Tag: wisdom
-
How I Stopped Feeling Trapped in a Life I Didn’t Want
“Stop thinking in terms of limitations and start thinking in terms of possibilities.” ~Terry Josephson
When I was in my early twenties I was lucky enough to spend about a year living just a few blocks from the beach in Virginia Beach, Virginia, but you know what I remember most distinctly from that time? Sitting at a red light on the way to work one day thinking: I feel trapped.
To put it simply, I felt stuck in a life I didn’t want.
I had a college degree I wasn’t using. I had a job that I dreaded. I had no idea where I was going or what I was doing, and I certainly had no idea how to get to the next thing, whatever that was.
By the end of that year, I’d managed to move away from Virginia and was living back in Vermont, a place I’d originally landed at for a few months right after I finished college. The trapped feeling was gone, at least for a little while.
I was able to go from seasonal job to part-time job and back again for about a year, and that helped me feel not quite so tied down. Eventually I left Vermont and moved to the mountains of North Carolina.
Over the years, that trapped feeling wrapped its tendrils around my chest and squeezed a number of times, but recently I realized I haven’t felt that way in quite a while.
What was it that made me feel so trapped in the past? Why haven’t I been feeling that way anymore? For me, I think it comes down to career and identity. I spent much of my life wondering what I wanted to be when I grew up, and went from job to job, often ending up feeling like I was caged in.
I had a job working at an inn that I really loved. Sometimes I was bored, but mostly I felt at least a little freedom, especially once I was the boss and could make my own schedule.
After a few years of that, I took a job at an airport that was such an awful fit I can’t even put it into words. I was bored, lonely, and anxious, and caught more colds than I ever have in my life.
There was some good in that job, though, in that I started expressing my creative side again, something that had been dormant for a long time. Being miserable also forced me to take a look at the choices I was making in my life and career.
I had other boring jobs after that one, and then one really terrible one that went against just about every moral fiber in my body. The owners made their politics very clear and they were the polar opposite of mine. I was expected to be on call almost all the time; if my work phone rang when I was at home, fear filled my heart.
Once again, I felt trapped.
It was worse than ever at this job because I was the sole breadwinner while my husband was in school. I knew it was a terrible fit, but I felt I couldn’t leave.
Looking back, though, while all of that was going on, I was refining and honing what it was I truly wanted and who I truly was.
I read a zillion self-help and career books. I took a life coach training program. I started meditating.
Most importantly, I started listening to myself. Or maybe I should say my Self.
I started following the things that felt true to me. Being inside an office all day simply was not working, and I wanted to work for myself, not for someone else.
I needed to be creative. I needed to be able to go outside in the middle of the day. I needed freedom.
I left that last terrible job nearly four years ago, and visits from those tendrils of terror don’t come very often anymore, despite the fact that I’m much more tied down than I ever have been before (hello mortgage, car payment, husband, two cats, and child).
The bottom line is that I finally feel like I’m living my life instead of someone else’s.
I do hold a job again, but it’s super flexible, doing something I mostly enjoy. I create art almost every day, and both the process of putting colors to canvas and earning money from something I enjoy so much bring me big feelings of freedom.
I also get to be outside in the middle of the day, which brings me more happiness than I ever could have imagined. I get to set big goals and move toward them at my own pace. I get to control my life in ways I didn’t before.
I feel like me, and it feels so good.
Here are some steps of the steps I took to get from there to here, and that you can try, too, if you feel trapped in your life.
Listen to your body. This has helped me more times than I can count. If your chest feels tight, if your stomach is in knots, if your shoulders are up to your neck, or if you feel just plain off, you need to stop and listen to what your body is telling you.
Your body is the animal part of you, in touch with your deepest needs and desires. It’s your brain that keeps interfering and telling you the kind of life you “should” be living. Try checking in with your body at least once a day and seeing what makes it feel open and relaxed, then do more of that.
Know you can make progress even if it doesn’t feel like it. For years and years I tried to get out of that cycle of being stuck in a job I hated, trying to do something new but then realizing it wasn’t the right fit, and then starting the whole thing over again. It’s only looking back now that I see I was getting closer and closer and learning more and more each time I did something different—I just didn’t see it at the time.
Take the tiniest steps possible. When I was in that job that I really hated, it would have created more stress and anxiety in my life if I’d quit, since I was the one bringing in the money and because, about a year after I started the job, I got pregnant and needed the health insurance. So I took tiny steps while I was there: I made art on the weekends, I took an online class about building my own business, I went outside and walked by the ocean a lot.
If you do anything, and I mean anything at all, that moves you closer to a place of peace or excitement, please give yourself a pat on the back. There is nothing wrong with congratulating yourself and telling yourself what a good job you’re doing. It will keep you moving forward and help you build momentum.
Look for the positive. There is something good in all of our experiences if we take the time to look for it. That job was a positive for me because I could support our family while I was there, and because I learned what I didn’t want in a job.
I feel the same about all of my jobs and even all of my past relationships. Even if it wasn’t the right fit, I learned something about myself and what I did or didn’t want out of a job or a partner.
Every time you experience something, you can learn from it and use it to move away from what you don’t want and toward what you do want. Focus on the good you’re finding, and more good comes. Focus on the bad you’re feeling, and the more you’ll feel bad.
Learn to live with uncertainty. You just can’t know everything, and that’s okay. I got a life coaching certification, personal training certification, and master’s degree in health education before I realized that none of that would help me feel free. Until I found it, I didn’t know what would give me that feeling, and I was (mostly) okay with that. I was trying new things, seeing what felt right.
You don’t need to know exactly what’s going to happen to know you’re on the right path. So long as you’re taking chances and learning about yourself, you are.
Lastly, don’t discount little things that make you happy. I used to think that art was just something that I did when I was a kid that couldn’t amount to much, and the pleasure it brings to me in my adult life, both on a personal and professional level, is tremendous.
If it feels good, go toward it. If it feels bad, move away from it, even if you have to do it slowly.
You don’t have to feel trapped in a life you don’t want forever. You can make changes, even tiny incremental ones, and get into a life that feels just right for you.
-
7 Self-Love Practices That Helped Me Heal from a Devastating Divorce
“Unlike self-criticism, which asks if you’re good enough, self-compassion asks what’s good for you?” ~Kristin Neff
My husband and family were my world. Although I’d found joy in my passion of writing, my heart revolved around my marriage. I thought we were happy. Then one day, he dropped the bomb: “I don’t love you anymore.”
Two weeks later, I found out he’d fallen in love with another woman who lived across the world. He didn’t want me anymore.
Sure, I’d known for a while something was wrong—that knowing deep in your gut that you can’t put your finger on, that tackles you in the quiet hours of the night, making it hard for you to sleep. That taunts you with fear when he doesn’t act as loving toward you as he used to. But I ignored it, because he was my world.
I’d fallen in love with him at a time when my self-esteem wasn’t too good. Social rejection at school, losing a parent at a young age, and being steeped in a very strict religion had all played their parts in making me feel that I wasn’t good enough. He made me feel loved and wanted. I was codependent and I didn’t even know it.
The next few months, after he took the rug out from under my world, I felt like I was dying. The pain, the rejection, and the hurt were all-encompassing, but I had a little light inside me. It was called hope. I suddenly had this hunger to heal, to become strong, and to find my truth. I began my self-love journey.
It all started when I read Choosing Me Before We, by Christine Arylo. She spoke about self-love in her amazing book. I realized that if I ever went into another relationship, I would put myself first. I wouldn’t go into something giving and giving and giving, knowing my own needs weren’t met. I would run far away from a man who used me in any way. I would turn away from anything less than true intimacy and love.
The problem was, in the loneliness, I entered into a rebound relationship, despite what I’d decided. The deep hole left in my heart made me blind to how harmful it was. The relationship was much worse than anything I’d experienced in my sometimes dysfunctional marriage. I had to learn the hard way. I eventually turned away, eyes finally wide open. But I’ve grown. And grown.
This is how I’ve healed through self-love, because self-love is the foundation of emotional and mental well-being.
Non-Judgment
When divorce hits you right between the eyes, you get flung into the five stages of grief with no mercy. They assault your soul like a tsunami. But they also wash over you and heal you.
I learned to let myself grieve. It was painful. I had to keep coming back to the same pain and sorrow, the same anger and “why?” questions, over and over again. But I let the waves hit me again and again. After awhile, they were smaller, gentler, more manageable.
I didn’t judge myself for my pain. I grew in my self-compassion and non-judgment. I learned to love, nurture, and coddle myself. Gentleness was my motto. And that helped me heal.
Self-Respect
When you’re steeped in a judgmental, strict religion, it’s hard to grow up with self-respect. You believe you were born in sin, and that you are this weak being who is bound by it. You are hard on yourself because of the rules imposed on you.
As the scales fell away from my eyes, I began to see that I’m a beautiful being. I’m worthy of respect. I am good to the core. We all are, but sometimes the mirror is cracked.
It’s hard to always respect yourself, but once I made that decision, I grew by leaps and bounds. I also realized how my ex’s words and actions had broken me down at times—or more so, I’d allowed his perception of me to affect the way I saw myself.
Now I could accept myself no matter whether I was having a good hair day or not, and even though I wasn’t this skinny youngster anymore. I could accept myself even when I didn’t act like a saint or I didn’t feel great! Non-judgment—I’m a work in progress.
No matter what shape my body is, I respect it because it’s beautiful and does amazing things. I still have bad days when I want to pull my curls out as they don’t cooperate or I want to get rid of the rolls around my middle, but then, mindfully, I remind myself that it’s the heart that matters. And that society has lied to me on what is beautiful. Society has honored perfection, not authenticity and true beauty.
Boundaries
This is a hard one for me, but as I’ve begun to set boundaries around me, to protect myself from people taking advantage, my sense of safety has increased. I’ve chosen to be single for now, as I know I’m not ready to enter into a relationship without falling back into codependency and losing myself again. I’m relishing in my freedom and the growth of self-love.
If I entered into a relationship now, I wouldn’t keep up the right boundaries because I would jump over hoops to keep this person in my life—hoops that hurt me. I have often given parts of myself to a man before I wanted to, just to keep him interested. No more!
Boundaries comes in all shapes and sizes, and whenever we say “yes” when we want to say “no,” we are being unkind to ourselves. It’s hard because there is a spot inside of us that loves to help and please people. And it feeds something in us. So, we have to find the balance. I’m a student of self-love and I’m learning the balance every day.
Self-Nuture
I’ve learned to find ways to nuture myself, and I’ve actually had a blast. In making sure I have a daily spiritual ritual, I’ve bought myself a few special things, I’ve joined a dance group to meet people and to just have fun, and I’ve taken up a hobby to just unwind; I’m thoroughly enjoying my freedom.
I didn’t realize how much of my energy I’d put into making my husband happy. All because I was afraid he would leave me. I bent over backward for him and oftentimes, didn’t feel free to just be myself and put “me” first.
I’m loving putting me first; even with having three teens to look after and running a busy household, my downtime is my time. It’s been healing my soul. I feel like I’m just starting on this journey of self-nuture and self-love. I can’t wait to discover more. But even the little bit I’ve learned has changed my whole mindset on life.
A Spiritual Practice
I began a meditation practice around about the time my marriage broke down. It grew as my desperation grew, especially during a very difficult time after experiencing crime as a single woman. This practice has become the lifeblood of my existence. It has helped me to calm deep anxiety, find peace, grow spiritually, and learn mindfulness.
As I’ve become more mindful, I’ve grown aware of when I sabotage myself with negativity and anxiety. It’s not always easy. But I have hope and my peace is growing.
Meditation has taught me how to be me and how to connect with the divine. It’s taught me the value of silence and taking things slower, of breathing and resting. The joy of listening and tapping into higher consciousness and the higher self.
Alongside my meditation practice, I also have a self-Reiki practice every day to balance my energy, heal me, and give me peace.
I’ve been devouring spiritual books and growing in my faith in the Universe and my knowledge. I’ve opened my eyes to see truth in many faiths and practices. It’s enlightened my soul. It’s put me on the path of love and peace.
Self-Knowledge
I’ve learned to tap into my intuition. Yes, I’ve had several men take an interest in me. I’ve learned to say “no,” because my gut says “no.” It’s been hard. When you’re lonely, you’re keen to have someone in your life, but I’ve learned to listen to that voice inside and say “no” when it hasn’t felt right deep in my gut.
I’ve grown in my intuition practice by doing Reiki, reading oracle and tarot cards for myself (such a powerful mirror into the soul), practicing soul writing, and just plain going with that deep, inner voice. I’ve grown more aware of miracles and synchronicities; I’ve grown in gratefulness.
Finding tools to get in touch with my higher self / Spirit has been essential in this time of my life. I’ve had to grow up fast. When I married my husband, I was young and naïve. He was the main breadwinner and head of the home. I’ve had to learn greater responsibilities and make big decisions for my family, instead of relying on him to steer the ship.
Being able to access my higher self has led me to make more guided and calmer decisions. It’s increased my sense of peace and wholeness as I’m following my true desires and that still, gentle voice that’s deep inside. It’s enabled me to navigate difficult relationships and situations with a sound mind. Yes, I sometimes get it wrong, but it’s like a fitness routine—the more you practice it, the better you get.
Letting Go
I think the hardest part for me has been to let go and forgive. Together, hurt and resentment have been the one wave that has broken most violently upon my shore. But part of self-love is forgiveness.
We only harm ourselves when we refuse to forgive those who have hurt us. Yet, as much as we know this fact, it’s not always possible to feel forgiveness straight away. In fact, it’s taken me one and a half years since that dreadful day to start to see the light. Today, I prayed for the well-being of my ex and the woman he left me for. And I meant it! I want their highest good.
The thing that has actually helped me to forgive the most is to realize my own worthiness. As soon as I chose to believe that I wasn’t responsible for what happened or that there wasn’t something dreadfully flawed about me which made him leave me, the desire to blame disintegrated. I released and validated myself and it became easier to release him. I began to see him as a human being with his own hurt and pain—that’s why he’d hurt me.
I have to choose daily to release him and what happened back to the Universe. I choose daily to believe that what has happened is being used for my good. And it is. I can see how much I’ve grown. I can see how love has worked this whole thing out to make me feel more loved and more supported.
What I’d deeply feared happened to me, and I’m still okay. I’m more than okay! I now know that it will always be okay. That deep inside, no matter what happens to us, we’ll be okay. We are whole; we are love; we are connected. We are growing and evolving toward better beings. We are deeply, irrevocably loved!! I’m going to practice that love every day. It’s called self-love.
-
What’s Helped Me Get Out of My Head and Do Things That Scare Me
“Don’t let the fear of what could happen make nothing happen.” ~Unknown
I knew it was coming.
But as I sat there on the first day of the seminar, my stomach still did a little turn when the trainer announced the exercise we’d be doing over our lunch break:
The dreaded pizza walk!
I knew this was the trainer’s wry (but equally as unnerving) riposte to Tony Robbins’ famous fire walks. But right then, I would have much rather taken my chances with the coals.
The idea is simple: Go into a shop, restaurant, or other public establishment and make an absurd and bold request; for example, walk into a hardware store and ask for a pizza.
Easy? Maybe.
As we broke for dinner there was lots of nervous chatter amongst the trainees, but I chose not to engage with the others. I wanted to get out there and face these pizza demons as soon as possible.
Now, the aim of the exercise on one level seemed obvious: to teach us to be more forthright, in businesses, in our relationships, in life.
The bolder the requests we make, the less ridiculous they’ll seem, and the easier it will be to make other bold requests. Thus we can go home and feel more comfortable speaking our truth, asking for what we want, and generally showing up in life more confidently.
Or so I thought. Because what I actually learned from this exercise was much more powerful.
After leaving the building where we’d been, I walked down the main street, which was in fact the Baker Street.
So, as I passed Sherlock’s ‘house’ and the eager tourists queuing outside, I began looking around for my target.
There were a few souvenir shops I could pick. A Subway restaurant (of course!), a few bars, but nothing that really took my fancy.
(Or rather, if I’m honest, I knew I had an hour to do this and it all felt too edgy and I wanted to put it off as long as possible.)
So I ducked into a Nando’s Restaurant and had some chicken. (Oh, the irony!)
As I ate my half Piri Piri chicken (medium-hot with rice, if you’re interested), I contemplated my task.
It felt silly to be so up in my head and nervous about this simple, innocuous exercise.
What was the worst that would happen? Perhaps a bemused stare from the shop worker at best.
So why was I shaking just thinking about it?
If you’re thinking I’m being daft and wussy as you read this, I encourage you to try this for yourself. It’s not as easy as it seems. In fact, making that bold request can feel pretty scary.
But then again, is that really true?
Because the insight I had next changed a lot of things for me.
You see, I realized that what the trainer actually wanted us to learn from this experience was something completely different from my original notion.
As the clock ticked away and I saw that we were due back in ten minutes, I knew it was now or never. I had to make my absurd request. I had to do the pizza walk.
I also knew that I had to just get it done, to stop waiting to feel ready and just get to it. Action was key.
So as I passed the next shop, a newsagent, I went in. I strolled up to the counter, looked the guy straight in the eyes, and, poker-faced, said:
“Can I have a cheeseburger and large fries please?”
And it was weird.
My immediate feeling in that moment was actually one of real elation. I felt dizzy but happy, like I’d just nervously jumped out of a plane and now found that my parachute had opened and I could enjoy the float to earth.
Of course, the man behind the counter didn’t appear to be experiencing any of this. He just looked a little confused and taken aback.
Yet I also felt there was something else present in him. Compassion maybe? Concern?
I’d jarred us both out of our day-to-day reality and allowed us to be supremely present with each other. We connected on a deeper level.
In that moment, we dropped out of being on autopilot and a more profound interaction could take place.
(Again, I’m not sure that the man behind the counter assessed it all this way, but I felt it!)
Next he kind of stuttered something about having some sandwiches in the chiller, and I was suddenly overcome with warmth toward him—that even in this bizarre situation he was trying to help this strange man at his counter.
From nowhere I heard myself say:
“It doesn’t matter about the cheeseburger actually. I’ll have a Lotto scratchcard, but can you make sure it’s the winning one?”
I was having fun now. Still totally present and enjoying this interaction.
Thankfully. I think my new friend was beginning to enjoy it too, as he play acted choosing the right scratchcard, which he assured me was the winning one.
I thanked him, paid, and left. As I stepped outside onto that cold February afternoon I saw something I’d not truly, insight-fully seen up to now.
You see, I’d spent the last hour stuck in my head worrying about this event.
I’d been living in an imagined future where the event went really bad, where I felt silly, where I was ridiculed. And these thoughts had made me really fearful of making this silly request. My confidence had dropped and it had almost stopped me from taking part.
But what actually happened was that when I did make the request I was truly in the moment. I was living in real life, not in my imagination about what this might look like.
And more importantly, in the moment I was so much more resilient, confident, creative, and connected than I’d given myself credit for. So much so that I forgot all about that imagined reality and just lived in actual reality.
This insight was massive for me because that’s how we can all be, quite a lot of the time.
This is how we can show up with our careers, in our relationships, in life.
We get so stuck in our thinking that we can almost talk ourselves out of doing things we want to do.
We second-guess ourselves, we make stuff up about what people might think about us, and then we sit with those thoughts and go over and over them until they start to look real. In that process we always underestimate our resilience and our moment-to-moment creativity.
What I really saw that day was that it’s never the future event we fear. It’s only ever our thinking about that future event.
And if it’s just our own thinking—and not the imagined, self-created ‘event’—then why do we give it so much attention?
I see now that there have been loads of times in the past when I’ve worried and stressed about things, only for them to be fine, even enjoyable when they actually happened.
I’m sure you’ve got lots of examples you can recall right now as you think about your own life.
The more we can explore this and shine a light on what’s going on, the more grounded and confident we become.
What would it mean to you if you could use all this anxious energy for good use?
What would it mean if you could quickly drop out of worrying about future events and stay present?
Let’s be clear here, we are only ever able to do anything right now, in this moment. When we live in that scary future world we have no power. We don’t exist there except in our thinking.
By exploring this deeper, I know it’s allowed me to be calmer, more confident, and more productive in my work. A better human being even.
I don’t take things so personally any more. I don’t spend needless hours and days worrying about what might happen.
I stay more in the moment, which means when I’m at work I’m no longer in my head wondering if people will want to hire me, or what they think of me, or if I’m going to be able to get them the results they want. When I’m with friends and loved ones I’m not living in my thinking about what’s going on; I’m enjoying being present and in the now with them.
This frees up my attention to really listen to what they’re saying, to connect with them on a deeper level. And in doing so I can have so much more impact than if I was trying to second-guess the situation or worrying about what will happen next.
How do you stay more present?
Remind yourself that, no matter how real the future event looks in your mind, your feelings don’t indicate anything about the outcome of that event; they are just a response to your thoughts in that moment.
Your feelings have no idea what will happen in the future.
Like me, you might just find that what, in your imagination, seems really scary is actually incredibly liberating and enjoyable when it actually happens.
So next time you catch yourself stuck in your head, simply take a moment to step back and notice where your attention is.
Is it in your thinking, or in life?
In asking yourself this you’ll automatically drop back into life, where you have everything you need to really connect with the person in front of you.
And if you were wondering, it wasn’t the winning scatchcard.
You can’t win ’em all!
-
Life Is Fragile: Make Time for What Matters and Let Go of What Doesn’t
“Life is precious as it is. All the elements for your happiness are already here. There is no need to run, strive, search, or struggle. Just be.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh
I lost one of my very best friends when we were both just twenty-nine years old. In the time since, I’ve thought about him on most days.
Thinking about him sometimes makes me well up and feel sad. Sometimes it makes me think about the hole him not being here has left. Selfishly, perhaps, I think about how much I miss him.
Sometimes I laugh aloud at the thought of a funny moment we shared, or a personal trait he had. I often draw inspiration from the zest for life he had, his drive to succeed.
Although he died at a relatively early age we had been firm friends since we were twelve when, realizing he lived on my street, I walked up to him in class and introduced myself and we started to walk to and from school together.
That was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. As kids, we spent the evenings hitting tennis balls until it got dark or listening to music and talking about girls. As we grew, we shared lots of firsts together—first holidays away without parents, first serious girlfriends, first homes, first relationship heartbreaks. In his case, him becoming a father.
We celebrated, we laughed, we cried, we got into mischief, we supported each other. We did all the things really close friends do for each other over the course of many years.
Brad had a zest for life. Always the first up on the dance floor at a party. Always ready with a funny anecdote or story. He had a genuineness that most people warmed to. I was, and am, lucky to call him my friend.
Sometimes I think how unfair it is that was cut short so early, even though I am aware that cancer is no respecter of age or what type of person you are.
Most often, though, thinking about him now brings a clarity and peace to my thoughts. Problems I had been focused on melt away. I gain a fresh perspective because I become acutely aware of how precious this life is.
The Fragility of Life
We all lose people we’re close to if we stick around long enough ourselves. This is an inconvenient truth of life. There is a fragility to it.
There are no guarantees. No order or set amount of time our loved ones will be there for us. No promise that how we feel, and what we can do today, will be how we feel and what we can do tomorrow. No promise that the health and relative wealth we enjoy today will be with us in the morning.
Facing up to the fragility of life can be scary. It can also be empowering. It can help us hold onto a perspective that supports us living a life rich with positive experiences. It can leave us with a conviction to make the most of our days.
Applying Focus to Our Days
One of the great ironies of our lives is that so many of us choose to stay busy, but then we complain that we don’t have time for our passion projects and goals. We put things off until tomorrow, as if we have unlimited time to make our dreams happen.
The book we promised to write.
The new skill we put off another year to learn.
The dream trip we promised ourselves and our family for the last five years.
We all do it, too much of the time.
When we view life through the lens of having a finite amount of time, we are more likely to make better use of that time.
Gratitude for the Way Things Are
While striving for new goals is to be admired, we also need to learn to enjoy the present moment. To make time to enjoy our successes, small and big, and celebrate the way things are.
Traveling has become a passion for me, mostly because I married someone that has the travel bug who has opened up the world to me, literally. I get to travel more than most—it’s a priority in our lives. Dream trips have become a reality for me. However, I don’t take this for granted.
Every time I travel and visit somewhere new for the very first time, I’ll take a moment to pause and reflect on how lucky I am to experience this new adventure. I pause to think about the friend I lost, and others that are not so lucky. I try to embrace this feeling of gratitude fully. It helps me experience this new place on a deeper level.
I try to hold onto this feeling and let it spill over into other areas of my life. When I gain some perspective, I realize that many of my problems are fairly minor.
My train is running late, and when it turns up it’s packed.
The coffee machine has broken, and I can’t get my regular latte from my favorite café on the commute into work.
What do all of the above ‘problems’ have in common? They are, of course, first world problems. There are so many people in the world worse off than I am—people that endure unimaginable hardships on a daily basis, just trying to live their lives.
I try to remember this so I don’t overlook the precious gifts I already have in my life, and so I don’t complain about “how tough I have it,” when really, I’m only dealing with minor annoyances and inconveniences.
I’m not always successful of course. I still get in my own way more often than I should, as we all do from time to time. I’m a work in progress, but practicing gratitude has helped me keep perspective.
Learning to Let Things Go
Anger, hate, regret, envy, disappointment. All can become toxic emotions that eat us up.
None of these emotions are really useful, or get us very far, yet we hold onto them, as if they are fuel.
In my own case, I can, and do, take inspiration from others, but I am aware that if I start to compare too much, envy can follow. I have to watch this.
If I even come close to feeling envy for someone else that I perceive to have more success than me, or be somewhere I want to be, I try to remind myself that I don’t know how these people actually feel.
I don’t know what their story is or how much they have had to sacrifice. I don’t know if they are truly happy, or they’re just masking deep insecurity or self-doubt with lies and a smile. This helps me let go of the desire to compare and simply commit to my own journey.
The same is true of regret. It’s an emotion I have done my best to distance myself from. I’m human and I make mistakes, mistakes I don’t want to repeat. I’ve hurt people close to me that I never want to hurt again with foolish acts or careless words at times. But beating myself up again and again for those mistakes is futile. It’s a waste of the precious life I am lucky to live.
I’m someone that believes in living life. I have lessons to learn, and can use those to fuel me trying to be a better version of me.
Maybe this outlook and approach to life is all part of the aging and maturing process. Or maybe it’s because I’ve gained a rounder perspective of who I am and how lucky I am, and learned to let go of these emotions. Seeing them for what they are, a waste of my focus.
And to be totally transparent, I am very much still a work in progress. I’m far from Zen-like calm all of the time. I still get frustrated at things I shouldn’t. I can still overreact to situations at times. I can still carry a grudge more than I would like to. I still feel the bitter feeling of disappointment in others at times, even though I know this is more about my own expectations than them. I’m getting better at letting things go but I still have a way to go.
When we truly embrace the fact that our lives are precious, we can choose to leave the negativity behind. We can choose to let go of the things that don’t matter so much, on closer inspection.
Making Time for Those That Matter Most
A finite amount of time in this world means we have to prioritize. We have to say no to some things so we can say yes to those things that matter most to us.
This means ensuring there is quality space in our days for our families, our friends, and ourselves. I’m not talking about five minutes snatched here and there while staring at a screen; I’m talking about quality time where we are fully present with those around us and our surroundings.
In the case of time for ourselves, quality time checking in with ourselves can involve a long walk, some meditation, any other act of self-care.
Fleeting Moments in Time
Facing up to the fact that we all have a temporary place in this world should be reason enough to apply a degree of clarity and purpose to our days.
We need to make time for the people that matter most to us.
We need to make time for ourselves.
We need to make time to dream out loud.
It’s wonderful and admirable to work hard, but we need to ensure we’re making ample time to celebrate our successes and enjoy our journeys.
These are fleeting and precious moments in time. Let’s make the most of them.
Note: This article is dedicated to Brad, always the first one up on the dance floor, consistently the greatest ally you could wish to have. I miss you, my friend.
-
How to Stop Feeling Lonely and Escape the Emotional Eating Cycle
“When you no longer believe that eating will save your life when you feel exhausted or overwhelmed or lonely, you will stop. When you believe in yourself more than you believe in food, you will stop using food as if it were your only chance at not falling apart.” ~Geneen Roth
I used to eat because I was lonely.
Lunch hour at school would last nine billion years. I’d have no one to sit with—I was spotty and mega bossy, and my hobby was copying pages from anthropology books.
Everyone would put a sweater on the chair next to them, so I’d have to sit further away. Then, just as I’d pick up my fork, they’d up and leave anyway! “Oh well,” I’d think, “If I eat slowly I can make my fries last till the bell goes.”
I switched to packed lunches to avoid the dining hall. But I didn’t want to be spotted alone on a windowsill, so I’d eat my sandwiches in a toilet cubicle.
After, I’d feel full, but unsatisfied. And still have time to kill! So I’d go to the dinner hall and buy a meat pie. I felt sad and gross.
The truth was, I didn’t know how to be a friend, let alone make one. I was full of resentment toward other kids.
I acted superior but felt inferior. I was needy, or tried to impress them.
I didn’t think friendship was something people learned—I thought there was something wrong with me. That I’d be this way forever.
I also hated that I couldn’t resist overeating. Since my family was big on brown rice and organic vegetables, I felt guilty for buying junk food.
When I hit my teens, I became body-conscious. I panicked that comfort food would make me fat. I wasn’t! But I thought my thighs were big, and clenched my stomach in all day. All day!
I felt too embarrassed to ask anyone—especially my parents—for help. I thought they’d say I was greedy. Or lecture me about eating crap. Or take me to a doctor—humiliating!
I didn’t know it was called “emotional eating,” but I was pretty sure it was bad. So I kept quiet.
I thought: “I can fix this myself. I just need the self-discipline to eat less!”
Going on improvised diets made things a whole new level of worse: binge eating, bulimia, and feeling utterly obsessed and depressed about food.
It took seven years before I found a way to recover.
I wish I’d known how to deal with lonely emotional eating in the first place, instead of going off on an eating disorder tangent!
So if you’re dealing with a double-whammy of eating and loneliness yourself, here are eight simple steps. They will guide you through solving your emotional eating, and your loneliness, from the inside out.
1. Imagine your life without emotional eating, and shift focus away from guilt and shame.
You’re not greedy. You’re not gross. You’re not ill. You’re just trying to cope with a fear: abandonment.
It’s the emotional fear we’re born with. Outside the tribal circle, a baby would die. The primitive part of your brain thinks, “I’m alone—I’ll starve!”
It’s how you’re wired, so give yourself a break.
If you waste your energy wrestling with guilt and shame over eating, you’ll never tackle the real emotional challenge—loneliness.
So when guilt and shame come up, shift your focus.
Imagine a peaceful relationship with food. Imagine eating when you’re actually hungry. Visualize slowly nourishing yourself.
2. Loneliness is a self-worth issue, so become willing to work on your self-worth.
It’s like this: You’re by yourself. That’s not loneliness, that’s solitude.
Sometimes it’s nice, but sometimes you don’t have a choice. Uh-oh!
Mind games start: you imagine it’s because you’re unlovable.
That’s loneliness. Low self-worth, in disguise.
If you’re lonely, it’s easy to think you could earn your self-worth back by changing something external.
You think, “If I found a great partner, then I’d know I was lovable.”
Or you think, “I’ll be worth loving once I get a grip on my emotional eating and lose weight.”
But that’s not how it works! Self-worth isn’t something you earn. Or that drops in your lap either.
You choose to create it.
So ask yourself: How can I work on my self-worth?
(Don’t worry if you don’t know yet. Some ideas are coming up…)
3. Spend some quality time with yourself.
Are you enjoying your time by yourself? Or just watching TV?
Imagine you treated a child the way you treat yourself on a too-tired evening.
Browsing Facebook when they say, “Play with me.” Sending them to the fridge to scavenge instead of cooking dinner. Binge-watching Netflix instead of putting them to bed when they’re tired.
They’d feel hurt, and start believing they weren’t worth spending time with. They’d also start misbehaving wildly to get your attention!
The same is true for how you feel about yourself. When we ignore our inner selves, we start to believe we are worthless, and an emotional eating crisis is a great way for our heart and soul to grab our attention.
Spend some quality time with yourself.
Take yourself on a date, just you and you.
Play (build a go-cart, paint your room), be in your body (move, bathe, meditate), or relax (read, whistle, sit in nature).
Self-worth grows as you self-connect, so every little counts.
4. Create thoughts that give an inkling of self-worth.
When I was rock bottom with food and loneliness, my thoughts were dominated by failure, being a victim, and believing change was impossible.
Stuff like “I’m gonna be lonely forever,” and “I hate my body, I hate myself for eating, and I’m too pathetic to stop.”
Three positive thoughts in particular helped me out of my pit.
They didn’t tell me directly I was worthy or fabulous—saying anything saccharine about my life would have felt like gloss painting a turd.
They just implied a basic level of self-worth.
They were: “I’m part of life unfolding.” (I’m not in a vacuum. Even though I feel totally dissociated and alone, I’m still participating in life on the planet.)
“I really care about my body.” (I’m upset I overate again. But I couldn’t get upset if I were indifferent… So on some level, I must care!)
And: “Things are already changing.” (Repeating this phrase is a positive action… So maybe I won’t always be like this).
Find one thought that implies you aren’t your worst fears. That makes you feel worthy-ish. Then repeat it like you’re being paid a piece rate to do so.
5. Explore how you’ve created loneliness.
Try this: It’s funny!
Imagine someone wants to master the art of loneliness. Lucky for them, you’ve honed the perfect system!
Write down what you’d teach them.
My own Perfect System for Staying Lonely says: “Don’t have a calendar for friends’ birthdays. Tell yourself that you’re too broke to buy gifts, cards, or book a babysitter.”
And: “Get hired for shift work, and rehearse theatre shows every weekend.” I disconnected from my relationship like that that for the first five years of my marriage! (Thankfully, the guy’s a legend.)
The point is, I thought loneliness happened to me.
But I make myself lonely, when I don’t need to be. Years after my schooldays are behind me, I lead myself back to that painful-yet-familiar place. It’s called a comfort zone.
It doesn’t mean it’s your fault you’re lonely—this isn’t about blame. This is actually good news: If you’re doing it, you can undo it.
6. List everything that your loneliness buys you.
An excuse not to face trust issues?
A reason to avoid intimacy?
A cover for social anxiety?
I know it’s not obvious that loneliness has advantages, but sometimes it’s a way to avoid something even more scary or painful.
Me? Loneliness excuses me from owning my introvert personality. Intimacy makes me feel vulnerable, and rejection scares the crap outta me.
These hidden benefits to your loneliness are called “payoffs.” It pays off to explore them!
Because they’re the reason you’re creating loneliness, even though it hurts.
7. Explore the ripple effect of loneliness in your life.
You’d expect loneliness to make you shy at parties, or reluctant to date.
But has it changed you in other ways?
Unhealthy self-reliance has made me a nightmare to cook with. And low self-worth has taken its toll on my financial outlook.
Clean out your worldview.
Defy your loneliness-inspired beliefs about what you can and can’t do (like, ask someone to chop the mushrooms while you stir the risotto, or ask your boss for a raise).
It’s a great way to un-victim yourself.
8. Finally, when you’ve done all that inner work, break up your emotional eating habit.
Habits weld to each other! Drinking and smoking. Driving and talking to yourself in a variety of accents. Lonely emotional eating and—?
Break the links.
Don’t just say to yourself “Stop eating toast.” Don’t make any rules about what you eat.
Instead, change how you eat. If you don’t know how you eat, slow down.
Notice what you do at each stage of your emotional eating habit—beforehand, during, after, where, when, with what planning.
Do any part of your habit differently.
Say you eat ten slices of buttered toast and jam in front of the TV each evening. Buy different butter that you don’t like so much. Put the TV (or the toaster) in the cellar. Create an eating area, keep the sofa for relaxing. Shop differently. Go out.
Keep disrupting your habit, and it will eventually dissipate.
Habit change takes patience, and sometimes repeated attempts too.
But break up your habit from enough angles, and you’ll eventually find you’ve replaced it with a way to enjoy food again.
—
The way I think of it, addressing loneliness is 88% of the solution for emotional eating from loneliness.
When I solved my eating struggles, I spent a couple of years of journaling and becoming aware of my beliefs, thoughts, and feelings. Then, only a month or two of habit change.
I know a couple of years sounds really long! Perhaps it will take less time for you. The point is, this isn’t a quick fix. Quick fixes rarely address the underlying issues.
It’s tempting to rush. To try to skip straight to solving the eating—out-of-control eating feels unbearable and you want it to stop, like, yesterday—but if that hasn’t been working for you, or you’ve even ended up binge eating like I did, give yourself permission and time to go deeper.
Trust me, changing an emotional eating habit is much easier when it’s just eating, and the compulsion part has had your loving attention.
So good luck, and don’t rush.
-
The Antidote to Shame: I Know I Am Enough
“You alone are enough. You have nothing to prove to anybody.” ~Maya Angelou
I grew up with a father who was an addict. When I was fourteen my dad hit rock bottom and lost a job with a six-figure salary, my parents separated, my dad went to rehab for alcoholism and sex addiction, and I learned my dad had been cheating on my mom.
My dad’s immense shame for his actions led to him being on suicide watch in the rehab hospital where he was staying. Even though I knew the word “shame” at the age of fourteen, I was not acutely aware of what it meant. But looking back, this was not only my dad’s overwhelming feeling, but also my own emotional state.
I can remember a Sunday school member, from my mom’s class, coming over to give my mom a check to help with our house payment. It was such a wonderful, kind gesture, but I felt so embarrassed that my friend’s parents were giving up their own money, money they could use for themselves, in order to keep a roof over our heads.
My feelings of shame deepened as I found our family depending on church and family members to keep us financially afloat.
My mom was so depressed that our home quickly became a mess, which further isolated me, because I felt too mortified to invite friends over. I was deeply ashamed of my dad and our messy home, and without realizing it, I started to develop feelings of inadequacy.
In my fourteen-year-old mind, my family defined who I was, and their mistakes left me feeling not good enough and not worthy.
At this young age I had never heard Maya Angelou’s words, “You alone are enough,” so I tried to prove my worth by getting a job at the young age of fourteen. And my work, school, and activities at church became a means to prove to others I was good enough.
Now, at the age of thirty-nine, I still recognize this tendency to demonstrate my value to others. Because of my story, I will likely need to work at reminding myself of my beauty and worth for the rest of my life. Maybe this is true for you as well.
I’ve realized that shame led me to spend a great deal of my life being a plastic surgeon of sorts, who constantly tried to cover up my imperfections. Shame encouraged me to keep a perfect house, always wear makeup, and to build a resume that said I was somebody.
Obviously it’s not a bad thing to keep a clean house, maintain your physical appearance, or obtain graduate degrees. I don’t regret some of the accomplishments I’ve made along the way, and yet I’m aware that I’ve worked myself to death at times, in order to validate my worthiness.
Shame is the voice in our heads that questions our own worth and beauty, and the devil on our shoulder that convinces us we don’t measure up.
For me, it has been incredibly important to let go of the need to be perfect, in the process of healing my shame. If I don’t have to be perfect, I can then be honest and vulnerable with friends about the struggles I am facing in life.
Early my marriage, it was important for me to create the illusion that I had the perfect marriage. But if you are married or in a relationship of any kind, you know sustaining a partnership can be incredibly tough. When I started to open up to my friends about this, I noticed they were more open with me about the struggles in their relationships.
When we start to share the painful aspects of our story with others, it’s often as if we can hear the crickets, cicadas, our friends, and all of creation join in a mighty chorus of “me too.” And once we hear the “me too” somehow it normalizes our story, and reminds us we are all on this journey of being human together.
Another important tool for me on the quest to free myself from shame has been to find people who offer me empathy and acceptance.
Shame can be a very isolating feeling that makes us feel like we are sinking in quicksand, but when we keep our story to ourselves, our profound feelings of self-loathing deepen and we descend further into the sand. However, one antitoxin to avert shame is finding safe people who will receive our stories and help pull us out of the sand that traps us.
How do we find these people? I encourage you to think of someone in your circle of friends, at your workplace, in your family, or at your place of worship who is accepting, empathetic, free of judgment, and who it just feels good to be around.
The person you are likely thinking of is type of person who kindly remembers when you’ve had a recent death in the family, and when they ask you how you are managing with the grief and loss, you really feel that they care about you.
This is someone who it feels safe to share your darkest secrets with because you believe this person will confidently hold your story.
When I was a teenager, the first people I really trusted to share my shame and pain with were counselors, the youth leaders at my church, and eventually I opened up to trusted friends.
It can be incredibly scary to open up to others with our shame stories, and yet when we find the audacity to share parts of ourselves we are hiding, we then start to find our voice, see our strengths, and recognize our shared humanity with others.
It is so healing to experience people who receive our shame stories and who see and affirm us, even when we feel unworthy of this love. And even though I am aware these external voices of affirmation are paramount in the task of healing the shame that binds me, I am aware the most vital voice is my own internal voice.
It is so important for us to see our beauty, accept ourselves, celebrate who we are, and to know that we matter. So when we start to doubt ourselves, it is very important for us to remind ourselves that we are enough.
Knowing that we are enough means that we see our gifts. So what are the gifts we have to offer the world? And do we know deep down in our soul that we are enough? It is crucial in the process of healing the shame we internalize, to start affirming ourselves and our value.
I have turned one of my favorite Maya Angelou quotes on it’s head and made it into the following mantra:
Take a deep inhale and exhale and then say out loud or in your mind’s eye:
I am enough.
Take a deep inhale and exhale and then say out loud or in your mind’s eye:
I don’t need to prove myself to anyone.
Don’t end up like me and waste way too many years trying to prove your worth. You are complete, beautiful, and worthy just as you are.
Let’s give up the exhausting task of becoming plastic surgeons who try to cover up our blemishes, and instead remember that our scars are actually signs of strength, life, resilience, and beauty.
Instead of being a plastic surgeon who masks and hides shame, I am now making it my mission to become a soul surgeon. I believe the task of a soul surgeon is to operate on shame through: naming our vulnerabilities, surrounding ourselves with people who celebrate us, and making sure we find a voice from within that knows our own worth and value.
We are truly enough. May we let this knowledge settle into our mind, bones, flesh, heart, and every part of our being.
-
Move Your Body, Calm Your Mind: 5 Practices That Help Ease Anxiety
“Get out of your head and get into your body. Think less and feel more.” ~Osho
Do you want to meditate but the idea of sitting with your thoughts for twenty minutes gives you anxiety? Or maybe meditation seems like one more task you have to add to your ever growing to-do list, so you take a pass?
As a working mother of three, I’m no stranger to daily stress and routine overwhelm. Life in the twenty-first century can be pretty hectic, especially for busy moms, and so many of us search for practical ways to minimize the stress and anxiety that are so common in our society.
Meditation seems like a perfect solution. It’s “easy,” accessible, and it’s good for our health, both mental and physical. It reduces stress and improves emotional regulation, concentration, and sleep. It helps us develop more kindness and compassion, for others and ourselves.
Sounds like a perfect cure. Except it’s hard. It can feel like a chore or a time thief. And it often triggers our fears and anxieties, especially if we have a history of trauma we’re still healing.
So why not adjust the traditional meditation practice to reflect our modern lifestyle and constrictions? Why not mimic the practice of mindfulness while moving your body? Instead of sitting still, why not focus on gentle, repetitive movements that are enjoyable, all while reaping the benefits of mindfulness?
Believe me, you can have it both ways.
I am a Type A person. I am driven, full of energy and ambition. I’m competitive, over-scheduled, and always on the go. And I don’t have much patience, or time to kill. Sitting still for twenty minutes is often the last thing I want to do.
Another hurdle for me was anxiety, which often peaked when I opened up to my internal world of thoughts and feelings, as one does while sitting in meditation. I do better now, but in the first year of practice I often felt triggered and overwhelmed—precisely the opposite of what I was going for.
This is common for people with trauma or chronic pain. We tend to numb, distract, or ignore distressing sensations in order to make it through the day. Mindfulness requires the opposite of such disassociation.
When sitting in meditation, I was to focus on and “befriend” my body, along with the residue of trauma still lodged in it. Despite my best intentions I would become fidgety and agitated instead. Noticing my pain, both physical and emotional, seemed to increase it. I’d find myself trying to resist it, run from it, beat myself up for not being able to just “observe” my experience, and then criticize myself for beating myself up. It was a vicious cycle.
I understood that the goal was to learn to be with my experience, and it did get easier over time, but often it was too much to handle.
Needless to say, I’ve searched for alternative ways to meditate, ones that didn’t involve sitting still but were movement-based instead. And I found plenty.
The Meditative Benefits of Rhythmic Movement
Many of us have experienced some type of trauma or significant stress in the past. It’s part of a human experience. Even if we were lucky enough to avoid trauma, we live in a world of chronic stress and overwhelm. We often operate in “survival mode” and experience chronic muscle tension and fatigue. We feel anxious and maxed out too often.
Anxiety is often a symptom of a freeze response in fight-flight-freeze—the feeling of helplessness, our inability to change or escape a difficult situation, such as the daily stress that comes with our modern lifestyle. Movement is a great antidote to that freeze state. It gets us unstuck.
Stress gets stuck in our bodies. We carry this tension around with us and it affects us on a body-mind level. Movement is a great way to release that tension and get back to a relaxed state. Repetitive movement can also bring us into the state of mindfulness, giving our body a chance to press the reset button and kick in our natural healing and renewal processes.
Rhythmic movement, just like meditation, can be very therapeutic and healing. It helps integrate our body and mind, reset the nervous system, and rewire the brain for healing and wholeness. It’s not only good for your physical body but your mental health too.
Meditative movement activities are grounding as well. Feeling grounded is the exact opposite to perpetual worry.
Anxiety is about getting stuck in our internal world of thoughts and feelings. The repetitive movement, however, helps us get out of our head and reconnect with our body, grounding and centering us, connecting us back to the earth and to ourselves.
Grounding reduces inflammation and emotional stress, elevates our mood, and improves our immune responses. It brings us back to feeling centered and secure. And it’s exactly what we need in times of struggle and overwhelm.
5 Movement-Based Meditative Practices Perfect for Anxious People
There are a number of activities that have a meditative effect that don’t require you to sit still for twenty minutes. In fact, any movement that’s relaxing and repetitive can give you similar effect as meditation. The trick is to go slow and bring mindfulness to the practice. And if you enjoy doing it, you will find it easier to add to your daily routine, so it won’t feel like a chore.
Here are my favorites:
1. Walking
Walking is one of the easiest anxiety-reducing movement-based techniques. It can invoke mindfulness, clear your head, and release stress from the body. And if done in nature, you will feel more wakeful and alert and, at the same time, open, relaxed, and spacious.
2. Hatha yoga
The most rewarding for me personally, Hatha yoga is a gentle practice of body-mind integration. Yoga combines awareness of breathing with asana practice, enabling you to achieve the state of mindfulness and wholeness. It’s easy and accessible to everyone—you don’t have to join a studio, simply search YouTube for inspiration and lesson videos.
3. Gardening
Nothing connects me more to my surroundings than gardening. Great for anxiety and taming the monkey mind, gardening is a perfect activity to help you become mindful and engage with the world around you with all your senses. The calm of gardening can bring about the state of flow, as you become fully absorbed in the activity. Gardening is grounding; my garden is my personal Zen.
4. Swimming
Swimming is a gentle exercise that allows you to focus on deep breathing and the rhythm of your stroke, both lulling you into a state of deep relaxation. It comes with minimal distractions and is a great tension reliever. All you need is a body of water.
5. Dancing
Focused on expression on a bodily level, dancing allows you tap into your body’s own healing resources. It’s therapeutic. You connect with your body in elemental ways and allow it to express feelings often hard to convey in words—something especially beneficial for trauma victims and people suffering from anxiety or depression.
By being mindful while dancing, you also learn about yourself and your body and embrace your creativity and the comforting flow of pleasant physical sensations, fully re-engaging with the present moment. And that’s healing.
—
Whatever practice you choose, use the movement and sensations of your body to bring your awareness to the present moment. Draw your attention to your hands and feet, the sensations of touching the ground, and your arms swinging or shifting in motion.
Follow your breath as you inhale and exhale deeply and air travels in and out of your lungs. Let the rhythmic flow of your movements relax your mind.
Listen, notice, smell, and feel into your surrounding, using your senses to anchor yourself in the present moment.
Observe your experience, including your thoughts and feelings, without judgment. Notice when you get lost in thoughts, and bring yourself back to the movement, back to the now.
Try to add mindful movement to your daily routine, if possible. It’s a great way to reset your mind and remove stress out of your body, in a gentle and supportive way. Weave your favorite meditative activity into your daily life, without the distraction of technology. Make it your self-care habit.
And don’t forget to tap into mindful movement in times of struggle and overwhelm, to gently shift your body and mind out of stress and into relaxation. It’s a great alternative to sitting meditation when anxious energy is stuck in your body, ready to be released in an active way.
Mindfulness Takes Practice But You Are Worth It
I used to ruminate a lot on my walks. With practice, I’ve learned to let go of my onslaught of thoughts and bring myself back to the present moment. I now focus on the smell of freshly cut grass and the feel the breeze on my neck and sun on my face, and pay attention to each step and how it resonates through my body. As I walk, I realize the beauty around me and fill my heart with joy and gratitude. That uplifting energy fuels the rest of my day.
I do practice sitting meditation, and I have found it to be very useful. But my temperament begs me to move and be in nature, which is why I love walking and gardening.
Think of what is healing, relaxing, and brings you pleasure. Then bring awareness to your body as you develop a practice of bringing that joy into your every day, whether through movement, a creative pursuit, or play.
You are worth it!
-
Feeling Empty? Here’s How to Find Joy (and Yourself) Again
“Many people are alive but don’t touch the miracle of being alive.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh
“Who are you? No, really. Who are you?”
I stood at my bathroom mirror, towel twisted around my head, inspecting my own reflection. A woman I hardly recognized looked back at me with empty eyes. Empty mouth. Empty insides.
“Who are you?”
Silence.
“What do you want?”
Nada.
“What are you thinking?”
Zilch.
I sighed and reached for the toothbrush. The truth is, I’d been there before. That empty-sad feeling. The feeling of not quite fitting in. Not quite feeling fulfilled.
Before, I’d brush it off. Dig deep, push through, move on.
I’d say everything was just fine. It sure looked just “fine.” After all, I was a fully functional adult. Everyone said so.
I had my education, a career, a husband, kids, a house.
I was chipping away at that mortgage and student loan debt. They’re the good kinds of debt, you know.
I’d checked the boxes on life’s to-do list. Isn’t this what we should all be aiming for?
I didn’t know it yet, but this time would be different. That moment would be the turning point after too many years convincing myself that I didn’t know the answer to my questions.
This would be the moment of renewal, reclaiming the missing pieces of me and offering them the loving care they deserved all this time.
Later that day, kneeling down at the washing machine, ruminating about I don’t even know what, it hit me: a full-body NO. This is not what life is meant to be, I thought.
It was a no to this being my everyday experience. No to living on autopilot. No to feeling empty. No to not even recognizing myself.
It was a punch through the chest. My eyes welled with bottled up tears, and I had the distinct feeling of just wanting to go home.
I’d been pushed over the edge of the cliff I’d tiptoed for years.
The real surprise, though, was the laughter that followed. It tickled my throat and escaped through bursts of tears. I reached up to wipe my cheeks and found a smile there.
The relief of seeing all of this and finally saying, “No!” was the most amazing thing.
I spent the next few days in quiet observation, breathing through the pins and needles of waking up.
At first, I didn’t know what to make of the mixed-up, muddy feelings that met me. Was this anguish? Euphoria? Confusion for sure, but I felt I had no choice but to keep going.
So, I walked softly and resisted the urge to define this.
The more intently I listened, the more clearly I started to hear and feel yes and no. They curled through my day, winding themselves around everything I’d just accepted as “the way things are.”
The no’s felt empty, hallow, fake. It felt like acting. It was resistance and alarm bells and forcing. Even though it had been my usual mode of operation, being in a state of no also started to hurt.
But yes… yes felt alive. It was light, expansive, and exciting. I felt energized and creative whenever I was there. The best part was, it was easy.
Of course, as any of us would, I wanted more of the yes and less of the no. I grabbed a sheet of paper and drew a line down the middle. Two columns: yes and no.
Beside yes, I wrote “lights me up.” Beside no, “drains me.”
Then, I listed all of the yes’s and no’s I felt during the day. It was nothing fancy, just a quick word about what I did and how I felt. By the end of the week, I’d created my personal manual for living.
It was my blueprint for calling my lost parts back.
There on that sheet of paper, in my own handwriting, were all the things I’d always known but didn’t yet see.
I saw that there are naturally things that will be unpleasant or less than thrilling, but that my being doesn’t need to feel that way. There is so much opportunity for yes if we’ll allow for it. So, I started to follow yes with more intention.
I bought a stack of composition books and carried one with me everywhere.
I started to draw again after almost thirty years.
I wrote a poem, and then another and another.
I started writing children’s stories.
I fed my spirit good music, sunlight, plenty of color, and lots of space.
And I remembered that lightness is like oxygen for your soul.
Now I see that that face, those eyes, those insides, they weren’t empty. They were aching with the kind of deep burn that comes from turning your back on yourself, walking away, and never looking back. I’d just numbed it is all.
I’d let myself get too busy to think of things like who I am, what I dream, and what I believe more than anything.
I retreated into my day-in-and-day-out and identified with the little dramas, whether they were mine to start with or not.
It wasn’t all gloom, mind you.
I was ambitious. Driven, dedicated, motivated. A real go-getter and other fully functional adult-type things.
I was also grateful for life’s many blessings and aware of the countless privileges bestowed upon me that had nothing to do with my work ethic or worth as a person.
Like I said, I was fine. (But not really.)
I was aimless and stuck in a close enough approximation of inner peace and freedom. I existed as a fragment of me.
Looking back, it was on that day that I decided that even if I was fine, fine was not enough.
Fine is not thriving.
Fine is not complete.
Fine is not what I came here to experience, and I couldn’t face another day of pretending to be here and whole.
My sense of wonder and magic, my awe, my creative spirit, and my light had been calling out to me all this time. Only I couldn’t hear it until then.
I don’t know if I’d been more scared or ashamed of who I was after casting away these important parts of myself. Maybe I didn’t recognize them as my own. Or maybe I thought this was how it’s supposed to feel. It’s just how things are—you can’t be successful and free, whole and at peace.
Yet, there they were this whole time, turning toward me like flowers turning toward the sun. They held tight to the cracks in this facade I’d created.
I suppose they never were lost, just watching and waiting until the day I set down my resistance and welcomed them back home.
Calling my lost parts home didn’t happen in one grand, sweeping gesture. It took a lot of little moments. Awkward, wobbly baby steps that took me sideways and backward just as easily as forward.
It took me a while, but I finally figured out that when you feel a yes, you follow it. And bit by bit, all those little steps coalesced into what from the outside looks like the one moment I “took the leap.”
If any part of my story resonates with you, then maybe you know what it feels like to pretend to be here and whole. And maybe you’ve had those little moments of clarity and mini-epiphanies that “fine” is not what you came here to experience.
Maybe you’ve heard your lost parts knocking at your door asking to come home. And maybe you’re ready to listen.
It may seem like an impossibly long journey when you’re in the walking sleep of I’m fine, but calling your lost parts back and welcoming them inside is as easy as following what lights you up one baby step at a time.
