Tag: wisdom
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5 Ways to Calm Your Mind When You’re Exhausted (Without Meditation)
“Calm your mind. Life becomes much easier when you keep your mind at peace.” ~Unknown
Let me start with a confession.
If I’m honest with you, even just writing these words actually makes me feel kind of uncomfortable.
But I’m going to say it because it’s true, and some of you reading this are going to realize that on some level you probably share the same feeling.
I hate meditation.
Now, let me do the obligatory defend-the-shocking-thing-I-just-said.
I mean, to be more specific, some days I hate meditation.
Most of the time, I love it. I really love it. It’s had the most positive influence of anything in my entire life. But so have my family, and some days… just joking. Look, normally meditation makes me feel on top of the world. I’m bursting with gratitude, and even the idea of stress can seem to be so far away.
But on other days, I do also kind of hate it. Actually, hate is too strong, let me say I really dislike it. I’m sure some of you can relate.
But there’s a reason we feel this way at times: exhaustion.
About six months ago, my meditation practice had been going well. I was feeling incredibly content, just with life in general. But after a couple of weeks of travel, difficulties with work, and family commitments, I found myself tired, very tired. And my mind started racing a lot more than it had been.
Mentally, I felt like I had lost my inner calm. Like I’d taken one step forward and two steps back.
So I tried to do what I always do. Meditate.
But for a couple of weeks, I was approaching the practice with completely the wrong attitude. I started trying to use meditation as my medication, and it had the opposite intended effect. It just wouldn’t work! I actually started to get completely annoyed with the whole thing.
So I tried harder, and harder, and harder. Every day I would sit down to meditate, only to leave the session feeling even more tired than when I had started.
It was at this point that I decided to shift my focus to other ways to calm my mind, at least until I had more energy.
And I realized a few very important things.
Firstly, I realized that I truly am in love with meditation. Even when I ‘hated’ it, I still wanted to practice consistently, and followed through with it.
But I also understood that in times of stress, we can sometimes start to resent things we love. I understood that although I’ve barely missed a day of meditation in the last couple of years, I’m still a human being in a human body and I’m going to have days where I feel like I’m back where I started.
I also came to realize that a calm mind is a focused mind, and a tired mind doesn’t have the resources to stay focused.
It’s an unfortunate reality of the human brain that the more fatigued we are, the more our thoughts start to race. Anxiety and tiredness work on a feedback loop. So when you’re struggling with one, it’s inevitable that you’re going to have problems with the other.
While meditation is the most effective way to calm your mind, it’s not an option when you’re incredibly tired! There is another way to do this, which is by doing things that naturally focus your mind outside of yourself and guide your brain to release calming neurochemicals.
The following five ways to calm your mind don’t require as much mental energy as meditation. And in the short term, they have the same effect on our mood.
1. Do something complex (but not too difficult).
The default mode network (DMN) is the part of the brain that is associated with reflections about yourself. Thoughts like: “Why do I feel lazy today?” “Should I text John back now or later?” “I’m starting to get hungry, maybe I should get a snack.” Meditation researchers call this “mind-wandering.” It takes up a huge portion of our waking life.
When we’re tired or anxious, our minds wander more than usual, which makes us more tired and anxious.
There are two commonly used ways we can consistently quiet the DMN. The first is meditation; the second is engaging in a complex task. (In fact, mindfulness coloring books are effective because of task complexity as well mindfulness.)
You can pick something you regularly do, like drawing, sports, creative writing, or a work project and just increase the difficulty slightly. With drawing, for example, you can try and draw something that is more of a challenge, or with sports or writing, you can try setting a timer and complete a task in a limited time period.
2. Do something for someone else.
This is another way we can get out of our own heads when exhaustion starts to set in. Obviously, you don’t want to do anything too strenuous, but even doing simple things, when focusing on others, can quiet a racing mind.
You can make it a habit to contact someone that you feel may need it, or you can spend some time volunteering or building something that you think can help others. Focusing on the well-being of the community can also give us purpose and meaning, which can be very reinvigorating.
3. Do something fun and creative.
When we are trying too hard to feel better all the effort can defeat the purpose and be kind of damaging. Doing something fun can help us break the cycle. This is because dopamine has a re-energizing effect on the nervous system and by engaging in play and creativity, we recharge our depleted energy reserves.
Sometimes for example, I like to do free-writing mind maps. Essentially you set a timer for fifteen minutes and just let all your thoughts out on paper, and create mind maps for how they relate to each other. You can do this as a mindfulness exercise or just to express any creative ideas you have. This helps you feel like your thoughts are organized and focused and not scattered and distracted.
Trying to do anything artistic like painting, origami, or even lego (if you have kids) can also be effective. Fortunately, YouTube has millions of tutorials if you want to learn something new.
4. Get some exercise and take a long sleep.
Exercise may seem counter-productive when you’re tired, but when we’re mentally exhausted, it can sometimes start to mess with our sleep. This varies slightly depending on each individual, but is largely because exhaustion and anxiety impact our ability to wind down before bed, which is a critical part of good quality sleep. Unconscious worries can also wake us in the night and stop us from getting into the deep states we need.
By exercising, eating a big and healthy meal, and taking a long sleep, you can get the restorative effects that you need. This isn’t an invitation to oversleep, but if it’s been a while since you got some deep rest, it could be exactly what you need. It’s also useful to create a pre-sleep ritual that involves calming down and not looking at any screens for two to three hours before sleeping.
5. Do something social.
This goes for introverts as well as extroverts. It’s a common belief that introverts are drained by social interactions, but typically this is only when interacting with people they’re not comfortable with.
If you’re an introvert, make the effort be social with someone who you always have fun with. When we’re engaged in a social situation that is fun, and not anxiety-inducing, we naturally get out of our own heads and begin to recharge our batteries.
Meditation is great for calming our minds, and while you should keep trying to meditate even through rough periods, it can be good to have some short-term solutions to help you get your energy back.
Have you ever felt this way with meditation? How else have you tried to quieten your mind? Let us know in the comments!
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Letting Go of the Victim Label: The Past Will Not Define Me
TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of domestic violence and sexual abuse, and may be triggering to some people.
“Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.” ~Unknown
It wasn’t long ago that I lived my life as a professional victim.
It wasn’t intentional, but somewhere along the way I had internalized the fact that my victimhood gave me an excuse to remain stuck. As long as I was a victim, I had a reason to wallow in sadness and self-pity, a reason to not move forward, and sympathy that was poured upon me like praise—because no one wants to shame the victim, right? So I put on my victim’s Badge of Honor and remained firmly planted in the past.
The thing about being a victim is that it doesn’t end there. Resentment is not far behind, and I soon found myself immersed in resentment. After all, I never asked to be born into a household filled with domestic violence, nor did I ask be molested by someone I shared the same bloodline with, but it happened, and I resented it.
In my mind, no one could understand what it was like to live in constant fear of the day that your mother would be murdered. No one could understand the hopelessness that comes with feeling unsafe day after day. But I did.
I knew what it felt like to be awakened in the middle of the night by screaming voices, dishes crashing against walls, or the volume on the TV up as high as it could go, because if he was angry, no one was getting a good night’s sleep.
I knew what it was like to wish for death, because death was better than terror.
I knew what it felt like to live in a household where everyone walked on eggshells because the alternative was an encounter with rage.
I knew what it felt like to have a dysfunctional childhood while others had what I thought to be a fairytale life, and I resented it.
I could not reconcile why some children were born into wealth and privilege and I was not. I did not understand why my family, which should have been a safe haven, was the exact opposite. Why were some children loved and adored, and I molested and used? It wasn’t fair, and I wasn’t going to let life, or anyone who would listen, forget it.
I didn’t ask for that life, I was a victim, and had earned the right to complain about it as much as I saw fit. I did not realize that I had the power to overcome everything I had experienced, and maybe there was a part of me that didn’t really want to. I knew who I was with my experiences, but what was my identity without those stories? It was time that I found out.
It took a while for me to even realize that I needed to let go of the victim label, but thankfully the day came. It became too much effort to be sad and depressed about something that happened, and was not changing.
I began to read every self-help book I could find in hopes that one of them held the key to my emotional relief. I began attending counseling sessions and put forth the necessary effort to get the most out of each session. Then, one day it happened. I woke up knowing enough was enough.
No, life wasn’t fair, but this was the only life I had, and I had better make the most of it. I knew that in order for me to move forward, I had to accept this fact. My experience was my experience, and nothing was going to change what happened to me, but I could surely change how I responded to it.
The first thing I did was remove toxic people from my life. I understood that as a child I had little control over the people I was exposed to, but as an adult, it was my responsibility to set strong boundaries, even if that meant removing some people.
This was no easy task, and I immediately felt waves of fear and guilt. I was so used to not having boundaries, and being expected to accept bad behavior just because it came from family. Still, I followed through with my plan to set boundaries or to sever ties completely.
Next, I began to follow the advice I had received from literally hundreds of self-help books. I began to retrain my mind from the mentality of a victim, to one of strength, poise, and success.
Almost immediately, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and began to feel empowered and capable. Yes, I had bad experiences growing up, and yes, those experiences affected my life, but I did not have to let them define me.
I worked diligently to change my self-talk and I was very intentional about ensuring that I would make the most of my life. I had wasted enough years existing, and I knew that it was time to start living.
Retraining my mind became my full-time focus, as I knew that all success starts in the mind. I continued with counseling and was told that I had a form of post-traumatic stress disorder, which was evident from my having nightmares about the abuse in my home, even though I was an adult and in a safe place.
I learned how witnessing domestic abuse and being molested affected my self-esteem, the way I viewed relationships, and the way I viewed the world.
I learned that none of it was my fault, and that I did not have to continue to tell myself those stories. I had new stories to tell. We all do. You too, can move past the pain and hurt you have endured in this lifetime. You can forgive, even if you never forget, and you can move forward. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.
My transformation didn’t happen overnight, and neither will yours. I spent years studying the power of the mind, and being intentional in my desire to turn my life around.
Today I am free of toxic relationships and toxic thoughts. I’ve replaced my victim badge with a crown of success, love, self-confidence, and peace. And I replaced self-pity and sadness with a fierce determination to live my best life, free of resentment.
I recently met a man who told me he has found happiness all his life by learning to “play the hand he was dealt.” I smiled, because I had come into the wisdom that this is truly the only way to live, because “Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.” The choice is ours to make.
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Why I’ve Upgraded to a Drama-Free Relationship
“Love is not what you say. Love is what you do.” ~Unknown
I used to think that true love should be passionate and intense. When someone broke up with me or treated me poorly, I’d imagine that he really didn’t mean it. Surely he was really a good person and truly loved me, but was just “going through something” or “needed space.” Eventually he’d be back with tears, apologies, and flowers.
I’d like to say I outgrew this tendency by the age of, well, maybe forty, but the fact is I didn’t.
Instead, I carried a torch for a recently divorced man, who couldn’t stick around for more than eight weeks at a time, for more than a year. Each time he returned, he’d tell me how much he missed me and how much I meant to him, and I loved to hear it.
Before him, I took well over a year off from dating anyone seriously because my ex-boyfriend might decide he wanted me back, and he called every month or so to check in. When he did this, I’d get thrown straight back into the drama of it all and second-guess my decision to end our relationship. After all, he said he loved me.
And the man before that, well, you get the idea.
This was all very exciting compared to my life at the office. It was very distracting as well. I’d spend hours googling self-help blogs and texting my girlfriends with the latest updates on “the guy” instead of doing my work.
Let’s face it, relationship drama can pull you right in. It demands your attention immediately. It’s so intense to get a text in the middle of the night or to navigate the ups and downs of a stormy relationship. On again, off again, always waiting for a call or text. Will he or won’t he? Will you or won’t you?
We modern humans no longer live in caves or have life and death struggles on a regular basis. Most of us live fairly routine lives in comfortable homes and have our physical needs met. Sometimes, you can get addicted to drama because it gives you a buzz of excitement that a regular old nine-to-five lifestyle just can’t.
A shot of adrenaline can help us wake up to life and get motivated. Things like climbing a mountain, signing up for a triathlon, or a tight deadline help us get fired up.
Taking on a new challenge from time to time can help us feel like we’re going somewhere in life. If we don’t do this, regular doses of relationship drama can provide a distraction. An unstable relationship may be exciting at first, but it can eventually become draining.
A turbulent relationship can sap your energy and your confidence. You never quite know where you stand with this person, and it wears down your sense of stability and security. It can bleed into the rest of your life and damage your other relationships, your career, or even your health.
If you’re involved in a troubled relationship, it can be all-encompassing. It’s also very tempting to adopt the role of the savior because you get to be the “together” person, the responsible one.
If you’ve been living on a steady diet of relationship drama, it’s time for a reality check. Ask yourself how this situation is serving you. Blaming the other person and hoping that they will change isn’t helpful, because you’re the one who’s tolerating these circumstances in your life.
Being willing to accept responsibility for the situation you’re in is the first step to a more fulfilling love life.
Ask yourself what kind of relationship you want to have. Take some time and journal about it. How do you want to feel? What is your day-to-day experience like? Is that kind of relationship possible with the person you’re with (or considering) now? Not when or if they finally change. Now.
When I asked myself these questions, I saw that I wanted to be loved and to feel safe. I wanted to know that my significant other was “all in” with me, not halfway out the door. I came to recognize that I wasn’t choosing men who were willing to have this kind of relationship with me.
I also realized that once I discovered that this was the case with a particular person, I was very reluctant to let him go. Instead, I’d hang on for far too long in the hopes that things would get better, which they never did.
Once you’ve considered these questions for yourself, consider what changes you’ll need to make in order to have the kind of relationship you want.
I came to understand that I’d have to give up the idea that drama was an indicator of true love. The kinds of relationships that I previously would have considered “boring” were, in fact, desirable. I found more healthy ways of adding excitement to my life.
The man I married is dependable and reliable. I can always count on him to keep his promises and I know he adores me. I couldn’t be happier.
From our very first conversation on, I never had any doubts or had to wait for him to change or “come around”. He made his feelings for me very clear from the get-go and I always knew where I stood with him.
I always feel safe with him and we go hiking and mountain climbing instead of breaking up every few weeks.
If you really want to have a fulfilling relationship, then it’s time to make choices that are consistent with your desire. This can be difficult, because people often consider drama an indicator of love or passion, but it doesn’t have to be that way.
You can choose to see drama for what it is, an indicator of an unstable relationship. Once you do this, commit to dating people who are capable of having a healthy relationship.
Doing these things will drastically increase your chances of having a fulfilling relationship.
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Why Trying to Feel Good Can Make You Feel Bad
“The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.” ~Paulo Coelho
We’re bombarded by images of people living apparently perfect lives. They suffer no bereavements or breakups or losses or failures. They look perfect, make perfect choices, and act perfect.
Everyone seems to love them as they sail from success to success, with zero misfortunes, mistakes, or regrets.
So, it’s easy to believe that we, too, need to be perfect.
I had a simple definition of success when I was younger. It was whatever made others admire, or at least accept me.
So, I aimed for better jobs. This was defined in terms of salary.
As a young doctor, I started out in a poorly paid job. I made it through a PhD, then an MBA. The research was impactful, but what excited me as much was that doors opened to me.
Instead of me chasing jobs, they started chasing me. I sought to double my salary. When that happened, I sought to double it again.
This game kept going, and to the world I was a success. My mother took pride in telling people what I did.
My life at home told a different story.
I had to travel a lot at a time when our children were young. Even though I tried to confine that to a week at a time, I was becoming a stranger to them.
A simple incident proved to be a turning point.
I was in our sitting room going through some notes before setting out for work. Our young son was playing. He became noisier and noisier.
My mind was on my notes, and his was on his play.
Then he started running up and down the sitting room. It was going well for him until I reacted.
He was probably imitating some noisy vehicle or airplane. At least that’s what it sounded like to me, as I tried to concentrate on my notes.
As he ran past me, I put my arm out to stop him.
Unfortunately, my adult arm was like a wall to him. Our little boy hit my arm and fell to the floor.
This remains one of the incidents I’m deeply ashamed of.
He burst into tears, and my partner rushed to pick him up and comfort him.
My job continued to be center stage, but the scales were starting to fall from my eyes.
I tried to make it up to him, visiting a motor show together. He loved the shiny cars, including the one Michael Schumacher had driven in the Formula One championship.
As he held my hand throughout our motor show visit, I began to experience more deeply the meaning of the saying “Love makes the world go round.”
The piles of responsibilities in my job began to weigh on me more heavily. I was walking a tightrope of stress, irritability, and worry.
A routine medical exam confirmed what I had suspected: I was an unfit, overweight wreck, in need of medication to keep my heart and circulation in working order. Our family life was far from the ideal picture that our beautiful home must have presented to the world. I was a well-paid but emotionally exhausted wreck.
We talked it over and my partner was very clear. Our family life too was beginning to resemble a wreck. The money was simply not worth it.
We should uproot ourselves and make a new life, whatever that brought.
Since then, I’ve been through many years of life experiences.
I went from being an absentee parent to making time to play with our children nearly every day. That remains one of the greatest sources of satisfaction to me.
I went from measuring success in purely financial terms to a wider definition of success. The spark that had gone out of our marriage was rekindled and the embers grew steadily into a new romance.
My passion for music making had been put on the back burner for years, but I’ve since nurtured it. I try to make some time each day to create music, and have had the good fortune to perform and record with some great musicians.
I started converting all my medical and scientific knowledge into practical actions. I lost inches from my waist and no longer needed any medication.
However, the biggest changes occurred in my inner life.
Stress, irritability, and worry used to bother me. I don’t mean just in terms of experiencing them. I mean being annoyed and angry with myself for not feeling good at all times.
Aren’t we all meant to try and feel good all the time? Isn’t that what makes a good life? Isn’t constant happiness our highest ideal?
We look online or in glossy magazines and see celebrities smiling and laughing on the red carpet. We see sages and gurus glowing. We see so many apparently perfect people living perfect lives.
Why can’t we feel good all the time?
I’ve come to understand that there’s something beyond happiness, something more substantial than a passing emotion.
It’s the joy of doing what you consider to be important and good. It involves recognizing what really matters to you. It involves gladly losing what is less important.
It’s living in better alignment with what you value, deep in your heart.
Does this bring good feelings all the time? No.
Sometimes it brings stress, as when you have to speak out for what you believe is right even when that’s against the tide. Or when you have to keep going when you’d rather give up. Or when you have to give up when you’d rather keep going.
Sometimes it brings low moods, as when everything seems to be going wrong. The stock market crashes, you lose a valued assignment, your friend has a misunderstanding with you, you have a raging argument with your partner, your treasured outcomes simply don’t happen, people don’t keep their word to you, or are spiteful to you, and so on.
Sometimes it brings fear, as when you have to try something you’re not entirely comfortable with or take risks that seem too big. Even the prospect of failure can bring fear.
Sometimes it brings guilt and shame, as when you do something you deeply regret or fail to keep your word.
Sometimes it brings self-doubt, as when everyone else is going left and you’re going right in life.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is that the more you struggle to avoid difficult feelings, the worse life can get.
Imagine a great runner. On the track, the runner is invincible. They want to be invincible everywhere.
Put that same runner in quicksand and they’re in trouble.
The more they try to run their way out of the quicksand, the deeper they sink.
The way to cope with quicksand is to stop struggling and lie back. Eventually you’ll be rescued.
It can be the same with difficult feelings. After a point, they become like quicksand. Struggling with them beyond that point just sucks you in deeper.
It’s good to reach for pleasant feelings when they’re within easy reach.
However, when you start beating yourself up for feeling bad, then it’s time to remember quicksand.
Sometimes it’s better to lie back and float than to try and swim. This means allowing yourself to feel the full range of human emotions.
This doesn’t mean wallowing in your feelings. It means just letting them be. Not struggling with them.
You can still do what you consider to be good and important, within your capabilities. That helps take the sting out of difficult feelings.
That helps bring a profound joy that is beyond fleeting emotions.
It’s a kinder, gentler, and more fulfilling way of living. It’s great for your wellbeing, especially when life gets difficult.
Recently our grown-up children joined us for a short family break. We were on a deserted beach. Our son picked up a flat pebble and made it skim the water.
Soon, we were all competing to see who could get the most bounces.
I stood back for a moment, watching the scene, and thought to myself: life doesn’t get much better than this.
I wish I’d known as an unfit and emotionally exhausted forty-year-old what I know as a fit and joyful sixty-year-old. But they say sixty is the new forty. So it’s never too late, or too early, to start living better.
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What to Do If You’re Not Passionate About Anything
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” ~Unknown
I’ve always believed in the benefits of having a healthy, strong body.
I admit, as a young adult my healthiness was driven predominantly by fear. Fear of being fat. Fear of being sick. Fear of missing out at events (aka FOMO).
So, I went to the gym, I ran, I dieted, I had strict rules, and if I followed them I’d be okay… or so believed.
From my daughter’s perspective, I wasn’t much fun to live with. She preferred reading and dabbled in ballet and horse riding. But the gym? Definitely not. Running? Hell no!
So, I did what any fear-driven mom would do. I exerted my will. I forced her to participate. Because I knew better! Didn’t I?
I coerced, cajoled, and even threatened.
In my limited view, she was simply being lazy. Nothing that a bit of “discipline” couldn’t fix, right?
She’d eventually do it. Begrudgingly. Just to get me off her back. And, no surprise, she hated it (and, probably, me too).
With hindsight, I now see just how much I contributed to her deep-rooted dislike of physical sports. Guilty as charged.
Over the years, as we both grew up (yup, me too), I learned about passions. And about how different it supposedly feels to participate in anything from a place of “passion.” Until then, it was theoretical. Something I had yet to experience.
And then I found trail running.
Yes, I already loved running (on tar), but running in nature, preferably on a mountain, transforms the experience. Completely.
When I’m running on a trail, I’m fully engaged in the moment. I’m in awe of my surroundings. And I totally lose track of time.
That’s what passion feels like.
No rules, no effort. Just pleasure.
I was thirty-seven when I “found” my passion. I wasn’t looking, it found me. When I was ready. When I allowed it.
The wiser side of me realized that this formula applied to everyone. Including my daughter.
I needed to drastically change my approach with her.
So, I eased up on my controlling ways. It was her path to walk, after all. Whether she found her passion (or not), was none of my business. I simply backed off. It was hard.
A year or so ago, my daughter announced that she was taking up surfing. Completely out of the blue.
She’d never really been an avid beach goer. Or outdoorsy. It simply wasn’t her thing.
So, not surprisingly, I was fairly skeptical. I assumed she’d been influenced by a friend, or was following a trend. This would be another hit-and-miss.
But she wasn’t influenced. And it wasn’t a hit-and-miss.
In fact, she loves it. Completely.
Yup, I was wrong. Dead wrong.
And, for once, I was pleased I was wrong.
About six months in, we were chatting, and she announced, very excitedly, that she’d had an epiphany of sorts.
I immediately zoned in. I love epiphanies!
“’I’ve realized that surfing is actually exercise!” she said.
“And yet I still love it!” she said further.
This was big! She was thrilled!
You see, until that moment, surfing had been simply a way to have fun. No rules. She hadn’t associated it with any of the limiting and uncomfortable feelings that automatically accompanied any form of exercise in her world.
In fact, to put “love” and “exercise” in the same sentence was foreign for her. In every way.
And that is the message here today.
That when you’re passionate about anything, it’s easy. And fun. It’s something you anticipate. Feel eagerness for.
And here’s your biggest clue.
When you’re engaged in your passion, time, literally, has no meaning. Hours fly by, without you realizing they have.
So, here’s the big question: how do we find our passion?
I believe it’s easier than you think…
Firstly, call off the search!
When we’re searching for something that we feel is missing, our vibration is often one of lack.
From lack, we approach opportunities with agendas, attachments, and expectations.
And we’re so busy evaluating every experience that we forget to really engage it.
We get caught up in our thinking.
“Is this it? Is this my passion?”
Relax! Don’t take it all so seriously.
Secondly, start noticing and following your interests.
What are you curious about? What do you find intriguing?
What did you find fun when you were a teenager? That’s often a clue.
Maybe playing a musical instrument? Participating in school theatre productions? Or singing? This list goes on…
Explore those things.
But do it for fun. Without the above agendas, or attachments.
And thirdly, be open to new experiences.
If we haven’t yet found our passion(s), it’s not yet in our current reality, obviously.
Which means we need to try new things. Yay!
So, be courageous. Be adventurous. Be curious.
Say yes to invitations.
Book clubs. Dinner. Hiking. Art galleries. Even dog shows!
Just say yes.
You can never tickle your fancy if you never grasp the feather.
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Passions really are worth finding. And indulging.
They’re the icing on the cake. The cherry on the top!
They add value and depth to our lives.
We all have them.
And we can recognize them if we simply allow ourselves to.
What have we got to lose?
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How to Stop the War in Your Head and Find Peace
“A mind at peace does not engender wars.” ~Sophocles
There’s a classic Buddhist story about two monks who come upon a woman at the edge of a river. One of the monks carries her across and they continue on their way. Several miles on, the other monk turns to the first and says, “How could you do that? We have made vows never to touch a woman!” The first looks serenely at him. “Are you still carrying her? I set her down at the edge of the river.”
This is exactly what our minds do, if we aren’t careful: We carry our upsets with us long after the original cause is over. (We also pick up imaginary burdens from a future that may never come.) It’s what I call “the war in your head.”
You know what it feels like. On the surface, you are going about your day—at work, driving, shopping, watching TV. But in your mind you’re going over, maybe for the hundredth time, what your boss or neighbor or ex-spouse said last week. Or what they might say or do next week.
Only a sliver of your attention is on what is happening now. The rest of you is in the future or the past, reliving an old battle or imagining a future one.
I say the war in your head, but you will inevitably feel its effects in your body as well. Maybe your throat or your chest is tight, your breathing is shallow, and your stomach feels a bit nauseous. As far as your body’s concerned, you might as well be experiencing the scene in reality: the stress hormones flow just as surely, doing their damage.
When the war is in your head, you are the loser, every time. It doesn’t matter how often you re-fight the battle (or fight it in advance)—you have ceded your peace of mind, and anything else that might be available to you in the present moment. You can wear yourself out, even boxing with shadows.
I learned this the hard way, during and after my divorce. I spent hours, days, weeks, and months with a full-scale war raging in my head. I sleepwalked through the rest of my life to the accompaniment of a continuous background rumble of outrage, pain, and anger.
Most of my energy and attention were sucked up in imaginary arguments with my ex-husband, his lawyer, and the judge. I would go over and over the same ground, inwardly reciting my grievances, telling them off, or spinning down the rabbit holes of innumerable “what if” scenarios. None of it did me any good—the war in my head only added to my suffering.
Eventually I realized what I was doing to myself and laid down my arms in sheer exhaustion. The quiet in my mind was almost eerie, like a battlefield after the ceasefire is called.
Although my divorce continued along much the same lines it had been, I refused to give up my entire life and energy to the fight. I consulted with my lawyer, did what was necessary when it was necessary, and slowly became aware of the life that had been flowing around me, unnoticed and unlived, while I fought my inner war.
The truth is, the war in our heads harms no one but ourselves, and even a small-scale war can have major consequences. How often has someone cut you off in traffic, or made a rude remark that you ruminated on for the rest of the day? How often have you spent anxious hours worrying about a possible outcome that never occurred?
Our mental real estate is too precious to give over to war and strife. Our bodies are too vulnerable to collateral damage.
Luckily, it is possible to stop the war in your head. The first—and most important—step is to simply recognize when it’s happening and what it’s doing to you. Most of us are so used to the war that we become essentially unconscious of it. It just feels normal.
In the beginning, it will probably take a full-scale battle to get your attention, but eventually you’ll learn to recognize even a minor skirmish. When you do, the next step is to take a metaphorical “step back” from it.
Put yourself in the role of a war correspondent, who is there to simply observe, not participate. You can’t stop the war through resistance—that will only fan the flames. You stop the war by removing the fuel it runs on, which is your unconscious participation.
Imagine a dial that lets you turn down the volume on your thoughts, as if you were viewing a battle scene from a distance.
Take some deep breaths, and let yourself be gently aware of any sensations in your body. You don’t have to do anything about them—just notice them and let them be. Becoming familiar with the negative effects of your mental war will help you to recognize it faster, and also give you the motivation to end it!
If you’re a visual person, try imagining a breeze that blows through your mind, gently clearing away the thoughts… or perhaps waves crashing on a beach, leaving the sand smooth and empty. Then say to yourself: “I choose not to have a war in my head.”
It really can be as simple as that. The war thrives on our unconscious participation. Once you become conscious of it, and make the choice to reclaim your mental real estate, the episodes of war will become both less frequent and less intense.
When this happens, you actually become more effective at solving any actual problems you might have, because your thinking is not clouded by drama and noise. This kind of thinking—without the violent emotions and resistance attached—also doesn’t impact your body the way a mental war does.
If you are tired of the war that rages in your head, join me in declaring a “no-war zone” in your mind and be vigilant in keeping it that way. There will always be events and situations in life that bring up resistance, anger, worry, and upset, but we can choose to be like the first monk and simply set them down rather than carrying them endlessly along with us.
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Radical Acceptance with Tara Brach: If You’re Hard on Yourself, Read On
Have you ever thought, “Something’s wrong with me”? I suspect we all have at one time or another.
We’ve thought we’re too quiet, too loud, too eager, too lazy, too sensitive, too dramatic, or generally not good enough.
And social media doesn’t help much. Every time we log on to Facebook or Instagram we’re bombarded with everyone else’s accomplishments, adventures, and best angles, which can easily lead us to conclude our life is somehow lacking—that we are somehow lacking.
From there, it’s just a quick leap to self-flagellation.
We can all be our own harshest critics. We can beat ourselves up for our mistakes, flaws, and failures, as if we’re supposed to be perfect. As if we’re supposed to have everything together and should never have bad days, negative thoughts, or painful emotions.
But this is all part of being human. These aren’t shameful defects to hide or change. They’re realities to accept.
If you’ve found it difficult to accept your humanity and treat yourself with kindness and compassion, you may benefit from Tara Brach’s eCourse Radical Acceptance.
A world-renowned psychologist, author, and meditation teacher, Tara Brach has a talent for helping people embrace the present moment and overcome the blocks that prevent them from giving and receiving love.
Her books and courses have helped millions of people heal and find peace and presence, and this particular course has received close to 600 glowing reviews.
I’m happy to share that Udemy has offered a discount for Tiny Buddha readers, bringing the cost down to just $9.99 from now until February 19th.
The eCourse includes four and a half hours of on-demand videos, broken down into bite-sized pieces, that you can access any time, anywhere. It’s powerful, easily digestible, and chock-full of life-changing wisdom.
You can get instant access to Radical Acceptance by joining here, and browse through Udemy’s many other course offerings here.
I hope the course is helpful to you!
**Though Udemy is a Tiny Buddha sponsor, you can trust that I only recommend products and courses that speak to me personally. If you have any trouble getting the course for the discounted rate, you can contact Udemy’s customer support here.
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The Difference Between Letting Go and Running Away
“It’s about our ability to leave our death on the battlefield of life. Or having the strength and courage to give them our love and to bring them back.” ~Edward Frenkel
It took me almost twenty years to realize that running away from ourselves isn’t the same as letting go. That realization, as with so many others, came at a time when I was at one of my lowest points.
The day everything changed began as one of the worst of my life.
I was struggling with the breakup of a long-term relationship. We’d been due to move in together when I discovered he’d betrayed my trust so badly that remaining in a relationship was impossible.
I was working long hours in a job I’d grown to hate and I was exhausted. I was barely sleeping, and when I did it was the kind of nightmare-filled, fitful sleep that took forever to return from.
I’d wake up each morning feeling as though I’d been in a battle as I slept. My fatigue was so overwhelming that I could barely manage to keep my house clean and parent my son.
I was beat, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.
My son was staying with his grandmother for the weekend, and once I no longer had to hold it together for him the floodgates opened. It was more than the loss of the man I’d believed I would spend the rest of my life with; it was the knowledge that my life had become passionless across the board.
I wanted to live a creative life, to sustain myself and my son via spiritual and creative expression. But I felt blocked at every turn and I could no longer hold in my grief and desolation.
I spent hours wandering from room to room in my silent house. Every now and then I would curl up on the floor and howl uncontrollably. Eventually, I couldn’t cry any longer and I wrapped myself in my duvet and put videos on autoplay, hoping to distract myself into numbness.
That’s when it happened. I was half-listening to a talk by the mathematician Edward Frenkel. I’d heard it before and enjoyed it, but this time something he said utterly gut-punched me.
He said:
“Do you leave your deaths on the battlefield of life, or do you have the strength and courage to give them your love and bring them back?”
And that was when I knew Edward Frenkel and I had something in common. We both knew something about dying.
Frenkel described a time in his life he had only recently begun to understand. It was a moment when he was sixteen and he was refused a place at university in Russia because of his Jewish heritage.
Despite going on to become wildly successful in his field, he spent years disconnected to the sixteen-year-old adolescent inside of him. To the pain of that moment when his dreams were crushed.
As I listened suddenly she was there again. The girl I had tried to forget. The girl I had left on my own battlefield.
I’d spent years training as a contemporary dancer. I won scholarships and top roles in performances as well as competitions in choreography. I was young, talented, passionate, and obsessed.
One dance school called me more than others and I dreamed of finishing my training there. The day of the audition, on my seventeenth birthday, I traveled to that dance school, floating on a wave of excitement, nerves, and a sense of ‘rightness.’ Of knowing this was exactly where I needed to be.
The process was emotionally brutal. Only five people out of a cohort of over forty were called to the next stage after doing group classes and individual solos. The rest were told to go home, as they’d been unsuccessful.
I was one of the five. I waited in the corridor for my physical exam and interview. The instructor told us to relax, we’d passed the dance part of the audition and now it was just wrapping up the formalities. We talked about what it would be like in September when we started.
I went home and slept in a kind of peaceful joy, knowing my dreams were coming true.
Three days passed and the letter arrived. I began to tear it open, barely registering that it didn’t look quite right.
It wasn’t a thick envelope, stuffed full of information about course equipment and places to live; this envelope was small and thin. Inside was a letter that simply said they regretted to inform me I had been unsuccessful.
And that was the day a part of me died. She stayed dead for a very long time.
I wasn’t as strong as Edward Frenkel, who continued with Math. I know nothing about his home life, but mine at the time was awful.
Layers of trauma from a close relative’s mental health issues were taking their toll. I’d witnessed multiple suicide attempts and holding it together for my mother, who was struggling to cope, had torn into my psyche.
Dance had been my refuge from all that. The one thing that had never let me down. The one thing I trusted, believed in, and knew with everything I had I would do with my life.
The shock of the rejection floored me. I didn’t know what to do. I cried, once.
And then? I ran.
I wasn’t strong enough to pick myself up and audition again the next year. Instead, I ran away. I ran to an older, abusive boyfriend. I ran to university instead of dance school. I ran to drugs. I ran to self-harm that lasted right up until the day I became a mother.
That day almost twenty years later, as I listened to Edward Frenkel’s words I realized that at aged thirty-six I was still running. Part of me had died that day; the part of me that was filled with creative passion and obsession. The part of me that felt a spiritual flow and call so deep there were no words for it.
I’d spent years putting a band-aid on the pain. I busied myself with little creative projects, even danced a bit as a hobby. I’d told myself it was okay and I had to let her go. Let go of the passion I’d once felt, the sense of rightness and surety.
But I was kidding myself. I hadn’t been letting her go all those years. I’d been running away from her, running away from the pain of rejection. And not only that, the fear of rejection was still so great I was running from my current creative dreams.
That day my head began spinning. Could I go back for her? For that girl I’d left dead on the battlefield of my life? How could I, after so many years of rejecting her?
I paced my room for a few more minutes and then slowly something shifted. I picked up the phone and I called a good friend. That night we drove to the beach.
I’ve always had an affinity for the sea. It’s where I feel the most alive and peaceful. The stars were out in the clear night sky and pools of water on the sand held the moon’s reflection. I walked alone to the water’s edge and quietly I began to talk to that girl.
She was angry. Hurt. I’d rejected her and denied her existence for so many years. But slowly, she began to listen.
I told her that yes the dream we’d had was over and I was sorry for running away from that dream. I told her I was sorry for running away from her. I told her I loved her. Deeply and completely. And, I told her that if she wanted, we could create a new dream together.
There were a few moments of silence and then I felt her. She was inside me, still. And I realized that all those years I’d been trying to forget her, to ‘let go’ of her, to surrender her passions, when what I really needed to do was embrace her.
In order to let go of the pain, I had to accept it, allow it, and integrate it and my past self into who I was now.
Killing her had done nothing for me. It was only by having the strength and courage to give her my love and bring her back to me that I could stop letting the shattered dreams of the past rule my dreams in the present.
That night I slept properly for the first time in weeks and when I woke up I knew what to do.
For so many years I’d played at the edges of a creative career. I’d told myself it was “unrealistic” or I’d get round to it “one day.” But I was lying to myself.
The truth was I’d been so afraid to feel the rejection of my passion again that I sidelined every opportunity that came my way.
This is what happens when we cut ourselves off from our passions in an attempt to protect ourselves from pain. Because we’ve been hurt, we try to stay safe by remaining wherever feels comfortable, even if that comfort is actually preventing us from accessing potential joy. But without risking pain, we prevent ourselves from growing, and the irony is that by holding ourselves down to ensure we don’t fall we actually create far more pain in the long run.
When we go outside of our comfort zones and risk falling it opens up a whole new world of purpose, excitement, and engagement.
Realizing this was difficult but liberating.
A year after that morning I’d quit the job I hated and was making a living from writing, my other great creative passion. It wasn’t easy. Facing down every objection my mind could throw up about why I should just go back to what was familiar was challenging and sometimes exhausting. Sometimes it hurt like hell. To date, I’ve had my writing rejected more times than I can count.
But with each rejection, she’s there. I hold her close. I tell her I love her.
Together we dance. Then we begin again.
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How and Why I Stopped Binge Drinking
“Good habits are hard to form and easy to live with. Bad habits are easy to form and hard to live with. Pay attention. Be aware. If we don’t consciously form good ones, we will unconsciously form bad ones.” ~Mark Matteson
I am an extreme person. I have always done things at 100%. I worked my hardest in high school in order to attend the best college so that I could attend the best graduate program so that I could get the best job earning the most money. I not only went to these institutions, I did very well at them.
I was also very into powerlifting and bodybuilding—two sports that take extreme amounts of dedication, determination, discipline, and desire.
This fiend-like mentality was fueled by my desire to please my parents. I lived for my parents, always pushing myself to meet or exceed their expectations. I was a people pleaser.
My negative cycle started when I was quite young. I remember being in middle school and beginning to be concerned about my weight and body image. This was probably spurred by prior memories of being picked on as early as grade school.
In middle school, the perfect storm for pain began to emerge. I realized that I could do something about my weight, so I started to lift weights and run—a lot. What I also did a lot of was eating compulsively. This was exacerbated by a rough divorce between my parents, not to mention that late middle to early high school is a time of trial and tribulation for anyone.
Through high school, I would work out like a soldier, restrict my calories, and then binge. Sometimes I would eat until I could not move. This often happened at night, so I could not sleep either. Then I wouldn’t eat for a day or two to overcompensate.
Heading off to college marked another morphing of this cycle. I was getting serious about competitive powerlifting and bodybuilding. I became meticulous about what I ate. I would weigh every single piece of food on a scale and then track the macronutrients (amount of fats, carbs, and proteins in grams) in an excel spreadsheet. I even became the president of the weightlifting club.
I remember not having more than a sampler of beer on my twenty-first birthday because I didn’t want to go over my macros. It went on like this all through college.
During my early months at college, I was so dedicated to weightlifting that I would go to parties and not drink. I can remember people getting uncomfortable around me because of this. At this point in my life, I did not understand that this was their insecurity to deal with. So I let it make me feel awkward and eventually began drinking more and more often.
At first, I had it under control. I wouldn’t drink during the week, or for two weeks before any major exams. But when I drank, I drank a lot.
My pattern continued through most of graduate school. There were a few times when I didn’t drink for a month or two, but usually, it was an every weekend thing. The binge eating and binge exercising continued through this time as well. I would either go for a very long bike ride and then eat everything in sight, or do the opposite.
I consider a time early in graduate school as the beginning of my “spiritual awakening.” I had times of intense consciousness and presence. There were also very harsh periods of loneliness and depression. The cycle of getting anxious, getting depressed, and uncorking continued until graduation.
After a short hiatus, I took a job at a startup company near where I attended graduate school. At first, the old pattern returned similarly. Once things got stressful, my cycle morphed.
There started to be times of excessive drinking during the week. After a long day of twelve to fourteen hours with a team consisting of my boss and myself, how else was I to escape?
I would also binge eat and then fast afterward since I didn’t have the time to do extended bike rides. This was just another way to eat everything in sight and then compensate to prevent weight gain.
During this time in my life, my mindfulness practice was nearly non-existent. There were long periods of anger and frustration. This all continued until I realized that this job was a dead end, got fed up, and quit.
While unemployed, I drank heavily on the weekends, which often led me to sleep most of every Monday away. I continued drinking my weekends away after I found a new job and then added a couple weeknights of drinking. Eventually, I was drinking almost every day and was still binge drinking on the weekends. Something had to give.
Reasons for the Cycle
My mind has always been fertile, with lots of thoughts, ideas, and emotions, which can be very overwhelming at times.
Additionally, I had never dealt with personal issues or traumas that I had experienced, such as my lack of self-love, low self-esteem, or the anger and resentment that I had toward others who had what I thought that I did not. When those emotions came up, I would spend long periods of time not truly in the present moment.
By overusing caffeine, I limited my creativity and capacity to think. I was often out of the moment and caught up in a chaotic mental chatter. I would get a boost of productivity with the first cup or two of coffee, and then it was a downward slide after that. I would often end up at the point of paralyzing myself with anxiety about deadlines and things that I could not control.
Alcohol came in to dull this stress that had built up all week. This also suppressed any emotions that I had been feeling, including social anxiety.
Drinking created countless problems. I often slipped into a sporadic, impulsive, and undisciplined lifestyle. I noticed my short-term memory was fading. I tended toward binge eating, especially while drinking or hungover. I stayed up late, throwing off my schedule. Massive schedule swings left me tired, unproductive, and uncreative. Alcohol also limits real human connection, leaving new relationships superficial.
I genuinely feared approaching women in a social setting since I’d been rejected many times before. I feared embarrassment or the awkward moments. So instead of showing them the deep, rich, and intellectual me, they had to experience the alcohol-induced, animal side of my brain and all things that go with that. I am embarrassed to write this, but that is what alcohol does when consumed in excess.
I also justified my behavior by only drinking on the weekends. I recognized some time ago that binging every weekend was taking me until Wednesday to feel normal again and that something might be wrong with that. But it was not until recently that I became driven to do something about it.
This cycle that I speak of comes in an infinite number of varieties. My cycle revolves around alcohol and food. The root is a lack of self-love and general discontent with my mental construct of reality. A cycle can show up as any addiction.
For me, going through such a perpetual cycle came from many things. I had to surface those and realize them with extreme presence and awareness. Mindfulness is a healthy way to deal with the stress and anxiety; alcohol is not.
Ending the Cycle
I got to a point where I thought enough was enough. I had big goals, and this type of lifestyle was not supporting those goals. So I decided to stop, cold turkey, or so I thought.
I ended up quitting for about a month. I reduced my caffeine intake and didn’t drink at all. My energy went up, and I was feeling very balanced and grounded. This new pattern did not last long.
I ended up slipping back into the cycle. This made me realize that this would be tougher than it may have seemed. This setback reinforced how poorly I feel and how much money I waste when I am in that cycle. It was a stark reminder how easy it is to create embarrassing situations while intoxicated.
I now focus on the fact that we must have infinite patience with ourselves. There is no need for negative, self-defeating self-talk.
I have recently been blessed with an opportunity to rebuild my life in a different place with a new career path. I have taken that opportunity and am currently designing my life to include people who are dedicated to living a healthy lifestyle and have an objective of helping others.
I have again stopped drinking with the dedicated intention of not drinking for this month and not binging for the indefinite future. By writing this, I am now held responsible for my actions.
I know it will be an arduous journey to reform my life and habits, but it is less about never drinking or binging again and more about trending toward a life of more balance and less binge.
Reasons for Quitting
The intriguing part is that I am not stopping this substance abuse for me. I am ending it because I found a purpose that is larger than me. I have devoted myself to this, and I need to have a fully functional, focused, dedicated, and creative mind to carry out these things.
I have knowledge and wisdom inside of me that is very useful to others. I can translate it into a modern cultural and societal context in such a way that will be able to get through to and help many people. The rough draft of my first book is complete with many more to come!
I know that my thoughts become negative a couple of days after a binge drinking session. I know that I am not fully present and conscious during the drinking or when I’m hungover. When I am intoxicated, I act in ways and do things that my sober self would never do.
After a week or two of not drinking, I have noticeably more energy and a clearer mind. I realized that I must take charge of my own life and not let others influence me. To get to this point, I had to get fed up with poisoning my body and my mind.
Alcohol is also a complacency tool. It has been given to the masses as a legal substance to numb their thoughts and emotions. It is a destructive way for humans to be able to cope with things that they falsely believe they cannot control.
I must also always keep at the forefront of my mind that I have an alcoholic father and a mother who struggles.
I now focus on mindfulness and gratitude. I have since realized that we are all are extraordinary and unique beings who possess a gift that we must give. Because of specific experiences that we have had, we all have more or less of certain qualities. To be angry or resentful when we do not have these characteristics is unrealistic.
I want to be healthy, and this requires a holistic approach. We can have fit bodies and weak minds, or vice versa. To be truly healthy and happy, we must approach health from the perspective of mind, body, and soul.
All of these components need nourishment. If we fail to nourish one part, then like a plant, it will wither. Knowing how to be healthy is one thing; doing something about it is entirely different.
Personal Takeaways
- It is a personal choice to take positive action.
- I realized that when people get awkward that you don’t drink, it is their stuff, not yours.
- Allowing such an unhealthy, addictive cycle shows little to no self-love.
- Health is a holistic thing (physical, mental, and spiritual).
- We must keep company who support us in our goals. Choose your company wisely.
- Alcohol is a complacency tool. It kills consciousness and creativity.
- This cycle I speak of comes in an infinite number of varieties.
- We are not alone. Many other people are trying to escape their reality as well.
- To cease such a cycle, we must devote ourselves to a larger purpose.
Conclusion
In the end, we are all human. This means that we are fundamentally flawed. We are also creatures of habit. It is easy for us to do something over and over if we feel we’ve gained some type of reward for doing it. This means that it is not uncommon for these habits to be negative, self-defeating, or unhealthy.
One thing that we as humans can do is to shine the light of consciousness upon these cycles that may not benefit us. The shadows of darkness cannot live in the presence of this light. I am not suggesting that shining and holding this awareness is easy. I personally still struggle with this. It is difficult. Life is difficult. With practice, like with weight training, we can become strong, and we can change these patterns.
We can identify our damaging cycles. We can share them with friends and family with no embarrassment or shame. We can choose to focus on what our higher purpose in life is, as we all have one. This will allow us to replace these negative, downward cycles with positive, upward ones that will benefit us and all of the people around us.
