Tag: wisdom
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A Surprising Way to Let Go of Painful Feelings and the Past
“We do not heal the past by dwelling there; we heal the past by living fully in the present.” ~Marianne Williamson
I’ve struggled with it.
Letting go, I mean. I’ve struggled with moving on from my past. I’ve struggled with ridding myself of guilt, shame, and grief. I’ve struggled with freeing myself from mistakes, past relationships, and worries about the future.
It’s not that I haven’t tried. Believe me, I’ve tried really hard. I’ve written goodbye letters, mentally cut the energetic cords, and fiercely gone back into the pain to free myself fully from it. I’ve cried my eyes out, talked about it, and brought it to my meditation pillow.
What I’ve tried has helped to some extent, but not completely. So, instead of moving on I’ve felt stuck between my past and my future. You know, like in limbo. And that’s not the place to set up camp; both you and I know that.
It’s frustrating because I’m fully aware of the importance of letting go and moving on. I know that attachment is the reason we suffer. I know that past pain, anger, and resentment holds us back. I know that holding on to the unwanted blocks the wanted from coming in.
Letting go is essential. But, it’s not always easy to apply theory to practice. If you’ve also struggled with it, here’s another approach that has helped me to truly let go and move on.
Why Letting Go is Hard
First of all, everything is energy. Our thoughts and feelings emit a vibration, and what we send out to the world is what we receive back. This isn’t some woo-woo thing—it’s quantum physics (source).
That means that whatever we give our attention to—wanted or unwanted—grows. If you focus on happiness, joy, and satisfaction, you’ll experience more of that. If you focus on pain, regret, and guilt, you’ll experience more of that.
Just think about it, have you ever tried to rid yourself of stress, only to have found yourself getting more stressed, especially when you knew you shouldn’t stress? Or have you told yourself to stop worrying, only to have found more things to worry about?
Mother Theresa knew about this. She said, “I was once asked why I don’t participate in anti-war demonstrations. I said that I will never do that, but as soon as you have a pro-peace rally, I’ll be there.”
An anti-war demonstration focuses on war, which triggers feelings such as frustration, anger, and hopelessness. A pro-peace rally, on the other hand, focuses on peace.
The same goes for letting go. Unless you’re able to truly let it go—meaning that you withdraw your attention completely from it—you’re more likely to focus on the unwanted and thus draw more of that into your life.
Step 1: Say “yes” to what is.
You cannot reject or push against the unwanted. You cannot focus on a problem and find the solution. Because the solution is never where the problem is. So, you need to shift focus.
You shift focus by first accepting what is. If you want to let go of shame, start by first accepting that you’re feeling shameful. Don’t argue with your thoughts and feelings. Don’t resist them. Don’t try to push them away. Instead, give them permission to exist.
As Eckhart Tolle said, “Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.” To reach complete acceptance, spiritual teacher Bentinho Massaro suggests a technique where you agree with your limiting and hurtful thoughts.
For example, to accept guilt over something that happened, tell yourself, “Yes, I’m guilty.” If you struggle with forgiveness, tell yourself, “Yes, that’s right, I can’t forgive this person.”
This doesn’t mean that what you’re saying is true. Instead, it’s a tool to control negative thoughts and emotions so they don’t control you. By agreeing with them, the battle between you and them ends. When there’s nothing more to argue about, they lose their power over you. Touché.
Step 2: Let in instead of letting go.
Once you’ve reached a place of complete acceptance, you can move on to the second step.
This is about inviting the new.
Letting go can easily trigger fear. When you leave something behind and don’t know what to replace it with, you leave space for the unknown. Change is always scary, especially when you don’t know what’s coming next. That’s why you might find yourself clinging to the unwanted because that’s what’s familiar and known to you.
To make sure that doesn’t happen, consciously decide what’s coming next. Let in instead of letting go. Rather than pushing away the unwanted, invite the wanted.
When I left my corporate job in search of a higher calling, I battled with shame. Shame for stepping off the beaten path, for making a controversial choice, and for not having a clear path in front of me.
It was when I finally stopped fighting shame that I was able to see clearly. That’s when I could invite curiosity to join me instead. Curiosity did the exact opposite of shame; it helped me see the opportunities, not pitfalls, of the unknown and taking the road less traveled.
If you want to let go of anxiety and self-doubt, invite peace and confidence. If you want to let go of a past relationship, invite a new loving relationship. If you want to let go of the lazy and dull version of yourself, invite an active and energetic version of you.
This can be done step by step. For example, let’s say that you want to move on from an ex-love. Maybe your focus isn’t on attracting a new partner directly, but rather on inviting a happier, healthier, and more loving version of yourself. Then once you feel ready, you can invite in the relationship you long for.
Focus On What You Desire
It’s frustrating to replay mistakes over and over in your mind. It’s frustrating to cling to things from the past. It’s frustrating when you try really hard, but are unable to move on. Not only does that taint your future, it also steals the joy from this present moment.
Instead of trying harder to let go, accept fully where you are. Embrace it completely. Say yes to all worry, shame, and guilt. Confirm all the negative thoughts and feelings so that you can release yourself from their grip. Simply, give up the battle.
Then, invite what you desire. Imagine, visualize, and fantasize what you’d love to have instead in your life. Tony Robbins said, “Where focus grows, energy flows.” Focus on the wanted, not the unwanted.
You got this!
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The Self-Analysis Trap: Stop Dissecting Your Every Thought and Action
“Explanation separates us from astonishment, which is the only gateway to the incomprehensible.” ~Eugene Ionesco
We are taught from a very young age that it is our responsibility to reflect on the motives behind our actions and behaviors. From the time we can form sentences, we are asked the questions: “Why did you make that choice?” and “What made you do that?”
These questions often follow bad behavior and punishment. Our parents were trying to teach us, with the best of intentions, that we are responsible for our own actions.
This is a necessary lesson for young children, who are discovering their autonomy and the consequences of their behavior in a social world.
To a certain point, we should be held responsible for our actions, by others and ourselves. A conscientious person practices self-reflection and recognizes the origin and causes of thoughts and feelings when possible.
But for some of us, myself included, it feels like every thought and behavior needs to be analyzed.
Self-reflection, rumination, and justification fill my day and keep me up late at night. In order to maintain a sense of self-control and discipline, I dissect every emotion I feel and every action I take, all the while building a psychological narrative for my life.
For a long time, my drive to understand my behavior was an asset. I could explain my actions and thoughts more maturely than other kids, and adults prided me on my reflective nature.
When I was younger, I was blessed with mental health. Because my mind was functioning correctly and promoting the right behaviors and feelings, it was easy for me to explain and justify my actions. For the most part, they were appropriate and positive.
If I did act slightly out of line or overreact to a situation, I could assemble a psychological justification for it. Whether I dipped into parental relationships, miniature traumas from kindergarten, or a mere misunderstanding, I always managed to justify my behavior with sound psychological reasoning.
I thought of myself as my own personal therapist, totally capable of unearthing the intricate details of my inner psyche.
I perceived myself to be in total control of my feelings and my life. My brain was subject to my willpower. Most importantly, I was never at a loss when asked the question: “Why did you do that?”
The summer after I turned sixteen, my mental health began to unravel. I began to use my copious willpower and self-control to lose some weight and increase my fitness level.
At first, I did have control of my weight loss, and my brain’s intentions lined up with my conscious goals. I looked great, I felt great, and I hadn’t faltered a single day in my diet and exercise routine.
Then, some time in August, my weight-loss spiraled out of control. I became more restrictive and ramped up my exercise. My behavior, once a matter of conscious decision, was inexplicable to me. The thoughts in my head, centered on weight loss and extreme exercise, were loud and unintelligible to me.
For a while, I kept these thoughts quiet, telling myself that I would soon get control of my brain. I didn’t want to admit to myself or others that I had lost control of my thoughts and feelings.
I felt weak and stupid because I couldn’t understand my own behavior, and I felt the need to punish myself for failing to comprehend my mental state. Unfortunately, the easiest way for me to punish myself was to lose more weight and push myself even harder in my exercise.
My parents and other adults in my life did notice that I was losing weight, and asked me what was going on.
I cycled through faulty lines of logic—school stress, loneliness, a desire to be “healthy” taken too far—but I knew that none of these explanations was entirely correct. I would tell those around me that I had finally figured out the true root of my restrictive eating, only to continue the next day.
Nearly a year after this began, one of my favorite teachers suggested that we have a talk about my mental health. I told him about the craziness of the past year, and came clean with the fact that I didn’t understand my own mind anymore. I apologized profusely, waiting for him to question me about my social, emotional, and academic life to find answers.
Instead, he told me something I will never forget:
“Avery, you don’t have to understand. No one can really understand everything that they say or do. We aren’t supposed to figure everything out, because life is messy and not everything can be analyzed and justified. Some things are just incomprehensible.”
Some things are just incomprehensible. Hearing this lifted a huge weight from my shoulders. It was okay to rest in a state of unknowing, to breathe, even in the midst of confusion.
After this conversation, I was finally able to accept that my brain is only partially open to my conscious analysis. I can justify some of my actions, but sometimes I will feel or think certain things that can’t be rationally explained. I realized that I am allowed to understand only a fraction of what it means to be human.
In lieu of our talk, I stopped trying to justify my behavior, and instead focused on what I could control: my reaction to my thoughts and feelings. When thoughts enter my head, I can decide how to respond to them, even if I can’t understand where they came from or why they are surfacing in the moment.
Paradoxically, accepting that I do not and cannot justify all of my thoughts and behaviors has been the single most important step in recovering my weight and my mental health.
I no longer need to punish myself for failing to understand. I can love myself without absolutely knowing myself, just the way I love others without understanding their every thought and action.
At first, when talking to my family and friends, I expected them to be disappointed in me when I confessed that I couldn’t make sense of my feelings and behavior. Amazingly, the opposite happened: People felt closer to me than ever before, and found me more relatable because I too struggled to understand myself.
The truth is, none of us will ever fully grasp the origin and cause of our every thought, feeling, and action. Neurologically speaking, we actually aren’t supposed to; scientists now know that we can only infer and predict many of our actions, just as we predict the actions of others based on limited information.
Letting go of our constant self-analysis and rationalization is scary at first for people like me, who take pride in self-control and reflection.
However, by accepting that you cannot know or explain your whole self, you liberate yourself from the constant burden of rumination. You are free to control what you can control—your reactions to thoughts—and to let the rest come and go.
Next time you ask yourself, or someone asks you, “Why did you do that?” you have the right to say, “I don’t know” if the answer truly eludes you.
Of course, in some situations, it will be necessary to get to the root of a problem, especially when dealing with relationships. Even so, you have the right to not know yet; some feelings and habits can only be understood with time and distance.
It’s okay to tell others that you need time and space to process your thoughts, and that, for the time being, you cannot offer a succinct explanation.
They say that the only thing as complicated as the universe is the human brain. Both are chaotic, awe-inspiring, rife with contradictions, and impossible to fully comprehend. That is what makes them, and, by extension, life, so exciting and beautiful.
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Healing from Heartache: How to Ease the Pain
“Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.” ~Max Ehrmann
If you looked at your broken heart and allowed for tenderness, you would feel better. Maybe not completely better, but there would be a softening. Compassion for yourself is soothing. When our hearts are aching, we need all the soothing we can get.
If you looked at your broken heart from the perspective of the loving mother within you, you would see that the only thing you need right now is gentle care. You need to wrap your arms around yourself and let everything be exactly as it is. When we fight what is, the pain only grows stronger.
When people who seek growth go through heartbreak, we want to fight through it when we just need to let it all go. We need to sob, we need to hold ourselves, and we need to tell ourselves we’re okay. That’s what it means to show up for yourself when you really need it. That’s self-love.
I struggled hard in my last breakup. I reopened the deep wound and falsity that I was worthless without his love.
I am someone who teaches self-love. None of us are immune to our entire realities being transformed with the flip of a switch.
I fell into a deep depression. I was so far away from feeling my own love that my system felt like it was shutting down. And it was. I wasn’t eating, barely sleeping, and I relived everything in my head. Nothing in my life felt good. It was horrible.
You can’t solve the pain of your heartbreak with your mind. The mind wants everything to feel better, and it will do everything it can to figure out a solution that makes the pain end fast. That’s its job. Unfortunately for us, it will do so at the expense of what’s best for us.
You’re going through pain for a reason. We learn our greatest lessons through pain. Do yourself a favor and feel it and be with it, and give yourself compassion to help ease it up until you get through.
Because if you don’t, you’re going to run from it. You’re going to make some decisions that aren’t in alignment with who you are really here to be. You might avoid the pain by jumping back into a relationship, or with food, alcohol, or drugs. And then at some point in the future, this will happen all over again. Because you haven’t learned your lesson. You haven’t truly healed.
This is the biggest thing we forget when we’re in pain:
It’s going to get better if we’re easy on ourselves.
It’s so simple, but it’s the thing I kept forgetting over and over again. I would default to my mind, finding myself analyzing the past or mourning the future. There was some unconscious belief that all my thinking was doing something, benefitting me in someway. Instead, it was perpetuating my suffering.
Eventually I would exhaust myself to depletion. I would sob and think and sob and hope for the pain to go away, and the pain only got worse and worse until it felt inescapable and overwhelming. And from this exhausted and overwhelmed place, something within me rose up. I began to do what I call “mothering myself.”
I told myself, “It’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to be okay. Everything is okay. Just relax. Just lie here and rest. Don’t worry about anything. It’s all okay.” I cradled myself in my own arms. I gave myself exactly what I needed: love.
I could give you a list of additional things to do, acts of self-care to lift you out of your broken spirits, but the truth is that when you’re in the depths of despair, this is the only thing you have to focus on to life yourself up.
When you “mother yourself” enough by being kind and compassionate toward yourself, things begin to get better. It’s really how it happens.
You are allowing it to be okay. You are giving yourself love. And it starts to be okay. Your judgment is gone. Your pain eases, even if just a little. And when you’re in a ton of pain, just a little ease makes all the difference.
From that place you will start to give yourself things you need. You’ll begin to nourish your body more because you will be feeling just slightly better.
You’ll keep telling yourself it’s okay, and you’ll find yourself doing some gentle yoga.
You’ll keep on telling yourself everything is okay, and you’ll be curled up in bed with a good friend, laughing at a funny movie.
The natural process of healing happens when we just keep giving ourselves love.
Once you walk through the most intense part of this painful process, you will have a beautiful opportunity to get to know an amazing soul: you. You will not walk out the other side the same person. I know that’s scary, but trust me, you will like who you are so much more.
I am six months out of a devastating breakup, and I’m taking the time to get to know myself. I’m not the person I was before or during the breakup. I have grieved deeply, gotten myself utterly lost, found some way to give myself compassion through it all, and now I am enjoying getting to know this new me that is emerging. And I love her so much already.
When we’re heartbroken we don’t need our minds to tell us stories to make us feel better. We only need our hearts to open and to show ourselves compassion.
Any time you find yourself in despair, in depression, in immense pain, look within. Are you living in your head or your heart?
When you feel so deeply that the pain is overwhelming and you can see no clear way out, remember this. Write this down. Post it by your bed. Pull your chin up, force your eyes open, and read these words:
It’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to be okay. Everything is okay. Just relax. Just lie here and rest. Don’t worry about anything. It’s all okay.
Everything always gets better. That is the truth. You are a shining soul deep within a body that is here to do great things. You are here to experience shimmering love, heart-aching laughter, and so much joy.
So it’s your responsibility to take care of yourself. That means you don’t get to bully yourself when you’re in pain. You don’t get to judge yourself for where you’re at. It’s your responsibility to show up for yourself in these moments when you need yourself the most.
And right now, you’re in pain. And that’s okay. Because it will get better if you’re just easy on yourself.
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How to Stop Measuring Your Worth in Achievements
“The better you feel about yourself, the less you feel the need to show off.” ~Robert Hand
The first vivid memory I have of anxiety is when I was only seven years old. I sat in math class, gripped with fear that I wouldn’t get a perfect score on my test. If I got even one answer wrong, I would feel worthless.
This striving for achievement followed me all the way through college. I not only graduated with a 4.0 grade point average, but I had an impressive Curriculum Vitae filled with awards, extra curricular activities, publications, honor societies, and more. Each time I added something to my list of achievements, I felt a surge of worthiness.
Yet, this satisfaction with myself didn’t last long. Soon, I was on to the next task to prove to myself (and others) that I am worthy.
I fell into the same trap in graduate school: commuting each night, taking extra classes, making all A’s, working a part-time job—until the panic attacks hit. I couldn’t control my brewing anxiety anymore, and I developed debilitating panic disorder and agoraphobia. I could barely function, so I made the decision to drop out of my graduate courses.
I believe the panic attacks were my body’s and mind’s way of screaming out for help. Their way of saying, “I’ll make you stop since you won’t listen,” of letting me know that perfection isn’t healthy or possible.
During those anxiety-ridden days, the panic made it impossible for me to live a successful life according to my previous definitions. Suddenly, my biggest accomplishment was simply making it through the day or going to the grocery store alone. I felt antsy and worthless without academics or a steady job.
I was forced to redefine my ideas of self-worth. I realized that chasing my worth based on one accomplishment after another was making me miserable.
I had to learn that my worth runs so much deeper than what I can prove through achievement. I had to learn that I am worthy simply because I exist, and nothing more.
Here are four ways that I have started overcoming the need to base my worth on accomplishments.
1. Make a list of all the things you love about yourself that have nothing to do with achievement.
This may sound silly or trivial, but making a list of the things you adore about yourself is actually a lot harder than you’d think. The first time I sat down to write this list, nothing came to mind that wasn’t linked to my accomplishments.
Slowly, I opened up to the fact that I love how genuinely good-hearted I am. I’m compassionate and sensitive, and I love that about myself. I love that I’m a good listener. I love that I’m soft-spoken and not confrontational. From there, the list just kept flowing.
If you have a difficult time with this, it can be helpful to ask your loved ones to write a list of all the things they love about you. This can be a wonderful way to remind you that you are more than what you do.
2. Redefine your idea of success.
Recently, I felt twinges of worthlessness as I perused social media and found that my peers were accomplishing seemingly great things in their high-paying, full-time jobs. They looked successful, and I felt very unsuccessful teaching my low-paying yoga classes and publishing my writing for free.
But then I stopped and asked myself what a successful life would look like to me. For me, a successful life would be spending the day doing things I love. It would be having loving relationships that teach me and help me grow. It would be making a positive impact, however small, with my work. Success doesn’t have to mean money or recognizable accomplishment.
After I defined what success looks like to me, I realized I’m already living that life. I spend my days teaching yoga and writing, the two things I absolutely love to do. I have beautiful relationships. I’m making a positive impact with my teaching and my words.
As I was busy chasing some unattainable dream of success, I didn’t realize I had it all along.
When you find yourself gripped with unworthiness, ask yourself what success would look like to you, and you alone. Are there ways in which you’re already living a successful life, based on your own definition? The answers might surprise you.
3. Meditate on the part of you that never changes.
When I was going through my yoga teacher training, I came across this idea in Nicolai Bachman’s The Path of the Yoga Sutras, and my heart skipped a beat. Meditate on the part of you that never changes.
This meant the part of me that stayed the same whether I got a good grade, or I failed a test. The part of me that will stay the same whether I win an award, or I’m housebound with agoraphobia.
As I meditated on this idea, I came to realize that the part of me that never changes is pure love. There is a space of infinite love, peace, and understanding that has been with me all along.
Chasing validation of my worth through outside, visible accomplishments had only served to take me further away from the fact that I am love. Achievements don’t change, and never will change, who I am at my core.
4. Practice unconditional self-love.
A light bulb went off in my head while I was playing with my dog recently. I love that little rascal inside and out, and he doesn’t have to do a single thing to deserve it or be worthy of my love.
It’s the same with babies. Babies don’t try to prove themselves to you. They don’t have to accomplish something in order for you to love them. You love them unconditionally simply because they exist.
What if you didn’t have to do anything or prove anything to be worthy of your own love? What if you deserved your own unconditional love, just like you give to your pets or to your children?
Practice extending unconditional love to yourself by forgiving yourself when you’re not perfect, and recognizing that you deserve love no matter what you achieve.
Letting go of perfectionism and the need to base our worth on external validation is a continual process. But, with time, we can begin to shed our layers of conditioning that taught us we are not worthy, and see ourselves for the beautifully deserving beings we are.
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“Nice” Isn’t a Compliment: Letting Go of the Need to Please
“Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves even when we risk disappointing others.” ~Brene Brown
When I was in the seventh grade, I moved to a new city and started a new school. I was terrified and filled with anxiety about navigating this new world without a single friend. What if no one liked me?
My first week there, I walked through the cafeteria some when two girls called me over to their table. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking maybe I would be able to make a friend. I went over smiling my best smile, then they said they wanted to ask me a question.
One of them smiled sweetly and said, “We were just wondering why you walk around with your nose up in the air. Do you think you’re better than everybody else or something?” They sneered and laughed and proceeded to say a few more hateful things to me that I don’t exactly remember.
I was crushed. I had never been bullied before, and I had no idea how to deal with this kind of situation. I would like to say that I gathered my strength, stood up to these mean girls, and told them where they could shove it. But I didn’t.
I felt my face flush with heat and the sting of rejection in my chest. And then I told them I was sorry. For what, I’m not exactly sure, but I sputtered out some awkward apology and waited for them to realize that they had made some sort of mistake, and that I was clearly worth their approval after all. But they just looked at me silently like I had three heads.
This day stands out to me because I remember distinctly feeling that in order to be accepted, I needed to be different. I needed to be careful and do whatever it took to avoid people disliking me. I was well on my way to becoming a chronic people pleaser.
Fast-forward twenty-five years, and I still have a habit of unconsciously putting a great deal of my energy into people pleasing. I keep the boat steady, navigating carefully so as to not make too many waves.
From an early age, I was a hater of conflict and uncomfortable situations, an avoider of angry words.
It’s in my bones to be a peacekeeper. I have always been soft-spoken and decided early that my voice just wasn’t loud enough to compete with all the yelling. I found it easier to smooth things over, and I learned to how to artfully sugarcoat the rough edges of life.
I could easily meld myself into the background of things, to be an observer, a non-participant. This is my comfort zone. I have been the one who doesn’t make waves, who doesn’t cause trouble, who doesn’t make anyone upset.
It’s automatic for me to look for the bright side of things, for the cheer in dark situations. It’s a natural instinct to try to smooth and ease the discomfort of others I am around. And if I can’t smooth it out, I tend to retreat because the thought of jumping into the middle of a conflict is exhausting. Basically, I am the anti-anger.
This way of being has served me well in so many situations. It has made me objective. It has kept me calm and steady. I am acutely perceptive of the moods of people around me in pretty much any situation. I easily absorb the underlying intricacies of interactions. A true introvert in nature, I find more meaning in silence than in a million spoken words.
I am grateful for this part of me, which I tend to keep largely private. I am also very aware that most people see me as a really “nice” person. But as more and more people have mentioned how nice I am, I have also realized that for me, this is not a compliment.
I think about it like this: Is “nice” the legacy I want to leave on this world? Is that what I want to be remembered by someday? That I was “nice”? No. I want more than that.
Nice is sweet and accommodating and agreeable. Nice is polite. But nice does not describe what we believe in. It does not indicate where our boundaries are.
When I think of people I admire the most, some genuinely fantastic human beings come to mind. But in all honesty, most of them are not particularly “nice” people. They have character and integrity. They are compassionate and kind. But that is not the same thing as nice. Compassion and kindness require courage and boundaries. Niceness does not.
For example, there is a person I work with that I have the utmost admiration for. She is a strong and confident woman. She exudes a sense of grace and integrity. She is straightforward and authentic and very clear about her boundaries. She stands firmly in her own truth. She seems to have very little concern about receiving approval or validation from others.
She knows who she is and appears completely at ease in her own skin. I am in awe how she seems to move through this world in a way that not only commands respect, but also exudes great compassion and kindness. Now that is what I want to be.
I have learned that to be sincerely kind and compassionate, we must create strong and clear boundaries for ourselves. Otherwise, being “nice” will ultimately lead to resentment, which is the opposite of compassion.
How do we go about shifting this way of being, when we are so programmed to please? It’s a gradual process that sometimes means unlearning the rules we have internalized about being polite. It’s about relaxing into your own authenticity and allowing the world to feel the full weight of you.
Brené Brown, a personal hero of mine, defines authenticity as “the daily practice of letting go of who we think we are supposed to be and embracing who we are.” We must find ways to release our chronic need to please, and the courage to reveal our real and vulnerable selves.
The first step to reclaiming our own authenticity is to recognize when we are losing sight of it. Are you feeling any resentment? For me, resentment is a red flag. It usually means that I have not been clear about my boundaries in some way. It’s my first sign that I have been using too much of my energy worrying about disappointing others.
Next, take a look at exactly where that resentment is coming from. What boundary have you been unclear about? Is something bothering you about a situation that you have not fully expressed to someone? Have you held your own feelings back in some way, in order to avoid hurting another’s?
We must get clear with ourselves about what’s okay and what is not okay so that we can be clear in communicating that to others. Only we can decide exactly what we are willing to accept in our lives. We can use this formula to create a dialogue with ourselves. Write it out. Be specific.
1. I feel resentful because….
2. This means I haven’t been clear about something bothering me. Here is the boundary that has been blurred….
3. Here’s what’s okay with me….
4. Here’s what is not okay with me….
Once I work through this process, I usually find that my feelings of resentment and anger are not actually directed at another person. They are toward myself. I feel disappointment in myself for not staying loyal to my own values, for not giving myself the respect that I so freely give out to others.
I have learned that self-respect, boundaries, and compassion all go hand in hand. It is difficult to have one without another. Avoiding or running from tough situations does not set clear boundaries. Although it is often the more comfortable path, it also tends to breed more resentment and shame.
Being authentic takes courage. Learning to wade through the discomfort of setting boundaries takes risk. We risk disapproval. We risk being disliked. But I think the risk is worth it if we ultimately find respect for ourselves.
So join me in striving to reclaim our authenticity. Let’s be brave and real and imperfect. Let’s be compassionate and kind and honest. Because really, aren’t these so much better than the constraints of being “nice”?
