Tag: wisdom
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How to Have a Meaningful Holiday Season on Your Own Terms
“Take a little time to be amazed by something you won’t enjoy unless you consciously choose to focus on it. See the things you can’t see when you’re rushing. Hear the things you can’t hear when you’re stressing. Get so caught up in your senses that everything else seems to stop for a moment—because things don’t actually stop. So we have to be the ones who do it.” ~Lori Deschene
As December unfolds, I’ve made a conscious choice that feels both liberating and true to myself: I’m celebrating a quiet Christmas at home with just my best friend.
While my family lives far away, and tradition might dictate buying plane tickets and planning an elaborate holiday visit, I’m listening to a deeper wisdom this year—one that honors my personal growth, sense of balance, and need for peaceful reflection as we approach 2025.
This decision wasn’t made lightly, but it feels right. Instead of navigating crowded airports, juggling the stress of travel logistics, and potentially diluting my focus on what truly matters to me, I’m creating space for an intentional end to 2024. It’s not about loving my family any less—it’s about loving myself enough to recognize what I truly need right now.
Examining What Matters
The path to this decision became clear when I started examining what truly matters to me right now. While my family gatherings are always wonderful, they also come with different expectations and dynamics—competing priorities and well-meaning but sometimes overwhelming input about each other’s life choices.
By staying home, I’m creating a sanctuary where I can remain deeply connected to my own inner compass as I prepare for the year ahead.
My best friend shares this vision of a peaceful holiday. Like me, his family also lives far away, so we’ve embraced the opportunity to enjoy each other’s company this holiday season, celebrating our friendship and shared values. Together, we’re planning simple but meaningful celebrations that focus on joy, rest, and genuine connection.
Our plans include a holiday movie marathon at home, filled with plenty of festive classics and rom-coms. We’re also trying out new recipes and baking to our hearts’ content, transforming the kitchen into a festive hub of delicious treats. There’s something powerful about choosing to celebrate differently—about saying yes to what feels authentic rather than what’s expected.
I’m fortunate that my family demonstrates a beautiful kind of understanding, though it didn’t come without a touch of disappointment at first. When I shared my holiday plans, I could sense their initial sadness at us not being together. But that feeling quickly morphed into compassion and love as they recognized how important this choice was for me.
Their response reflected the very love and support that make our relationship special. They get it—they understand that sometimes taking care of yourself means making choices that look different from the traditional script.
This conversation helped me embrace my decision even more deeply. It reminded me that love and connection don’t depend on proximity or performance but thrive when we trust each other to honor what we need.
New Possibilities and Intentional Celebration
This simplified holiday season is already opening up new possibilities. Without the usual rush of travel preparations and extensive gift shopping, I’m finding time to reflect deeply on my goals and aspirations.
My best friend and I are looking forward to savoring time together. What feels especially refreshing is the quiet spaciousness of this season. It’s not just about what we’re doing—it’s about what we’re not doing. There’s no rushing, no overextending, and no pressure to meet anyone’s expectations but our own.
What makes this setup truly special is how we’re blending celebration with intention. From Christmas through New Year’s Day, we’re creating a space for reflection and renewal. This isn’t just about savoring the holidays; it’s about entering the new year with a clearer sense of what matters most.
Whether we’re brainstorming dreams for the future or simply enjoying the aroma of freshly baked cookies, this intentionality feels like the perfect way to honor the spirit of the season. It’s a reminder that peace and joy aren’t things we find—they’re things we create.
Choosing to forgo the usual holiday hustle has also given me an unexpected gift: the freedom to focus on what truly fills me up. Instead of stretching myself thin trying to do it all, I’m finding joy in the simple pleasures—a heartfelt conversation, a home-cooked meal, and the sense of ease that comes with slowing down.
It’s remarkable how small shifts can create waves of change in so many areas of life. This choice has reminded me that less truly can be more.
Creating Your Own Meaningful Holiday
For anyone considering a similar choice, here’s what I’ve learned about creating a meaningful holiday season on your own terms.
1. Trust your instincts about what you need.
Sometimes the greatest gift you can give yourself is permission to break from tradition when it serves your well-being.
2. Simplify your celebrations.
A meaningful holiday doesn’t require elaborate plans or expensive gatherings. Often, it’s the quieter moments that bring the most joy.
3. Set loving boundaries.
If family members express hurt or disappointment through guilt trips or emotional pressure, remember that their reaction often comes from a place of love. You can validate their feelings while still honoring your decision, using phrases like “I know this is different from our usual tradition, and I understand why that’s hard,” followed by a clear, kind explanation of your choice.
Consider suggesting specific ways to make the holiday special despite the distance, perhaps by having a virtual gift-opening session or planning a dedicated family celebration for another time. This shows your family that you’re still committed to maintaining meaningful connections with them.
4. Embrace creativity.
Whether it’s trying out a new tradition, experimenting with a recipe, or simply finding new ways to connect, creativity can infuse the holidays with fresh meaning.
5. Prioritize rest and reflection.
The holidays can be an emotionally charged time, so give yourself space to recharge. Whether it’s taking a long walk, journaling, or meditating, moments of stillness can bring clarity and peace.
6. Create your own traditions.
A personal ritual, like lighting candles, writing a gratitude list, or hosting a movie night, can be a comforting and grounding way to honor the season. Or create something completely unique that reflects what matters most to you. The point is that you get to choose.
7. Focus on experiences over material things.
Instead of stressing over gifts, embrace the simple joys of the season; for example, savoring a favorite holiday meal, watching movies that bring you comfort, or taking a mindful moment to appreciate the little things around you.
8. Stay flexible.
Life rarely goes according to plan, and that’s okay. By letting go of rigid expectations, you leave room for unexpected moments of joy and connection.
Grateful for Change
As 2024 draws to a close, I’m grateful for this choice to celebrate differently. This low-key Christmas isn’t about what I’m giving up. It’s all about what I’m gaining: clarity, peace, and the joy of honoring my own path.
In choosing this simpler celebration, I’m not just preparing for a better start to 2025; I’m practicing the art of living authentically right now. And that, to me, feels like the greatest gift of all.
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It’s Okay to Disappoint People When You’re Honoring Yourself
“Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.” ~Brené Brown
On a recent day trip to the Yuba River with my daughter and two friends, unexpected tensions arose, offering me a chance to reflect on a lifelong pattern that has often complicated my relationships. It was a beautiful day, and I’d been looking forward to soaking up the sun and relaxing by the water—but my friend had a more adventurous day in mind.
Though a footbridge led to a clear trail, she suggested we take a more difficult route over steep boulders. Despite my initial hesitation, I went along, wanting to be open to her plans. But as I navigated the rocks with weak knees and slippery Birkenstocks, I started to regret my choice.
Each step required more balance and focus than I’d anticipated, and as I struggled to keep my footing, I worried about disappointing my friend if I suggested another path. I often find myself accommodating others at the expense of my own comfort—a pattern I’ve been working to untangle for years. Eventually, I did speak up, and as we turned back, I felt pleased reflecting on my growth in honoring my own needs, even though it felt vulnerable.
However, just as we reached the stairs that would take us to the footbridge, my friend pivoted again. This time, she suggested wading across the river and scaling the rocky bank on the other side. The idea didn’t make sense to me, and I really didn’t want to take this route—but guilt crept in, knowing I’d already resisted one of her suggestions. Feeling that familiar tug of people-pleasing, I once again overrode my own preference.
So, we waded across, balancing our backpacks and climbing over slippery rocks to reach the opposite bank—which was steep and hazardous. My daughter scrambled up the cliff-like bank with my friend’s help, but as I struggled to find my footing, I could see the anxiety in her eyes.
In that moment, I realized I was pushing myself to do something that didn’t feel safe for either of us. What was I trying to prove? Why was I putting myself in this stressful situation when it would have been so much easier to just cross the footbridge?
Ultimately, rather than risk the steep climb, my other friend and I decided to turn back. We waded across the river again and took the stairs to the footbridge I had wanted to follow all along. Reuniting with my daughter and our friend on the other side, we finally embarked on the trail.
I felt a sense of satisfaction in once again recognizing my pattern of people-pleasing and choosing to change course. However, irritation soon followed—despite passing many perfectly nice spots, we continued hiking as our friend was determined to find a pristine, isolated area to swim. While I appreciated her vision for an adventurous day, I began to feel confined by it, realizing I was still prioritizing her desires over my own.
We wound up stumbling upon a crowded nude beach—and while I have no judgment against nudity, the situation was uncomfortable for my teenage daughter. My friend tried to convince us to swim past the bathers to find a quieter place, but I knew this wasn’t right for my daughter. This time, I didn’t hesitate. It felt incredibly uncomfortable, but I firmly said no.
I told my friends I wanted us all to enjoy ourselves at our own pace. So, I encouraged them to keep adventuring while my daughter and I turned back to where we’d started—a spot that had always felt perfectly fine for swimming. My friend seemed disappointed, and guilt once again crept in, but I felt grateful for my decision.
How often do we let ourselves be swept up by others’ desires, ignoring our own?
Years ago, I might have felt annoyed or even resentful that my day wasn’t unfolding as I’d imagined. I might have blamed my friend for being “pushy” and not listening. This time, however, I focused on observing my inner reactions rather than letting them take control.
Each obstacle became an opportunity to examine my responses. I noticed again and again how easily I slip into accommodating others, even at the expense of my own comfort—a pattern rooted in a fear of losing connection.
I felt no resentment toward my friend; I know she’s simply adventurous and eager to create memorable experiences. Alongside my love for her and trust in her good intentions, I’ve engaged in considerable shadow work. I recognize that judgment and blame are often projections, ways we avoid taking responsibility for our own feelings and needs.
So, when that familiar pull to please others arose, instead of giving in to resentment or going along just to keep the peace, I practiced something different: listening to my inner voice and aligning my actions with what I truly wanted.
It took three instances of going along before I finally gained clarity. While openness and flexibility are valuable traits, we must also be willing to risk disappointing others to honor our own needs. Far from weakening our connections, this kind of self-honoring fosters genuine relationships with ourselves and others.
My daughter and I ended up having a relaxing time in our chosen spot while our friends enjoyed their adventure. When they returned, we all took a final swim together, diving into the cool water and drying off on the warm, sunbaked rocks. On the way home, we shared a fun conversation and even stopped at a roadside stand for some of the best key lime pie any of us had ever had. It turned out to be a wonderful day filled with connection after all.
Reflecting on this experience highlights common patterns we often encounter: the tendency to please others, the fear of disappointing them, and the guilt that can arise when asserting our needs.
My relationships and enjoyment of life have significantly improved as I’ve learned to witness and navigate these conditioned responses, ultimately becoming more authentic. This doesn’t mean I no longer face challenges, like the ones I encountered on my day at the river. However, I now navigate these situations with greater ease, and my increased self-awareness has led to continuous growth and a deeper sense of freedom beyond old patterns.
Based on my experiences, here are some insights that may support you in similar situations—especially when you feel torn between your own desires and the fear of disappointing those around you:
Pay Attention.
Notice what’s happening internally and get curious about what triggers you. Identify your inner conflicts—such as discomfort with disappointing others or fear of being seen as selfish. This self-awareness is crucial for navigating your responses authentically.
Stay Present.
Focus on the current moment rather than your expectations. Embracing what is allows you to align your choices with reality instead of how you wish things would unfold. Redirect any frustration from unmet ideals into fully engaging with the experience at hand.
Take Responsibility.
Avoid blaming others, focusing instead on your own feelings and needs. This empowers you to advocate for yourself in alignment with your values, free from resentment or guilt. By slowing down and reflecting on your choices, you gain clarity and self-compassion. Ask yourself: What do I truly want now?
Speak Up with Grace.
Clearly and kindly express your needs and preferences to foster open communication while maintaining connection. Speaking up may feel daunting, but setting boundaries is a vital act of self-love. Trust that your needs are valid and worth sharing and it’s okay to voice them.
Navigating our experiences in a way that honors our true selves is an ongoing practice. By listening to our inner voice, staying curious about our reactions, and letting go of blame, we create space to pursue our desires without guilt. Each choice becomes a step toward authentic alignment, freeing us from the weight of others’ expectations.
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Free Yourself from Sugar Addiction This Holiday Season
“Part of the ingenuity of any addictive drug is to fool you into believing that life without it won’t be as enjoyable” ~Alan Carr
“I’m okay, thanks.”
See that? I just turned down a Tony’s Chocolonely from our family advent calendar.
I don’t care that it’s a white raspberry popping candy flavor I have never, ever tried before.
I don’t care that I remember being a kid, opening chocolate coins from my stocking.
I don’t care!
Because this year, I’m going into the holiday month already sugar-free. And I am tentatively walking on air about it!!
I’m forty-five, and it’s taken a lot of bingeing and secret eating, regret, and shame to get here.
Shame when the kids accused each other of having stolen bits of their Easter eggs. (I kept my head down, unstacking the dishwasher.)
Shame when I found a whole box of Green & Black’s bars in my husband’s office, because if he buys a treat, I won’t leave him any.
Shame when I had my head in the fridge, scooping teaspoonfuls of Eton mess into my mouth last birthday, while everyone else was enjoying the barbecue in the garden.
Shame because being forty-five and still being silly about kids’ treat food feels ridiculous. Trivial.
But I bet I’m not alone.
I bet I’m not the only middle-aged woman who has Googled “addictive personality,” “food,” and “overeating.”
I bet I’m not the only person who has worked from home, kidding herself that she ‘needs’ a few tiles of 85% chocolate “for the energy boost.”
I expect I’m not the only perimenopausal gal allowing disrupted sleep to turn her into a cookie monster.
I know I’m not the only one who has quit alcohol only to fixate on sugar.
So, if you’re struggling with sugar addiction right now, I feel your pain. I was obsessed too.
But right now, it’s like a switch has flipped in my head, and doing holidays without sugar seems possible. What’s changed? I gifted myself some new beliefs.
Let me share the little self-talk phrases I started to use in case you’re struggling with sugar too.
Maybe you’re not ready for sugar-free holidays. I admit it’s kind of radical, and I’m not saying anyone else ‘should’ do it. But maybe you’re thinking of giving it up next year. Or you’re wondering if it’s possible to let go of some of your attachment to it.
If so, here are twelve brand new phrases to say to yourself.
1. “Holidays are just days of my life.”
I was always trying to allow sugar in my life because I wanted to eat it normally. But ‘normal’ never stayed that way for long.
Every time there was a holiday—Valentine’s, Easter, summer, Halloween, Christmas—I’d start having loads of tiny ‘treats’ that added up to a ton of rubbish and a spiraling habit.
From my first morning honey-laden cocoa until my last secret (what’s in the kids’ treat drawer? Broken Oreos!) self-reward for cleaning the kitchen after dinner, sugar would overrun my days like an invasion of ants.
Eventually, I admitted my position was wishy-washy. I was trying to have my cake and not eat it.
It was a relief to finally be decisive and make a clear code of conduct for myself around sugar, based on what I could realistically expect myself to handle. One way of behaving every day. Including holidays.
2. “I’m deciding what I think about this now.”
The government pays subsidies to the sugar industry. It does international trade deals. We get advertised to, and so we get the message:
“Buy more sugar.”
But their health messaging is the opposite:
“Individuals should make better decisions.”
I realized I was asking a ton from my own free will to resist it, given how ‘everywhere’ it is. I wasn’t being fair to myself when I called myself a willpower weakling. The odds aren’t stacked in favor of resistance.
It was time to stop trying to please society and listen to my own messages.
3. “This is just a commercial product.”
When I looked at the shelves of shiny treats in the supermarket, I saw how clever the marketing is.
Shiny wrappers. Expensive boxes. It reminded me of how cigarettes boxes suggest luxury—how misleading that now looks!
Seasonal flavors keep us wanting ‘new’ experiences: “Look, Mum, this Ferrero Rocher is like a giant Christmas tree bauble. Can we get one?”
I’ve spent my life believing these foods mean treats, fun, celebration, “I love you,” “Let’s relax and share something,” and “life is good.”
But if you look past the wrappers, it’s just stuff. Chocolate is just brown stuff, like wax. Candy is just colored chewy stuff, like putty. It means nothing.
4. “‘Fun’ looks like freedom.”
I imagined chocolate Brazils wrapped in newspaper instead of shiny purple foil.
I visualized all the shops for miles around stacked with sweets, and I could see that they weren’t rare or special but in endless supply.
And I stopped telling myself they were ‘fun.’ Sugar addiction is about as much fun as having a constant snotty head cold. It’s with you everywhere you go, ruining your concentration and making you feel ever so slightly physically gross.
Sure, it’s less life-threatening than other addictions. But it’s misery-making, and that’s serious.
5. “Having more just makes you want more.”
I dove into research on whether sugar is actually addictive. Short answer: It is.
You get withdrawal, receptors in your brain become sensitized… All the markers are there. That’s why my urge to have a second treat is always even stronger than the idea to go get the first one!
I had tried to normalize sugar many times. I had kept snacks stocked at home to stop them feeling off-limits. But they never lost their charm.
Now I understood why eating more of it didn’t make me more blasé, as I’d hoped.
6. “I stop when I decide to stop.”
I also read up on whether our bodies can actually send signals of ‘satisfied’ around sugar.
Surprise, surprise: They can’t.
(Speedy science lesson: Our bodies break down sugar into glucose and fructose. It’s about 50/50. The glucose digestion process has an enzyme, PFK-1, to prevent us from overconsuming it. But the fructose part doesn’t have any signal to stop.)
I began to wonder whether eating sugar intuitively was even achievable.
I decided to keep listening to my hunger and fullness around other foods, but not expect them to help me out much around treats.
7. “I only eat edible food.”
I love the idea that all foods are morally neutral. So I didn’t think of sugar as ‘bad’ or tell my kids they shouldn’t have any. I just quietly switched my perspective to no longer thinking of sugar as an edible substance.
Just because it doesn’t kill you doesn’t mean it’s edible.
I ate toothpaste as a kid: Survived. Not edible.
I once drank aftershave at a party in my teens to try to get drunk. Wasn’t even sick. But it’s still not on my menu of drinks for humans.
Sugar is a thing, not a food. That’s how I think of it now.
8. “I’m not a dog, and I don’t need a treat.”
My overeating is largely emotional: the harder I work, the more I rely on food to give me a feeling of reward.
With sugary snacks, I was treating myself like a pet, giving biscuits for good behavior. Sugar-coating my toxic habit of overworking.
Then, during the holidays, when I couldn’t get my usual dopamine hits from ticking off achievements at work, I was at a loss for how to properly relax and was more vulnerable to receiving reward feelings from sugar.
I learned to start giving myself inner high fives instead. And I now expect the first few days of any holiday to feel a bit empty too. That’s normal while I adjust.
9. “Let me see how quickly this passes.”
This was fun.
I felt as though once I had an idea like “leftover banana bread!” I couldn’t settle or focus on my work until I’d scratched the itch.
I’m pretty experienced at surfing urges—I mentioned I gave up drinking a few years ago, right? That was good practice.
But with sugar obsession, my ‘urge tolerance muscle’ felt very limp indeed.
To my amazement, as I made my way through my first two or three days without sugar, the urges died down unbelievably quickly.
I realized my brain sent up thoughts of sugary treats like a puppy that’s used to begging. But puppies are really trainable. They adapt quickly once you stop feeding them under the table.
10. “I’m the authority on feeding myself.”
Nobody told me to.
I didn’t do it to lose weight.
I didn’t do it because I thought I ‘should.’
I didn’t do it out of fear for my health or my teeth.
I didn’t preach about it (or even dare to announce it) to my family.
I didn’t join an online challenge that made me accountable to a community.
I did it so that I have less food noise in my brain. That’s enough of a reason.
11. “Ha ha, brain, nice try!”
I made a previous attempt to give up sugar last January. February 1st, bang! I fell for my brain’s BS.
“I wonder what that dark chocolate tastes like. I can’t remember.”
“You’ve done so well; having just one little bit won’t hurt.”
“Maybe you can eat it normally now—just have a bit from time to time.”
Then, before I knew it, I was having a little all the time again. Throwing handfuls of chocolate chips at my face while the kettle boiled. A ‘dessert’ item after every meal.
This time, I’m ready for the persuasion attempts. I get it, brain. You remember the taste. But, lovingly, no.
12. “I already walked through a doorway.”
Last February, it was as if I’d gotten to my mental finish line, so then I thought I could relax.
Relax, relapse, collapse.
So this time, I decided not to imagine an end point.
I imagined walking through a doorway, and that my life with sugar was already behind me, and I was moving forward one day at a time.
So far, so good.
It actually felt refreshing to tell myself the truth about it all.
I don’t know if it’s forever. I haven’t made a vow or gotten a tattoo.
Don’t label me the ‘no-sugar’ person and then call me a hypocrite if I change strategy later on in my life.
Because I’m not saying I’ve found the way and that you should do what I do. I truly believe that how we eat shouldn’t be about listening to other people’s magic solutions or expert advice.
For me, it is a matter of trial-and-error, evaluating, refining my system, and finding habits and lifestyle choices that I can sustain.
So, this is what I’m doing this holiday. It’s an experiment, and it feels fun to me.
This year, I’m actually looking forward to connecting with the people more than the food.
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From Pain to Power: Letting Go of Approval to Love Myself
“If you love yourself, it doesn’t matter if other people like you because you don’t need their approval to feel good about yourself.” ~Lori Deschene
For most of my life, I worried about what others thought. Every move I made felt like a performance for someone else. I’d built my life on their approval.
Then came the losses. Three family members were gone in a matter of years. Each time, the grief hit like a fist to the gut.
My mother was my pillar of strength; my father, who might not have always been there for me but was still my father, went next, and then my younger brother—a cruel fate.
Their absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.
I felt hollow, like someone had punched all the air out of me. I was left winded and empty. Grief, relentless and heavy, kept knocking me down.
I tried to keep up appearances, but inside, I was stuck. Couldn’t move. I didn’t know how.
I remember one day after my younger brother died, I sat alone in the garden. The sun was out, but I felt nothing.
It was close to Easter, and I had a list of commitments. Things I’d agreed to, people I had to see. Each one felt like a chain around my neck.
I stared at my phone, anxious and tired. ‘’Where are you?” the message read. My hands were shaking. That’s when I put it down.
It was a moment of liberation. I realized I didn’t want to do this anymore. I didn’t want to worry about what everyone else wanted.
It was time to let go. And in that release, I found a new sense of freedom and hope.
I picked up my phone again and texted, “Sorry, I will not make it today.” And I hit send.
One message turned into two, then three. “I’m sorry, I won’t be coming.” The words felt strange, as if I were speaking them for the first time.
One small act, one message, was enough to break the chains. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe. The tightness in my chest eased.
It was a turning point in my journey to self-acceptance.
I didn’t know it then, but that was the beginning of reclaiming my life. Just a few words and the weight started to lift.
Grief Changes Everything
Grief stripped away everything I thought mattered. The “should” and “have to” layers fell away like dead skin. I was left with nothing but raw, aching truth.
I saw my life clearly for the first time. It was built on everyone else’s expectations. There was no space left for me.
That was the most challenging part to accept. I had spent so long trying to be what everyone else wanted. And now I didn’t know who I was.
But the losses kept coming, pushing me deeper into emptiness. Each time, it took something from me. And each time, I was forced to look harder at myself.
I began to see a pattern. I was living for others, not for myself. It was a painful truth, but grief can uncover what’s hidden.
The Realization
One day, I stood in front of the mirror. The reflection, looking back, was a stranger. My face, my clothes, how I stood—it was all for someone else.
That was the moment when I decided I needed to change. I didn’t want to live like this. I needed to stop.
I didn’t need the approval of others. I didn’t need to be perfect for anyone but myself. It was time to break free.
It wasn’t easy. The habit of pleasing others ran deep. But I started with small steps.
Steps Toward Freedom
First, I listened to my thoughts. When I found myself worrying about someone’s opinion, I stopped. “Is this helping me?” I’d ask.
The answer was almost always no! So I let the thought go. It was redemptive.
Slowly, the worrying and sleepless nights of being a people-pleaser lessened.
Next, I set boundaries. The most challenging boundary was with me. I had to stop pushing past my limits, physically, emotionally, or mentally.
I began saying no. I stopped feeling guilty for choosing myself. Setting boundaries was empowering and made me feel more in control of my life.
It was a declaration of my needs and desires, a step toward asserting my worth.
I distanced myself from people who drained me and people who made me question myself. It was a gradual process.
I started by reducing the time I spent with them, and eventually, I found the courage to communicate my need for space.
I started creating space, which allowed me to breathe and focus on my well-being.
Slowly, I started doing what felt good: walking in the rain instead of counting steps; I just walked for pleasure.
I stopped trying to please everyone; instead, I pleased myself.
This focus on my desires and needs was an essential aspect of my journey to self-acceptance and self-love.
I stopped playing host because others required it. The first Christmas after my younger brother passed away, I took a vacation with just my children, starting a tradition that centered on what worked for me. Now I only host when it feels right on my terms.
I also stopped being the one to reach out constantly to family or friends. I realized I didn’t have to check in or hold relationships together single-handedly. Trusting that real friendships wouldn’t crumble without my constant effort was freeing.
Each small action was a step closer to who I was. Each “no” brought me back to myself. It wasn’t a sudden transformation but a slow, steady shift.
Healing Through Action
There’s freedom in not needing anyone’s approval. I started to feel it in my bones. I began to laugh again.
The weight lifted. I noticed the world again—the way the sky changes colors at dusk, the way the wind feels on my face. Life was waiting for me.
I started to walk more—no destination, no purpose—just walking. I felt the ground under my feet, solid and real.
The loss of my loved ones will always be there. But it doesn’t define me anymore. It’s part of the story, not the whole of it.
Moving Forward
If you’re stuck seeking approval, start small—one step at a time. You don’t have to change everything at once.
Ask yourself: What do I want today? Just for today, choose that. It’s enough.
Reflect on the moments when you felt trapped—times when you felt overwhelmed by external pressures and were trying to meet everyone’s expectations; when you sacrificed your own needs and desires to please others; or when you found yourself constantly worrying about the opinions of others. By reflecting on these moments, you can identify what has been holding you back and take the first step toward living authentically.
Self-reflection is a crucial part of the journey to self-love and self-acceptance. It’s a mirror that allows you to see yourself more clearly, understand your wants and needs, and be free to fulfill them.
It takes time to break free. The habits run deep. But each small step chips away at the chains.
Embracing Self-Acceptance
Self-acceptance wasn’t easy. It felt foreign, like trying on clothes that didn’t fit. But little by little, I got used to it.
I stopped chasing what others thought was beautiful. I looked at my imperfections and decided they were mine. The quirks became markers of who I was.
Writing helped. It was messy and unfiltered, but it was real.
I saw my patterns. The way I bent over backward to fit in. The way I swallowed my voice to keep others happy.
So, I began taking small actions. For instance, I started embracing my uniqueness by wearing clothes that made me smile (like a short mini skirt!).
I spent more time with people who supported me. The ones who made me feel seen. Their encouragement helped me believe that I didn’t have to change to be worthy.
The Healing Process
Of course, there were setbacks. Days when I slipped back into old habits. But each time, I chose to keep moving forward.
It’s not a straight path. There are twists and turns. But each small step makes you stronger.
There’s freedom in not needing anyone else’s approval. I started to feel it grow. I felt lighter, unburdened.
Conclusion
Grief changed everything. But through it, I found strength. I found my worth buried beneath all the noise.
You don’t need anyone’s approval to feel good about who you are. The only person who can define your worth is you.
So ask yourself today: Who’s writing my story?
If the answer isn’t you, it’s time to take the pen back.
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A Beautiful Reminder of How Powerful We Are
“No kind action ever stops with itself. One kind action leads to another… A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions, and the roots spring up and make new trees. The greatest work that kindness does to others is that it makes them kind themselves.” ~Amelia Earhart
When you’re having a particularly rough day, it’s tempting to hang your head in defeat and conclude it’s a cruel world where nothing matters. I had a day like that last month.
A good friend was diagnosed with a horrendous disease. The horse I had been training with for years was sold and relocated across the country with almost no notice. A shady car mechanic almost had me convinced to replace four perfectly good tires.
All this in one day.
Yet that’s not all that happened that day.
I also went to the bank to use the cash machine. I hadn’t been to that location in months. When I arrived, there was a security guard outside. I said hello. It seemed like he recognized me as having been there before. I completed my transaction and started walking back toward my car. And that’s when the security guard said, “When’s the next free hug day?”
As it turned out, he remembered me from several months ago when I was wearing a t-shirt with Elmo on the front and the words “free hugs” in big letters. At that time, I had completely forgotten I was wearing that shirt. In fact, I was so caught up in my thoughts that day that I didn’t even notice the security guard standing there until I heard a voice say, “I’ll take you up on that shirt.” That was months ago.
That small act of kindness—a single hug several months ago—had made an impact. I was getting a beautiful reminder of that now.
So when the security guard asked, “When’s the next free hug day?” I immediately snapped out of my defeated state of mind and cheerfully answered “every day,” and we hugged for the second time.
“Thanks, I needed that,” he said. And I guess so did I.
That’s the power of one person. Each of us has within us the potential to make a positive impact on the world.
We don’t need to start a non-profit or donate all our possessions to charity (although those things are awesome) to make a difference. Making a positive difference can happen with our every thought, word, and action—no matter how small.
My interaction with the security guard at the bank was a beautiful reminder that something as small and fleeting as a hug, a smile, or a kind word can have a profound and lasting effect.
“There’s no such thing as a small act of kindness. Every act creates a ripple with no logical end.” ~Scott Adams
The truth is, we’ll never know just how far the ripples of one small kindness extend. Maybe that initial hug with the security guard months ago put him in a more lighthearted mood for the rest of the day, which influenced how he interacted with his family that evening, which in turn influenced their actions and outlook the next day, and so on, and so on.
Maybe the second hug reminded him that the world is full of friendly people, and all that it takes is a tiny, initial gesture to break the ice.
“The very nature of kindness is to spread. If you are kind to others, today they will be kind to you, and tomorrow to somebody else.” ~Sri Chinmoy
Although we can never know just how far the goodness of one kind act can spread to others, what we can experience firsthand are the effects a kind act has on ourselves. Studies have repeatedly shown that the person doing the kind act receives as much benefit to their mood and outlook as does the receiver—oftentimes even more so.
What’s more amazing is that this double benefit is not limited to our kind words and deeds. It applies to our thoughts as well.
That’s right. Our thoughts are powerful. The quality and quantity of our thoughts affect our physical, mental, and emotional health.
That’s why things like the placebo effect work. If we wholeheartedly believe the sugar pill the doctor gives us is a powerful medicine to help what ails us, our body will respond according to that belief. Our thoughts directly influence how our body functions.
Our thoughts also extend out to others.
Because thoughts, like everything else, are energy, they are broadcast nonstop, twenty-four hours a day, to everyone and everything around us. That’s why things like distant healing and prayer groups can promote healing and positive change. When two or more people synchronize and focus their thoughts, the positive effects are magnified.
Even in our day-to-day activities, our thoughts have an impact on others. Although we may not be able to read the mind of the sales clerk who approaches us in the store, for instance, on some level we can feel them.
Our body senses the energy fields of others.
That’s how we are able to get an immediate sense of someone when we meet them for the first time. Even before either person says a word, we receive an energetic impression of that person. Whether that first impression is positive or negative has a lot to do with their (and our) thoughts.
We live in an interconnected, interdependent universe. My interaction with the security guard at the bank that day was a beautiful reminder of this.
So, while we may often feel alone or distracted in this increasingly busy world, it is empowering to realize we can connect with anyone, anywhere, with our thoughts, our words, and our actions. All it takes is intention and attention. That’s how powerful we are.
We can set an intention to embody kindness and compassion and be a positive force in the world. Then we can give it attention by regularly monitoring our thoughts to ensure they are in alignment with our intention to be the best version of ourselves.
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Because I Lost My Mom: 6 Gifts I Now Appreciate
“The only thing you sometimes have control over is perspective. You don’t have control over your situation. But you have a choice about how you view it.” ~Chris Pine
I had a happy, carefree childhood up until a point. I remember lots of giggles, hugs, and playfulness. One summer, as we were sitting in my grandmother’s yard enjoying her homemade cake, my mum’s right hand started trembling.
My worried grandmother encouraged her to eat, but her hand continued to tremble. I remember her troubled look. She must have sensed something was wrong.
Just three months later, she was gone. Acute leukemia meant that on Monday she received the results of a worrying blood test, on Wednesday she was admitted to the hospital, and by Friday she had died. I was only ten years old.
My aunt broke the news to us that Friday afternoon by saying, “Your mum has gone to the sky.”
If I were to explain what the news of her passing felt like, I would say it was like being hit by lightning. I’ve read that in cases of sudden death, children can stay stuck in some sort of confusing reality: They hear what happened and react to the news, but they don’t quite comprehend it. Somehow, deep inside, they don’t really believe it.
In my case, and for years following my mum’s death, I thought that she had gone to the sky, but that she would come back. It was just a trip, or a bad joke.
She would most definitely come back.
As you might be guessing, I did not get much support in dealing with my grief. On the contrary, the message I got was that life should go on. That a page had turned, but the preceding pages weren’t worth reading.
This is also how all the adults around me acted. So, even though lightning had struck me, I simply stood up and continued to walk, despite all the invisible damage it had done.
The wake-up call to locate that damage and try to repair it came years later when I started experiencing health issues that my doctors said were linked to chronic stress. That’s when I finally decided to face my grief. My young adult body was giving me a clear sign: There were too many unprocessed emotions, desperately needing to find a way out.
Once I allowed myself to finally feel that my heart had been shattered in a million pieces, I started putting those pieces together and redefining who I was.
If my life were a book, grief would be the longest chapter. When I meet someone for the first time, I almost feel like saying, “Hi, I’m Annie, and my mum suddenly died when I was ten.” That’s how much it defines who I am.
Negatively, you might think.
Indeed, her absence still causes tremendous pain. I never felt this more than when I had my own children a few years ago. Becoming a mother does not mean that you stop being a daughter who needs her mother. You also become a mother who would like her children to have a grandmother.
My mother is not there to spoil my daughters, and they will never get to know her. There is no one I can ask to find out how I was as a baby. She isn’t there to listen to my worries or fears while I navigate parenthood.
I still get a ping in my heart when I see ten-year-old girls with their mums, seeing myself in them and re-living the immensity of such a loss. And as I am approaching the age she was when she died, I’m terrified that I will share the same fate and that my girls will grow up without me.
Nevertheless—and I know this might sound contradictory, but aren’t grief and life full of contradictions?—in many ways, her absence has also been a gift.
Thanks to her:
–I fully embrace the idea “live every day as if it is your last” because I know that there is a very real possibility that this day might indeed be my very last. While you might think this means living life with fear, quite the opposite is true. It means living life full of appreciation, gratitude, and love for this body that is still functioning, for the people around me, and for life itself.
–I choose to be truly present with my children and close ones and cherish deep relationships because I want to make the time we spend together count. If the memories we are creating are shorter for whatever reason, let them be powerful.
–I have a job that gives me a deep sense of purpose and meaning because anything else would make me feel like I am wasting precious time that I don’t necessarily have. I’m honored to be making a difference in other people’s lives by helping them think differently about their lives and helping them through their own grief. I make it my goal to share my gifts with the world while I live on this planet.
–I am (relatively) comfortable with the challenges that life throws at me. When you survive after the tragedy of losing a parent, you don’t sweat the small stuff as much. I still find myself getting upset by little things like anyone else, but I’m able to quickly change my perspective and realize that many of the things that upset us are not as important as we first think.
–I know that I cannot control life because life is utterly uncontrollable. In fact, I was a control freak for years, trying to make sure nothing tragic would ever happen to me or my loved ones again, until I realized that this was a reaction to my mum’s passing. I now know this isn’t a way to live life, and that is liberating.
–I take care of my health to feel good in my body, not because I want to live until I’m 100, but because I want to live well. I don’t want my days to be filled with the common ailments that people usually accept, such as headaches, brain fog, or digestive issues. I can only enjoy life fully if my body is allowing me to do so.
If you have experienced early loss but cannot possibly imagine feeling anything positive about it, there is nothing wrong with you. I am sharing my story to perhaps inspire you or even give you comfort.
Perhaps all you can do right now is stay open to the possibility that at some point in your life, you might be able to see things in a similar way. Ultimately, the path of grief is entirely unique.
Would I wish early loss on anyone? Never.
Has grief made me happier? Perhaps.
Has it made me wiser? Definitely.
Just as a friend once told me, “You can’t appreciate light without the shadows.”
