Tiny Buddha

Tag: wisdom

  • Why Relationships and Service to Others Matter More Than Money

    Why Relationships and Service to Others Matter More Than Money

    “Whatever possession we gain by our sword cannot be sure or lasting, but the love gained by kindness and moderation is certain and durable.” ~Alexander the Great

    I remember when I was younger, my relatives on my mother’s side would visit our house almost weekly—not to check on us but to borrow money. We lived in a long house, with relatives and neighbors occupying different rooms, and since we were at the innermost part, they had to walk in to reach us. My parents were so accustomed to these visits that the moment they saw certain relatives, they knew what they wanted.

    The conversations varied. Sometimes, my mother quietly gave them what they needed, but other times, there were heated arguments. I would hear shouts like, “You’ve changed ever since you married your husband!”—as if my mother was responsible for supporting them even though they had their own families.

    My closest childhood friend was my niece, who was two years younger than me (my mother was born later than her first cousins, which explains the small age gap) and grew up in a wealthy family. We never fought, yet I remember sulking a few times because of hurtful remarks about money her relatives made to me.

    I’ll never forget when her uncle said she shouldn’t be gullible around me, as I might ‘take advantage’ and try to get money from her. I was just twelve or thirteen at that time, when all I was concerned about was playing or studying. I did not understand the feeling back then, but the comment stung deeply.

    It’s understandable that people who grew up in a rich family were protective of their wealth (as they should since they worked hard for it). But seeing relatives pointing guns at each other over money was shocking to me as a child.

    I was young and neutral; however, I remember being asked by one side not to visit the other anymore, which I regret to this day. The latter side had always been supportive and loving, cheering me whenever I won awards, especially when I graduated as valedictorian in grade school. I never got to say goodbye to my uncle when he passed away; I deeply wished I was less ignorant of what was happening and stayed in touch.

    These early experiences taught me how money can strain or even destroy relationships. Thankfully, my parents made sure I never felt we lacked for anything, and so our lives did not center around money. When I earned money from competitions or special awards, my mother let me decide what to do with it; I usually end up keeping it in my savings.

    I grew up valuing simplicity, seeing money as a necessity for survival rather than the focus of my life. Even after working for seven years, I still get asked why I choose to commute or live simply when I have the means for more. I attribute it to knowing there are far more important things than money.

    My Reflections about Money in Different Areas of Life

    During the pandemic, when life slowed down and people were forced to reflect, I came across a course called The Science of Well-Being from Yale University. The course emphasized that, contrary to what we often believe, it’s not money, high-paying jobs, or material possessions that bring lasting happiness. Instead, science confirms it’s the simple things—social connections, kindness, gratitude, exercise, and sleep—that truly bring joy.

    The course affirmed to me what is important and helped me further reflect on my life. Here are some of my thoughts and the questions I ask myself to stay grounded.

    1. Relationships

    Genuine relationships are not built on money but on shared experiences, both good and bad. While money might enable certain experiences like travel, the most meaningful bonds are often formed just by being present with one another.

    For me, I prefer to keep a small circle of people I trust, knowing they will be there for me whether I have money or not.

    2. Lifestyle

    Lifestyle isn’t about the luxury brands you wear but about how you present yourself. Do you really need a Louis Vuitton bag when you could invest in things that bring more value to your life and fit them in a simpler, less expensive bag? Sometimes, flaunting wealth creates barriers, making others hesitate to connect with you.

    As a commuter, I also value practicality—I wouldn’t want to risk losing something expensive just to show off.

    3. Work

    Work is necessary for survival, and we spend a large part of our lives doing it. But is it just about earning money, or should it also be about finding purpose and joy in what you do?

    I have met many people who keep chasing higher salaries, but I wonder—when does the chase end? Once you reach your financial goal, will you still be happy if you’ve sacrificed your health, well-being, or peace of mind? No job is perfect. If there was a perfect job, everyone would be doing it.

    4. Health

    As cliché as it sounds, “Health is wealth.” Money can buy expensive food, but does that guarantee good health? It can buy medicine, but could your illness be linked to unhealthy habits that money enables, like indulgence in luxurious but unhealthy foods? Sometimes, the cheapest and simplest foods—like vegetables—are the healthiest. So, is it just about money?

    5. Life/Purpose

    Life is short. Do you think your purpose is to simply accumulate money for your own benefit?

    I’m grateful to my parents for instilling in me the value of education—of constantly learning and striving for excellence, among anything else. I’m also thankful for an environment that showed me what not to focus on, and now I aim to use my blessings—whether through writing or my work in data—to help others.

    When Alexander the Great, one of history’s greatest military generals, was on his deathbed, two of his dying wishes were to have his wealth displayed on the path to his grave to show that he couldn’t take any of it with him and to have his hands hang out of his coffin, signifying that he would leave this world empty-handed.

    In the end, we only leave behind the marks we make on others. I hope you choose to touch at least one life with kindness and love rather than pursuing wealth alone.

  • True Maturity

    True Maturity

  • I Had Enough: What’s Happened Since I Quit My Job

    I Had Enough: What’s Happened Since I Quit My Job

    “Sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is walk away from the things that no longer serve your growth or well-being.” ~Unknown

    I’ve always been a very independent person with an adventurous spirit, so no one was surprised when I moved away from my small town in Ontario, Canada, to become a nanny in Spain the second I graduated from high school.

    It was a whole new world with ancient streets, delicious food, and friendly people. I knew that I had made the right choice to adventure away from the place where I was raised.

    I’m someone who has itchy feet. It’s been difficult to stay in one place for any length of time. Over the last twelve years, I’ve lived all over the map, from Spain to Calgary, Alberta, and most recently in Vancouver, British Columbia.

    The town where I grew up is known for its brutal winters, quiet neighborhoods, and having “not much to do” there. So naturally, I spent my twenties looking to live in any place that was as different as possible from that boring town where I was raised.

    The first time I had visited the west coast, I thought: Why would anyone live anywhere else in this country besides here? The mountains, the ocean, the active lifestyle, the endless options for outdoor adventure… I fell in love with it and ended up spending almost a decade of my life as a West Coast girl.

    During this time, I got a university degree and, shortly after, landed a job at a tech company, where I was earning a salary that I didn’t ever think would be possible for me.

    At first, the job was a positive feature in my life: I learned all kinds of skills I hadn’t had the opportunity to develop before. I was given promotions and eventually was put in a position to lead a team, something I ended up really enjoying. But over time, I started to notice little things that made me question whether I was really happy.

    I remember having a conversation with a close friend about a year and a half into the job, where I expressed strong discontentment for my work. My friend, the wise woman she is, immediately validated my concerns and gave her opinion that I should really quit this job.

    I remember thinking, how shortsighted of her. Doesn’t she realize if I quit, I won’t be able to make this salary again? I have bills to pay and people on my team at work who need me.

    Fast forward; another year flew by, and things only got worse. I was working ten-hour days consistently, and I developed stomach pain and started having migraines. My weekends were bogged down by thoughts of the mess I would return to on Monday morning.

    My friends and family continued to call out how this job was not constructive for me and let me know that I wasn’t the same “light” person I used to be. My mother in particular did not like that I was no longer writing or doing anything creative anymore as a result of my energy being sucked away by this job.

    After many nights of sleeplessness due to the nature of this massive decision, I finally decided to act. Now, in case anyone is reading this and is in a similar situation, I want to share just how difficult this decision was for me.

    I wasn’t able to hear feedback from my family and friends and immediately quit my job. No, there were many months in the middle where I would flip-flop. I think leaving a job is the same as leaving a relationship—only you will know when you are truly ready.

    Quitting this job was one of the most difficult things I’ve done in recent years. I had spent countless days and nights weighing the pros and cons of my decision, thinking about the team members involved. Who would I be putting in a tough situation? Would the company be able to replace me? Would I be upsetting team members, my boss, the CEO? Was I a failure for quitting? Did this burnout say something about my value as a worker, as a person?

    When I finally turned in my resignation, I was stunned to learn that nobody really cared. I thought for sure I would hear from the folks I worked with after I left, but it has now been several months, and I have heard from no one.

    In the middle of this decision-making process, I was in close contact with my mother. She is an amazing woman who lives on her own in a quaint, lovely house in the small Ontario town where we’re from. The town that I spent years dreaming about leaving. So, when she heard I was thinking of quitting my job and suggested I could move back home and live with her, naturally, I was offended she would even suggest the idea.

    Move back in with my mom? What would everyone think of me? Thirty-one, jobless, and living at home?

    But over time, to everyone’s surprise, especially my own, I started to warm up to the idea. Living alone in a big city, working a difficult job, and providing everything for myself for the last fourteen years was catching up to me. I was exhausted and lonely.

    So, in March this year, I packed up my apartment in beautiful North Vancouver, fit what I could into my Toyota Corolla (including my border collie mix, Rex), and drove across the country, back to small town Ontario.

    In a lot of ways, being back in my hometown is weird. There is definitely less to do here than in big Canadian cities. Instead of spending my weekends with friends, I usually spend them with my mom’s friends or my siblings. Instead of hiking epic, world-famous mountains, I walk in the trails along the street where we live. It is a quiet life, much different than what I’ve left behind.

    But at thirty-one, after the last decade of independent living and the last few years of this difficult job, I welcome the quiet life with open arms.

    I traded long days and late nights working remotely, feeling stressed and isolated, for sleep-in mornings with my dog and forest walks where I’m not checking my watch because I need to make sure I get back for a meeting at 1 p.m.

    Now, instead of trying to find time in the day to eat a meal, I cook big dinners that I get to share with family and friends. I now get a hug from my mother every morning instead of only once a year at Christmas.

    We’ve all heard the cliches about life being short, time with family being invaluable, money isn’t everything, etc.. But isn’t it true that cliches are cliches for a reason.

    We know that days on this earth are not promised for any of us. I didn’t want to be thirty-one years old, working in a lonely apartment, giving my energy to a company that didn’t care about me for another ten years.

    While the decision was difficult, especially in this economy, I will say it is amazing how many doors open when you free your mind from the mental gymnastics of a toxic job and the decision-making of whether you should leave it.

    My life looks different now: I’ve started writing again (look, you’re reading one of my articles now), I’ve started a master’s program, and I’ve got plans to become a fitness instructor, something I’ve always wanted to do but haven’t had the time.

    Of course there are unknowns in my life, and I don’t know if I will live in this small town forever. But for now, it’s given me invaluable time with my mother and family, a place to rest and recover from years of working a very stressful job, and a chance to start a few new projects that make me feel like “me” again.

    If you are in a similar predicament, and if you are lucky enough to have some of the same privileges that I do, I recommend that you allow yourself a break. This doesn’t have to mean moving back in with your parents. It could also mean leaning on your partner for a while if that’s an option. Or utilizing savings for a bit, if you have any, to give yourself time to focus on what really matters and figure out what’s next.

    Family, health, and happiness should always come before the corporate grind, society’s expectations of you, or any amount of money. I hope this serves as a reminder.

  • Trauma Lies: Why Survivors Feel Like They’re Bad People

    Trauma Lies: Why Survivors Feel Like They’re Bad People

    “Trauma is not the bad things that happen to you, but what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.” ~Dr. Gabor Maté

    I used to have this pervasive empty feeling inside. I tried filling it by eating, working, being a wife, making my life look great on socials—anything really to make it go away. I went to church, worked hard, and tried to be a good person, hoping the hole would fill and my life would feel whole and complete.

    I went to therapy for the first time when I was sixteen years old. I remember telling my therapist about this black hole in the middle of my chest. It was bottomless and hot inside. I remember drawing it for my therapist, and one day we had a session where I went inside to see what was down there.

    Strangely, I don’t remember the outcome of that session, but I do know that hole persisted for years. Well into my thirties. I would have seasons of time where I was more conscious of it than others, but nothing, no matter what I did or tried, would make it go away completely.

    I went to school and became a therapist so I could learn all I could and help myself in ways others couldn’t help. Even with professional training, it still took a long time for me to sort out the bottomless pit that sat on my chest.

    I realize now that the pit was composed of several different things, but the primary motivator behind its ever-presence was the fundamental belief that there was something wrong with me.

    I believed everyone, in general, deserved to have a good life and good things, but I wasn’t so lucky. I didn’t really have a reason for why I believed this, just that this was my reality and I had to learn to live with it.

    I didn’t believe that I deserved to have anything nice or good. My life was meant to be in service and sacrifice to others so they could advance and have a good life. Once I began to study trauma and its impact, I was finally able to put the pieces together for why I felt this way.

    When we are kids, we don’t have any control over anything that is happening around us. We don’t get to say where we live, who we’re living with, where we go to school, or when we eat dinner. Nothing. The locus of control is completely outside of us.

    We are at the mercy of the environment around us. For those of us who were not so lucky to be in an environment where we felt safe and secure and had our needs met, this presents a life-threatening problem.

    We are mammals; we need connection for survival. It’s biological. When our safety and belonging are threatened, it feels like life or death because it is life or death. We need an attachment to our caretakers, our environment, and ourselves to survive.

    Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to express emotion. If I was sad or angry, I had to pretend I wasn’t, or I would not be allowed to be in the presence of others in my home. I was abused by my cousins, and I had to keep it a secret so I wouldn’t upset the connections of the adults who were around me.

    I was taught at church that if any boy was looking at me, touching me, or treating me badly, then I must be doing something to deserve it.

    My world was completely out of my control, and I was drowning in helplessness, pain, sadness, and disconnection. This isn’t a tolerable emotional state to maintain. I couldn’t control any of it, and neither can any other child who is experiencing events that dysregulate their nervous system with no one and nothing available to help calm, soothe, and comfort.

    We have only one choice in this instance. We shift the locus of control from outside of ourselves to inside of ourselves. We decide that we deserve bad things to happen.

    There are many ways this plays out for people. Some people decide they are bad; they were born bad. Some people decide they just don’t deserve good things or to be treated kindly because there is something wrong with them. They, for whatever reason, are unlovable.

    I fell more into the latter. I didn’t know what was wrong with me; I just knew something must be wrong with me, and that’s why so many bad things were happening to me and no one noticed or cared.

    This resolved the conflict of feeling helpless and out of control. This allowed me to stay connected to my family in any way I could and removed the helplessness that left me feeling vulnerable and afraid.

    We adopt the belief that bad things happen to bad people so we don’t have to be confused about why bad things are happening to us. It’s because we deserve it.

    This is something we all do when we are young and in situations that are out of our control. We find a way to shift the narrative to make us in control. If we determine that we are bad, wrong, unlovable, weak, or in any way at fault, then the helplessness and weakness are resolved, and we can move forward creating connections and safety within our family systems and culture.

    This sets in motion a paradigm, a core belief, that shapes all of our choices, interactions, assumptions, values, and practices for our whole life. This paradigm informs how we interact with the world moving forward. Buried inside the paradigm are deep feelings of grief, loneliness, shame, fear, and abandonment. These are intolerable feelings that are too overwhelming to keep in our conscious mind.

    For me, I unconsciously dug a deep black hole in my soul and attempted to bury the insufferable feelings that had nowhere to go.

    Trauma causes our minds and our bodies to split from each other. The lines of communication are severed or distorted in order for our stress response system to work effectively at keeping us alive.

    If you experience a trauma but have the opportunity to process it and have people to help you recreate safety, then the connection between mind and body can be restored.

    For those who experience trauma but don’t have the opportunity to re-establish connection and safety, the mind and body remain disconnected. With this persistent mind-body disconnection, the paradigm shift of internalizing that we are bad or deserve bad things gives us two choices moving forward.

    One choice is to shut down all feelings and go numb to emotion. We live in our heads and work really hard to be perfect, good, lovable, pleasing, and acceptable. We become workaholics, overthinkers, perfectionists, and incapable of tolerating any mistakes we make.

    We do this because we unconsciously want so badly to prove to ourselves and the world around us that we really are lovable and good people. We really are worthy of being loved and accepted. We love others well, struggle to set boundaries, and will do anything to be seen as acceptable.

    I can relate very much to this response to the belief that there must be something really bad and wrong with me. I must have done something to deserve abuse and neglect. These weren’t conscious thoughts, just an internal shift I made as a child to resolve the unresolvable. This isn’t unique to me; every childhood trauma survivor I know has done this.

    The other option we have is to stay connected more to our body than our mind. To emote and express all the sadness, anger, and rage inside. People with this response have big emotions. They are explosive, struggle with consistency, struggle to hold down a job, or have addictions. If you ask them why they are struggling, they will usually say, “I don’t know.” They really don’t know because they are in their bodies trying to express all the energy trapped inside, but their minds are checked out.

    Some identify mostly with one archetype, and some relate to being both. This is more of a spectrum than a black-and-white response.

    For me, I was numb 95% of the time and always in my head. If something did ever really get to me, then I would switch to big emotions and not think about what I was doing. I’d get blackout drunk, smoke a pack of cigarettes, buy $30 worth of candy, and eat it all in a half-hour. My behavior would be extreme until I could get back to my head and shut it all down. Can you relate?

    While neither response is good or bad, our society definitely rewards one response over the other. We praise the children who sit in the front of the class and act like “teachers’ pets.” We reward the workaholics and praise the overthinkers. This makes me really sad now that I am in recovery from being a pleaser.

    My recovery took years longer than it should have because it took so long for me to figure out that all the things that people told me were good about me were not actually me at all. They were all an attempt to prove my worth, and as long as I stayed connected to being seen as good and acceptable, I was playing a role based in shame rather than being myself. I couldn’t see it because the role was reinforced everywhere I went.

    There are some specific steps we need to take to set ourselves free.

    The first is to accept and feel the deep pain of realizing we were innocent children who had no control over the uncontrollable things that were happening.

    We didn’t cause it and didn’t deserve it. We were innocent children who deserved love, protection, and safety. There is no reason inside of us that we didn’t get that.

    This is often hard to accept. For me, it felt like I was going to die when I began to allow the pain to surface. This is because at the time of the events, the pain was threatening my connection, which threatened my life. That isn’t true anymore, but my younger self holding all the pain inside didn’t realize that until I began to let myself feel it.

    No one cries forever, and no one rages forever; it does eventually pass. It didn’t kill me, and it won’t kill you either, even though it feels like it might.

    My favorite quote from Dr. Colin Ross, the founder of The Trauma Model Theory, is “Feeling your feelings won’t kill you; it’s your attempt to not feel them that will.” I have found this to be such a helpful reminder in recovery from trauma.

    The second step is to allow ourselves to fully grieve.

    Expand your tolerance level for being uncomfortable and sitting with uncomfortable emotions. Learn to feel all your feelings without activating your stress response and going into fight, flight, or freeze. Be present with them in mind and body.

    This can take some significant work for those who have had complex trauma in their histories. It often requires the support of a professional in the beginning. What helped me most is grieving what didn’t happen as much as what did. The connection and support I didn’t receive. The protection that wasn’t given to me, etc. Grieve the life you thought you should have had but didn’t.

    The third step is shifting the responsibility (not blame) to where it belongs.

    If we stay in the mindset of blame, it keeps us stuck in victim mode. We are working now to be responsible for our lives and how we move forward.

    I hold my cousins responsible for their behavior. I hold my family responsible for the support they were not able to provide. I don’t blame them, but I don’t let them off the hook either. I don’t need to know if they’ll “pay” for what they did or didn’t do. I shift the responsibility for their behavior onto them and am not really bothered with their consequences or lack of them. It doesn’t matter to me.

    It took me a while to be able to say that. For so long I wanted them to get it. I wanted them to understand, take responsibility, or say they were sorry. Waiting for these things to happen keeps us stuck and tied to them. It doesn’t allow us to move forward and create the future for ourselves that we want and deserve.

    I am no longer taking responsibility for their choices, and I don’t need to think about or see how their future plays out.

    The fourth step is to take full responsibility for ourselves.

    This was a difficult step for me. I wanted to blame my past for my inability to speak up, be bold, take action, or feel someone’s disappointment.

    I can’t take responsibility for myself and create the life I want to live if I refuse to accept that my life is a series of choices I make from here forward. I am empowered now to decide who will be around me, what I do with my time, and how I show up.

    I have shifted the paradigm from the belief that I’m unworthy to the belief that I am just as worthy as anyone else. I can tolerate people being disappointed in me, frustrated by my choices, not liking me, or anything else. I decide how I want to show up every day, and I am the only one who can create my life.

    I have never thought of myself as a victim. In fact, I hated the concept, but I did have to accept that living in pleasing mode meant I was also acting like a victim, and that alone was my motivation for change. It was messy and took a while, but eventually I was able to build my strength and resilience to a point where I was comfortable getting to know and expressing my authentic self.

    The fifth step is giving ourselves the tools, grace, and time to let all this play out.

    Continue to get to know who you truly are; continue to feel and express difficult emotions as they come up without pushing them away or dramatizing them. And learn to hold more than one emotion at the same time.

    I can now feel true, genuine love for my family while also being sad and disappointed by the way some things went down. For me, it wasn’t all bad or all good. It was both, and through healing I can genuinely feel and connect to both.

    I have also had to grieve the loss of time. It took many years for me to recover from the black hole that drove my choices and decisions for most of my life. I sometimes wonder what could have been if I had been able to be my authentic self earlier. When these thoughts come, I grieve them, let them pass, and then go do something I love to do.

    It doesn’t matter how old we are when we recognize the paradigm. It can shift, but we are the only ones who can shift it for ourselves.

  • An Unexpected Lesson on Boundaries and Putting Yourself First

    An Unexpected Lesson on Boundaries and Putting Yourself First

    I just dropped off a rider—her name is Mariel.

    When I picked her up, she got into the car and said she was headed downtown. I casually mentioned that I live downtown, near the Walt Disney Concert Hall. She smiled, said, “That’s fire,” and then, just like that, she put on her headphones.

    And I got angry. Yeah, I’m admitting it. That stupid, bubbling rage started to rise. Why? Because I’m insecure.

    My mind started spinning: How could she put on her headphones like I don’t matter? Isn’t that rude? I caught myself thinking she should be giving me attention, talking to me—acknowledging me. I mean, wasn’t I the one driving her, providing a service, doing her a favor? But then it hit me. No, I wasn’t doing her a favor. I was doing my job.

    Mariel didn’t do a damn thing to hurt me. She wasn’t out to snub me or make me feel small. She wasn’t dismissing me at all. You know what she was doing? She was putting herself first, unapologetically. She just wanted to rock out to her music, enjoy the ride her way. She did what we all should be doing—taking care of herself without worrying about how it looked to others.

    It was a gut check moment for me. I felt exposed—my need for validation, my desire to be seen and acknowledged, all laid bare in a single interaction. But why? Why did I care so much that this stranger wasn’t engaging with me?

    The truth is, it wasn’t really about Mariel at all. It was about me, about this bottomless well of neediness that I hadn’t fully acknowledged before. I’ve been feeding off other people’s attention like a vampire, needing their smiles, their laughter, their words to feel okay about myself. And Mariel, without saying a word, held up a mirror and made me see it.

    Mariel’s Magic: The Art of Not Giving a Damn

    Mariel didn’t give a damn about what I thought, or at least didn’t seem like she did, and that’s exactly what made her so powerful. She was living her truth, moment by moment. Maybe she’d had a long day and just needed to zone out. Maybe she was lost in some existential daydream, pondering the meaning of life, or maybe she was just tired and wanted to listen to her favorite playlist. Whatever the reason, she didn’t owe me anything beyond the basic courtesy of “hello” and “goodbye.” And why should she?

    Too often, I’ve found myself stuck in a loop of trying to please everyone around me. I’m like a shapeshifter, bending myself into whatever form I think someone else wants me to be. I tell myself I’m being kind, considerate, attentive. But in reality, it’s just fear—a desperate attempt to be liked, to be needed, to be seen. But Mariel? She wasn’t playing that game. She was the antidote to the people-pleasing poison I’d been sipping on for years.

    Mariel was a masterclass in boundaries, and I was the desperate student trying to graduate to her level. She wasn’t being rude or dismissive. She was being herself—no masks, no filters. And I envied her for that. I envied her for not feeling like she needed to make small talk or placate me with some half-assed conversation. She was just doing her, and I was left to deal with my own insecurities.

    A Lesson in Self-Respect

    Here’s what I learned from Mariel: Putting yourself first isn’t selfish—it’s necessary. It’s about knowing your limits and respecting your own needs enough to honor them. It’s about having the guts to say, “This is what I need right now, and I’m not going to compromise it just to make you feel better.” It’s about being honest, not just with others but with yourself.

    And the truth is, I haven’t been honest with myself. I’ve been bending over backwards to be the “nice guy,” the “good listener,” the “friendly driver,” all the while secretly resenting the people who didn’t reciprocate.

    It’s a game I’ve been playing for so long, I didn’t even realize I was playing it. But Mariel made me see it. She shone a light on the dark corners of my neediness, my fear of rejection, my deep-seated belief that I’m not enough unless I’m being validated by someone else.

    Mariel didn’t need my validation. And she sure as hell didn’t need to validate me. She was in her own world, taking care of herself, and in doing so, she showed me the way. She showed me that it’s okay to say, “This is what I need right now, and I’m going to take it, unapologetically.” She showed me that true self-respect doesn’t come from getting others to see your worth. It comes from seeing your own worth and not compromising it for anyone.

    Unapologetic Self-Care: The Mariel Method

    So, here’s to you, Mariel. Thank you for the lesson I didn’t know I needed. You taught me that self-care isn’t just bubble baths and meditation. It’s also having the courage to say, “No, I’m not engaging right now because I need this time for me.” You showed me that it’s okay to be a little self-centered, a little guarded with your energy. And that it’s not my job—or anyone else’s—to take care of someone else’s feelings at the expense of my own.

    We’re all so caught up in this idea that we have to be everything to everyone, that we have to be likable, agreeable, pleasant. But what if we just… stopped? What if we took a page out of Mariel’s book and decided to live on our own terms, without explanation, without apology? What if we gave ourselves the freedom to just be?

    Mariel didn’t do anything extraordinary. She didn’t cure cancer or climb Mount Everest. She didn’t give some inspirational TED Talk. All she did was put on her headphones and tune out the world. But in that simple act, she gave me a gift. She gave me permission to stop trying so hard to be everything for everyone. To stop performing. To just exist.

    The Real Hero’s Journey

    I think, in a way, we’re all looking for permission to be ourselves. We’re all waiting for someone to say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be everything for everyone. You just have to be you.”

    But the truth is, that permission has to come from within. We have to be our own gatekeepers, our own liberators. And that’s what Mariel showed me. She wasn’t looking for anyone’s approval. She wasn’t waiting for anyone to give her permission. She just took it.

    And that’s what I want to do. I want to take that permission and run with it. I want to live unapologetically. I want to put myself first, not in a selfish way, but in a way that honors my own needs and boundaries. I want to stop needing everyone to like me, to validate me, to make me feel worthy. Because the truth is, I am worthy. Just as I am. Without the masks, without the performances, without the need for anyone else’s approval.

    The Takeaway

    So, here’s to you, Mariel. You, with your headphones and your unapologetic self-care. You, who probably didn’t even know you were teaching me something profound. Thank you for showing me what it means to put yourself first, to live authentically, to honor your needs in a world that demands we give, give, give until there’s nothing left. Thanks for reminding me that it’s okay to take up space, to put ourselves first, to just be.

  • Life Becomes More Peaceful When…

    Life Becomes More Peaceful When…

  • For the First Time in a Long Time, She Says Yes to Herself

    For the First Time in a Long Time, She Says Yes to Herself

    “You owe yourself one hour a day of self-maintenance. It can include reading, writing, yoga, exercise, dancing, meditation, painting, or whatever, but you owe it to yourself. One hour, 1/24 of your day. That is less than 5%. It matters, it really does. Make it count.” ~Sarah Brassard

    The alarm rings at 5:45 a.m. She’s been awake for half an hour already, her mind running through everything she has to get done. Her son’s project is due today, her daughter has a well-visit appointment, and her inbox is bursting with urgent requests from work. She’s exhausted, but there’s no time to dwell on that.

    She quietly slips out of bed and heads to the kitchen, careful not to wake her husband. The house is still, but her thoughts are already spiraling—her own silent storm.

    She starts the coffee, opens her laptop, and immediately sees the email she’s been dreading. There’s another crisis at work that needs to be taken care of today. She checks her phone—texts from her mom asking for help with groceries, messages from her kids’ teachers about volunteering. She types “Sure, I’ll take care of it” without a second thought.

    By 7:00 a.m., the house is alive with noise. Her son is whining about breakfast, her daughter can’t find her shoes, and the dog is barking. She rushes to keep everything moving while her coffee grows cold on the counter. “Mom, can you…” echoes through the air from all sides. Yes, she responds—yes to every request, every demand, as if she’s on autopilot. Of course she’ll help. Of course she’ll handle it.

    In the car on the way to school, she’s ticking off her mental list: drop off the kids, hit the grocery store, squeeze in a work call before the dentist. Her hands grip the steering wheel a little too tight. She turns on the radio to drown out the rising panic.

    At work, the day is a blur. Meetings she can barely focus on, emails she drafts with one eye on the clock. Every time her phone buzzes, her stomach tightens. Another person needing something. Yes, she types, even as her neck cramps from tension, even as the headache starts to pulse behind her eyes.

    It’s 3:30 p.m. when she’s back in the school pickup line. Her phone vibrates again. Another work email, another urgent ask. Her heart sinks. She hasn’t eaten since breakfast. Her head feels heavy, like it’s too full, about to spill over. She’s scrolling through her phone when her son climbs into the backseat. “Mom, can we stop by Rocco’s house? I promised him I’d come over.”

    “Yes, sure,” she says again.

    Later, at home, it’s dinner time. Her husband’s late from work, her kids are fighting, and she’s trying to cook while answering another email on her phone. Her chest feels tight, like she’s barely holding it together, but she pushes through, as always. She has to keep saying yes. What happens if she doesn’t?

    It’s 9 p.m. now. The kids are in bed. The house is quiet again. She sits on the couch, her laptop open, staring at the screen. Another request. Another task to be done. She hovers over the keyboard, about to type another yes, but she hesitates. Her hands are trembling, her body pleading for rest, but she’s forgotten how to give it to herself.

    And then it hits her: she’s drowning. Not in work, not in tasks, but in all the times she’s said yes when her body, her mind, and her heart were begging her to say no.

    She feels the sting of tears. She’s been running on empty for so long, she’s forgotten what it feels like to be full. She’s spent so much time saying yes to everyone else that she’s never left space to say yes to herself.

    Her breath catches in her throat as she leans back, eyes closed, and lets the weight of the day sink in. For once, she lets herself feel it. The exhaustion, the resentment, the guilt that’s been her constant companion. And in that moment, she realizes something: It doesn’t have to be like this.

    She closes her laptop. She picks up her phone and texts her team, “I’ll get to it tomorrow, but tonight I need to rest.” Send.

    Her hands are still shaking, but now there’s a feeling of relief. She walks upstairs, past the pile of laundry she hasn’t touched, past the emails waiting in her inbox. She peeks in on her kids, watching them sleep, her heart full but finally light. Then, she does something she hasn’t done in years: she runs herself a bath.

    For the first time in a long time, she says yes—to herself.

    She is me. Is this you too? And is it time you said yes to yourself?

  • Abandonment Is Also…

    Abandonment Is Also…

  • The Truth About Repressing Emotions: Lessons from a Child’s Meltdown

    The Truth About Repressing Emotions: Lessons from a Child’s Meltdown

    “Cry as often as you need to. It’s the all-purpose healing balm of the soul.” ~Karla McLaren, The Language of Emotions: What Your Feelings Are Trying to Tell You

    A few years ago, a good friend invited me to his six-year-old daughter’s birthday party.

    As I walked through his front door, I was greeted by the cheerful sound of children running around, their tiny feet pounding on the hardwood floor as they expertly avoided the table full of gifts in the living room.

    Their parents looked just as excited, many enjoying the opportunity to finally have adult conversations (even if they were interrupted by their little ones every few minutes).

    My friend’s daughter was particularly thrilled on her special day.

    At one point, she bounced down the stairs, holding a giant helium balloon shaped like an exotic parrot. She tied the string to her hand and paraded it around proudly, followed by a swarm of children pleading to hold it for “just a few minutes.”

    By this time, most guests had moved to the backyard to enjoy the sunny weather. I was chatting with a friend on the porch, observing the celebration in full swing, when suddenly I heard a scream.

    I turned to see what all the commotion was about. To my surprise, I saw the coveted parrot balloon gently floating away, its bright colors dancing defiantly against the clear blue sky. And directly below it was my friend’s daughter, having a full-blown six-year-old meltdown.

    Undeterred, my friend went over to the middle of the backyard where his daughter was standing and brought her back to a quiet area on the porch next to where I was sitting.

    I wanted to give them privacy, but the mediator in me was secretly glad to be able to overhear how he would handle this predicament. I was used to dealing with adults in conflict. That said, I had minimal experience with six-year-old meltdowns.

    I listened intently as he leaned over and gently said to her, “You’re upset, and that’s okay. You can be upset, but not here because we have guests at home. Why don’t you go upstairs to your room? You can be as upset as you want there. Would you like me to come with you and cuddle with you?”

    His daughter stopped wailing, sniffed a couple of times, and shyly nodded yes to her father’s offer.

    The guests, though well-intentioned, were only fueling her distress with their anxious glances and nervous energy. In that moment, it was clear he wasn’t just trying to keep the party running smoothly. He was also focused on ensuring his daughter had a calm, private space to decompress, away from the crowd’s well-meaning but overwhelming concern.

    My mouth was hanging open at this point.

    You see, I grew up with the well-intended message that I should not feel certain emotions. “Don’t be upset” and “Don’t cry” were common phrases in my family. This taught me that emotions were something to be ashamed of rather than embraced.

    Instead of processing my emotions, I seem to have built up an internal archive of unacknowledged feelings. As much as I hoped they would magically disappear, they have stuck around, cluttering my psyche and seeping out at the most inopportune moments. I suspect many of us grew up with this type of messaging—well-meaning but emotionally restrained.

    I wonder if, in that process, we learned to silence the very parts of us that make us human.

    I used to blame my parents for denying me the ability to process my emotions effectively. I would ruminate in frustration, Why didn’t they encourage me to express myself? Why was sensitivity met with so much discomfort?

    But now I realize that’s a very one-sided view of things.

    My parents’ struggles ran much deeper than mine. They fled their home country as refugees, with nothing more than $200 in their bank account and the weight of survival on their shoulders. There wasn’t time for this thing we now call “emotional well-being.”

    Their world was about making it to the next day, finding work, shelter, food—anything to build a life for us from the ground up. Emotions, in that context, were a luxury they simply couldn’t afford. They weren’t trying to shut me down; they were trying to protect me from the harsh realities they faced every day.

    As much as I understand this intellectually, those ingrained patterns of suppression remained entrenched within me for many years.

    As adults, we often unconsciously send ourselves the same messages from our childhood. We distract ourselves instead of processing our emotions. Feeling sad? I bet there’s a great new series to binge-watch. Upset about something? Why not take another peek at your online shopping cart?

    A little distraction never hurt anyone. But if it’s the only strategy we use, it short-circuits our emotional processing and causes our feelings to linger and fester.

    I don’t know what my friend said or did in the room with his daughter. I imagine he gave her a big hug and let her cry her little heart out so that she could properly grieve the loss of her special balloon.

    What I do know is that she emerged back at her birthday party feeling calm and smiling, and she was able to enjoy the rest of the celebration with her friends—birthday cake, regular balloons, gifts, and all.

    This experience left me wondering about all the moments in my life that I had missed out on because of unprocessed emotions.

    How many experiences, big or small, had I not appreciated because that archive of unprocessed emotions was being triggered?

    What was the hidden cost of this on my relationships, work, and well-being?

    At the end of my life, how would I feel about the time that I spent missing out on my life instead of being more fully present?

    I stared into space, pretending to admire the beautiful backyard, as I contemplated these questions.

    When I went home that evening, I made a life-changing decision.

    I decided that whenever I felt like that little girl who lost her balloon, I’d take some quiet time and allow myself to feel my emotions. I’d especially make sure to feel the uncomfortable ones—disappointment from unmet expectations, frustration caused by stress at work, sadness resulting from the loss of something precious to me.

    I can’t say that it’s always pleasant to dive headfirst into the depths of your pain. Sometimes I need to take a break and make good use of those distraction tactics. When I do, I remind myself that it’s not about being perfect; it’s about being whole.

    My hope is that when I look back on my life at the end of my days, I’ll know that I embraced all of the emotions we humans are designed to feel. And that, because of this, I was able to enjoy more of my life feeling calm and smiling—just like that lovely little six-year-old girl.

    So, I’m curious, what have you learned about emotions from the children in your life?

  • Time

    Time

  • Liberate Yourself: 5 Reasons to Share Your Truth

    Liberate Yourself: 5 Reasons to Share Your Truth

    “When we deny our stories, they define us. When we own our stories, we get to write the ending.” ~ Brené Brown

    Do you ever feel like a character in someone else’s play? More so, a victim in your own story?

    I spent many years of my life this way. I was so consumed with what others thought about me, I didn’t even know how to be myself. I would put on a show I thought everyone else wanted to see. I’ve learned we don’t have to perform in life; we just need to be ourselves. Speaking with openness and honesty from the heart is our most valuable tool for living an authentic life.

    Growing up, I was a ‘sensitive’ kid. I was ridiculed often for simply having feelings. I learned pretty quickly to shut down, numb, and medicate.

    I began to have struggles with anxiety and depression. I didn’t really know this was what it was until it progressed into something much more unmanageable. I tried to talk about my feelings and was often questioned and shunned for them. Eventually, these feelings manifested into a pretty significant eating disorder.

    No one recognized my eating disorder because being thin was ‘in.’ However, to put it into perspective, I was tracking 500 calories a day, working out one to two hours a day, and purging anything I put in my body.

    I was confronted about this by two friends in college. I remember feeling relieved but also ‘found out.’ From my perspective at the time, I thought I was functioning well in life. I was going to school and working full-time while maintaining friendships and a new relationship.

    Even during this intervention, I found myself justifying the behaviors. Keep in mind, they were only confronting me about the eating disorder, not the daily binge drinking I was also engaging in.

    Fast-forward five years. I found myself married and divorced in under a year. Prior to the divorce, I was hiding my drinking of one bottle of wine a night. I was functioning in one area of my life but falling apart in all the others.

    Surprisingly, my addictive patterns never impacted my career. I was living a dual life, providing therapy to others while hardly treading water personally.

    In 2010, I found myself with my first DUI. I never did anything real to rehabilitate from this. And I concealed it to the best of my ability, hoping it would just go away. However, experiences tend to repeat themselves until we learn what we are supposed to learn. I got a second DUI in 2013. After that, I did a bit of rehabilitating but still didn’t stop the drinking. I was just no longer driving after the drinking.

    I paid $10,000 in legal fees simply trying to plead my case of being not guilty when clearly, I was guilty. This was such a moral conflict for me.

    I applied for my therapy license in 2016 and was denied approval. While I was being honest with the board about my recent DUI, they learned I was dishonest with my current employer about my initial one. My integrity was completely destroyed. I was looked at as a liar. I was living a double life, and I was exhausted.

    When the board exposed the truth, I felt shame and liberation at the same time. They showed me that my insides were not matching my outsides.

    I made a commitment to myself then to never hide the truth again. That day, I got sober from alcohol and have been sober for eight years now.

    Recovery taught me to be honest and to focus on doing the next right thing. So I became brutally honest in all areas of my life. More so, I learned if people are uncomfortable about my story, it’s not my problem. I started to see everyone had problems. I also saw a blessing in being open and honest because it created space for others to do the same.

    I’ve been told often that I am “courageous and brave,” but I was simply tired of being ingenuine. I was healing out loud because I nearly died in silence.

    When I decided to be honest, my life became better. I didn’t have to remember my story anymore. All the shame dissipated, and I was able to start making better life choices. People around me respected me more for owning my story. If you tell the truth, no one can hold it against you. The power was lost. The best part of it all was that I began attracting beautiful, like-minded people.

    Many people struggle with authenticity and truth-telling because they are holding onto the fear of judgment. However, sharing your truth also unlocks the potential for self-growth, discovery, and connection. This could lead to profound personal transformation and the development of more meaningful relationships with others.

    This is a game changer. It allows you to say what you want, ask for what you need, express your emotions, and celebrate your achievements. Every time you do, you expand that sense of confidence, growth, and joy. Soon, you’ll see vulnerability as a strength, not a weakness.

    You have the power to change your life, one step at a time. Here’s what will come from you being brutally honest:

    Self-acceptance/Authenticity

    You will learn to no longer run from the painful parts of your story. Your story may be the hope someone else needs. You don’t have to live a double life where you keep changing hats depending on who you are around. You can simply be you.

    Empowerment

    You’ll be able to use your experience to gain autonomy and self-determination. You will be able to give others the tools and resources to do the same.

    Resilience/Growth

    You will continue to strengthen your internal muscle to adapt and recover from challenging life experiences. You can’t gain resilience without walking through hardships.

    Connection

    Your relationships will shift from surface level to a deeper emotional connection. You will take the lead by sharing feelings and being vulnerable, and you will gain a stronger sense of understanding with others.

    Inspiring Others

    You will lead by example. You will be able to impact and create a positive environment. This can be contagious and encouraging to others. You may become a catalyst for positive change.

    Life is a collection of stories, a unique narrative that each of us creates with our experiences, challenges, and choices. Your story is a reflection of your journey. This implies your wins, losses, and everything in-between.

    Owning your story can be daunting because it does require that vulnerability. You will have to look back at your past, which may be uncomfortable or painful. You will have to look at your mistakes, choices, and imperfections. This goes against a culture that often emphasizes perfection and success. Moreover, sharing your story means the possibility of judgment or rejection from others.

    However, embracing your own past allows you to shape your own narrative. You are able to turn adversity into strength. You can recognize your self-worth by forgiving yourself and being more forgiving of others. You learn to love yourself and appreciate your mistakes for what they taught.

    Offer the most precious gift of all—your authentic self—rather than trying to be all things to all people.

    “Owning our story and loving ourselves throughout that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” ~ Brené Brown

  • Why We All Need to Pause More Often and How to Do It

    Why We All Need to Pause More Often and How to Do It

    “Taking time to do nothing often brings everything into perspective.” ~Doe Zantamata

    I have always been that person who just cannot seem to slow down. An overachiever? That’s putting it mildly. In every aspect of my life—work, relationships, personal goals—I have always pushed myself to the absolute limit. It is like I have this internal drive that just won’t quit.

    At work, I am always the first one in and the last to leave. Deadlines? I would meet them days early. Projects? I would volunteer for extra ones, even when my plate was already full. And don’t even get me started on my personal life. Whether it was fitness goals, learning new skills, or maintaining relationships, I approached everything with the same intensity.

    I set these incredibly high standards for myself, and I didn’t ever want to fall short. The thought of not meeting my own expectations was like this constant knot in my stomach, anxiety at its peak. I was relentless, always pushing, always striving, never giving myself a break.

    And as for motives, once I set my mind to something, there was no going back. I would make these strict plans and stick to them religiously. It didn’t matter if I was exhausted or if life threw a curveball my way. I would power through, even during the hardest burnouts I ever had in my life.

    Looking back, I realize I was incredibly hard on myself. It wasn’t just about avoiding certain behaviors or sticking to my goals. It was this rigid, almost punishing approach to everything. I had this idea that if I wasn’t constantly pushing forward, I would somehow fall behind.

    Being strict to the core might sound admirable, but let me tell you, it comes at a cost. There were times when I would lie awake at night, my mind racing with all the things I needed to do and all the goals I hadn’t yet achieved. Relaxation was a foreign concept. Taking a break felt like failure.

    It’s funny, you know. People would often tell me to take it easy, to give myself a break. But in my mind, that was just an excuse for mediocrity. I couldn’t fathom the idea of not giving 110% to everything I did.

    Little did I know, this relentless drive was setting me up for a major wake-up call. But that’s the thing about being an overachiever—you don’t realize you are burning the candle at both ends until, well, there’s no candle left to burn.

    It wasn’t until I forced myself to take a step back that I realized the toll this constant cycle of proving myself was taking on my mental health. I remember a particular moment when I felt completely overwhelmed by the endless to-do lists and expectations that I could not meet, no matter what. Instead of powering through like usual, I decided to pause.

    It is like the saying goes: We need to step back to see the bigger picture. We, as humans, have tunnel vision. The pause from the chaos of daily life hustle made me realize what I had been missing all along.

    I realized that my worth wasn’t defined by perfection but by my ability to be present, to find joy in the journey, and to extend kindness to myself. I had personified myself into these roles. Great friendship and good mentorship made me realize what taking a pause really meant.

    I have always gone above and beyond to prove to everyone around me that I am capable of doing great things too. But that stopped when I paused and thought about living up to their expectations of a great life more than mine.

    So, did I stop doing everything?

    No, definitely not; stopping doing everything in life and taking a pause is different. Pausing is not about grinding to a halt or procrastinating. It’s about creating space—to breathe, to reflect, and to gain perspective. And ironically, it’s in those moments of stillness that we often find the clarity and inspiration to move forward with greater purpose and fulfillment.

    What exactly happened when I took a pause?

    I realized a few things when I started taking pauses in my life:

    Clear picture: Taking a pause made me look at my life and perceive what was really going on with a clear perspective. It made me look at my problems from a different angle.

    Focus: Although I gave importance to all the things around me, the constant grind and cycle of work kept me from focusing on things that really needed to be looked into. Pausing changed my focus from being a people-pleaser to what I want myself to be.

    Health: How many times have we all eaten what we got our hands on whenever we were hungry and regretted our food choices later? A better focus on my life made me want to look at my food choices and exercise routine differently. This change made a good impact on my health.

    Stress: The amount of stress I was relieved from as soon as I started taking breaks was good; nah, it was great! Stress is something everyone has in their lives nowadays. I bet you can’t find anyone who is stress-free in life. (Even the rich are stressed about how to invest their money better.) Taking a little pause from the stress of what’s next is great for everyone in life, not just me.

    Energy levels: It is indeed true that energy levels are boosted after a much-deserved break from any routine. My positive energy was high in dopamine; I had clear goals for what to do. I was motivated to do certain things I would have postponed if I hadn’t realized I deserved the pause.

    Better work: There are two types of people: those who want a break before doing great work, and those who can only take a break after their good work. (This was an Instagram meme, by the way.) Whichever category you fit in, you need a break to perform at your best. I have observed that I work better after a good coffee break; my creativity is then at its peak.

    How did I incorporate pauses into my life?

    You might be thinking, “I don’t have the time to take a pause. My time is valuable.” A motto I have also suffered from, like most people in life. Pauses need not be as big as becoming unemployed, dropping all that you usually do, and starting new things.

    Meditation: It can be as simple as a ten-minute mindfulness meditation session. All you have to do is breathe and release that cortisol out of your body.

    Exercise: If you are someone who doesn’t like to sit still, you can go for a walk or run perhaps. A quick adrenaline pump can make you energized. Research suggests that your energy levels stay the same even an hour after exercise.

    Work break: If you are someone who works a lot, you can take five-minute breaks to maintain your workflow. You can also practice the Pomodoro technique, which a mentor of mine taught. It involves working for twenty-five minutes, followed by a five-minute break.

    How did I recognize the signs that I needed a pause?

    It’s funny how our bodies and minds have ways of telling us when we need to slow down. It’s like they’re waving red flags, trying to get our attention. I started noticing these little signs popping up more and more.

    There were days when I would wake up feeling like I had run a marathon in my sleep: totally exhausted, head pounding, and shoulders so tense. And I could not focus on any of my tasks. It was like my brain had decided to take an unscheduled vacation without bothering to inform me.

    Emotionally? Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly winning any “most cheerful person” awards. I found myself snapping at the smallest things, feeling anxious over stuff that normally wouldn’t faze me. People were constantly walking on eggshells around me. It was like my emotional fuse had shortened.

    And then there were the behavioral changes. Suddenly, I was the queen of procrastination, putting off tasks I usually tackled head-on. My coffee consumption skyrocketed. I mean, how else was I supposed to function?

    It took me a while to realize that these were all signs pointing to one thing: I desperately needed a pause.

    But here’s the thing: Taking a break isn’t just about flopping onto the couch and zoning out (though sometimes that’s exactly what we need). It’s about creating an environment that actually lets you recharge.

    I started by decluttering my space. You’d be amazed by how much mental clarity you can get just by tidying up a bit. I carved out a little corner of my home that became my ‘pause zone’—no work allowed, just pure relaxation.

    Setting boundaries was a game-changer. I had to train my family and friends to understand that when I was in my pause zone, it was like I had an invisible “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging over my head.

    I got a bit fancy with it, too. I started using some lavender essential oil (turns out, it really does help you chill out) and found this great playlist of nature sounds. There is nothing like the sound of gentle waves to make you forget about your overflowing inbox, right?

    The point is, creating a space that encourages you to pause doesn’t have to be complicated. It’s about finding what helps you unwind and making it a regular part of your routine. Because, let’s face it, we all need those moments to step back, take a breath, and remind ourselves that the world won’t fall apart if we take a little break now and then.

    I have also come to realize that taking a break doesn’t always mean jetting off to some exotic location or spending a fortune on a lavish vacation. Sometimes, the most effective pauses are the small ones we take in our daily lives.

    It could be as simple as changing up your morning routine, like maybe taking a different route to work or savoring your coffee on the porch instead of rushing out the door. Perhaps it’s dedicating ten minutes to mindfulness before bed or taking a quick walk around the block during your lunch break.

    These mini pauses, these tiny shifts in our day-to-day patterns, are like little reset buttons for our minds. They give us a chance to step back, even if just for a moment, and see our lives from a slightly different angle.

    And often, it’s these small, consistent breaks that make the biggest difference. They remind us that pausing isn’t about escaping our lives but about being more present in them. So next time you’re feeling overwhelmed, remember: A meaningful break doesn’t have to be big. Sometimes, the smallest pause can offer the greatest perspective.

  • She’s at a Point in Her Life Where…

    She’s at a Point in Her Life Where…

  • I Hope We All Find Peace

    I Hope We All Find Peace

  • Your Anger Knows You Deserve to Be Treated Well

    Your Anger Knows You Deserve to Be Treated Well

  • I Thought I Was Protecting My Peace, But I Was Just Avoiding Conflict

    I Thought I Was Protecting My Peace, But I Was Just Avoiding Conflict

    “Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky, but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable.” ~Brené Brown

    If the title of this post gets under your skin, don’t worry, it gets under mine, too. I have a fierce aversion to conflict. That doesn’t mean I won’t engage in it, but it does mean that I’m very open to any suggestion that might give me license to not engage in it.

    So, when I learned the phrase “protect your peace,” I found myself particularly drawn to it.

    The concept of protecting your peace is one of conflict avoidance. It connotes the idea that some arguments are not worth having, and some people are just not worth arguing with.

    Protecting your peace, in those cases, means choosing to disengage for the sake of your sanity. You end the conversation, block their number, and go no contact.

    And believe me when I say there are literally so many circumstances in which this is the correct and proper route to take. I refuse to waste my breath on someone who isn’t listening—particularly if they’re also committed to causing me pain. I have found protecting my peace in those cases to be a very effective tool that I wield generously.

    That said, l do sometimes wonder if the idea of protecting my peace has become an excuse to avoid any conflict—even the kind that I probably need to address head-on. It’s just so damn seductive to think of never having to tangle with other people. If someone hurts or disrespects me, I get to protect my peace!

    I can just walk away without acknowledging what they did. I can even feel good about it because I’m protecting my peace, after all.

    But what lesson am I teaching myself and others when I do that? What message does it send when I allow the idea of “protecting my peace” to turn me into a doormat for other people to step on? At what point does protecting my peace become disrespecting myself?

    Almost three years ago, my husband and I separated and were on the brink of divorce. Our marriage had been through too many hardships for one couple to bear, and the anger and resentment we’d built up toward each other was destroying the steady love we once shared. We weren’t sure if separating could save the marriage, but we decided to give it a try.

    During the six months we were separated, we both spent a lot of time in therapy confronting the ways we were both showing up negatively in the relationship. For me, it was stuffing my feelings and exploding later instead of speaking about them when they were still manageable.

    In the name of “keeping the peace” I was fostering resentment, hostility, and even fury. My refusal to communicate my needs and feelings was poisoning both me and my marriage from the inside out.

    What kept me silent was a simple yet devastating truth: I believed that speaking my needs and standing up for myself when things were difficult made me a cantankerous or difficult person. Perhaps, if I’m really honest, I didn’t think anyone would want to put up with me if I came with expectations—if I insisted on being treated the way I deserve.

    So, I gulped down the burning tonic of hurt and disappointment and called it “protecting my peace.” Doing otherwise would have meant stirring up “conflict,” and if I created conflict, then why would my husband (or anyone, really) want to put up with me? By avoiding conflict, I could carry on pretending like everything was fine while I built a wall of resentment, one brick at a time, between me and the person I loved most in the world.

    A very hard lesson I’ve only just begun learning is that sometimes standing up for myself is the route to peace. Sometimes holding people accountable for their behavior is how I teach them and myself what I’m worth. While avoiding conflict might feel good in the short term, in the long term it can have disastrous consequences for my self-esteem.

    I can attest firsthand that it already has.

    Not only that; extreme conflict avoidance can also affect my social well-being. Although conflict is never pleasant, conflict resolution can be very pleasant indeed. It’s what allows me to reclaim relationships, heal wounds, and grow together with the people I love instead of apart. If I let myself become too rigid in my conflict avoidance, I only stand to alienate ourselves from others. This is a lesson that, if I hadn’t begun learning sooner, would have cost me my marriage.

    I am learning, slowly but surely, how to articulate my difficult feelings. I’m finally summoning the courage to say the hard things, to speak up when I’m hurt or upset, and to clearly and kindly say what I need instead.

    In doing so, I am watching my relationships begin to thrive like never before. Most importantly, both through this work and the work my husband has done in his approach to our relationship, we have saved our marriage.

    It’s not always easy. In fact, sometimes speaking up creates more discomfort in the short term than stuffing things down like I used to. But for once, I am finally showing up fully and authentically.

    I have stopped swallowing poison and instead have begun giving myself the healing salve of self-expression. Despite the momentary discomfort that comes with allowing conflicts to come to the surface, the long-term joy of conflict resolution and mutual understanding always wins out.

    I guess, like most things, protecting our peace without avoiding healthy conflict and dialogue is about finding balance (which, I’m learning, is a skill we appear to be losing as a society). We have to learn when to protect our peace, when to stand our ground, and how to know the difference between the two. For now, I have a few questions I ask myself when deciding which path to take.

    This list of questions needs further thinking and perhaps some retooling, but here’s what I’ve got so far:

    1) Is this person someone I want to remain in a relationship with?

    2) Do I trust this person to listen to me if I share how they made me feel?

    3) Do I think there might be long-term damage to my self-esteem and self-image if I let this go unaddressed?

    4) Is it safe for me to engage in this conflict?

    If the answer to these questions is yes, I will summon the courage to engage in the conflict. I know that the conflict still might not be resolved, but at least I’ve done my best. If the answer to these questions is no, I am better off protecting my peace and walking away.

    Maybe I’ll schedule a phone call with a trusted friend or a session with my therapist to talk through my feelings about the situation. At least then I will get some validation and empathy, which will help me keep my self-esteem intact. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but with time, I do think having a system in place will help me find a balanced approach to handling conflict.

    I owe it to myself to try. And so do you, dear reader.

  • Give Yourself More Credit

    Give Yourself More Credit

  • 5 Tips for Updating Your Career and Life to Match Who You Are Now

    5 Tips for Updating Your Career and Life to Match Who You Are Now

    “All you’re going to lose is what was built for a person you no longer are.” ~Brianna Wiest

    I’ll admit it. I stayed in a failed marriage for five years past its expiration date. I got especially good at faking smiles in public and relegating myself to my laptop most evenings.

    I also sentenced myself to a career that stopped “lighting me up” about a decade before I was ready to wave the white flag of surrender. As in my marriage, I refused to believe its end for ages and tried everything I could think of to keep this dying flame alive. I switched positions and teams, constantly created new goalposts for myself, changed organizations, and even moved to Asia well before I was willing to let my career go.

    And one day, without warning, my sister called from New York to say that our beautiful mother had just crossed over to the other side. On that soft green couch in South Korea, thousands of miles from family, my already deeply unsatisfactory private life imploded. So did the carefully curated and adventurous-looking life that everyone on the outside saw. I was broken.

    Please allow me a “real talk” time out, folks.

    Can we discuss the importance of using our persistent feelings as signals, or guideposts? I’m not suggesting we throw out logic. I’m also not referring to our typically loud and fleeting reactions to everyday stressors. I’m talking about an instinctive knowing, the quiet kind that’s easy to ignore.

    Though I routinely taught this to my own two children and students, my intellectualizing didn’t mean I was actually practicing what I preached. Not by a long shot.

    Not until a powerful wave of grief swept the rug out from under me, that is.

    Deeply empathetic and sensitive, with a mother who was a counselor, I grew up learning how to accept and validate my feelings. I knew to listen to them, to manage them when they didn’t serve me, and to use them to identify opportunities to learn more about myself. So, why on earth would I work so hard to hide them from my own conscious awareness for years when I knew my marriage and career were no longer right for me? I’ve got thoughts on that.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing kept me safely in a socially acceptable family structure.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing made it easy to receive invitations to holiday dinners with other international families while living abroad.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing allowed me to continue to make good money, feel successful as a professional, provide for my children, and travel to new countries a few times a year.

    Perhaps it was because ignoring my feelings and deeper knowing had predictable, albeit routinely unpleasant, results.

    Perhaps it was because I had no idea who I would be if I wasn’t a wife or a teacher.

    But when my mother passed away, my entire world went dark. Suddenly, nothing else mattered.

    Losing my mother was the single hardest experience of my lifetime. It was also the catalyst for my own wake-up call on multiple levels. And perhaps this was what my soul needed to remember how to seek what did matter, and to recognize my own fulfillment as worthy of sitting at the very top spot of that list.

    Layers of grief forced me to experience feelings I’d been bottling up for years. Grief pressed me to listen to my feelings and to ask what there was to learn from the patterns in my life. It begged me to create the space and stillness to finally accept that the career and life I had built were ones I had long outgrown. It also prompted me to finally ask for help.

    I wasn’t happy living a life I had built decades ago because I was no longer that person, and accepting this realization was empowering.

    Eventually, and with the aid of some irrefutable signs from the universe and some excellent coaching, I gave myself permission to pivot from my profession. I could also see that my resistance to change had been the only true thing standing between me and a much more fulfilling life and career. Not anymore.

    Loss is a beast. But on the other side of it, there is inevitably gain.

    If you find yourself at a crossroads in life and crave a pathway for building something new to fit the person you have grown into, I have an annoyingly obvious secret to share. The only person capable of carving this way forward is you. And while this may feel like an impossible and unwelcome challenge, I venture to say that this fact could end up being your greatest gift.

    What if you could see beyond the endings and revel in the endless possibilities ahead?

    What kind of work and contribution to the world would you pursue if none of society’s imposed limits existed?

    If money were no object, what would you spend your time doing.

    What type of life do you want to build for yourself?

    What would future you, nearing the end of their life, look back on and smile contentedly about?

    While I can’t give you any of your answers, my own failures and aha moments have allowed me to compile the following tips for folks like you who may be approaching a career transition.

    If you’ve decided your fulfillment should be at the top of your life list and you’re ready to update your career to match the version of you who is reading this today, try these five tips on for size.

    1. Create some space or spaciousness before life creates it for you.

    Once upon a time, before my whole world stopped with a single sharp loss, my mind loved wasting entire days on unimportant details of daily life. The state of constant busyness I tended to wrap myself in had allowed me to bury the deep feelings of restlessness and dissatisfaction lurking faithfully just below the surface.

    My incessant thoughts were part of my unconscious “living” and were a big part of what prevented me from being aware, present, and authentic in my current reality. I thought my thoughts were me, but I was so far from the truth.

    I may never have stopped this incessant mind-drivel had I not been handed Don’t Believe Everything You Think: Why Your Thinking Is the Beginning and End to Your Suffering by Joseph Nguyen.

    It taught me that if I didn’t choose to actively create internal space by taking up daily yoga and meditation (or another practice), I never would have gotten to know who I truly was. And without that, how on earth would I have created a career shift to match the updated version of myself? (News flash: I would not have.)

    If you choose just one item from this list to try before making a career shift, please let this be the one. Commit to one practice that creates spaciousness in your life and refuse to let go. Because if your new career is going to match the updated version of you, you have got to start with getting to know yourself. And you’ll only achieve this by making space and staying there a while, routinely.

    2. Take stock of the childhood dreams you (mistakenly) labeled as fantasies.

    What did you want to do when you were seven? You may laugh, but this question is so useful in helping us to see what our soul has always been drawn to do (at least, before society stepped in with all of its “shoulds”).

    When we’re young children, we’re not nearly as caught up in our own minds as our adult selves are. As a result, we’re much more easily opened up to our purpose, our desires, and joy-seeking behaviors.

    Make a list of the things you enjoyed doing as a seven-year-old. Do you still do any of these things today? Do any of these things appeal or inspire new, similar ideas? Take stock, and please don’t laugh them off. The key to a glorious, fulfilling future may lie in these former hobbies and interests.

    3. See yourself for who you are now (not for who you used to be).

    Let’s also be sure to get to know the person we have become today.

    If nobody in your family could see into your ballot box for career-choosing, where would your vote go? We no longer need to please our parents! We’re adulting, after all. We aren’t here to please our spouses or our children either (though we can and should darn well love the heck out of them). We are here to please ourselves, and once that’s in place, well, you know the rest.

    For some of us, asking people who are closest to us for feedback can really help to get the ball rolling, too. What do our closest friends or colleagues see as our key strengths and weaknesses? What do they notice us bringing to any room we enter? Keep the feedback that resonates and leave the rest.

    4. Notice what fires you up.

    What do you find yourself getting passionate (either intensely interested or completely annoyed) about? What could you spend your whole day doing (if life wasn’t always “lifing”)? What comes easily to you and allows you to feel in the flow?

    Herein lie clues about your interests and passions, and potentially some of your core skills or gifts. What makes time fly by for you? What conversations do you find yourself drawn to or searching for?

    What do you realize you stand for again and again, regardless of circumstances? What values does this reflect that you hold? Once you’ve answered some of these questions, check to see if the career paths you’re considering would complement, jive with, or fall right in line with at least one of these things.

    5. Test out potential careers before jumping.

    A change as big as a career shift warrants some personal research. And according to professional research, humans are pretty terrible at predicting what will make us happy. We’ve simply got to test our ideas out.

    What if I told you that you could create some ways to test out potential career pivots before making them? Have you considered volunteer work? What about emailing every contact you have to ask if they know anyone working in the field who’d be willing to have a career curiosity call?

    Could you come up with a project that would allow you to test out/try out new skills? What about a job shadow day? Have you considered cold messaging someone via LinkedIn who works in that field?

    Whatever ideas you come up with will inevitably be better than simply jumping at your best guess. Get in there! Get creative. And get started on updating your life and career to match who you are today, not the person you were years ago when you created the life you’re still living now.

  • Silent Storms: How Mindfulness Helped Me Reclaim My Self-Worth

    Silent Storms: How Mindfulness Helped Me Reclaim My Self-Worth

    “You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn

    We often hear about storms as powerful forces of nature, but for many of us, the most intense storms are the silent ones—those we battle internally. For me, this storm took the shape of bullying. While I appeared to handle the daily microaggressions and malicious rumors, inside, I was crumbling.

    The bullying didn’t stop in high school; it followed me into adulthood. Every time I thought I had weathered the storm, another wave of hurtful comments would crash over me, leaving me feeling trapped and powerless.

    The constant gossip, whispers, and passive-aggressive remarks from others chipped away at my self-worth. I questioned my value, wondering if I deserved the treatment. Was there something inherently wrong with me? Why was I the target of this relentless negativity? These thoughts haunted me for years, leading to a vicious cycle of self-doubt, anxiety, and fear of being judged.

    At one point, the weight of all these feelings became too much to bear, and I sought counseling. It was in therapy that I first learned about mindfulness, a practice that would transform my life.

    Mindfulness helped me confront the storm I had been carrying inside for years—the shame, hurt, and loss of self-worth brought on by years of bullying and mistreatment. Here’s how this practice helped me heal and reclaim my self-worth, and how you, too, can apply it to your life if you’ve experienced bullying, mistreatment, or any form of emotional harm.

    How Bullying and Mistreatment Lead to Low Self-Worth

    Bullying and mistreatment don’t just hurt in the moment—they can have a lasting effect on how we see ourselves for years.

    Whether it’s gossip, exclusion, or direct harassment, these experiences erode our self-worth. We begin to question our value, internalizing the cruel words and actions of others. Over time, we might start to believe that we deserve the mistreatment, or that there’s something wrong with us.

    This low self-worth can affect every aspect of our lives, from our relationships to our careers. We might shy away from opportunities, convinced that we’re not good enough. We might struggle to form meaningful connections, believing that we’re unlovable. The effects of mistreatment run deep, but they don’t have to define us.

    Mindfulness, self-compassion, and community support can help us rebuild our sense of self. By acknowledging our pain, letting go of what we can’t control, and surrounding ourselves with people who lift us up, we can reclaim our self-worth and begin to see ourselves as deserving of love, respect, and kindness.

    Acknowledge Your Pain and Validate Your Emotions

    For years, I hid behind a mask of indifference. I convinced myself that the bullying didn’t affect me. I didn’t want to give my bullies the satisfaction of knowing they had hurt me. But in reality, each cruel word, each whisper, left a mark on my self-worth. The more I bottled up my emotions, the more they festered, eroding my sense of self.

    The first step in my healing journey was acknowledging the pain and allowing myself to feel it. Through mindfulness, I learned that running from my emotions only gave them more power over me. Instead, I had to sit with them—feel the sadness, frustration, anger, and betrayal. I had to give myself permission to grieve the parts of myself I had lost to bullying. Only then could I begin to heal.

    Tip: If you’re struggling with emotions from past mistreatment, take a moment each day to ask yourself, “What am I feeling right now?” Don’t judge yourself for feeling anger, sadness, or resentment—acknowledge these emotions and sit with them. By allowing yourself to feel, you can begin the process of healing.

    Use Mindful Breathing to Regain Control

    There were countless moments where the weight of gossip and harsh comments felt suffocating. I often felt powerless, lost in a spiral of negative thoughts. Every time I walked into a room, I felt like everyone was judging me, like they had already formed opinions about me based on lies. I didn’t know how to cope with the overwhelming feelings of shame and fear.

    Mindful breathing became my anchor—a simple yet profound technique that helped me center myself in these overwhelming situations. Instead of allowing my mind to spiral, I learned to focus on my breath. It was the one thing I could control, even when I couldn’t control the rumors or the people spreading them. In those moments, mindfulness gave me back a sense of power and control over my emotional state.

    Tip: The next time anxiety or fear begins to take hold, focus on your breath. Inhale deeply, paying attention to the air entering and leaving your body. This simple practice can bring you back to the present moment, offering a sense of calm and control when you need it most.

    Build Self-Compassion to Heal the Hurt

    For a long time, I let the words of others dictate how I saw myself. I internalized the bullying, believing that if so many people thought poorly of me, it must be true. I criticized myself relentlessly, convinced that I was not good enough, smart enough, or likable enough. The words of others had become the lens through which I viewed myself.

    Mindfulness taught me the importance of self-compassion. I realized that I was treating myself far worse than I would treat a friend in need. Through this practice, I learned to be kinder to myself—to approach myself with the same care and empathy I would offer someone else who was struggling. Slowly, I began to rebuild my self-worth, not based on what others thought of me but on how I chose to treat myself.

    Tip: Each day, write down three things you appreciate about yourself. Whether it’s a strength, a skill, or even just how you made it through a tough moment, these small affirmations can help rebuild your confidence. Self-compassion is a powerful defense against negativity, reminding you that you are deserving of kindness—especially from yourself.

    Practice Letting Go of What You Can’t Control

    One of the hardest lessons I had to learn was that I couldn’t control how others perceived me. I spent years trying to defend myself against rumors, trying to correct false assumptions people had about me. The more I tried to control the narrative, the more exhausted and frustrated I became. I realized that no matter what I did, some people would always see me in a negative light—and that wasn’t my responsibility to fix.

    Mindfulness taught me that while I couldn’t control the rumors, I could control my response to them. I learned to let go of the need to be liked or understood by everyone. Instead, I focused on how I saw myself and how I wanted to show up in the world. Letting go of what I couldn’t control was liberating—it allowed me to focus on what truly mattered: my own peace of mind and self-worth.

    Tip: Visualize the hurtful words—or, in my case, the hurtful people—as leaves gently floating down a stream. Observe them as they pass by, acknowledge their presence, but resist the urge to hold onto them. This practice allows you to create emotional space and frees you from being weighed down by things beyond your control.

    Find Strength in Community

    Healing doesn’t happen in isolation. While mindfulness was essential in my recovery, finding support from others played a significant role too. For years, I had isolated myself, afraid that opening up would make me vulnerable to more judgment. But through counseling and support groups, I realized that sharing my experiences with others who understood helped lift the weight I had been carrying.

    Opening up to trusted friends, seeking professional help, and connecting with a community of people who understood what I was going through helped me regain my voice. It allowed me to shift the narrative that had been imposed on me, to reclaim my story, and to see myself not as a victim of bullying but as someone who had the strength to heal.

    Tip: Don’t hesitate to seek help from others, whether through counseling, support groups, or mindfulness communities. Finding a group where people understand what you’re going through can provide both personal growth and emotional support, reminding you that you’re not alone.

    Mindfulness Is a Lifelong Practice

    Healing from mistreatment and reclaiming your self-worth is not an overnight process—it takes time. For me, mindfulness became the foundation of my recovery, and it’s something I continue to practice daily. By integrating mindfulness into my routine, I learned to navigate emotional challenges with grace and resilience.

    Tip: Start small. Whether it’s taking a few moments of mindful breathing or journaling your emotions, every step helps you regain control. Remember, you are stronger than the words that hurt you. With mindfulness, self-compassion, and a supportive community, you can reclaim your self-worth—one step at a time.

  • You Did the Best You Could

    You Did the Best You Could