Notice who you envy, and why.
Sometimes when we’re shy we don’t even know what we want, because we may have felt too insecure to establish and set goals for ourselves. So the first step to going for what you want is figuring out exactly what that is.
And, surprisingly, envy can actually be really helpful for this.
Which famous people do you envy? Which of your friends? Is it your sister? A colleague? A cousin?
Once you have a list of a few people, ask yourself what you admire about their lives. Is it where they live? Their partner? Their job? Their confidence?
Now, it’s important to remember that just because you envy someone’s life, that doesn’t mean you want exactly what they have.
You might envy your friend who works online because she’s her own boss, but if you’re someone who’s happiest being surrounded by people, that lifestyle might not make sense for you. Perhaps in that case what you really envy is freedom—so the question you’d need to answer for yourself is: How can I create more freedom for myself? What choice would best align with my personality and values?
It’s also important to look beyond the surface when identifying people you envy. Sometimes we envy people who seem to garner a lot of respect and admiration—celebrities, for example. But as Kate Spade’s recent suicide showed, fame and success don’t guarantee happiness.
The point is to get clear on what might fulfill you, and why. So make notes and start to notice the common themes in those people you envy. As you do this, you’ll start to see the kind of life you really want.
2. Allow yourself to daydream.
Now that you have some clues about what you want, allow yourself to dream about it. If you have a journal, write about it. If you’re more visual, make a collage or do a drawing. Or, alternatively, go for a walk and let your mind daydream about it.
This might sounds totally silly, but I actually made a PowerPoint about what I wanted my business to look like years ago. It wasn’t a public presentation and I only shared it with two or three close friends. But I stumbled upon it the other day and was amazed by how much of what I envisioned had come through.
So use whatever medium works best for you to envision your dream life!
3. Talk about your dreams.
Once you’ve gotten clearer about what they are, tell a good friend or your partner about your dreams. I like to start these kinds of conversations by saying something like, “I’m nervous to tell you about this, and I’m not ready to have any feedback on it yet, but what I really want is…”
Start small. Just tell one tiny part of your dream. See how it feels. See how your friend reacts. If it feels good, tell them a little bit more.
The last thing you want when you’re nurturing a new dream is for someone to stomp all over it. So if the friend doesn’t react in a supportive way, don’t say anything else. Find someone else who will be gentle and supportive of your dream.
Once you’ve practiced talking about it and got some support from friends or family members, it’s time to take it to the next level. Start to bring it up more often.
I know for us shy-types this can be really difficult, but take it one step, one person, one conversation at a time. And remember, there’s nothing more inspiring at a lunch with friends or family event than to hear about what someone’s really passionate about.
As you begin to talk about these things more, it will help you to take small steps toward making your dream a reality. You’ll begin to build your confidence and you might even make connections that’ll help you to get there.
4. Talk about your strengths.
What are you really good at? What do people always ask you for help with? If you’re anything like me, it’s easy to talk about your darkness, your procrastination, your bad habits, but it’s probably hard for you to talk about what you’re good at.
So start by journaling about this and then practice telling close friends or family members.
Does it make you want to vomit? Don’t worry, you’re not alone.
I’ve started doing this recently, and one thing that really helps me is to tell the person that I’m practicing talking about my strengths. I start by saying something like, “I’m really good at talking about my challenges and have realized that I’m really bad at talking about my strengths. I want to practice, so I’m going to practice saying one good thing about me. Are you okay with that?”
Once I have my friend’s support, it becomes much easier to say something. And even if I fumble with my words—which, believe me, I do—they’re usually really supportive because they know I’m doing something that’s difficult for me.
And I promise it’ll get easier with practice. So start by saying one strength to one friend and build from there.
5. Don’t just talk—take action!
As you tell people about your goals and strengths, they might introduce you to people who can help you, offer their support, or share helpful resources.
And even if they don’t, there are small actions you can begin to take. If your dream is to be a painter, buy some paints and do your first painting. If your dream is to live by the beach, book a weekend getaway to one of the beach towns you’re considering and check it out.
Whatever your dream is, you can take a baby step toward making it a reality, and those steps will lead you to where you want to go.
And yes, it’ll sometimes be terrifying. I know that it’s not easy to do. So take one small risk at a time and slowly, step-by-step, you’ll move in a new direction.
The more you’re able to share about your dreams and strengths, the easier it’s going to be for you to get what you want. And even if you don’t get exactly what you think you want, you’ll probably be far more fulfilled just by being on a path that excites you.
Even as a shy person, you deserve to have a full and beautiful life. So start taking small steps today to get you there.
-
When You Reframe Your Breakup as an Opportunity, Everything Changes
“Sometimes the most uncomfortable learning is the most powerful.” ~Brené Brown
Seems impossible, doesn’t it?
How can you look at your breakup as an opportunity when it feels like someone cut your right arm off and ripped out your heart?
Breakups can be rough. When you open yourself up to another person, love them unconditionally, and compromise your own needs for the “betterment of the relationship,” you put yourself all-in. It’s no surprise that you feel lost, confused, and unwilling to move on when that connection is torn away from you. You gave everything to your relationship and now it’s gone. Forever.
Breakups have taught me something that I never learned in school: I’ve learned that losing love is hard. Brutally hard. I experienced more pain after the toughest breakup of my life than completing an engineering degree, doing standup comedy for the first time, and walking 400 kilometers in two weeks with 50 pounds on my back. When I lost my soul mate, I didn’t know how I was going to move on.
At first, I didn’t. I did everything I could do to escape, suppress, and avoid my feelings. I wasn’t nice to my body. I cried in the shower. I hid in the park close to my apartment since I was still living with my ex for a month after the breakup.
It was my “grieving period.” We all need one after a breakup. But although we all need different lengths of time to grieve, it’s important to put a time limit on it. Since I knew I was going to be living with my ex until we got our arrangements sorted out, I decided that I was going to give myself that month to grieve. And grieve, I did! I was a drunk, unproductive puddle of sadness.
Eventually I said goodbye to my ex, my cat, and my apartment. I cried on the metro on the way to my buddy’s condo. That first night away from the place I’d called home for years was brutal. But I knew my grieving period was over in the morning. And the next day, I got to work.
The road to recovery wasn’t easy. There were many ups and downs. But I stayed focused on letting go and moving on in the healthiest way I could.
That was two years ago, and I’m proud to say that I did let go and move on from the toughest breakup of my life. I’m a better version of myself today than I’ve ever been and I’m still a work in progress. We all are.
When I was recovering from my breakup, I did a lot of “reframing.” I tried looking at things through new perspectives so I could develop more understanding and empathy, for my ex and for myself. Today, with the advantage of hindsight, I can put my finger on an idea, or reframe, that helped me start moving on faster:
Breakups are an end, but they are also an opportunity for a fresh start.
First, a breakup is the end. Accept it. If you’re reading this and thinking, “Maybe I can still get my ex back if I just do this…” then you’re reading the wrong article. Because if your mind is set on getting your ex back, this is not your new beginning. At best it’s a rerun of the same show that’s been playing for too long.
Because guess what? When a breakup happens and people get back together, usually they break up again. And again. And again. The chances that you’ll get back with your ex and everything will improve and they’ll change into the perfect partner is as likely as me playing first base for the Yankees.
But just because you accept this as the end of your relationship doesn’t make it a negative experience. Most things come to an end in our lives—jobs, friendships, lives, your favorite Netflix series, the tub of cookie dough ice cream in your freezer (okay, in my freezer).
When one door closes another opens. You just have to have the guts to lock the old door behind you and walk through the new one.
I realized that my breakup was my opportunity to:
- Do things I’d wanted to do for a long time but hadn’t because I had a partner to consider in every decision I made.
- Peel back the layers and look within myself to see where I was going wrong in my romantic relationships, and most importantly, how I could improve so that I would be better in my next relationship.
- Reconnect with friends and family who had been relegated to the sidelines for five years because my relationship consumed a lot of time and energy.
- Meet new people and get excited about a fresh chance at love.
- Inspire other people to get over their breakups without the typical clichés and bad advice.
Let’s face it, you’re here on Tiny Buddha because you’re interested in self-improvement and self-growth. You’re on a journey toward becoming a better version of yourself. That’s why if you’re struggling to let go and move on after a breakup, you need to reframe it right now so you can continue on your journey.
You need to tell yourself this is your opportunity to become better. This is your chance to fix things that went wrong in your past relationship so next time you don’t end up with a partner who isn’t right for you.
Remember, relationships end for a reason.
You and your ex had your problems. Sure, you had love and a deep connection, but did you also have rock-solid communication, clear boundaries, and unwavering honesty? Did you share the same core values?
I’ll say it again: relationships end for a reason. And when it happens, it’s okay. Your ex wasn’t the only person on the planet who is capable of loving you. On the contrary, if you use your breakup as an opportunity to improve things about yourself, you will attract a partner with whom you’ll find so much more love and connection that you’ll wonder how you lasted as long as you did in your past relationship.
That’s what life is all about. None of us get things right on the first go. Finding a soul mate is no different than learning a new language or getting in shape. You have to practice. Look at your ex and breakup as a practice round. Because of that relationship, you’re stronger, smarter, and more prepared for the next one.
This is your time. It’s your opportunity to sort through your past relationship issues and figure out how to be better.
Because no matter what, we all play a role in our breakups. Even if you were lied to, cheated on, duped, or betrayed, you still played a role. That might be hard to hear, but it’s true. My mom always said, “It takes two to tango.” And my mom ain’t no fool.
I had to get comfortable with my role in my breakup, too. I was no angel.
I had to accept that I hadn’t been true to my core values. I wanted children, my ex didn’t. Still, I put that to the side because we were in love. I also realized I had a lingering fear of commitment. I was still battling with jealousy and insecurity issues even though I thought I’d left them behind in an earlier long-term relationship. It wasn’t easy accepting those things about myself, but when I did I knew exactly where the nuts and bolts needed to be tightened. And I got to work.
For you, perhaps there were co-dependency issues or a need for validation. Maybe you stayed for the sake of the children, the dog, or the mortgage. Who knows. But I do know that you played a role and you need to accept that before you can move on.
Looking in the mirror and accepting the not-so-good things about ourselves is difficult. People resist peeling back the layers of their personality because it means leaving themselves vulnerable and exposed.
But you’re different. You understand the importance and power of vulnerability. And your breakup is the best chance you might ever have to rebuild yourself in the image that makes you feel like the confident champion you dream of being.
I know your breakup sucks. I know you miss your ex and still have love for them. I know it’s hard looking to the future and wondering if you’ll ever meet your true soul mate.
Remember: the greatest opportunities for growth in our lives come when we’re the most uncomfortable. And a tough breakup takes us way outside our comfort zones.
That discomfort is your opportunity. Accept it, embrace it, and cherish it. Big breakups don’t come around often. This is an exciting time! You’ve proven to yourself that you’re brave enough to take a risk on love. Just because the relationship is over doesn’t take away that bravery. Now it’s time to be courageous in the face of adversity.
And guess what? If you can shake off your breakup in a productive, healthy way, it’ll build new skills and resilience for the next time a difficult, unexpected life event happens. Jobs will be lost. Friends will drift away. People will die. Change is inevitable in your life. Now is your opportunity to prepare yourself for those times that will come whether you like it or not.
A breakup is your opportunity to show everyone around you—friends, family, colleagues—how gritty you can be. It’s going to be hard work. It’s never easy coming to terms with our limiting beliefs, fears, and ghost in our closets.
You have an important choice to make:
You can choose to sit in your basement waiting for “time to heal” and hoping that by some miracle you’ll get better.
Or you can choose to look at your breakup as an opportunity to improve the way you show up in your relationships so you can attract the right type of person into your life.
You will let go and you will move on. But you have to start, today. The last thing you want is to look back on this moment and realize you waited too long to accept this as your opportunity. Time is too precious to waste feeling stuck.
