Tag: wisdom
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How to Deal with Depression and Anxiety: 10 Lessons from a Lake
“Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.” ~Viktor Frankl
Low moods can roll in like a numbing wave, washing out the pleasure from life.
If you’ve experienced this, you’re not alone. Surveys have shown that the vast majority of people in the US eventually experience some depressive symptoms, and many are anxious. I’ve been there before.
Early in my medical career, I made some research findings that contradicted the then-current views. My boss was not an expert in that area, so he simply sat on the papers, refusing to submit them to a professional journal. I was idealistic, but he preferred safety.
My helplessness in the matter dragged me down, until I fell ill. I developed a serious chest infection and could hardly drag myself out of bed, not even for the bathroom. I felt numb, demotivated, useless, and hopeless.
Luckily, some senior colleagues arranged for me to do further studies. The change of scene helped. Then I was offered a great job, soon followed by an even better one, and a third.
Life soon got so busy that twenty-four hours in a day no longer sufficed. My career flourished, but my family had to put up with an irritable insomniac who frequently traveled abroad and had forgotten how to relax.
I then took a break in Scotland one fall, with colorful trees and blue sky reflected in the mirror-like surface of a lake. The beauty was glorious, so I started to learn about this wonder of nature. The more I learned, the more I found parallels with challenging situations, depression, and anxiety.
Gray, rainy days followed. I went out on the next sunny day and threw a pebble into the lake. The lake rippled, but eventually returned to its calm state.
Here’s what I learned from the lake about overcoming depression and anxiety.
1. Acknowledge your emotional pain.
A lake freely expresses distress during stormy days, with a turbulent surface. Suppressing feelings is unhelpful.
Hidden emotional pain can eventually overwhelm you, as with my chest infection. Once you name your feelings, they lose some power. You become the observer, not the victim, of feelings.
Allow tears to flow naturally; they express hurt. Write or record on your phone what’s troubling you and how you’re feeling, like a child blurting out everything. Read that, or listen back, to gain understanding.
2. Practice distraction.
In stormy weather, the lake’s focus shifts to its depths. We too can benefit from shifting our focus away from persistent, unhelpful thoughts and feelings. This can help restore perspective.
Whenever my life feels too stressful, I find that making music or doing vigorous exercise can transform my mood.
Distraction can be as simple as counting the number of red cars passing by, or watching a funny video, listening to your favorite music, singing, coloring, having a massage, walking in nature, playing with children or pets, or anything that absorbs or relaxes you.
Your brain, like a computer, has a limited amount of “working memory.” Distraction keeps it occupied. Depression and anxiety have less room.
3. Accept what can’t be changed.
When you throw a rock into a lake, it won’t resist. Ice may break, but the liquid lake won’t. In discussions with my inflexible boss, I was hard as ice, and paid for that with illness.
How can distress be made more bearable? Recognize when you are resisting something that can’t be changed, and pause to observe your own breathing and bodily sensations.
If unhelpful thoughts or feelings arise, notice them without engaging with them, and return to observing your breath. Then distressing thoughts, feelings, and circumstances won’t easily break you.
4. Become less self-critical.
A lake nurtures its inner life, with nutrients circulating below the surface. We, too, need to nurture ourselves, especially when experiencing depression or anxiety. Both are bullies that try to turn us against ourselves.
If self-criticism grows, try going through a list of positive characteristics and identify a few that best describe you. Then, elaborate and write out some of those characteristics in detail, using specific examples. To illustrate, if compassion is one of your characteristics, recall specific incidents when you comforted someone in distress.
After repeating this exercise for a few positive characteristics, you’ll feel much better about yourself and life.
5. Hold on to hope.
A lake is fed by streams. We have “streams” that can feed us, as well, if we enable them.
Try reaching out to others who are likely to understand how you’re feeling, perhaps by joining, or starting, a well-being group, or seeking professional help. Others can listen to you and reassure you.
Also, realize that you’re not set in stone. Scientific research shows that even your brain can change. I’m much more optimistic, sympathetic, warmer, and calmer now than I was in my twenties. We can all learn and grow, no matter what our age..
6. Become skilled at self-parenting your inner child.
Imagine your toddler falling over repeatedly while learning how to walk. Think of the loving, encouraging, heart-warming things you might say. Practice saying such things to your inner child.
I got far more criticism than appreciation as a child, but I now consciously reverse the balance in my self-talk. I remind myself that my faults are just part of being human.
This will benefit not only you, but also the people around you. As you shower unconditional love on yourself, it will overflow to your children, family, and friends. A lake gives life to all around, but it must renew itself with water.
7. Reduce big problems to small solutions.
As you regain perspective and energy, you can start to tackle problems.
Pick one problem that seems solvable. Pick the most promising solution. Identify a simple next step.
Congratulate yourself when you take this small step. Then take the next small step. Keep going, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
Life need never be more complicated than taking the simple next step. A lake needs no giant moves.
8. Change what can be changed.
A lake is big enough to survive storms. The most powerful change you can make is to grow bigger than your unhelpful thoughts and feelings.
When you’re depressed or anxious, your thoughts tend to become distorted. However, you needn’t swallow the first thought that jumps into your mind.
For example, if someone barked at me, I previously assumed it had everything to do with me. However, it might have been some stress in their life causing their rude behavior. I don’t need to know for sure; I need just to weaken the force of my first thought. Then I can go on with life, lighter and freer.
Further, if something goes wrong in one area of my life, I needn’t believe that everything will go wrong in all areas of my life. The more confident I become of a happier future, the more powerful I grow.
9. Boost your physical well-being.
A lake is constantly active. Older plant life from near the surface sinks to the depths, and the different layers mix. That’s how a lake stays in good condition.
The healthier I eat and the more regularly I do vigorous exercise, the calmer and more energized I feel.
Nourishing meals with plenty of vegetables are much healthier than sugary or processed snacks and drinks. Regular, vigorous exercise is powerfully effective against depression, according to scientific research.
10. Cultivate “flow.”
A lake would rot and dry out if the water stopped flowing. As you develop, “flow” could help boost your confidence and calm.
“Flow” is a state where you’re completely absorbed in an activity, with your skills rising to meet the challenge of the activity. You feel strong, alert, unselfconscious, and at the peak of your abilities. Your brain is fully occupied by the activity.
I experience “flow” when I’m creating original music. It’s a wonderful experience, every time. Find and cultivate your own sources of “flow.”
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Depression and anxiety need not define you, no matter how tight their grip. Take courage from scientific research. It confirms that most people with symptoms of depression and anxiety can eventually enjoy fulfilling lives.
Even your brain can develop new cells, connections, and functions.
You could become like a lake that endures wintry storms and gales, but survives to enjoy the colors of spring, summer, and fall. Eventually, one small step at a time, you could become as deeply peaceful and energized as a lake.
Practice showering your inner child with unconditional love, and experience the difference.
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How to Reconnect with the Inner Light Below Your Pain
TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of physical abuse and may be triggering to some people.
“What hurts you blesses you, darkness is your candle.” ~Rumi
We are all born with it. The beautiful bright light in our soul, filled with love and happiness.
I remember having that feeling of being so alive and free and untouched by fear or worry.
This is who we are at the core of our being. This is our true authentic self, from before the world told us who we needed to be and negative outside circumstances started to tear down our self-worth and self-esteem.
I can tell you exactly what age I was when the light inside of me started to fade. I was seven years old and there was physical abuse at home with belts and hangers.
From the very first moment it happened, I remember being in my bed and hugging my Snoopy doll, questioning what love and trust really meant.
Worst of all, I started to believe that I was not worthy of safety and security, and decided I must be a really unlovable girl.
Having this negative belief about myself, I could no longer hear anything positive from anyone. No matter what compliment someone offered or how much someone would try to show me love, I would go back to this now instilled belief: “You are not worth it. No one will love you. You are supposed to feel pain if love is involved.”
This false self-perception led me down many dark paths into self-destruction and self-sabotage, and my world in my mind became very small.
I was attracting circumstances and people in my life that would reaffirm my low self-worth so that I could tell myself, each and every time I was abandoned, rejected, or broken up with, “See, what you think is true—you are not worth it.”
This eventually turned into a huge black abyss in my soul, and there was no light in sight.
I tried to fill it with alcohol, drugs, relationships, sleeping pills, and whatever I thought might help me escape this deep darkness that was now my everyday existence, but nothing helped.
After many years of struggling, running, and numbing, I saw a quote by the great poet Rumi that read, “What hurts you blesses you. Darkness is your candle.” That was it!
I realized that my pain was not a punishment, and that I could see all this pain as a candle, a guide to bring me back to who I was before I decided I wasn’t worthy or lovable.
My journey into spirituality began, and I was able to come up with a process that allowed me to heal from each painful incident, no matter how bad it was.
Here are the steps that I have taken to heal some of my deepest wounds:
Identify what, exactly, is causing the pain.
I needed to go back to the beginning, before fear took the place of love in my heart, and remember the specific events that I allowed to negatively affect me. I created a timeline and wrote down everything that had ever hurt me up until my current age.
Take a quiet moment and sit in a place where you won’t be interrupted. Take out your journal or a piece of paper, and then sit with your eyes closed.
Bring yourself back to your past and try to recall a time when you felt hurt, scared, or fearful. Write down what happened and how you felt. This process is not an easy one, but the only way we can heal it is to reveal it.
Acknowledge the pain in the present.
After allowing myself to get clear about what had hurt me and caused me great suffering, I needed to fully acknowledge how each incident was affecting me in the present.
Once you retrieve the memory of what caused you this pain, sit with it and visualize yourself saying, “Okay, I am in fear/distress/pain/extreme sadness, and I am going to be okay.”
You are now acknowledging your feelings in this moment because you felt very alone and helpless before. This allows you to comfort yourself, which will bring you a feeling of peace.
Accept the pain.
What I was resisting, numbing, and avoiding was causing my suffering. My detour away from my light happened because I refused to accept that these incidents had so much power over me. I didn’t realize then that acceptance can set you free. I didn’t have to condone or like what happened; I just needed to accept it.
It will be a freeing exercise for you to now write, “I fully accept this situation as being exactly how it was supposed to be. I am a stronger person because of this.”
This will alleviate the hold the pain has on you because you’ll be shifting your belief about what you experienced. Instead of feeling victimized, and consequently hurt or ashamed, you’ll feel empowered for having gained strength and wisdom through your experience. You can do this any time you feel you are holding on to something that is upsetting you.
Release, forgive, and let go of the pain.
Before I acknowledged the pain and brought it to consciousness, I didn’t think I had a choice, so the pain became part of my identity. Now I can release it. If I decide to visit it again and identify with it, I know that will be choosing to suffer.
Now is the time when you can release the situation and the hold it has had on you. In order to do this, you need to forgive yourself for carrying around the dark and heavy emotions.
You also need to forgive anyone who hurt you. It might help to consider that they, too, were hurting, and that’s why they did what they did. Recognizing that hurt people cause others pain, you now have an even stronger motivation to do this work to heal your own.
Envision yourself in the situation(s) you revisited with a beautiful white light surrounding you, protecting you, and allowing you to see that you are safe.
Picture yourself telling the fearful you that it’s okay to let this go because you are not there anymore. You are free from what you hurt you in the past, and it doesn’t mean anything about you or your worth. What happened wasn’t your fault, and you don’t deserve to live a life defined by that pain and shame.
This is where you detach from your story and choose not to identify with the painful situations.
You can now write out, “Universe, I am now fully releasing this situation and forgiving (whoever was involved) and myself. I am free from this pain. Thank you for taking this from me.”
The good news is that once we make the courageous decision to bring these painful memories and emotions into the open, and decide we need to confront the pain head on, we can start this healing process.
This is not a process that you will only do one time. This is something you will do over and over again until you feel the heaviness lifted from your heart and a sense of inner peace wash over you.
By shining light on our deepest and darkest wounds, we allow them to come to the surface so we can go through the necessary steps to turn our greatest pain into our greatest power and strength.
If your goal is to reconnect with your inner light and realign with who you truly are, I invite you on this healing journey that has forever changed my life.
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Follow Your Heart, Not Your Fear: How to Make Choices That Are Right for You
“Unnecessary fear of a bad decision is a major stumbling block to good decisions.” ~Jim Camp
Twenty years ago, my wife and I decided to move from Montréal, where we had lived for the first thirty-five years of our lives, to Nova Scotia, 800 miles away, where we had no connections whatsoever. Neither a small decision nor undertaking, since this involved our four kids and the entire contents of our house (not to mention a dog and two cats).
Why were we moving? We were not moving because of a job opportunity; we enjoyed the life we had in Montréal. And there was nothing, as far as we knew, waiting for us in Nova Scotia. Nothing, except our future, the next stage of our lives.
But we both had a strong, clear feeling—a felt sense—that it was time to leave. And we both had a strong, clear feeling that Nova Scotia was the right place to move to. Simple as that.
There were lots of reasons to think that we shouldn’t make this move and take all the risks involved. In the year before we moved, every attempt I made at getting work there fell through. Every attempt I made at finding a house to rent fell through. It was literally only three weeks before we moved that we finally had a place to move to!
There was plenty of worry, stress, and anxiety, plenty of thoughts saying that this was a bad decision.
By this point in my life, though, I had learned to listen to my intuition and to the signals of my heart to guide me in my life choices.
I had learned not to let my thoughts (that is to say, my worries, doubts, fears, anxieties, and apprehensions) paralyze me in my decision-making. I had learned to have more confidence in what my body felt than in what my mind said.
There was a time when I would have wasted a lot of time and energy debating back and forth and then made a choice I was neither sure was the right one nor fully happy with.
For the first three decades or more of my life, I was a person who struggled intensely with making choices and decisions.
I was usually afraid of making the wrong choice and unsure of how to know whether I was making the right choice. Aside from any question about “right versus wrong” choices, I worried about what others would think or how others would feel if I made this or that choice.
This indecision, this self-doubt, resulted in significant stress and anxiety, sometimes, to the point of feeling too paralyzed to act at all, as well as resulting in wasted time, lost opportunities, and regrets.
Over the years, I worked in therapy on overcoming anxiety and other issues and learned and practiced meditation, mindfulness, and yoga. Over time, and with consistent practice, I gradually learned how to find a calm center in the midst of those conflicted thoughts.
I also learned how to tune into my heart with heart-focused meditations.
I discovered that my heart would always tell me what I really needed. There was always one clear answer from the heart about what was right for me in any given situation. And when I experimented with acting on those choices, the outcomes were always good, and I never felt doubt or regret. There was a consistent sense of acting in alignment with my true self, my true purpose… my truth.
The fundamental basis for this approach to making decisions is mindfulness. Being mindful means being able to “sink down” below the turbulent surface of thoughts, projections, fears, and perceptions that all clamor for my attention when I have a decision to make. It means having a still center from which I can then be aware of the quieter and subtler signals in my body, my heart.
When you mindfully tune into your heart, when you separate from your thoughts and emotional reactions, you discover that the heart has a very clear, although sometimes a very subtle, way of saying “yes” and “no.”
A sensation or feeling of opening, relaxing, warmth, moving toward is a “yes.” A feeling or sensation of closing, hardening, pulling back, tensing is a “no.”
I have learned to trust that this response from the heart tells me what is best for my overall, integral being, for my physical health, my mental health, my social relationships, my family relationships, and the unfolding of my life purpose.
Mindfulness is the basis from which this approach to decision-making stems, but making decisions this way as a practice also enhances my ability to be mindful in everyday life.
It’s an exercise in letting go of attachment—attachment to desires and fears; attachment to expectations of myself, of others, or of the future; attachment to thoughts about what I “should” do; attachment to what other people might think and feel.
Most of our stress, anxiety, indecision, and doubt around making decisions is rooted in fear. We fear unknown outcomes, or we fear negative outcomes that we project might happen.
Fear reactions always serve to dissociate us from our true and integral self in the moment.
In his book The Biology of Belief, Bruce Lipton talks about how a cell is either in defense mode or in growth mode; it cannot be in both at once. The same is true psychologically.
If we are engaged in fear, even just in our thoughts, and trying to defend ourselves from negative outcomes, then the choices we make will be based on trying to protect ourselves from whatever it is we fear. They will not be grounded in hope, confidence, and faith; they will not be conducive to growth and thriving.
It isn’t necessarily easy to resist the fear and to listen to your heart. Our brains are wired to prioritize safety; this means that the brain will pay attention to fear and let it guide our thinking. It takes practice and perseverance to find a calm center beneath and within the fear; it’s the work of mindfulness, applied to actions.
Mindfulness is fundamental as it trains you to detach from the narrative of the fear-based thoughts. But making decisions to act in ways that challenge those fears takes the challenge up a notch.
Part of the solution is reminding yourself of what has always happened in the past when you acted according to these fears. You will find that there is always some kind of dissatisfaction or disappointment, if not outright frustration, that resulted.
Part of the solution is working on reducing those fears (try energy psychology techniques or, my favorite, logosynthesis); and part of the solution is in “feeling the fear and doing it anyway”—pushing through the fear and experiencing the positive outcomes.
I have come to make all my decisions in this heart-centered way, and I have never been disappointed. On the one hand, I can say that I have never been disappointed because the outcome has always been good.
On the other hand, there is a feeling that comes simply from making a decision this way, based on a felt response in the body, where I physically experience my body saying yes or no, that allows me to detach from expectations about the outcome altogether, and to feel good and confident about my decision, regardless of the outcome.
I feel good and strong simply because I am making the decision that I know is right for me.
The outcomes we wish for are not always the outcomes we need or that will be best for us. The outcomes we wish for are often based in a sense of lack, longing, or insufficiency. In my emotional heart I may fear, I may want to avoid something, or I may long for something, desire it.
In my energetic heart, the response will not be based on any sense of fear, avoidance, lack, or insufficiency. It’s based in a consistent, integral sense of self, in relationship to others, to the world, and to life itself.
I used to be afraid of confrontation, or even of risking a confrontation by displeasing people. So when it became clear that the dynamics of my birth family’s gatherings were too stressful for my wife and detrimental to her well-being, I was forced to look at it more closely and acknowledge that I felt uncomfortable in those situations, as well.
I had the usual reaction: “But it’s my family! I can’t just decide not to go for Christmas!” But in my heart I felt clearly that the right choice was to stop attending. Having to take this action and tell them caused me a lot of anxiety.
I was afraid of the anger and rejection I felt certain would come of it. I delayed and avoided.
When I did tell them, I was met with confusion, anger, and blame. The response I feared did happen. What didn’t happen is what I really feared—that I would not be okay if they were unhappy with me.
I was okay. We were okay. It made my relationship stronger because my wife knew I would take her needs seriously and act on them, even though it was uncomfortable for me. It made me stronger because it helped me to realize that even if I made other people unhappy, I could still be okay.
Knowing I was making the right choice for myself, there was a clear distinction between what other people might think was “right” or “wrong” and what I knew in my heart.
Letting go of fear opened me up to growth.
The more you practice decision-making in this way, the more you develop an incredible sense of freedom, an ability to move in this world in a way that is true to yourself and to your life purpose. It helps to cultivate the “courageous self-acceptance” and the “fearless heart” described in Buddhist teachings.
And when making your decisions becomes clearer, less stressful, and less conflicted, it makes your relationships with others a lot easier. You let go of people-pleasing, of guilt, of feeling like you have to explain yourself or compromise yourself and make decisions that aren’t right for you.
You may be afraid that if you act according to your heart, you will make people angry. And that may be exactly what happens. But your great fears of the consequences of people being angry with you never happen. You realize that even if you have to deal with loss, you have regained something of yourself.
Relationships become simpler as you feel a sense of wholeness, of integrity. You know you are acting with integrity, and so you feel comfortable affirming your choices. You feel less defensive when people disagree with you. This is a freedom we should all wish for each other, and grant each other.
And, in case you were wondering, nineteen years later, we still love living in Nova Scotia. It is home now, and we would never think of leaving. Within a couple of months of moving here, I was working full time. It has been a great place to live, to work, and to raise our children, and we would never think of leaving.
Our hearts drew us to a place that became home in a way that the place we grew up and began our adult lives in could never quite be. Our hearts drew us to our destinies.
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Two Kind Words That Can Change or Save a Life
“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” ~Leo Buscaglia
My fiancé and I escaped to the northern wilderness. We wanted to build our home and our life off grid, off the beaten path, far from civilization.
It didn’t matter that I was a city girl who couldn’t handle a chainsaw, fix a pickup, or read the warnings of wind and sky. My fiancé was a mountain man, skilled in survival. That was all we needed for a life in the middle of nowhere. Alone, but together, and we loved it.
We were independent and resourceful. Nothing fazed us. My fiancé had a solution for everything: broken generators, shortage of water, staying safe on hikes through the hills that we shared with wolves, coyotes, and bears.
Never once did we doubt our ability to survive.
And never once did we think that our biggest challenge would come from anything other than the wilderness itself.
Our days were consumed by nature. We were always one step ahead. One step ahead of hungry bears, deadly windstorms, drought, wildfire, and maintaining the only road that connected us to far-flung humanity. We were always one step ahead.
Until we weren’t.
All of a sudden, my fiancé lost his appetite, his skin turned a pea soup green, and his jeans hung off him, a size too big.
The wilderness was no place to get sick: lack of cell-phone access, few doctors, often-impassable roads, and a five-hour drive to the nearest hospital. Suddenly the idea of “challenge” took on a whole new meaning.
Finally, after many delays, tests, comings and goings, a diagnosis was confirmed: cancer. My fiancé was stoic. But the news hit me with hurricane force.
Our world flipped upside down.
Suddenly we were thrown into the scary unknown, a place far more challenging than the wilderness of the bush.
Surgery was booked. My once strong, ever-so-independent mountain man was forced to let go, to place his trust in the skill of a surgeon and the goodwill of the universe. I was terrified, but in my role of “pillar of support,” I acted brave by swallowing my fear.
In the faraway town where the operation would take place, I would sleep at the Easter Seal House. It was close to the hospital and affordable. But it was also a dorm.
The idea of sharing accommodation added to my stress. I was an introvert; I’d been living in the bush. The last thing I wanted was to socialize with strangers when my mind was consumed with worries for my man.
But there was no choice.
The following day, the operation, they said it would last a few hours. It took much longer. Then finally some news. “All is well, ” the surgeon said. And the relief of it almost felled me.
I thanked the surgeon; thanked the universe for throwing a lifeline. There would be a tomorrow, after all. And a tomorrow after that.
Two days later, results showed a spread of the disease.
We were not in the clear after all.
That night, I stayed as late as possible at the hospital with my fiancé. I wanted to curl up in his narrow bed, but he was hooked up to so many tubes and wires, and the eighteen-inch wound running down his belly was tender and sore.
When I reluctantly left to walk back to the “dorm,” the night was late and frigidly cold. My mood was as black and as slippery as the ice underfoot. All I wanted to do was to curl up and cry. The thought of facing a group of strangers sunk me further.
At the front door of the Easter Seal House, a small group of old men huddled under the outdoor light, sucking on cigarettes and stamping their feet to stay warm. They looked as miserable as I felt.
Inside, a new guest had arrived to share my room. She was setting up an oxygen machine that would keep her lungs safe through the night. The room was too cramped to make use of my offer to help, so I retreated to the lounge.
The TV in the lounge blasted a comedy. I slipped into the only spare spot, at the edge of the threadbare couch. A plump woman with bleached blond, coifed hair and rose-polished nails giggled wildly at the antics of the TV characters.
My mood was too dark to laugh; instead, I was flooded with gnarly judgments about the stupidity of TV, of sitcoms, of sharing accommodation with strangers.
I told myself I don’t belong with this group, with this coifed blond giggler and her rose-polished nails. As the judgments in my mind exploded, my mood turned surly.
At the break for an ad, the volume on the TV spiked. The blond reached for the remote, decreased the sound. One small mercy. A few minutes later, volume up again. Part of me wanted to seize the remote and hurl it out the window.
The sitcom resumed. Some inane stunt threw the giggler into hysterics.
Suddenly, she turned in my direction, clearly wanting to share the joke that I so obviously didn’t get.
Quickly she scanned me, and whatever it was that she saw prompted her to switch the TV right off, right in the middle of her show. She turned back to me again, this time swiveling her entire body right around to face me.
“Tell me,” she said.
And then I saw. Past the pristine rose nails and frilly sweater, past the coifed bleached hair and perfect makeup, I now saw a pair of soft, welcoming eyes. “Tell me,” she repeated in a gentle invitation.
And I did. And something inside me broke. All the feelings of tension and sorrow melted as I accepted her invitation.
I told her about my fiancé’s surgery, the cancer, its spread, and the hope for future treatments. I told her about my fears for our isolated life in the wilderness. How would I manage? And she listened. She listened with gentle eyes. She listened with her whole body, nodding, as if to say, “I hear you, I understand.”
And it amazed me, this gentle space that she had created through the depth of her presence. It amazed me how her kindness helped me peel open months of fear and anguish. Her invitation to tell my story was an invitation I didn’t even know I needed, yet desperately did.
One by one, the old smokers lumbered back in from the frigid night. They and others joined us. A semi-circle formed around the woman and myself. Haggard, jaundiced faces, bandaged arms; it struck me how all of us were wounded in one way or another, fellow travellers on a shared and complicated journey.
By the time I finished my story, a soft gratitude had filled my heart and eased my worries. My burden shared was a burden halved.
In the wee hours before dawn, sleep came gently in a way that it hadn’t for a very long time.
I never saw that woman again. But her generosity, in switching off a sitcom that she so clearly enjoyed to welcome instead my story, was a gift.
It allowed me to move past a sense of disconnection from others, to share my vulnerability, to be heard and understood. And it gave me solace and a feeling of connection when I needed it most.
Above all, that woman and her gift of compassion showed me that no matter how small, an act of kindness truly does have the power transform a life.
It transformed mine. By lightening my load, it created space for the challenges that lay ahead.
So many of us walk around carrying heavy burdens, desperate for a sense of relief. It may seem so simple, but two little words can dramatically ease our pain and our suffering. Such simple little words: Tell me.
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A Simple Way to Calm Yourself When Feeling Strong Emotions
“This is the root of Self. You are not your thoughts; you are aware of your thoughts. You are not your emotions; you feel your emotions…. You are the conscious being who is aware that you are aware of all these inner and outer things.” ~Michael Singer
I sat across from my colleague with a growing sense of discomfort. I had accepted an assignment from the boss, but I heard from my colleague an undercurrent of questioning and uncertainty—or so it seemed. It was so subtle that I couldn’t quite tell what was going on.
Did she not believe I could do it? Nobody else was stepping forward to meet the need. Was she saying it’s better to go with nobody than with me?
All I knew for sure was that I wasn’t hearing this outright. I decided to let it go, head on home, think about it tomorrow, and be fully present with my family instead. But the next morning as I pulled into my parking spot in front of the office, a subtle agitation rumbled in my stomach.
I walked into the quiet building and set my things down in the office, distracted by my disquiet and wishing I could focus on my task list. The thoughts prickling at me wouldn’t let go.
I laid my pen down and asked myself, “Okay, what’s going on?”
In my top drawer I keep a deck of “grok” cards that I bought from the folks at the Center for Nonviolent Communication. Each one has the name of a need or value—things like “hope,” “trust,” and “balance” show up in this deck. I frequently use these when I can’t quite put a finger on what’s bothering me.
I flipped through the cards and sorted them as I went. In the “not now” pile went cards like “freedom,” “competence,” and “creativity.” In the next pile, the “Maybe?” pile, went cards like “security,” “meaning/purpose,” and “friendship.”
I went on sorting between just these two piles until I hit one that resonated: “Acknowledgement.” That went into a new pile: “Yes.”
A couple of cards after it I found “Appreciation.” That went into the “Yes” pile too, and then I noticed something really interesting happen: I got angry.
Usually when I sort through these cards, the experience of finding the right word to put on my current needs or values results in feeling more settled, more clear. Frequently my agitation will be replaced by a sense of gratitude, or courage to act in a way that helps me meet my needs.
Typically, that is the value for me in identifying my needs. It helps me find a more straightforward and effective path toward getting those needs met. But it didn’t happen this time.
Instead, the voice in my head just became louder and more insistent.
My coworker should be grateful for my willingness to take on this new project! She wasn’t going to step in and do anything. Why wasn’t she acknowledging that I was making a sacrifice on behalf of the team?
This narrative swept me up. It threatened to pull me under.
Slowly, I started to notice another, quieter voice saying, “Why am I getting so upset? That doesn’t usually happen after I go through the GROK cards. What can I do for myself that won’t be so negative?”
I’m going to admit this was an odd experience for me. I don’t typically have this second, quieter voice. Or, if I’ve had it, I haven’t been able to hear it.
But I did hear it this time, and it called to mind Michael Singer’s book, The Untethered Soul. I read it just about a month before.
“You are not the voice of the mind,” he wrote. “You are the one that hears it.”
He suggests that when we’re bothered by something, we can change what we identify with. Rather than identifying with all of those thoughts and feelings, we can instead identify ourselves as “the observer” or witness of what is being experienced.
As I felt myself getting swept up in defensiveness against my coworker, I decided to try it. What would happen, I wondered? I started up a new voice in my head that said, “I am not all of these thoughts and feelings. I am the observer who is noticing that Amy is having a powerful experience.”
It was almost meditation, but not quite the same as my usual practice. Michael Singer might say I was doing it wrong. A psychiatrist might have a lot of questions for me—I don’t know.
What I do know is what happened inside myself. As I identified myself as “the observer who is noticing that Amy is having a powerful experience,” I relaxed. I let go of the waves of negative thinking.
I realized that I could talk to myself the way I would talk to a dear friend who is feeling unacknowledged and underappreciated. I realized I could give myself compassion.
I imagined telling myself, “I’m sorry you haven’t been appreciated. That’s hard. You are still okay.”
I admit I feel extra vulnerable as I type that out. Part of me doesn’t want to admit that I talk to myself in this way. On the other hand, this was such an amazing experience!
I was able to walk myself through processing my own needs and emotions in ways I’ve never done before. As soon as it happened, I wanted to shout it out to the rest of the world, “Hey, I’ve found a path that looks like it leads somewhere good! Come check it out!”
Do you ever feel the emotional undertow of unpleasant, uncomfortable feelings? Have you tried to resist them without success? Perhaps it would help to identify yourself as the observer.
Accept that the feelings and thoughts are there, but instead of identifying with them, try identifying yourself as the observer or witness who is noticing that this experience is flowing through.
Perhaps you already know this part of the path. Have you tried a practice like this? What works for you?
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How to Find Lasting Peace (Even When You’re in an Emotional Tornado)
“You can find peace amidst the storms that threaten you.” ~Joseph B. Wirthlin
Does your mind ever feel like a tornado of whirling thoughts?
And when that happens, do you wish for inner peace?
Well, not too long ago, after I quit my corporate job, I was stuck in that exact position. I realized that the degrees I earned and the jobs I chose made me miserable.
My inner chatter became unbearable, and my self-sabotaging, pestering thoughts sparked anxiety attacks, jitters, and nightmares. That forced me to go into therapy.
But even after a year of professional help, I felt so much despair that I thought I wouldn’t be able to survive it. My whole life lost meaning.
I was clinically depressed and needed chemicals to cut through the fog. I couldn’t even enjoy the activities I once loved.
The chemicals gave me jitters, so I tried deep breathing techniques, guided meditation, positive affirmations, and vision boards. Eventually, I found what worked for me.
The more I practiced what worked, the more comfortable I became with all my worries. No, my problems did not disappear, but I gained inner resolve and tenacity to become comfortable with the discomfort.
I’m proud of the efforts I made to ease my acute emotional distress. While no easy shortcuts or magic potions exist, I found fantastic fixes and mental techniques along the way. They helped me deal with my sadness, regret, anger, and any horrible memory that bubbled up.
To maintain my state of mind, I continue to practice the tactics and also stay open to any new ones.
Of course, nobody can embody an enduring state of peace for 24/7, 365 days a year. But these days, the tactics I continue to practice allow me to choose peace whenever distress bubbles back to the surface.
If you’re in the midst of an emotional tornado, the suggestions and fixes below should help you on your journey to peace.
1. Accept that you’re both ordinary and unique.
You’re an ordinary person walking a unique path. Accepting this can make you feel less alone, be more competitive in a non-destructive way, and eliminate self-pitying thoughts.
Accept that you’re an ordinary person with only twenty-four hours a day who has to somehow find meaning in the mundaneness of life. Accepting that you’re common will make you feel less alone.
But also accept that nobody is walking your unique path. You wake up every morning with you, your traits, circumstances, choices, and history. Accepting that you’re unique will make you want to achieve, be creative, and develop in a healthy way. You will aim to learn and grow rather than act from a place of fear, envy, or a pressing need to outperform.
If you accept that you’re both ordinary and unique, you’ll stop comparing yourself to somebody else’s highlight reel, you’ll aim to become the best version of your ordinary-unique self, and you’ll thereby move through life peacefully.
2. Get comfortable with the uncomfortable.
When you feel anxious, your thoughts jump around like frantic grasshoppers, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop overthinking.
This is an uncomfortable feeling, but if you practice getting comfortable with this feeling, it won’t consume your cognitive space. If you push it away, your discomfort will only continue to grow, as will the anxiety.
Practice by surrendering to that uncomfortable feeling and feeling it through every inch of yourself.
If you feel tears come, don’t fight them. Your tears release stress hormones such as cortisol, so cry if you must.
Avoid getting overwhelmed by placing one hand on your chest and the other on your belly and feeling yourself breathe. Sit up and feel your feet on the ground as you inhale through your nose. Hold for five seconds and exhale through your mouth.
You’re now fully integrated with that uncomfortable feeling instead of panicking about how to make it go away.
Repeat the deep breathing exercise as often as you can. Don’t be fooled by how simple and boring it sounds; this is an extremely powerful calming technique.
3. Practice staying in the now.
Most emotional distress stems from reliving your past or panicking about the future. It’s either regret or fear. That’s why if you practice staying in the now, you will learn to let go of the past and future, and just bring your awareness to the peaceful present.
Even if you can do it just for one moment, you will experience one peaceful moment. If you practice bringing your awareness to the present moment, you will realize you have control over your peace. You will recognize the calming effect it has on your state of being, even in the midst of chaos and crisis, and even if it is for a few seconds.
You might practice staying in the now in the following ways:
Sit outside, and pick a leaf on a tree. Try keeping your focus on that leaf for a full five minutes. When your attention wanders, gently bring it back to the leaf.
Pick an object (let’s say your coffee mug), and wonder. Where was it made? Who made it? Was it handmade? Try and figure out the history of that coffee mug (even if you have to make it up).
Look up at the night sky, and visualize your worries whooshing past you to sit inside a star. Now watch them burn up inside each giant ball of dust and gas. With all your worries gone, bring your awareness back to the present moment — you looking up at the night sky.
4. Get to know yourself.
To achieve inner peace, you must get to know yourself on a deep level. Getting to know yourself will help you make choices more aligned with who you are and want to be.
One way to get to know yourself is through journaling.
Just fifteen minutes per day of journaling will help you get to know yourself by recording your thoughts, beliefs, and inner conflicts. Better yet, you don’t have to worry about what you’ll write.
When you write, just keep going with the flow of your tangent thoughts, private thoughts, and inappropriate thoughts unfit for public viewing. Nobody will see these words but you! The point of journaling is to just get stuff out — the story you keep telling yourself, a careworn complaint, a horrible memory.
When I first started journaling, I wrote everything that popped into my mind. I found myself saying things I didn’t really mean about people who hardly knew me, about wanting to engage in activities I never really thought I would want to engage in, and kept going without judging myself. I was also able to release much of the anger, pain, guilt, shame and embarrassment I stored and in doing so, I freed myself.
One thing to remember is that writing about it doesn’t make it any more real than it is inside your head. The idea is to clear your mind and become aware of your thoughts you’re thinking and the emotional clutter. Remember to relax, be free, loosen up, feel the raw emotion, release it constructively, and do it daily.
The best part about journaling is that you don’t have to win anybody’s approval or permission to feel the way you do.
5. Stop seeking approval.
If you want to adopt a peaceful mindset, don’t try to make others like you or approve of you. Take actions to meet the ideals you set for yourself, and to meet your goals, but let go of your need to be liked.
If you live to impress others—to win their love, support, approval—you’ll go down a road filled with anxiety and emotional pain.
A need for approval triggers self-defeating thoughts of self-doubt and self-blame. Hello, emotional distress.
I struggled to let go of my need for approval, but when I eventually did, I felt a big wave of peace wash over me. I was able to say goodbye to many disempowering thoughts.
You Can Give Yourself the Gift of Peace
There is, of course, no antidote to take it all away, forever.
I still struggle with my anxiety sometimes, but because I used these techniques and visualizations, when my mind is a tornado, it’s much easier to quell it now. As the famous adage goes, “Practice makes perfect,” so I continue to do just that.
Your issues might (and probably will) still come back at times, even after months of journaling, looking at leaves, and breathing techniques. You’ll still experience moments of distress from time to time, even if it’s the minor mundane kind at the grocery store when you’re contemplating on whether to buy tomatoes or not.
However, by practicing these techniques, you’ll build an arsenal of coping tools to find your peace. Your peace itself will be indestructible. No emotional tornado will ever destroy it.
Your peace will be tornado-proof.
