Tag: wisdom
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20 Things You Don’t Have to Apologize For
If you’re anything like me, you apologize far too often, and most of the time, when you haven’t done anything wrong.
Sometimes we apologize for things beyond our control—like bad weather during a party we’re hosting.
Sometimes we apologize when someone else was actually in the wrong—when a waiter brings us food not cooked to our specifications, for example.
And sometimes we apologize for life choices we have every right to make—like the decision to change jobs, or end a relationship.
We’re wired to seek a sense of belonging, and we fear being ostracized from our tribe, so many of us lean toward excessive contrition to ensure we’re still in people’s good graces.
We may also apologize because we’re highly sensitive to other people’s feelings, and we want to ensure we haven’t unintentionally caused them pain.
Particularly if you were abused at some point, it can feel imperative to express remorse for potential slights and offenses, since this could minimize the risk of retaliation. But by doing this, we’re undermining ourselves and reinforcing a sense of guilt and subservience.
It’s admirable to apologize when we’ve genuinely done something wrong, or even if we believe we inadvertently hurt someone else. But there are certain choices we need to own, and need never apologize for.
Since this topic has been on my mind lately, I decided to ask Tiny Buddha Facebook followers this question a couple weeks back:
What’s one thing we should never apologize for?
More than 2,000 people responded, many with variations of the same ideas. Below is a short list of the ones I found most compelling.
You Never Have to Apologize For…
1. Removing someone from your life that repeatedly crosses your boundaries. ~Bonnie Romano
2. Being who we are, and feeling our feelings. ~Courtney Redd-Boynton
3. Trusting your instincts, even if you can’t explain it. ~Kate Willette
4. We should never apologize if we’re not truly sorry. I don’t believe in apologizing because someone ‘demands’ an apology. ~Olga Baez Rivera
5. Quality “me” time (taking care of ourselves). ~Nath Ray
6. Your opinion—there is no right or wrong opinion, and there’d be a lot less arguments if more people could just respect and appreciate different insights. ~Jennifer Werner Mader
7. Standing up for what you believe in. ~Michelle Galyon-Stallings
8. Living life the way we choose to, regardless of fitting in with other people’s norms. ~Tanya Johns Emery
9. Making decisions about your own future that don’t do any harm to anyone. No one should be made to feel guilty for trying to better themselves. ~Rebecca Killeen
10. You shouldn’t have to apologize for how you feel. You may need to apologize for how you act on your feelings, but never for being hurt, angry, sad, etc., and expressing how you feel. There’s a difference. ~NathanArisa Ferree
11. Being sensitive. I feel my feelings and I believe it’s hurtful when individuals are quick to tell someone to “get over it.” If we aren’t harming anyone, we all deserve to process our feelings in our own time frame and manner. ~Lori Mitchell
12. For being protective of our children and trusting our instincts as parents—especially when they’re not yet capable of advocating for themselves. ~Amitola Rajah
13. Having to grieve. Some people think there is a time limit or a timeframe. It could take a lifetime to accept someone we love passing away. ~Lisa Marie
14. Speaking the truth. It ain’t always pleasant, but better to know what’s really in someone’s heart than be fake! ~Kiran Sohi
15. Speaking up when someone has hurt us in some way. ~Karin Alberga
16. Fighting for the rights of animals. ~Linda Leppington
17. Taking a break and doing absolutely nothing for ten minutes. ~Christina Teresa
18. Being a free thinker and questioning everything even when it’s not the popular thing to do. ~Kathy Gildersleeve Wesley
19. Choosing what you think is best for your life. ~Kay West
20. Apologizing too much. ~Lori Deschene
Yes, I just quoted myself there. And what I wrote might seem a little ironic, considering the topic of this post. But I’ve realized that despite knowing I don’t need to apologize as often as I do, I may still fall into this habit at times. And I’ve decided that’s perfectly okay.
It’s okay that I sometimes experience anxiety about potential rejection. It’s okay that I’m insecure at times, and apologize to compensate. And it’s understandable, given my background, that I occasionally blame myself for things that aren’t my fault.
The whole point of learning to apologize less is to build confidence in ourselves and our choices, and that means embracing our humanity.
It’s human to struggle, and unless we’re hurting other people, there’s no need to apologize for it.
What’s one thing you’ve realized you don’t need to apologize for? Have you ever apologized for something on this list?
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Why I Believe That Feeling Offended Is a Choice
“The feeling of being ‘offended’ is a warning indicator that is showing you where to look within yourself for unresolved issues.” ~Bryant McGill
As I ponder back over my forty-odd years on this planet, I can’t really remember going lengths of time without feeling offended. By someone’s words, or actions. It was simply my default reaction.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t enjoy it. Feeling offended never feels good. Ever. There’s always a sting. Which is probably why the (many) “feeling offended” memories are so prominent. And clear.
Some of them were simple and relatively unimportant.
Like the time I was sharing some important insight with my (then) partner. I was mid-sentence and fully engaged emotionally only to be cut short as he decided to take an incoming call from his ex-wife. And promptly left the room.
Yup, I took offense.
Or what about the time, more recently, when I discovered I’d been “unfriended” by one of my oldest friends on Facebook? No explanation offered. Just gone.
Yup, I took (major) offense to that too.
As I reach further into my treasure chest of memories, there are also those bigger “feeling-offended” moments. Those that had a more reaching impact on me. That made me question myself. My values. My self-worth.
My daughter’s dad left the country when she was three. My relationship with him was difficult, so I’ll admit I was relieved. It did mean, however, that I was to be a single parent in every sense of the word.
And I took that role seriously. I was young and naïve, but I did my best with what I knew and felt proud of each parenting milestone.
Her dad, on the other hand, showed up annually for a week or two, created a bit of emotional upheaval, and then left. Again. His input (emotionally and financially) was limited.
I was left to make all the decisions—important or not—and I liked that. It felt free. Independent.
When my daughter was about ten, I decided to move her into a different schooling system, one that I felt she would thrive in. Her dad caught wind of this and decided he had the right to interfere. And he did.
What followed was an unforgettable telephonic conversation, wherein I was lambasted for my somewhat shortsightedness in her educational needs, as well as in my general parenting too!
I. WAS. OFFENDED.
Who wouldn’t be! Right?
And boy, did I wallow in that pit of self-indignant injustice! For weeks!
Just who did he think he was! Seriously??
And it felt uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. I vacillated between anger, hurt, and indignation. I replayed the event over and over and over. It consumed my thoughts. Totally.
Over time, the thoughts faded and life moved on. Yet if I engaged that memory, all the feelings flooded back, just as powerfully.
The hurt.
The sense of injustice.
The feelings of worthlessness.
In a way, I felt powerless to it.
Feeling offended was a reaction. How could it ever be a choice?
In recent years, I’ve come to understand more about how we interact with our thinking. That our thoughts are separate from us. And that engaging with them can be a choice we make. Consciously.
With this in mind, let’s look at what really happens in the process of us feeling offended.
1. We attach our sense of value to a certain aspect of our outer persona (what we present to the world, aka our ego).
If you value yourself as a kind person, it’s not surprising that you would feel offended if someone said you were unkind. Being kind is how you present yourself to the world. It forms part of how you validate your worthiness.
Conversely, if someone told you that you suck at being an astronaut, would you care? Probably not in the slightest.
Because there’s no attachment to that as part of your identity.
Simple, right?
In the example above, being a “good mom” was part of my identity. It gave me a sense of validation. Having my parenting questioned left me doubting my sense of worthiness.
But the truth is, we’re not our persona. Our worthiness is not attached to our ego.
Feeling worthy is not something we find outside of ourselves. It’s inside us. Always has been. We simply need to reconnect with it.
2. We attach value to other people’s opinions.
Imagine that you’re innocently walking down the street, minding your own business and feeling content. A big burly chap accidentally bumps into you, and as you turn to look at him he screams at you. Expletives flow out of his mouth about how clumsy you are. How you should watch where you’re going.
Yet it was his fault!
How do you feel? Probably pretty offended. And angry. Insulted even. How dare he!
But here’s the thing: His reaction had absolutely nothing to do with you. At all.
He may have just been fired. Or had a fight with his mate. You were simply the excuse he found to vent his anger.
So, in taking offense, aren’t you wasting your good mood? Will it help matters if you shout back? Will he ever apologize? Doubtful… You’ll just feel bad.
We never, ever, know what others are thinking. Or feeling. We’ll never see life through their eyes. Which means our perspectives will always be different.
So how can we ever see someone else’s opinion about us as our truth? It’s their truth. Only theirs.
My daughter’s dad had no idea what I did as a parent on a day-to-day basis. How could he?
Also, his idea of parenting varied hugely from mine. We had vastly different perspectives. In his world, his was right, and ditto, me in mine.
So how could I place any validity or truth to his criticism of my parenting?
How could I truly feel offended? His outburst was never about me. It was simply his opinion. That’s all.
Choosing not to feel offended comes from a place of strength. It’s an empowered perspective. A choice. But it doesn’t mean that we’re condoning the offender’s behavior. No, not at all. Quite the opposite applies.
Spiteful or derogatory comments grounded in phobias, like racism or homosexuality, are mostly fear-based. And they’re usually founded in ignorance.
By choosing not to feel offended, we’re taking the high road. A higher perspective. One that feels good.
We’re only ever responsible for our role in this interaction.
Honestly? It’s not always easy. Especially when it’s close to home. Involving someone we love.
Sometimes feeling offended is simply part of the human experience. And that’s okay.
From an empowered place we can move past it. Let it go. And lean toward our innate sense of well-being.
Feeling worthy feels confident. Content. Relaxed. Safe.
It’s knowing that we’re enough. Total unconditional acceptance. Just as we are. No judgment.
As we extend that to others, we become immune to their behavior. And opinions. There’s just unconditional acceptance.
And that’s when you truly feel empowered. When you can really accept your role in taking offense.
And simply choose not to.
It’s that simple.
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Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself On Sale for 99 Cents
Hi friends! I’m pleased to announce that the eBook version of Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself has been selected for The Great Autumn eBook Sale, which is offering twelve powerful eBooks for just 99 cents each, from now until October 19th.
About Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself
Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself shares forty unique perspectives and insights on topics related to loving yourself, including:
- Realizing you’re not broken
- Accepting your flaws
- Releasing the need for approval
- Forgiving yourself
- Letting go of comparisons
- Learning to be authentic
Featuring stories selected from hundreds of Tiny Buddha contributors, this book can help you overcome critical, self-judging thoughts to create a peaceful, empowered life.
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Some of the other titles in The Great Autumn eBook Sale include:
- Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Little Book of Wisdom
- Communication Miracles for Couples
- Let Go Now: Embracing Detachment
- A Year to Clear: A Daily Guide to Creating Spaciousness in Your Home and Heart
Click here to see the full list of 12 bestselling titles you can choose from for only 99 cents each.
The reduced prices are only available through midnight on Thursday October 19th, so be sure to act quickly if you want to take advantage of this unique opportunity to load up your eReader while saving big.
If you’d rather grab a hard copy of Tiny Buddha’s Guide to Loving Yourself, you can get one on Amazon here. Or, if you’re more drawn to my latest book, Tiny Buddha’s Gratitude Journal, you can find that here.
Happy Wednesday!
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If Only I Knew My Worth…
“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.” ~Albert Einstein
Looking back on my past, I see that I have spent most of my precious time striving to improve myself instead of celebrating the very gift of being alive and healthy. For many years, I though I wasn’t good enough, and perfection was my worst enemy.
I considered myself pretty but not beautiful, somewhat smart but not truly intelligent. In other words, I thought of myself as average, not outstanding. I grew up with the fear of getting bad grades in school because if I ever did, that would have made a new reason for me to feel ashamed and unworthy.
In the Eastern-European schooling system I grew up with, I was always compared to others and every day in school felt like a never-ending competition and fight for the glory of being the first in class. It was tough. I hardly had any free time to play, and most of my days were filled up with homework.
I spent quite a few years in school, including university. I held successful jobs in a big corporation, and I traveled the world with work. And I invested a lot of money, time, and energy into studying and growing in my career.
I’ve gotten to learn a lot about history, mathematics, chemistry, biology, physics, literature, music, and foreign languages. Despite all that, there is one essential topic I would have liked the schooling system to prepare me for: how to know my own value.
So here’s what I didn’t realize at the time and what I know to be true today:
If only I knew my own worth…
I would have stopped focusing on my weaknesses, flaws, and imperfections without even being aware of my natural strengths, gifts, and talents.
I would have stopped fighting for perfection and punishing myself for every tiny mistake I might have made. I would have known that perfection was nothing but an illusion of the mind, and didn’t exist.
I would have acknowledged the hard work and efforts behind my achievements instead of attributing my accomplishments to luck or other people who gave me chances to succeed.
I would have stopped making myself small each time I achieved something good, as if “that wasn’t anything special” or “anyone else could have done it.”
I would have stopped taking myself for granted, being aware of the value I was going to bring to any of my employers with my personal set of skills and abilities. I could understand that getting paid for my knowledge was nothing but fair game. I would have found the courage to ask for a raise and negotiate my salary, and I would have never ended up underpaid.
I would have stopped comparing myself to others, and would have known that everyone is on their own journey. I could celebrate other people’s successes instead of fearing I might not earn the same amount of money or get the same amount of love. I would have understood that life doesn’t have to be a fight or an exhausting competition—that there is enough of everything and for everyone, including myself.
I would have felt at ease when praised by others, embracing compliments with grace. I wouldn’t have made myself small or put myself down as if I wasn’t worthy of such a celebration.
I wouldn’t have acted like a master of people pleasing, not daring to say no to the things I didn’t really want to do, fearing people wouldn’t like me any longer. I wouldn’t have felt like I owed anyone any apologies or any explanation for the way I was spending my time and with whom. My time means life and it’s never coming back.
I wouldn’t have expected others to make me happy, fulfill my needs, and keep my cup full of love, care, and attention. I wouldn’t have expected any man to make me feel valued, cherished, wanted, and loved, knowing that my happiness was my responsibility and every else was a bonus.
But despite all that, here’s the gain in pain, the blessing in disguise, and the real gift of my life experience:
I am convinced that we live in a smart, intelligent Universe where everything unfolds perfectly, and everything happens for a good reason.
I am not here to blame anyone for anything. I am not a victim. Society did the best it could at the time. So did my parents and my teachers. My life circumstances have nothing to do with my future, and I am the one co-creating my reality through how I think, act, and feel. It is my birthright to be happy, only because I am human. I am here to grow and learn more about life and myself.
It is never too late to step into my power and feel worthy of the best things life has to offer: good health, love, and abundance. When I value myself, others will value me as well.
Today, I know I couldn’t do my empowering work in the world from a place of authenticity and power without going through such a disempowered experience myself. There is no light without darkness.
I stopped explaining myself for what I want and for who I am. I am not afraid to step into my greatness. I am perfectly beautiful and beautifully imperfect, and this allows me to be me. I have learned how to love and approve of myself, exactly the way I am.
I have come to realize that in life, we don’t always get what we want because we only pursue what we think we deserve. That’s why it’s crucial that we believe in ourselves and see ourselves as enough and worthy of the best things life has to offer.
“Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re right.” ~Henry Ford
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Letting Go of Our Past Identities: When It’s Time to Move On and Evolve
“Life is the dancer and you are the dance.” ~Eckhardt Tolle
The day I decided to leave acting felt like being exorcised from my own body.
I was twenty-nine and had been dreaming of being an actor from the time I first saw a regional production of Cats around the age of eight.
I spent the next twenty-one years with laser focus on making that dream a reality—voice lessons, dance classes, summer theater intensives, constant late night college rehearsals, and finally, top conservatory training.
Even my mother, who was initially highly uncomfortable with the idea, tossed up her hands when she saw me perform and when she witnessed my resolve.
“You have just always known,” she would say with a sideways smile. “You were meant to do this.”
Acting brought me closer to the divine. I get that now. And though it took me a while, I now say that unapologetically.
What I felt when I was onstage was nothing short of connection to the divine self, to a self I could trust to fly, to do her thing without apology, my deepest self-expression, a high-vibrating force. Perhaps that was why I was so addicted to it, why I felt I needed it to feel alive.
My actor self was a mask, a costume I wore for many years. I believed I needed it to feel seen, to be admired, to become powerful. My talent and successes were proof of my worthiness to live and to be loved. The idea of taking them off instilled mortal fear.
The day I left acting, I had just finished one of my most achingly fulfilling runs. I played a meth addict named Janelle who was struggling for sobriety and love. At the end of the show, I knew the time had come to let go. I knew it was time to move on, that I was meant for work beyond it. Though I knew, it didn’t stop me from sobbing on my bed in the fetal position.
The day I left New York City, I felt like I was being exorcised from my own body.
Silent tears streamed down my face as we drove through Brooklyn en route to Virginia. My heart railed against my rib cage and my intestines temper tantrumed in rebellion.
New York City was where I found myself as an adult, as a professional.
It was where I found my people, my tribe who believed in me, my message, who called me the “white witch.” It is where I became a business woman, developed my own programs, retreats, where I started writing, where I honed my self-expression and channeled it into impact. It is where I started to feel like an independent bad-ass, who could do anything, who could dream things into reality.
I realize now that much like acting, coaching brought me closer to divine. It took me a while to say that, but I say it unapologetically now.
There was an energy that would flow through my veins, crackling with electricity. My focus would narrow and I would feel suspended in time with another human. I didn’t “think.” Information was just there for me. I was relying on a deeper intelligence, and the kicker was that it was the same energy I felt onstage.
Perhaps that is why I became addicted to my professional roles in NYC. Part of me still believed I needed them to feel close to that divine source, to feel powerful, to be worthy of love and of being alive.
When I was left in a new city without my tribe, without that admiration, without the same roles as before, without the ability to easily look into someone’s soul, for a while, I felt lost. I questioned my worth.
The day I became a mother, I felt like I was being exorcised from my own body… quite literally.
Emotionally, I was letting go of all the child selves I had been and bidding farewell to unbridled freedom. Physically, the contraction and pain left me unable to fight, and in a strange way, left me completely open to presence.
On that day, pulling my son from between my legs and onto my chest, I felt intensely connected to the divine. In the months and years following, despite the challenges, the exhaustion, and the constant couts in my ability, I feel the connection to something larger than myself growing and growing, and when I think it can’t get bigger, it just keeps on going.
And though I’m still in my early years, I can already feel myself becoming addicted to the role of mother.
Part of me still believes I need it to feel those feelings of transcendent connection, of deep intimacy, connection with my children, of deep feminine power. I can feel how much I am already attaching, and how one day, letting go of being needed, letting my children make their own decisions, simply letting them go, will feel like being exorcised from my own body.
One day, I also know I will have to let go of the identity of a daughter, of a wife, of me.
And perhaps that is the dance of letting go of our identities, our roles, our masks and our costumes. They become second skins, and even when they become painful and frayed, we feel we need them to be safe. We feel we need them to experience love, and breaking free may always feel like we are being exorcised from our bodies.
But life never stops moving and never stops demanding our internal growth. We outgrow each phase, and each role with time. Each one eventually falls away as we become larger and more expansive.
Life never promised to keep us safe. It wasn’t designed that way.
Life, however, will continue to hand us opportunities to become who we really are, to understand ourselves on a deep level, to experience the full breadth of human emotion.
Some of these opportunities will strip us of our false selves and our superficial attachments. Others will invite us and inspire us to play bigger in our own lives. They all serve the same purpose, however, to understand love, and ourselves, with more nuance, with more wisdom.
Life hands us the masks and the costumes until we grow into them fully, then asks us to take them off.
It will hand us the closing of the show, the chapter, and the opportunities to take them off. In doing so, life gives us the option to expand who we are underneath the costumes, to get closer to the divine, the feelings of big love, transcendence and connection in a new way that we have before.
When we attach to the identity costume we are wearing in the moment, it’s like pouring cement over our deepest selves. We are missing the point of the purpose of it, and in doing so, we are refusing our own evolution. The result is that we wind up feeling limited, stuck, and chained.
The identity may be the temporary vehicle of the deeper self, but the guidance of our soul doesn’t care much about them, which is why it may whisper to us to change paths or urge us toward something surprising to us, and scary to our identities.
We always have the self underneath who is trying on the costumes, who is constantly growing bigger and more powerful (if we are listening and feeding it). We never lose it. It is our point of consciousness. It is the life energy that is neither created nor destroyed.
Perhaps the next time life confronts me with an opportunity to take off the costume, to dance naked for a while, or to put on a new coat, I can try to hand it over with a little more grace and trust.
And the truth is, I love trying on the costumes, the masks. I love dancing around in them. Some songs are dark and melancholy. Others are full of joy. Sometimes there is silence and all I can do is lie on the floor.
I recognize, however, that each coat will eventually come off, and it is the self underneath that I am left with, and she is the source of all everything; of deep feminine power, of love, of connection, of presence, of flow, of trust, of belonging. She is who I have always been.
She just needed to see herself mirrored back in all of those costumes to see truly see that.
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Honesty Is a Gift, So We Don’t Have to Hide Our True Feelings
“Never apologize for showing feelings. When you do so, you apologize for the truth.” ~Benjamin Disraeli
I’ll never forget my progress report from third grade: “Jennifer shows disappointment when she’s not called on.”
This must have been a bad thing, because my mother sat me down to talk about it. Apparently, when I raised my hand and wasn’t called on, I frowned. I was to work on that, to try to stay neutral, to not show I was upset.
I also clearly remember the day my dad came over to my mom’s house to tell me his father, my grandfather, had passed away. I was twelve, and I started crying. My father told me to stop crying because it was going to make him cry.
Once again, I felt as if I was being scolded for having feelings and showing them.
Years later, when I was very stressed out at a high-pressure job, I was crying in my own private office. The CEO of the tiny company walked by and then came in to talk to me for a few minutes, then left.
The next time I had a performance review, I was told, in not so many words, that crying was not allowed. If I had emotions to express, I should go outside and walk around the building until I felt better.
All of these incidents made me feel embarrassed and ashamed. I shouldn’t show my emotions of disappointment or sadness. I shouldn’t allow myself to feel stressed out, especially if it meant shedding tears.
These experiences seemed to be the world showing me that it was my job to stay still and quiet, and that I should smile even when I didn’t want to, and that I should prevent my messy emotions from ever impacting anyone else.
The trouble was, and is, that I have a terrible time hiding my emotions. I’m an emotional person, and if I’m sad or overcome with emotion, I cry. If I’m disappointed, I frown. If I’m happy, I smile or laugh.
Still, I’ve gotten good at trying to moderate my emotions, especially in social or work situations, in order to present myself a certain way. A way that does not allow me to be my true self.
Luckily, though, something happened that made me realize that trying to mask my emotions was ultimately taking me out of alignment and out of touch with everything I’m here to learn and experience.
One day, I heard the author and spiritual teacher Martha Beck talking about her “integrity cleanse,” and something clicked in me.
She said that a couple of years ago she started attempting to live in complete integrity—always telling the truth (in a kind way, of course)—and that it has changed her life in profound ways. She said for her, even if the expression on her face doesn’t match up with how she’s feeling in her body, she’s out of integrity.
Boom! That’s exactly what I needed to hear.
I finally realized that showing and expressing my emotions was actually a good thing, probably one of the most important parts of my healing journey and time on this planet.
Instead of walking through this life pretending I’m okay when really I’m heartbroken, or acting like I’m not offended by a racist joke, or smiling when someone says something that makes upset, I need to honor and express my feelings.
I’m going to tell you a secret, though: It’s freaking hard. As much as I say I don’t want to hide my true feelings, in many ways it’s a habit.
Who wants to upset their parent or spouse? Who wants to ruffle feathers at work? Who wants to walk away from a boring conversation and worry about being perceived as rude?
The thing is, any time we’re hiding our emotions or pretending we do or don’t feel something in order to protect ourselves or someone else, we’re lying. We’re lying to ourselves, and we’re lying to the other person.
And lying? It’s bad for the body, mind, and spirit. It breaks you down and stresses you out. It causes rifts and gaps in your family and with your friends.
Here are some things you might want to keep in mind if you decide to allow your true feelings to show no matter who you’re with or what the circumstance.
Sometimes you’re going to upset people. The thing is, if you always tell the truth, some people are simply not going to like it.
There are some people in your world who likely want you to stay small, or to stay emotionless. If you are going to start expressing what you feel, know that some people will end up exiting your life.
You’re not going to be immediately good at this right away, and it’s going to take time to feel comfortable expressing yourself in every situation. I am so, so not there yet. I still find myself smiling politely when really I want to run away, or answering a question in a way that doesn’t feel true to me.
Yet, in many other ways I’ve created beautiful relationships where I don’t have to say “I’m fine” when they ask me how my day is going. I can tell them the real, scary feelings I’m having.
I believe the best way to approach this is notice and acknowledge to yourself when you’re denying your emotions, even if you’re not ready to say it out loud. At least you’re telling the truth to yourself, and that’s an incredibly important first step.
This is going to be very scary. If you’ve been hiding your real self and real emotions for a long time, or if you hide them from a large number of people, this is probably going to be the most frightening thing you ever do.
Take it slowly. Practice not smiling at that coworker who always insists you smile. Tell him or her “No thanks, not right now.”
Allow yourself to cry in front of a friend, even if you’re normally too embarrassed to do something like that.
Let yourself express anger to someone who says something offensive or dishonors you in some way. You can do it.
If you have kids, start teaching them to express their true emotions as early as possible, as it will make their own emotional lives much easier.
My daughter is three, and though I sometimes catch myself trying to distract her from negative feelings, she responds so beautifully to me sitting down at her eye level and acknowledging her angry or sad feelings.
I believe it’s a gift to allow others to feel what they feel, and that it creates honest, open humans.
Ask for help in being absolutely true to yourself. Ask a friend or your partner to support you in your journey. If it’s in line with your belief system, ask a higher power for help in being open and honest with your feelings.
Set the intention each morning that you wish to honor your own feelings, emotions, and truth, but that you also wish to do so in the kindest, most loving manner possible.
You can do this. You deserve to do this, and the people you interact with deserve to know you in your truest form.
This is not easy, but it does get easier, and I believe it’s the greatest gift we can give to ourselves and each other, even if my third-grade teacher would disagree.
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Why We Need to Learn to Let Go and Adapt If We Want to Be Happy
Charles Darwin is believed to have said that in nature, it’s not the strongest or most intelligent that survives but those who are most adaptable to change.
No matter what kind of life we live, we all need to learn to adapt, because everything changes. Good and bad come and go in everybody’s life. It’s one of the reasons resilience is so critical.
We plan our lives expecting good to come our way, to get what we want, and for things to work out how we planned. At the same time we’re chasing the good, we try to avoid the bad.
One of the biggest sources of our unhappiness and discontent is not being able to adapt to change; instead, we cling to things we’ve lost or get upset because things don’t unfold as we want them to.
What we overlook is that this is a fundamental law of life, the ups and downs, ebbs and flows. Things come and go, nothing stays the same, and we can’t control most of the things we’d like to. Accepting this and learning to adapt and go with the flow brings us one step closer to happiness.
I’ve just come back from a meditation retreat. It sounds relaxing, and it was, but it was also difficult in many ways.
I had to adapt to a new routine, which meant a 5:30am alarm, sitting for long periods of meditation, and periods of complete silence and solitude.
And there were lots of other changes: Not having my morning cup of tea or evening chocolate—or any caffeine or dairy—and adjusting to a vegan diet. Being without WiFi and my cell phone, and braving the sub-zero temperatures up in the mountains of NZ in winter. Having to do karma yoga work—things like cleaning toilets and stacking wood. Not to mention the kind of emotions, thoughts, and feelings we’re confronted with when we start to disconnect from the world and spend time with ourselves.
I was so pleased to be returning home, but then instantly thrown into the chaos of a busy airport with all flights grounded due to fog. I then realized that I would not be going home, and to attempt that tomorrow meant a bus ride to the next airport and finding some overnight accommodation to wait it out, with the hope that the weather would be fit for flying in the morning.
Despite my Zen-like state post-meditation, I was frustrated, upset, and I just wanted to get home to see my partner, sleep in my own bed, and not feel so helpless.
I had my plan, my expected outcome, and for reasons beyond everyone’s control, this wasn’t possible. I wasn’t going to get what I wanted.
Now, a week later, I find myself having to learn the skill of adaptability once again.
Many years ago I played soccer. I wasn’t bad, either. I loved it. It was my passion. As a kid, I’d play all day on my own in the garden, and once I found a team I’d never miss a match. However, my career was cut short in my early twenties after a ruptured cruciate ligament that was surgically repaired, re-ruptured.
I had to give up on my passion and for many years didn’t play soccer. It was as a result of this devastation that I found yoga—my new passion and lifesaver for the past seven years, something I do every day.
I’ve just had a further operation on this ailing knee, and while I’d adapted over the years from the injury, I found myself once again having to adapt to changes: Not being able to walk, being housebound, using crutches and the difficulties this brings. Finding a way of sleeping comfortably and seeing through the fog the painkillers seemed to create. Not being able to do my morning yoga routine and struggling to meditate because I couldn’t adopt my usual cross-legged ‘proper’ meditation position.
Sometimes what is, is good enough. Acceptance is key to helping us adapt.
If I can breathe, I can meditate, and I’ve enjoyed some of my lying down meditations (the ones where I’ve managed to stay awake!).
And now, as I reduce the meds and ease off the crutches, I can see positive change occurring. I can do a few standing yoga asanas and can take short walks with support.
The devastation of leaving my beloved sport morphed into another form of exercise I fell in love with that I may never have otherwise discovered. And my recent operation led me to new ways of enjoying this passion.
These recent lessons caused me to reflect on how life has changed for me over the last year or so and how I’ve been adapting along the way (sometimes kicking and screaming).
I’ve gone from a nomad traveling the world to settling down in a city I’d said I’d never live in due to the wind and the earthquakes. I’ve experienced some of the worst winds and biggest earthquakes of my life since being here and learned to love it all the same.
I’ve recognized the positives and come to love the bits that make this city (Wellington, NZ) great: the small town feel, the laid back lifestyle, the friendly residents, the ocean, the beach suburbs and beautiful scenery, the wonderful array of cafes and restaurants, not to mention the abundance of yoga, meditation, and wellness related activities.
I’ve gone from being single and happy to living with someone else and having to think about someone else, taking into account more needs than just my own.
I’ve had to learn to love again, take risks, and face fears while navigating a long-term relationship and our different wants and needs. I’ve had to learn to share a home and build a nest, and think about the future in ways I’d never have thought I could, feeling very blessed if also a little apprehensive and scared at the same time.
Very often those in long-term relationships may envy the free, single, fun life of others, while at the same time those who are single are chasing the dream of finding their soul mate and settling down like the married couples who envy them.
I’ve learned that everything has its pros and cons, each cloud has a silver lining, and each silver lining has a cloud. It’s what we choose to focus on that impacts our happiness.
We could always be chasing the next thing, looking for greener grass. But if we do this, the grass will always be greener even when we get there. And if we live like this, we miss out on all the good stuff we already have, all the silver linings that exist in the now, in our current situation.
New relationships generally start well because it’s new and we’re in love. But what about when the novelty wears off, years down the track when we’re living together and bringing up kids?
We realize that our new love is, in fact, human. We get tired, we get irritated, we find they do actually leave clothes on the floor and leave the lid off the toothpaste.
In the same way our new, latest model dream car becomes not so new, or the dream job turns out to be a bit tougher than we thought.
Everything has good and bad, so stop expecting perfection and clinging onto an unrealistic ideal. This results in us always be disappointed.
Life changes as the seasons do. What we needed then may not be what we need now, and either way, we might not have control of what exactly is unfolding. Learn to adapt with these changes, not fight against them. Trying to keep everything the same is like trying to tell the leaves not to fall from the trees in autumn.
Whether the weather doesn’t hold during a party we’ve planned or a long-term relationship ends, things don’t always go to plan. Things change and we don’t always get to hold on to good stuff forever.
Embracing this is key to happiness, as is living in the present and enjoying each moment as it is. Whatever is happening now won’t last, which is great news if we’re going through a tough time but not so great if things are going well and we’ve just got the promotion we wanted or met our soul mate.
Life is not about what happens to us but how we react to it, and some of our biggest disappointments can lead to better things in life, bringing us new beginnings, if we learn to adapt and embrace change.
Expect life not to go to plan and then you won’t be so disappointed. Accept what is, look for the silver lining, and adapt. Keep looking for the good in every moment and learn from the tough ones.
This is how we not only survive but thrive: by embracing each moment for what it is and choosing to make the best of it.
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How To Be Open-Minded When Others See the World Differently
“Most disagreements are caused by different perceptions that created different realities.” ~Unknown
When I was thirteen, I experienced a monumental change in my young life.
It wasn’t a big move, no one close to me died, and although puberty was rocking my world in the worst way, it was something else altogether that shook me to the core:
The movie Titanic came out.
I know, I know, it’s just a movie, and I was just another swooning teenager wishing that I was the one Jack never wanted to let go of, but it hit me hard. Truth, love, the pain of loss: a woman following her heart and risking it all for true love. I relished every second of its three hours and fifteen minute run time.
So much that I saw it multiple times over winter break at school—usually with my equally enamored mom, sometimes with my best friend, always with a lump in my throat. I held back tears as I saw Jack’s face disappearing into the icy waters, always wondering why Rose couldn’t make room for him on the raft, each time imagining myself in the situation: falling in love, making tough choices, persevering through loss.
(Spoiler alert: the ship sinks.)
Returning to school a few weeks later, I knew I’d been changed. Titanic was helping me to sort out the girl I was from the woman I was becoming, and I figured it was having an equal effect on those around me. I was pleasantly surprised when I walked into class on the first day back at school and read an obviously related quote on the white board:
“’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” ~Tennyson
I smiled inside, realizing that my eighth grade teacher must have seen Titanic too, feeling a kindred recognition of just how important this epic film was. After all, it was a sweeping success across the country, breaking records and hearts and box office sales.
As I settled into my seat and he began to lecture, I prepared to listen to what his thoughts were about the film: maybe he had a historical critique, or an interpretation of the film’s depiction of the human condition?
Oh, how wrong I was.
It turns out that the local football team had gone to the super bowl during this same break, and while I was losing it over Jack and Rose, many others were losing it over this team’s big loss.
As my teacher began to lecture and joke with classmates about “the value of making it to the super bowl at all” I hung my head in frustration and confusion. There was a life-changing movie in theatres, cataloguing one of the worst catastrophes in history. Why didn’t anyone care about this? Isn’t this quote on the board far more applicable to a love story than to a football team?
Doesn’t everyone feel the way that I do??
In retrospect, my Titanic example is funny (and somewhat ridiculous). Of course not everyone felt the same soul shaking connection to a movie, and of course not everyone had the newly awakened hormones of a teenage girl. (Say Leeeeoooo with some longing in a whispery voice, and you’ve got my thirteen-year-old daydreams pegged pretty well.)
When we’re that young it’s easy to make major mistakes in our perception of others, but within this comical event are the seeds of an issue that would continue to show up, both in my life and others.
There’s Imperfection in Perception
My misinterpretation of a teacher’s quote on the board is an early mistake in “encoding” and “decoding.” Those two words are just fancy talk for the complicated interaction that is communication, and how they’re related to something called the “confirmation bias.”
See, when I read those words on the white board, they confirmed something that I (unconsciously) assumed to be true: everyone cared about this thing that I did (ahem, Titanic, cough) and of course this quote about love must relate to it. The words on the board spoke to me in a way that I thought was universal: my thirteen-year-old brain knew exactly what they meant.
When words are spoken, however (or written on a white board in eighth grade), the intention of the communicator can get lost in the understanding. When I say something to you, I’m “encoding” information that I want to communicate; I’m trying to get you to understand me.
The trouble comes when we forget that each person understands (or “decodes”) information differently—we hear what we know, we hear what we want, and we hear what makes sense based on our life thus far.
See, this variability in perception happens because each of us views the world through a slightly different lens. What the word “love” means to me could be different than what it means to you; for example, what has the word “love” meant in the past? Has it been controlling or unconditional, loaded with expectations or adoration?
The actual words we use are simply a jumping off place, and then they’re strung together in beads of sentences that can appear a different color to each person listening. The “colors” (or meaning) we assign to words vary because all of us do; and because our minds are expert categorizers, we often understand things in a way that already makes sense with our existent worldview.
It’s for this reason that two people can read the same news article and come away with different interpretations, or feel entirely different about the events going on in the world: We tend to pay attention to information that confirms what we already believe to be true, and disregard the rest of what we see. It’s not due to callousness either; it’s the way that we’re wired.
Our brains are really good at simplifying and organizing. In order to cognitively make sense of a complicated and busy world, we have to become expert categorizers. This is adaptive, and it helps our overworked brains make sense of things.
The hiccups only come when we forget that the way we’ve organized the world is different than the way that others have; when we assume that each person interprets the world and its events the way that we do.
So, what do we do? If everyone could mean something different when they say “I love you” or “let’s go get some ice cream” then how on earth are we ever supposed to understand each other? Is all social coherence lost?
The answer is simple, but not easy: We must keep an open (and present) mind.
Open-mindedness
Keeping an open mind is realizing that we all perceive the world that we live in differently. It’s remembering that when we read (or listen) we are “decoding” at the same time—trying to understand and make sense of information, all through our unique and limited worldview.
It’s being patient when we feel misunderstood, and allowing for the possibility that we’re also misunderstanding others.
Open-mindedness is being forgiving of people who hold different opinions and reminding ourselves that we’ve really only ever been one person; we don’t necessarily know what the world is like for others.
Being open-minded is another form of mindfulness, really. It’s pausing before responding, and asking ourselves: What do I already believe to be true about this person, this event, this political party? What in my past is causing me to feel agitated, or generous, or suspicious? What does the person speaking to me actually mean?
Even if we don’t always have the answers, simply allowing the questions to percolate our perception can open us up to the world around us.
Not having answers also gives us the chance to ask questions; if we don’t know what someone means by a statement, we can ask them to clarify. If that’s not an option (because who likes to feed trolls on the internet, right?) then can we at least hold space for a worldview that varies from ours?
Even if we don’t agree with it, even if it makes our blood boil, can we pause while we try to understand it? Slow down our categorizing minds and realize that the world looks different from varying angles?
It’s difficult to pause when we’re agitated, but it’s definitely possible. Practicing mindfulness in communication (whether it’s with a loved one or a stranger on the internet) can give us space to ask these questions, extend our understanding, and allow for differences.
Listening to an idea with an open mind is letting go of all the reasons it’s wrong, or right, and allowing the person (or words) to be what they are. It’s digesting things with the knowledge that we’re bringing our own “stuff” to the table; keeping in mind that our history colors each and every interaction we have.
It’s a complicated world that we navigate, and there are benefits to the assumptions we jump to minute by minute. But in order to sift through assumptions we’ve first got to be aware of them, and that involves being vigilant of our monkey minds as often as possible. It involves pausing, taking a breath, and asking ourselves: Is this person talking about Titanic, or football?
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How Embracing My Sexuality Helped Cure My Need to People Please
“If you are busy pleasing everyone, you are not being true to yourself.” ~Jocelyn Murray
The love I felt for her wasn’t like the romantic love our culture idealizes in books or movies. There was no moment where I knew that she was the one for me, and I didn’t feel lots of butterflies when our paths crossed.
Instead, the love I felt for her was deep and sustaining. While she is one of the most kind, gentle, and loyal people I had ever met, the way she loved me was the most remarkable thing to me. I could be completely vulnerable with her and feel no shame. I felt supported and embraced. Through her love, I felt restored, and it deeply affected my sense of love and belonging.
I was extremely surprised when I realized that I had romantic feelings for this woman. What fueled this surprise was the fact that I had always identified as being straight. While my mother is very accepting, the South—where I grew up—is not always the most supportive place for homosexuality. I felt shame from my religion, some friends and family, and myself.
Unfortunately, I soon became aware that there was deep homophobia hidden within me. While most people would always describe me as accepting and liberal, there was a huge part of me that felt absolute shame for liking a female.
What would all my conservative, religious family and friends think of me? Would they love me anymore? Was I going to hell? These were just some of the questions that ran through my mind.
I came to a point where I realized that no matter what people thought, if the opportunity ever arose for us to be romantically together, I would seize it. I wouldn’t be ashamed due to her gender; in fact, I would love to shout it from the rooftops (or write about on Tiny Buddha), because even just the act of loving someone so incredibly beautiful has brought me tremendous joy and healing.
Here are a few lessons I’ve learned through embracing this part of myself about the need to please and letting go of seeking approval.
1. “You cannot live a brave life without disappointing someone.”
I was watching an interview with Oprah and Brené Brown recently. Oprah said the exact statement written above. This hit me right in the heart. Surely this couldn’t be true. Do I really have to sometimes disappoint people to be brave? Like many humans, I have this need for people to constantly approve of me.
I remember when I told one of my best friends about how I felt about this woman. I knew she would not agree with me being confused about my sexuality, and I was so unbelievably terrified. I was afraid I was going to lose one of the people I loved most in world.
When I finally got the words out, she responded in a very kind way. Though she did make it known that this was not a part that she agreed with, she promised to love and support me through my journey. This brings me to my next lesson.
2. Some people will not be okay with your decisions. Challenge yourself to be able to accept their position as well as your own.
I was very aware that I had family and friends who were not going to approve of this part of me, but I was curious if I could still maintain the relationships.
I realized that if I was not seeking approval, my friendships could continue to grow. I came to the realization that, while it was nice if everyone supported my decision, I really didn’t need every single person to agree with me. As long as they still chose to respect me and love me, their opinion on my choices were their business.
That being said, I know it’s very difficult when close friends and family don’t agree with something fundamental to your sense of self, especially when it does not seem like they are going to change their opinion.
I’m still in a process of learning how to handle this in a healthy way. I do know that when I am unfailingly kind and loving toward myself, it helps lessen the weight of other people’s opinions, because how I view myself comes first.
3. Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries
This is one of the hardest things for people who seek approval to implement. I have found with this experience, I have to set boundaries for what behaviors I will tolerate concerning other’s reactions. This is applicable to all areas of life. It’s important to set boundaries as to what is okay and not okay in interacting with others.
I will tolerate questions. I will tolerate confusion. I will tolerate respectful disagreement.
I will not tolerate blatant rudeness. I will not tolerate ignorance. These are my boundaries. If people cross these boundaries, I will politely inform them that they have overstepped a line and I will not be participating in a discussion with them concerning this topic anymore.
4. I want to choose to be vulnerable every day no matter how hard it feels.
There are times in my life that I have regretted not being 100% authentic. But not once when I look back, have I ever regretted being vulnerable.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel the greatest afterward. I call that a “vulnerability hangover.” It feels like this giant pit in my stomach and I feel tired, but eventually it goes away. While they usually seem scary, the best decisions in my life have usually also been the most vulnerable ones.
I don’t believe in defining my success on external factors such as getting a job, getting married, and traveling the world. Instead, I aim every day to be more vulnerable and braver than the last. There will be days I will fail and hide behind fear, and that’s okay, because I am imperfect and filled with flaws. On the days that I do choose to be honest and open, I feel like my soul is on fire.
5. Be willing to refine who you are.
When I first wrote down this lesson it read, “Be willing to redefine who you are.” But, I realized that I don’t think we can, or even need to, “redefine” who we are. Instead, I believe we should refine the already beautifully imperfect person we have become.
When I realized that I liked this woman, it made me examine myself differently. I had always seen this picture of me being with a man. All of the sudden that story seemed very fuzzy now. It actually brought a bit at sadness at first and I let it be. This picture of my relationship for the future came shattering down, and I realized that I didn’t want to pick up the broken pieces. Instead, I want to create a new picture. Except this time, I want to refine it day by day and let it be ever-changing.
6. Do what’s best for you first and everyone will benefit.
I’ve learned that self-love is like a waterfall. When I am doing what is best for me and feels right in my truth, it trickles down to the people in my life.
I have found that when I am living authentically and loving myself, my actions toward others are more loving and honest. While I still may not be or act exactly how someone wants me to, if my intention is loving, that’s all that matters. When you act in an authentic way, everybody wins.
I don’t know what the future holds for me—much less my love life—but I am confident that whatever it holds will be beautiful, because it will be honest, vulnerable, and authentic. More importantly, it will be beautiful, because my decision won’t be based on someone’s opinion of me. It will be my truth and my story.
