Tiny Buddha

Tag: wisdom

  • How 10 Days of Silence Brought Me Perspective and Peace

    How 10 Days of Silence Brought Me Perspective and Peace

    “Removing old conditionings from the mind and training the mind to be more equanimous with every experience is the first step toward enabling one to experience true happiness.” ~S.N. Goenka

    I just spent ten days sitting in absolute silence with about 100 strangers, time I previously thought I should’ve spent networking and applying for jobs as an unemployed twenty-something with little savings and no assets, living in a completely new country with no network or job prospects.

    There were no conversations, no eye contact, no listening to music, no exercise, no reading or writing—just silence, with twelve hours of meditation each day.

    I applied to the program on a whim, was accepted off the waitlist the day before it began, and bought my plane ticket impulsively the night before. With little time to prepare and even less certainty about what lay ahead, I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps this was exactly where I was meant to be, even if it wasn’t what I originally had planned.

    This retreat is a course on Vipassana meditation, a practice I discovered through Dhamma.org, taught by the spiritual guru S.N. Goenka. This ancient technique, deeply rooted in the teachings of Buddha, requires intense focus on the physical sensations of the body, observing them without attachment or aversion.

    The aim is to cultivate a deep sense of equanimity and insight, leading to a more balanced and peaceful state of mind. It’s a journey inward, stripping away the layers of noise and distraction to reveal the true nature of our existence.

    Of course, the website paints a serene and enlightening picture. While it truly is all those things, there were moments when I questioned my decision. At times, the retreat felt less like a sanctuary of peace and more like a self-imposed prison.

    This retreat was undoubtedly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but it was also one of the most transformative. It completely rewired my brain and changed my relationship with myself.

    After those ten days, I emerged as the most present and clear-headed I have ever been. Vipassana is often touted as a path to enlightenment, and it proved to be more than just a meditation technique. It is a rigorous self-confrontation, an unfiltered dialogue with the incessant chatter of one’s thoughts. In this space of relentless introspection, I came face to face with the raw, unedited version of myself.

    This experience came at a crucial time in my life, having recently quit my stable and glitzy job in entertainment to pursue a dream of living abroad, devoid of job security, a support network, or friends. The insights and clarity I gained through Vipassana meditation arrived at a moment when they were most needed, clearing a mental fog that seemed to have clouded my vision for years.

    And here I am to share the lessons and revelations from those transformative ten days.

    The Experience 

    The retreat took place in a hostel nestled in a remote village in Austria in late winter. When I arrived for the Vipassana meditation course, the cool and crisp air that was often shrouded in mist buzzed with anticipation.

    It was “day zero,” and we participants chatted lightly as we checked in, handed over our belongings, and met our roommates.

    As our vow of noble silence commenced after the 9 p.m. orientation, the sense of solitude set in. We knew that starting at 4 a.m. the next day, our routine would be drastically different.

    The first three days were dedicated to Anapana meditation, focusing on the sensations of the breath at the nostrils and upper lip. While the concept was straightforward, the challenge for me was substantial, especially due to the physical demands.

    Having just learned to ski the day before, I suffered from severe aches in my shoulders, neck, and back from repeated falls on hard snow, making it difficult to maintain a single sitting position for extended periods. The pain was a constant distraction, and looking around at the quiescent participants in the meditation hall, I felt acutely alone in my discomfort.

    Despite feeling isolated in my struggles, I soon noticed something uplifting. After each meditation session, relieved by the sweet sound of a gong, everyone would rush outside to stretch and shake off their stiffness. Some even sneaked in a few yoga poses or aerobic stretches behind trees (which is usually prohibited). Watching everyone stretch and move, I realized that even in our quiet, solitary struggles, we were all finding our own ways to ease the tension and feel a bit of relief.

    By the fourth day, we transitioned to the core practice of Vipassana meditation, which involved a more intricate mental process of scanning each part of the body with “unwavering equanimity” to feel sensations throughout.

    The early days of this practice felt like a mental battlefield. Repressed emotions and thoughts that I had long distracted myself from now screamed in my mind, creating a cacophony of emotions swirling in my mind.

    I thought I’d only struggle with wanting to leave when I felt negative emotions. However, I found that even positive emotions like inspiration, hope, and motivation were just as unsettling. These uplifting feelings made me want to run home and take action just as much as feelings of shame or sadness did.

    By midway through the fourth day, however, I experienced a significant breakthrough. My mental focus crystallized; the incessant chatter quieted, and for the first time, I managed to sit motionless for a full hour.

    This newfound calmness was soothing, and I was convinced it heralded a smoother path ahead. However, day six proved to have other plans. At 4 a.m., I was jolted awake by a panic attack, my heart racing and a nagging tightness in my chest, plunging my mind into turmoil and shattering the calm I had found. The serenity I had felt was replaced by a torrent of negative thoughts that felt inescapable.

    After this, I considered asking to leave during my next daily consultation with the assistant teacher. However, when the time for my consultation arrived, I reflected on my experiences and noticed a small but meaningful shift in my mental state. This glimmer of progress gave me the strength to persevere and stay committed to the process.

    The teacher, noticing my distress, offered reassurance that my intense emotional experience was a normal part of the process, advising me to face these emotions with equanimity rather than judgment.

    This pivotal conversation reminded me that experiencing a range of emotions is an inherent part of being human.

    The retreat, though intensely challenging, taught me valuable lessons about the transient nature of emotions and the strength found in communal endurance. By the end, I not only gained insights into my own psyche but also developed a deeper compassion for others, recognizing that despite our individual struggles, we share a common journey of growth and discovery.

    Insights and Reflections

    Emotions

    From that pivotal sixth day onward, my approach to my emotions and to meditation itself evolved profoundly. Rather than being overwhelmed by my feelings, I learned to observe them from a distance, recognizing their transient nature and gaining insights that I could apply to my life beyond the meditation cushion.

    Previously, I had a profound misunderstanding that I wasn’t just experiencing feelings—I was enshrining them as immutable truths, anchoring my identity and decisions to their fleeting presence. I had been using my emotions as a barometer for reality, attaching unwarranted significance to each emotional wave without recognizing their transient nature.

    For example, if I felt anxiety about a decision, I might interpret that anxiety as a sign that the decision was wrong rather than as a natural response to uncertainty. This led me to avoid potentially beneficial but challenging opportunities simply because of the discomfort they invoked. Similarly, if I experienced joy in a situation, I might overly commit to it without critical assessment, mistaking transient happiness for long-term fulfillment.

    However, through mindful observation, I began to understand the ephemeral nature of emotions—they come and go, often influenced by myriad external and internal factors that do not necessarily have a direct correlation with the objective reality of the situations that provoke them.

    This insight led me to a more nuanced understanding that while emotions are valid experiences, they are not definitive guides to action. They are, rather, one component of a broader decision-making process that should also involve rational analysis and reflection.

    Self-confidence 

    Moreover, I came to understand that seeking external validation for my decisions was unnecessary. The concept of a “best” decision is elusive; what truly matters is making choices that resonate with my personal beliefs and values.

    This profound period of self-reflection allowed me to become more comfortable with myself and to trust my own judgment. This shift was incredibly liberating, particularly at a pivotal moment in my life where I faced the daunting task of choosing between two vastly different paths, each enveloped in its own uncertainty.

    I realized how much of my past behavior was driven by a need for external validation. It wasn’t always about seeking approval, but rather looking for someone else to affirm my choices, to nod in agreement, or to give me the green light to proceed with my plans. Unbeknownst to me, I had been stifling my own instincts and insights, inadvertently relegating the authority over my life to others.

    Each choice I make, grounded in self-awareness and self-compassion, leads me down a path that contributes to my growth and learning, regardless of the outcome.

    This perspective shifts the focus from fear of making a “mistake” to an understanding that every step taken is part of a larger journey towards personal fulfillment and wisdom. By being present and committed to myself, I can navigate life’s uncertainties with confidence, knowing that all experiences are valuable and that my inner guidance is a reliable compass.

    Love

     Formerly, I saw love as a destination, a goal to be achieved, wrapped in expectations and specific outcomes. This perspective treated love as something to be received passively—a feeling handed down rather than actively cultivated. My approach was centered around control, trying to steer love toward a preconceived notion of what it should look like, often ignoring the dynamic and evolving nature of genuine connections.

    Love as an act, rather than just a feeling, transforms it from a passive state to an active engagement with life and the people in it. It’s about pouring into relationships freely and generously, not intending to receive something in return but to foster a genuine connection and mutual growth.

    This shift in perspective has taught me to appreciate love’s subtle presence in life—how it’s not just found in grand gestures or declarations, but in the quiet, everyday actions that bind lives together. Understanding love as a fluid, evolving force rather than a static goal has freed me from the burdens of expectation and control.

    True love is about being solid and sturdy with someone without needing to define every moment or cling too tightly. It’s about letting love for others—romantic, familial, friendly, even for strangers and animals—flow without possession.

    Contribution

    This evolved understanding of love profoundly influences how I approach my career and contributions to the world. Previously, I saw my career mainly as a way to chase personal fulfillment, driven by the often-cited advice to “follow your passions.” While this was empowering, it also kept me in a bubble of self-focus and entitlement, where I was more concerned with finding the perfect job that would maximize my happiness.

    However, as my concept of love matured, so did my view on my professional life. I began to see my work not just as a means for personal achievement but as a chance to contribute to something bigger than myself. This shift in thinking about love—as something you give without expecting a specific outcome—has mirrored in my career approach.

    Now, my career decisions hinge not only on what brings me joy or utilizes my skills but also on how I can use those skills to positively impact others. It’s about leveraging what I know and can do for the greater good, not just for my own success.

    Embracing this broader perspective has made me more conscious of the interconnectedness of our actions and our collective well-being. Just as love builds bridges in personal relationships, a career grounded in contribution and service can foster connections that lead to community growth and improvement. It’s changed how I set professional goals: instead of just aiming for personal milestones, I focus on creating value that uplifts others.

    Connectedness

    On day ten, we finally broke our vow of noble silence after breakfast. After speaking with the other participants, a profound realization emerged—although our individual narratives and life experiences were markedly different, the emotional outcomes and insights we arrived at were astonishingly similar. This fascinating contrast highlighted that, despite our unique paths, at our core, we feel the same fundamental human emotions.

    This commonality in our emotional responses underscores a deeper, universal truth about the human condition in that we are more interconnected than we might believe. The emotional threads that connect us do not vary greatly from one person to another; joy, sorrow, fear, and hope are universal experiences that transcend individual circumstances.

    Vipassana meditation, focused on observing one’s own mind and body, amplifies this realization by stripping away the superficial differences and revealing the underlying uniformity of our emotional nature.

    This realization served as somewhat of an ego death, where the sense of being profoundly unique or a special case diminished. It brought to light the collective human experience, suggesting that while our life stories add richness and variety to the human experience, the emotional landscape we navigate is shared. We are not isolated in our feelings; rather, we are part of a vast continuum of human emotion that binds us together.

    Embracing this understanding fostered a profound sense of empathy and solidarity. It diminishes the ego’s insistence on our separateness and highlights the shared journey of growth and understanding that we all undergo.

    The Return to the World

    The morning after day ten was another humbling moment. I got my phone back, and turning it on was overwhelming. In just ten days, life had moved on without me—friends got promotions, planned trips, made big career jumps, ended relationships, and began new ones.

    It was sad to miss out yet heartening to return to positive developments in their lives. This contrast served as a poignant reminder of the impermanence and relentless pace of the world around us and the importance of finding grounding in our inner selves.

    Upon returning to the real world, I felt a profound alignment between my mind and body that I hadn’t experienced before. I could see things as they were, not just as reflections of my internal dialogue. I wasn’t stuck in my head anymore; I could slow down, be with myself, and actually enjoy my own company—something that used to terrify me.

    It’s almost as though the experience altered my brain chemistry. For the first time, I felt normal in my own skin, a sensation that was entirely new to me. Growing up in the digital age, I rarely, if ever, had the opportunity—or the need—to sit with my thoughts for more than ten minutes. Allowing myself the space to sit, feel, and think deeply was not just valuable; it was a profound and rare experience that I believe many people deny themselves in our fast-paced, modern world.

    Overall Reflections

    Reflecting on my recent Vipassana retreat, it has become evident how such experiences are profoundly relevant in today’s fast-paced, often superficial world.

    During these ten days of deep introspection, I confronted layers of myself that were cluttered with unresolved emotions and unexamined thoughts.

    In a world where action is prized, stillness can be revolutionary. It’s not just about silencing the chatter of the outside world—including the instant feedback loop of social media that we rely on for our self-esteem and decisions—but more importantly, understanding the internal dialogue that shapes our perception of ourselves and our lives.

    Recalling my initial reservations about spending precious time in silence when I could have been networking or job hunting, I now see how misplaced those concerns were.

    My Vipassana experience did not magically solve all my challenges or answer all my questions. However, it profoundly reshaped how I view my journey through life. It wasn’t about finding a perfect job or even perfect peace, but rather about learning to navigate the inevitable ups and downs with a bit more grace and a lot more self-awareness.

    This deeper understanding has not only helped me appreciate the quiet moments of reflection but has also prepared me to engage more meaningfully with the bustling world around me.

  • The Work of Love

    The Work of Love

  • I Love Raw Connections

    I Love Raw Connections

  • Tiny Buddha’s 2025 Day-to-Day Calendar Is Now Available for Purchase

    Tiny Buddha’s 2025 Day-to-Day Calendar Is Now Available for Purchase

    Hi friends! I’m excited to share that the ​2025 Tiny Buddha Day-to-Day Calendar​ is now available for purchase!

    Uplifting and healing, this calendar offers daily reflections from me, Tiny Buddha contributors, and other authors whose quotes have inspired and encouraged me.

    Featuring colorful, patterned tear-off pages, the calendar is printed on FSC certified paper with soy-based ink. Topics include happiness, love, relationships, change, meaning, mindfulness, self-care, letting go, and more.

    Here’s what Amazon reviewers had to say about the 2024 calendar:

    “I love how the quotes are diverse and relevant, offering something for everyone regardless of where they are on their personal journey. It’s a wonderful way to start each day with a positive mindset and a reminder to live in the present moment.”

    “I used the 2023 calendar and absolutely loved it! The 2024 is turning out to be just as great! So many wonderful quotes, and the decorative paper makes them easy to cut off the date and save for display or give to people the quotes make me think of. Wonderful daily calendar!”

    “I have been buying these calendars for years. I buy one for each of my siblings. The calendar has a lot of great quotes and encouraging messages. I have been going through some difficult times and I look forward to reading this every day and finding ways to apply the message to my life.”

    “Every single day is something that inspires me and helps me along my journey of healthier living. I will buy again and again—absolutely a wonderful addition to my day!!”

    “This is one of the very best page-a-day calendars that I have ever purchased. Each day offers a meaningful paragraph that really provokes some deep thought. I totally love this purchase and would definitely recommend it.”

    Stay inspired, motivated, and encouraged through the year ahead—​grab your copy here​!

  • October Mood

    October Mood

  • Families Who Have Regular Dance Parties

    Families Who Have Regular Dance Parties

  • The Perspective Shift That Helped Me Overcome My Perfectionism

    The Perspective Shift That Helped Me Overcome My Perfectionism

    “Perfectionism is the exhausting state of pretending to know it all and have it all together, all the time. I’d rather be a happy mess than an anxious stress case who’s always trying to hide my flaws and mistakes.” ~Lori Deschene

    When I got my start as a math teacher, it was 2012, and I had not been in a classroom in over ten years. I really wasn’t sure how teaching got done anymore.

    I came into my first class with a piece of paper and many examples to share. I got up and started writing the examples on the board for my students. When I looked at the board after my lesson, what stood out to me was that my handwriting was sloppy. It looked like a third grader wrote it.

    I also noticed that many students laughed during my lessons, so, determined to find the cause of the laughter, I started to look at other teachers to see if I could come up with any ideas to improve my lessons.

    What stood out to me is that almost every teacher in the school was using some kind of multimedia display, and I was just writing with a marker. So, at that point, I decided to make a change to create all my lessons on multimedia.

    I spent considerable time and effort typing the examples before my lessons so I would not have to display my messy handwriting for all to see. I was very proud about how clear and easily readable my multimedia presentations were.

    Three years passed, and I was at a new job. About a month went by, and I was sure that I was impressing everyone with my beautiful multimedia lessons. But one day my manager brought me in and said that there was overwhelming consensus amongst my students and their families that I should handwrite my examples.

    Upon hearing this, my heart sank. In my mind, I was “tech savvy” and in control when I taught. With this new mandate, I was going to become the low-tech teacher who wrote like a third grader and had black marker ink all over his hands.

    During this time, I could not sleep very well. I also spent time searching online to see if there were other non-teaching jobs that I was qualified for. I couldn’t get the picture out of my mind of that whiteboard from 2012. I could just see how sloppy it looked, and I could hear the laughter of those students.

    As I started to make the requested changes to my teaching, not only was I uncomfortable, but I didn’t believe my students would want to learn from someone who had such sloppy handwriting. As time went on, I began to realize that handwriting the calculations made me much more nervous than just displaying them. I very often made mistakes and then had to erase and fix them.

    After a few weeks’ time, a light bulb went off inside me. If I, the experienced and degreed teacher, got nervous and made mistakes during my teaching, then how much more likely would it be that my students would make the same mistakes?

    I decided to change the tone of my teaching to not just handwrite the examples but to also explain my thinking process. I could tell the students exactly where they were likely to make errors during their work. Since I was working through problems and making myself vulnerable in the same way my students were expected to, we all had more of a common connection.

    My overall confidence as an instructor rose. I became more authoritative as a teacher. I wasn’t just the reader of the lesson; I was the author. Students didn’t ask anymore how our books define concepts; they asked me directly how I defined them.

    Today, nearly twelve years later, I still handwrite my examples live in the room with my students. At the end of a recent lesson, I looked at the board. My handwriting is still rather sloppy, but I just don’t pay attention to that anymore. Instead, I see effort, thought, expertise, and willingness to put myself in the shoes of my students.

    At the beginning of my teaching career, I was so fixated on one of my bad qualities that I went to great efforts to try to hide it. In turn, that blinded me to a multitude of other good qualities.

    How many relationships and marriages end because the only thing we can see in our partner is their ‘sloppy handwriting’? How much depression is there in this world because when we think about ourselves, the only thing we see is some bad quality?

    In truth, if we took the time to catalog a list of our good qualities, we’d likely see they far outweigh the bad. So often we just can’t see these qualities because we tend to focus exclusively on our negative qualities and our mistakes. We think that is all that we are. We want to destroy our bad qualities in the same way I almost destroyed my teaching career by quitting it.

    I recommend taking a small piece of paper and writing down all your good qualities and the good things that you do. Carry this paper with you everywhere you go. Take time throughout the day to read this list and add to it. Any time you think of or worry about one of your negative qualities, bring the list out. You will soon find that the truth is easier to see.

    Our list of bad qualities is a short list. Our list of good qualities is a long list. With some training, we can learn to recognize when we are focusing exclusively on the short list. Then we can change our focus to the long list. When we get this true and properly balanced picture of our lives, they flow much more smoothly.

    When we don’t focus on or worry about the bad qualities on our short list, we are free to reinvent them for our own purposes.

    On one occasion, I was working with a group of students, and one student was picking on another about his bad handwriting. I ran over to stop this potential bullying. I observed his handwriting, and it was true this student had lousy handwriting. Without any forethought, I said, “Well, doctors are known for having bad handwriting, so it’s really a sign of intelligence.”

    That student really appreciated my insight. Then I looked at him and said, “See, we both have something in common. We write like doctors.”

    It’s very possible to take things from our short list of bad qualities and move them to our long list of good qualities. Sometimes we just need a different way of looking at things.

  • Why People Ghost and Advice for Coping (or Stopping)

    Why People Ghost and Advice for Coping (or Stopping)

    “Life is a balance of holding on and letting go.” ~Rumi

    A few months ago, someone I had dated briefly seven years ago reached out to apologize for his past behavior.

    Many of us know how being ghosted can evoke a mix of frustration, bursts of anger, and an underlying sense of utter powerlessness. Degrees of intensity can vary, of course, depending on the depth of the relationship and personal circumstances. This was not one of those heart-wrenching cases, and in a way, an apology seemed excessive. I had long forgiven and forgotten.

    Nonetheless, I almost immediately realized I was wrong: He still felt it was essential to address how he had ended our brief involvement by abruptly cutting off all communication.

    As he talked, I realized that we shouldn’t dismiss someone’s efforts to do “the right thing” or downplay the fact that we’ve been mistreated, even if we don’t care anymore or even if it didn’t seem that bad at the time. Recognizing and valuing these gestures of reconciliation nurtures a culture of accountability and healing.

    During the first stages of our conversation, I could see the effort and difficulty; it was awkward and strange but also kind of fun—some moments were genuinely hilarious! Since then, I spent a lot of time thinking about this experience because of its uniqueness, and ultimately, I consider it one of the highlights of my year.

    Perhaps unsurprisingly, getting such an apology has also made me value this person a lot more. I started thinking of that behavior as exceptional, which, in turn, started a new line of thought: Shouldn’t this be the norm? Don’t we want to hold ourselves and our friends to higher standards? Is ghosting bad? Is our reaction to it bad? Of course, we all know how “convenient” ghosting is, but isn’t it also really embarrassing for the ghoster?

    (Note that I used the word “ghoster,” not “ghost,” to discuss behaviors without implying they are unchangeable aspects of a person’s identity. This distinction is important because it avoids labeling individuals in a way that suggests permanence, thus allowing for the possibility of growth and change.)

    It’s one of those “the king is naked” things; we all, and I mean ALL, see through it. So, what’s underneath it? And why do people do it so much?

    • Fear of confrontation: Many people find direct confrontation uncomfortable or anxiety-inducing, so ghosting allows them to avoid the discomfort of having a potentially awkward or difficult conversation.
    • Lack of accountability: In some cases, avoiding the conversation and disappearing makes it feel like you’re not accountable for your actions because, to the ghoster, ghosting has no immediate consequences. It’s a seemingly easy escape route.
    • Emotional avoidance: Some individuals go through phases where they lack the emotional tools to handle relationship endings or difficult situations maturely. Ghosting becomes a way to avoid dealing with their own emotions.
    • Reduced empathy: Ghosting allows you to feel even more remote, making it easier to dismiss other people’s feelings and the impact of your actions. Digital communication exacerbates this detachment, as the lack of face-to-face interaction diminishes your sense of empathy and connection to the person being ghosted.
    • Overwhelm response: Sometimes life gets overwhelmingly hectic, and people react in clumsy, often unconscious ways. They might ghost friends, family, or partners, not even realizing why. It’s a misguided attempt to simplify things when everything feels too much to handle.

    Alright, so we’ve thrown around some ideas about why people might ghost. Now, let’s talk about what we can do with this insight. Whether you’re the one doing the ghosting or the one left deciphering silence, here are some tips that could help navigate these tricky situations.

    A Gentle Reminder for Those Critical of Themselves

    Before anything else, let’s get something out of the way. For those who are critical of themselves, for those who feel they don’t even deserve an apology, for those who feel worthless due to the ghosting behavior of a partner or a friend, it’s crucial to remind yourself that you are not the problem.

    Yes, there might be something about your actions that your ghoster is not in alignment with at the moment; you might have some faults, but nothing is proportioned to the lack of recognition and invisibility that being ghosted imposes on a person. That is never warranted.

    Other people’s actions reflect their own inner state; they’re not a measure of your value. Your self-worth remains untouched and undiminished by external actions. Recognize that you are fundamentally worthy, regardless of how others treat you, and live up to your worth.

    Strategies for the Ghoster

    If you find yourself ghosting someone, it’s important to be aware that you’re indulging in a behavior that needs to be temporary. It’s crucial not to stigmatize yourself in the moment but also to realize that ghosting is a reflection of a lack of alignment between you and other people, the world, and your own emotions.

    Instead of feeling self-righteous or beating yourself up, or worst of all, cycling between these extremes in a relentless loop, consider giving yourself a time limit. You might not be able to handle the situation right now, but you need to commit to addressing it within a set timeframe.

    Avoiding difficult situations means missing out on important moments. While friends might not always call you out on this behavior, consider this advice the gentle nudge you need. Acknowledge not only that your ghostee might not deserve this treatment but also that you don’t deserve it.

    Setting a time limit might be an easy way to get a little breather, knowing that you’ll handle it. There is another Alan Watts saying that I particularly enjoy: “The more a thing tends to be permanent, the more it tends to be lifeless.”

    Ultimately, you shouldn’t act differently just to make other people feel better. Instead, you should act differently because you deserve to feel better and because with your actions (and thoughts and emotions), you’re adding to the world. What do you want to add?

    Strategies for the Ghostee

    If you’ve been ghosted, here are a few things to keep in mind to navigate through this experience.

    First, avoid becoming self-righteous or harboring anger or resentment. Being ghosted often leaves you feeling hurt, invisible, and incredibly frustrated. It’s natural to want to lash out, driven by a deep need to be acknowledged. Sometimes, anger can feel like a powerful antidote to the helplessness and depression that ghosting can trigger. So, if you’re feeling helpless, reaching out to anger can be a way to regain a sense of control, and if anger is helping you cope right now, that’s okay. Embrace it as a necessary step in your emotional journey.

    However, there will come a time when moving past anger and resentment is crucial for your growth. As Malachy McCourt said, “Resentment is like taking poison and waiting for the other person to die.”

    Second, avoid toxic positivity. Sure, I just said avoid harboring negative emotions, but you don’t have to pretend everything’s sunshine and rainbows either. Pretending that it doesn’t hurt isn’t going to do you any good. We can safely acknowledge that it hurts if it does. But remain honest with yourself and keenly aware of all the nuances of how you feel. Sometimes your ego is more hurt than your heart.

    Third, focus on activities outside of yourself. When you’re feeling down, upset, or angry because someone you care about has ghosted you, shifting your focus outward can be incredibly therapeutic. It might sound cliché, but devoting your time and energy to activities that aren’t centered on your own problems can distract you and even help rebuild your sense of self-worth.

    When we obsess over our own issues, we tend to narrow our focus to a tiny part of the universe. By engaging in hobbies, helping others, or immersing yourself in new projects, you expand your perspective and find a renewed sense of purpose and fulfillment. Think of it as mental stretching—include more of what feels good in your focus.

    When you’re ready, try to see ghosting not as a reflection of your worth nor as an inherent trait of the person ghosting you, but rather as a reactive moment—a spasm—from someone grappling with their own unresolved issues. And know that this experience can lead to emotional growth if you use it to better understand yourself and your own wounds and triggers. This shift in perspective can help you release the hurt and begin to heal.

  • Fear Isn’t a Sign of Respect

    Fear Isn’t a Sign of Respect

  • Lost, Scared, and Broken: How Self-Awareness Saved My Life

    Lost, Scared, and Broken: How Self-Awareness Saved My Life

    “The first step toward change is awareness. The second step is acceptance.” ~Nathaniel Branden

    I felt lost. I felt broken. I felt scared.

    As I sat alone in that cold, dark jail cell, I felt like I had hit rock bottom.

    My feet chilled against the cold stone floor. The creaky wooden bench, stitched together with narrow strips, tormented me.

    Inmates shouted all around me. Their voices echoed in the dark. It was like the noise of the outside world had finally caught up with the noise inside my head. I just wanted to scream.

    I was sixteen, but I felt as if my life was already over. Shame and regret filled my heart as I wondered: Is this really all there is? Is this the path my life has taken? Who am I becoming?

    For the first time, I faced a truth: I was becoming the person I despised most—my father, a man consumed by addiction and destruction.

    My father’s absence was a constant presence in my life. Only occasionally, when he was off one of his benders and attempting to get clean, was he around. But usually, he would drink a lot of alcohol at the house.

    I hated him. I hated that man so much for the pain that he caused my mom. The sweetest woman that I have ever known in my entire life. She is the person in my life who taught me about true strength and resilience. She is one of the reasons that I know single mothers are some of the most daring and powerful people.

    Despite all the anger and hatred I carried toward him, I was walking the same path, making the same choices.

    I’d started drinking and smoking weed at thirteen, began selling drugs soon after, and was eventually caught with varied substances, lots of cash, and a scale.

    I was becoming no good, like my father. In fact, I was doing the exact same thing I hated him for—causing my poor mom so much pain.

    The weight of that realization was crushing. I felt as though I was drowning in the results of my actions and choices.

    I thought of my mother, a single woman. She did all she could to raise us. She had sacrificed so much for me and my siblings. And here I was, her middle child, sitting in a jail cell as the police smashed our house because they thought I’d been running a big drug operation. I was expelled from not just a school but an entire school district.

    I pictured her at home, staring at the smashed windows and broken-down doors in hurt and disbelief. The shame of that tore at me. I wanted to be the man who made her proud, the man who helped her, not another weight on her shoulders. I had let her down. I had let myself down.

    And at that moment, I knew—I couldn’t keep living this way. Something had to change.

    The Moment That Changed Everything

    In that cold, uncomfortable jail cell, I asked myself: Who am I becoming? Is this the man I want to be? Is this my future? The fear, shame, and regret were suffocating. I had no tools or mentors to help me through them. But even in the darkness, something clicked.

    This was my wake-up call. I had hit rock bottom. I had two choices: continue down this path toward self-destruction or take control of my life. It was now or never.

    When I got out, I made a decision to change. I did everything I had to do. I completed my community service. I attended a wilderness program. They put a group of troubled boys together and had them camp on islands for a month. I followed all the rules.

    It was one of the places where I first learned to face my fears. Because we were climbing a mountain one afternoon, and it was a steep one.

    I had a fear of heights (still do), and I forgot that I had told them this earlier that day or at the start of the program. Honestly, I can’t remember exactly.

    That day, I looked up at the mountain we were told to climb and decided to push through my fears. So I climbed. I was breaking my barriers and overcoming limiting beliefs. One instructor said something I can’t recall any teacher or peer telling me back then.

    “Look at you overcoming your fears, Eddy. I’m proud of you.”

    To be real, I forgot about that moment until now. Writing this blog has brought tears to my eyes.

    None of it was easy. In fact, it was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. It took everything I had. I had to change my habits, face my limiting beliefs, and distance myself from those who wanted to bring me down.

    In fact, one of the hardest things then was that my “friends” abandoned me. None of them were there for me when I got out. None of them reached out to me. Still to this day, I haven’t heard any word from them.

    But it was the only way forward.

    Lessons in Self-Awareness and Reflection

    Looking back, I realize that the moment in the jail cell was the turning point of my life. It was the hardest, most painful experience I’ve ever had. But it opened my eyes to the power of self-awareness and reflection.

    Self-awareness isn’t about acknowledging your mistakes. It’s about knowing your core self. It’s about seeing the patterns in your life that hold you back. Then, you must choose to break those patterns.

    Through self-awareness, I discovered that I had the power to change the course of my life. And that’s what I want to share with you.

    How Self-Awareness Can Change Your Life

    1. Create space for reflection.

    You don’t need to hit rock bottom to start reflecting on your life. Take a few quiet moments in your day. It can be five minutes in the morning or ten minutes before bed. Ask yourself, “Where am I heading?”

    Journaling is an excellent tool for this. It allows you to get your thoughts out of your head and onto the page where you can look at them objectively. Journaling has been the saving grace of my entire life.

    When I lost one of my best friends to pancreatic cancer, I went backpacking and filled a whole journal.

    When I decided to make a big decision and take a risk career-wise, it was through journaling.

    When I had to make a decision or process the pain from a relationship, it was through journaling.

    If journaling feels overwhelming at first, start with one question: What do I need to let go of today? I ask myself this question every morning. Write down the first thing that comes to mind without overthinking it.

    2. Face the truth, even when it hurts.

    Real change starts with honesty. Be brutally honest with yourself. Look at your life—your habits, your choices, your relationships—and ask, “Is this serving me?” This level of honesty is uncomfortable, but it’s the first step toward growth. Growth’s largest leaps stem from stepping out of our comfort zone.

    3. Start small, but be consistent.

    You don’t need to make drastic changes overnight. Instead, focus on making small, meaningful changes in your daily life. Whether it’s improving one habit or letting go of one toxic relationship, these small steps will create lasting change over time.

    I learned this from a mentor of mine and James Clear’s book Atomic Habits. Starting small seems pointless to most of us. That change needs to come in one big, massive swipe. But that’s not how we work as people. That kind of change returns us to our original state.

    My mentor taught me that if we only move a millimeter to the left or right when driving, it will seem like we’re in the same spot at first. But a week, a month, or a year down the road? You will be in a completely different place in life than you would have if you went straight.

    4. Reframe your struggles as opportunities.

    I learned a big lesson: Our failures and mistakes are our biggest chances to grow.

    When you face challenges, ask yourself, “What is this teaching me?” Reframe your failures as lessons and use them to become stronger.

    So often people believe that their pain or the failures they’ve experienced in the past are what’s holding them back when actually it’s their perspective.

    These moments in our lives are actually our breakthrough moments. The moments when what was once a should or sometime later becomes a must.

    Almost all breakthroughs or massive moments of growth in our lives come from these failures, obstacles, or challenges. Whatever word you want to use. Mine had a significant impact.

    —

    That cold, dark jail cell was the lowest point of my life. But it was also the moment that saved me. Through self-awareness and reflection, I was able to take control of my life and change my future.

    For me, the journey started small—taking accountability for my actions, cutting ties with people who held me back, and focusing on one habit at a time. It wasn’t an overnight transformation, and I stumbled many times along the way. But each step, no matter how small, brought me closer to the person I wanted to be.

    You don’t need to have all the answers right now. Take the first step.

    I urge you to embrace your moments of stillness. They may come in peace or struggle. Use them to reflect on your life.

    Don’t wait until you’ve hit rock bottom to ask the hard questions. Take time to reflect on who you are, where you’re heading, and what changes you can make to live a more authentic, fulfilling life.

    Next Step

    If you’re struggling with where you are right now, take a moment today to pause and reflect. Ask yourself, “What can I learn from this? How can I use this to grow?” Embrace the power of self-awareness and start taking small, meaningful steps toward a better future.

    Take it from somebody who has been there—small steps do lead to big changes.

    So, go grab yourself a pen and paper and begin reflecting, reframing, and moving that millimeter in another direction. You’ll be amazed at how much your life will transform.

  • You Cannot Build a Connection With…

    You Cannot Build a Connection With…

  • Celebrating Six Years Sober: Here’s How I Did It

    Celebrating Six Years Sober: Here’s How I Did It

    “I chose sober because I wanted a better life. I stay sober because I got one.” ~Anonymous

    Seven years ago, I never thought I would be able to say that I have been six years sober! I didn’t think I was physically addicted. I never got the shakes, never morning drank, never drank daily unless on vacation, never got a DUI (even though that was lucky), and never lost a job or a relationship because of drinking. I was, however, incredibly emotionally and mentally addicted.

    I am fifty-six years old and started drinking in high school. Except when pregnant, I drank 90% of all weekends from the ages of seventeen to fifty. I never did anything socially without drinking. If I couldn’t drink, I just didn’t go. If I had to go, I got out as soon as I could. My whole life was built around my weekend drinking.

    I loved drinking in my twenties. We would go out every Friday with our friends, get pretty wasted, have a ton of fun, wake up Saturday with a small hangover, wait for it to go away, and then party again on Saturday.

    Sunday was for eating crappy food, recovering, and getting ready for the workweek. I spent my weekdays going to college to get my teaching degree and then working as an elementary school teacher. I loved my life!

    I loved drinking in my thirties. I had two beautiful kids, a great teaching job that I loved, a pretty decent marriage, and great friends.

    We moved into a brand-new neighborhood with lots of new families and quickly made plenty of drinking friends! Every weekend we went to block parties or got together with neighbors, drinking while the kids were playing. The kids were having fun, we were having fun, no one was judging my drinking, and nobody had to drive—perfect! I was still great at my job, felt pretty successful as a mother, and was happy!

    Things started to shift in my forties. I think the biggest thing that changed was the severity of my hangovers. They were getting out of control. I was still having fun when drinking, and there was no way I was giving that up, but the hangovers were becoming two- to four-day events that just crushed me.

    During my forties, I started making deals and promises to myself. I spent hundreds of hours reading self-help books about drinking less, spending entire summer breaks trying to figure out why I could not cut down, adding thousands of pages to a journal and hundreds of entries to my blog. I could write a book!

    Why was I starting to drink on Thursdays (Thirsty Thursday) and on Sundays? Why would I find myself waking up at 2:00 every Saturday and Sunday morning with extreme anxiety, heart palpitations, and nausea and mentally torturing myself about how I hadn’t kept my promise to myself and yet again drank too much?

    I was starting to have more instances of embarrassing behavior, where I basically lost it while drunk. I would wake up so ashamed of myself, so disappointed in myself, making promises to myself yet again but also not understanding why I was having such a hard time keeping them.

    I mean, I wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t like my father. Now he was an alcoholic—losing many teaching jobs, requiring us to always move and me to attend six elementary schools, going completely off the grid on a bender, getting DUIs, losing his family—choosing alcohol over us. That wasn’t me.

    I had a great job, great family, great friends, and a great credit score, and I was a responsible, loving, caring human!

    I remember reading once that people who struggle with alcohol might feel like they’re standing on a burning bridge, trying to figure out why it’s burning instead of just getting off the damn bridge! I spent years on that bridge while the flames were destroying me. I hated myself while also keeping up the facade that everything was fine.

    I spent at least five to seven years in this pattern—drinking Friday and Saturday at least, having extreme physical, mental, and emotional hangovers Sunday through Tuesday, beating myself up, and promising myself that I would not drink the next weekend.

    I would feel so firm about that decision until Wednesday night, when I convinced myself that I was not that bad, that I didn’t need to stop, that I could control it, and then I’d spend Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday planning my drinking for the weekend.

    I would plan a party, a get-together, or an outing so I could say, “Well, I can’t stop drinking this weekend.” Over and over and over. I felt like I was on a torture hamster wheel, experiencing Groundhog’s Week every week for years. It was exhausting!

    I was just dumbfounded as to why I couldn’t figure this out. I am an intelligent, loving, caring woman who is not an alcoholic! I have a master’s degree, for God’s sake! Why couldn’t I keep my promises to even drink less?

    Here is how I finally did it.

    One Saturday, June 10, 2018, I was at my sister’s house, drinking, of course, even after promising myself I would keep it under control. I was probably on my second bottle of wine playing cards at around 11:00.

    My husband wanted to leave, and I didn’t want to stop. He left, and my brother-in-law drove me home around 1:00 a.m. Of course, I woke up feeling terrible. I felt like such an embarrassment, such a failure. I just wanted to take some pills that I had left over from a surgery. I almost did.

    I didn’t want to kill myself; I just wanted that day to be over so I could stop feeling so bad. I just wanted to go to sleep to stop thinking about what a miserable POS I was, but I couldn’t sleep because I was sweating and nauseous, my heart was racing, and my mind would not stop beating me up.

    My husband, who had always supported whatever I wanted to do, probably to the point of enabling, never got on me about my drinking or hangovers. He just wanted me to be happy, whatever that meant. He supported my drinking or quitting.

    He said to me that day, “Either quit drinking or be an alcoholic—you choose.”

    He was pissed, and what he said devastated me. How could he say that to me? Couldn’t he see the personal hell I was already living in—how much I was already beating myself up? How could he be so mean to someone suffering so much?

    Somehow, I got through the day of crying and anger and misery and made it to Tuesday, and guess what? I wanted to drink again the next weekend! What the hell! What is wrong with me?!?!

    All day Tuesday, June 13, and Wednesday, June 14, I had the most intense internal battle I have ever had. One voice reassuring me, “You are fine; you just slipped up. You are strong, not an alcoholic, and you can do this. Just try harder! You have a little drinking problem that you can beat. It is all about moderation management and harm reduction.”

    The other voice was pleading, “You need help!!! You can’t do this. You have been trying for years. You are getting worse. Make the misery stop! Make the call. Call the doctor. Reach out. Get out of your own head. Get help!!!”

    On Thursday, June 15, I made the scariest phone call of my life. I was sobbing when I said, “I need to make an appointment because I think I might have a drinking problem.”

    They asked me some questions, determined that I did not need to be admitted for detox, and made me an appointment in two weeks. Two weeks! How was I supposed to go that long without drinking?? I wasn’t sure I could, so I just stayed home, probably in bed, terrified about what the future held.

    Was this the right decision? Did I really need to get this extreme? Was this really necessary? How would I ever have fun and enjoy anything in life ever again without drinking? This was stupid! I was just going to cancel the appointment. I was not that bad! I didn’t think I wanted to stop. I didn’t think I’d ever be happy without drinking.

    But somehow, I made it to the appointment. I told the doctor what I was going through and that I didn’t think I was an alcoholic. I thought I had an alcohol use disorder.

    The doctor asked me, “Have you tried to stop and cut down? Have you been unable to?”

    My answer was yes.

    He said, “Call it what you want, but you are an alcoholic, and alcoholism is a progressive disease that will just get worse. You need professional help.”

    I sat there in shock, much like when my husband said that to me.

    I just said to him, “That wasn’t very nice,” and he said, “Sometimes the truth isn’t nice to hear.”

    That took me days to process. Could he have been right? Could I have been fooling myself? Could I have been in DENIAL??? What? Not me! Would I just get worse? Would I become like my father, who lost everything and eventually died from the disease? I was so confused.

    I finally came to the truth. I did have a problem. And I was physically addicted as well.

    I was a mess, and I had been for a long time. I was so dysfunctional in my relationships and with my behavior, and I was finally able to see that alcohol was killing my soul.

    All the embarrassing moments, the broken promises, and the time spent feeling horrible about myself were destroying me. I was living my own personal hell inside my brain, which I fiercely protected because I didn’t want anyone telling me I should stop drinking or judging me. I decided to take the next step.

    I signed up for outpatient therapy with group support meetings three times a week and individual therapy once a week. I like to think of this time period as when I walked out of the fog.

    All of these people, who were clearly worse than me (lol), with their DUIs, their court-ordered attendance, and their multiple relapses on heroin or opiates or alcohol, had the exact same thought processes as I had been dealing with for decades.

    I was overcome with wonder, awe, and curiosity that the addicted brain tells all of us the same lies no matter how “bad” we are, what our drug of choice is, or how bad things have gotten. We all had the same addicted voice torturing us, begging us with all types of rationalization to not stop feeding it.

    When they spoke, I felt like it was my own voice. How could this be?

    I couldn’t get enough of the metaphors (riding the craving waves or watching the clouds pass by) and the personal stories.

    I spent those six weeks completely immersed in my own recovery, much as I had spent the past ten years completely obsessed with controlling it and the previous two decades in love with drinking. Alcohol had been my lifelong obsession, bringing the best and worst of times.

    I was diagnosed with OCD and general anxiety disorder. Well, that was no surprise to me! I tried antidepressants, but they gave me brain zaps, which scared me, so I stopped. I often pondered the “chicken or the egg” question. Was I self-medicating, or did the alcohol cause these struggles? But again, the burning bridge…. What difference did it make?

    I am not overly religious and did not attend any AA meetings, but many of their sayings, which I used to think of as so cliche, really stuck with me. One is “one day at a time.”

    That became my mantra because thinking about how I was going to do holidays, weekends, parties, and vacations without drinking was impossible to even comprehend and had led me to many a relapse.

    Thinking about how much the future was going to suck without alcohol made me not give up alcohol for way too long. I just focused on one day at a time.

    Each of those sober days under my belt built up my toolbox and strength to get through another weekend, event, or vacation. I was strengthening my sober muscles every day that I didn’t drink.

    That first year was not easy. I cried, had debilitating anxiety attacks, isolated myself, and pretty much lost contact with all my friends. While I was so proud of myself and felt so much better, I was also pretty sad, lonely, and scared.

    The last five years have not been a walk in the park either. It isn’t all rainbows and unicorns now that I have stopped drinking.

    I still struggle a great deal with anxiety. I am struggling with a terrible case of an empty nest. I miss my kids so much! I miss them needing me.

    I miss the joy and anticipation I used to get from planning my next weekend, vacation, or drinking event. I have a hard time looking forward to things. I don’t have a lot of friends because I am scared everyone will just want to drink. I am not tempted to drink, just a little jealous of how much fun they are having, so I would just rather not attend.

    When I overcome the social anxiety that I medicated with alcohol and actually do attend a social event, I am glad I went, and I find it wasn’t as bad as I anticipated. But, more often than not, I decline.

    I have learned that I am an extremely sensitive and insecure person. I can be overbearing and a bit controlling. I have built a life on what others think of me, putting up this facade that everything is perfect, trying to be the perfect version of myself, and hiding all of my insecurities and obsessions with external validation.

    I am not great right now and am going to go back to counseling to deal with some of these issues. At least I can see myself more clearly.

    But I do not for one single second regret quitting drinking! I learned that I miss the anticipation of drinking more than the drinking itself. I absolutely do not miss the hangovers and beating myself up about broken promises or drunken behavior.

    I, without a doubt, would have been worse today in my addiction than I was six years ago had I not stopped. I miss the high highs but do not miss the low lows. It just isn’t worth it. The pain of stopping was better than the pain of continuing.

    I am so much more present now. I can have conversations with other people and not have it always about me or when would be a good pause to refill my glass.

    I had become pretty self-absorbed, and, while I still struggle with that, it is so much better. I can be there for people when they need me. I don’t have to plan my whole life around when I am going to be able to drink. I have learned, shockingly, that many people don’t drink. I am still amazed at how many people in a restaurant aren’t drinking. I thought everyone drank!

    I am so much better at managing my emotions and trying to always be a better version of myself. My negative self-talk, while still there, is much better. I have also gotten so much better at understanding that everyone does not see the world the way I do, and it is not my job to convince them to see it my way, as if I am always right.

    I feel I am better at stepping back, being an observer, and not living in this constant state of trying to control everything.

    I am also recently realizing that I bring chaos into my life. I have remodeled a house, sold a house, cleaned out my mom’s house, built a house, moved across the county, bought a condo, and had four different teaching jobs in the past six years. Am I trying to replace the chaos of drinking with other chaos?

    I have a long way to go in terms of being mentally healthy, but at least I can see my shortcomings a little more clearly, a little more objectively, a little less emotionally charged, and a little more rationally so that I can work on them without self-medicating.

    Most of all, I am so stinking proud of myself! I did it! I didn’t think I would ever stop drinking!

    I still have drinking dreams, especially when stressed, but they remind me how far I have come, how much work I did, how proud I am of myself, and also that I will never be cured, and that’s okay.

    While not perfect, I am absolutely a better version of myself. I can rationally see my struggles without blaming them all on alcohol, and I can try to deal with them.

    I am so grateful that I did not lose my loving, supportive family, my career that I love, or my own life to this terrible, devastating disease called alcoholism that I do accept I have. I am so proud to say that I am a recovering alcoholic.

  • One of the Softest Forms of Love

    One of the Softest Forms of Love

  • The Truth Behind Imposter Syndrome: What It’s Really About

    The Truth Behind Imposter Syndrome: What It’s Really About

    “We are who we believe we are.” ~C.S. Lewis

    Have you ever caught yourself hiding behind the term “imposter syndrome”? I know I have—more times than I’d like to admit.

    We hear the phrase so often now, and it’s almost become a catch-all for our fears, doubts, and insecurities. But what if I told you that imposter syndrome isn’t what you think it is? What if it’s something deeper that has been with you far longer than your career or the roles you play in your life?

    Let me take you on a journey that may mirror your own. It starts in a place many of us know well: childhood.

    My first taste of feeling “less than” came early, in the first grade, at a Catholic elementary school in Lawrence, Kansas.

    I remember sitting on the gray carpet in a circle with my classmates, already feeling small and unsure. A boy named AJ, whose words still echo in my mind, said, “Take off your mask.” I was too young to understand what he meant, but my insecure little heart decided it was a comment on my appearance. Was my face not good enough? Did I need a mask to hide behind?

    I was already feeling uncertain about myself when my teacher called on me to spell the word “bowl.” Such a simple word, but in that moment, it felt like an impossible challenge.

    My heart raced as I struggled to find the letters, and as the giggles of my peers filled the air, I turned fire-engine red, shrinking into myself.

    The harder I tried to hide, the redder and more embarrassed I became. I don’t remember how long it took for the teacher to move to another student, but I do remember hearing a deep message from within. The message was clear: I was “dumb…and maybe ugly.” This moment became a cornerstone in the foundation of my self-belief.

    Years later, as a junior in high school, I moved from Kansas to Cleveland. Moving across the country in the middle of high school rocked my world.

    The new school was enormous, so vast that I felt like a speck, unseen and invisible. My insecurities, which had been nurtured since that day in first grade, came flooding back.

    Wearing cut-off jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and sandals—a perfectly acceptable Kansas high school outfit—I found myself just trying to survive in this new world, where the girls dressed like they were straight out of a scene from the nineties film Clueless. I felt like I didn’t belong.

    One day in math class, the teacher, Mr. Dillon, called on me. The question was simple, but I froze. My mind went blank, overwhelmed by the pressure to fit in, to be seen by the kids in the class, and to make friends. I couldn’t speak.

    As I sat there looking at him, his words stung: “Did you even pass the third grade?”

    I wanted to disappear, to escape the burning embarrassment that filled my cheeks and the tears that welled up in my eyes.

    The classroom fell silent as his words hung in the air, and I could feel every pair of eyes on me. In that moment, all I could feel was judgment. I wanted to be noticed, but not in this way. Once again, I was “dumb,” and once again, I shrank.

    These moments, though small in the grand narrative of life, became monumental in shaping who I believed I was. I withdrew, rarely raising my hand, counting the kids in front of me, then the paragraphs in novels so I could rehearse my lines and avoid any chance of being caught off guard.

    I wouldn’t listen to the world around me; I only practiced my own words, desperately clinging to the hope that I wouldn’t expose my perceived inadequacies.

    I learned that if I raised my hand for the thing I knew, then maybe I could stay quiet for the things I didn’t. I adapted. I stayed small, blending into the background, fearful of being noticed, fearful of being labeled “dumb” once again.

    But life has a funny way of unfolding. Despite this deeply ingrained belief that I wasn’t smart enough, I found proof that I was, in fact, not dumb.

    I ended up finding success when I least expected it. Fresh out of college, I landed a sales job and, without even realizing it, became the top sales account rep in the nation. I didn’t even know there was a ranking system!

    Then, in my next role, I was named “Rookie of the Year,” again, to my surprise. It wasn’t because I had set out with grand ambitions—far from it. I was simply doing my best, without the burden of expectations or the fear of failure weighing me down.

    If I had known about these accolades ahead of time, I’m certain I would have sabotaged myself, convinced that someone like me could never achieve such success. The labels I had adopted as a child were still there, lurking in the background, ready to pull me down.

    But what I didn’t realize then is that those labels, those beliefs, were never truly mine. They were the words of others, handed to me and accepted without question. They became part of my internal belief system, shaping how I saw myself at my core.

    Recently, I had lunch with a dear friend, a woman who has built an incredible business and dedicated her life to empowering young girls. She’s someone I deeply admire. When I asked her, “What’s next for you?” she paused and said, “I know where I want to go, but imposter syndrome is holding me back.”

    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Here was a woman who had created a thriving business and positively impacted thousands of lives, yet she was still questioning herself. I had to dig deeper. When I asked her what she felt underneath, she paused again and said, “I’m a loser.”

    There it was—the truth. It wasn’t imposter syndrome at all. It was an old belief, planted in her childhood, that had never fully healed.

    She shared how she had struggled in school, how she had been held back in third grade, and how she had defied her parents’ expectations. Despite all her success, she still believed she was a “loser.”

    And isn’t that the case for so many of us? We use the term “imposter syndrome” to describe the fear of being exposed, but we hide behind old, unhealed wounds. We’re looking for ways to stay safe and avoid stepping into our true power because, deep down, we still believe the lies we were told as children.

    It’s taken nearly a decade of healing to finally understand that the labels we place on ourselves are often the very things holding us back. It’s not the opinions of others, our circumstances, or our environment—it’s our own internal belief system. This belief system, which shapes how we see ourselves at our core, is often clouded by the layers of hurt, fear, and insecurity that we’ve accumulated over the years.

    Peeling back these layers is hard work. It requires a willingness to confront the parts of ourselves that we’ve hidden away and to question the narratives we’ve accepted as truth. But beneath those layers lies our truest self—the self that is brave, smart, strong, and so much more.

    So, I ask you: Who would you be if the world hadn’t told you who they think you are? What would you do if you let go of the labels and embraced the truth of who you are at your core?

    I’ve come to forgive those who labeled me as “dumb”—for I know now that it wasn’t their truest selves speaking. It was their own layers of pain, their own insecurities, projecting onto me. And I forgive myself for believing them and for carrying their words with me for so long.

    This is a loving call to action, a call to get curious about your true self. Your soul has a purpose, and your truest self has so much to offer the world. I know it may seem like another motivational blog, but it’s so much more than that. This is me urging you to look deeper, find your truth, and don’t believe everything you think!

    Somewhere within you are beliefs that are not true, and if you release them, you can feel lighter and more open and see the abundance waiting for you. Don’t let the labels and layers hold you back any longer. Peel them away, one by one, and step into the fullness of who you are meant to be.

    You are not the beliefs that others have placed upon you. You are so much more. It’s time to stop believing your beliefs and start believing in yourself.

  • When Someone Compliments You as a Person

    When Someone Compliments You as a Person

  • How to Ease Pain and Anxiety Through Meditation

    How to Ease Pain and Anxiety Through Meditation

    “If nothing changes, nothing changes. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’re going to keep getting what you’re getting. You want change, make some.” ~Courtney C. Stevens

    If someone looked at my life when I was younger, they would think that I had it all together. I went to college to obtain my bachelor’s in psychology and social work, followed by my master’s in social work. I have always had good friendships and family relationships. I traveled regularly. I was and still am young and living my life. Little would they know that so much was brewing inside…

    The perfect storm of overachieving, perfectionism, stress, and anxiety was brewing until I developed chronic pelvic pain in college.

    As an overachiever, I had all of my homework and essays done a week before they were due because if I waited until the last minute, my anxiety would be higher than it already was. I always wrote more pages for my assignments than I needed to. I studied more than I needed to. I always did the most.

    As a perfectionist, I bawled my eyes out when I got my first 88% in my child development class. I bawled my eyes out when I got a 20 on my ACT, thinking that I wouldn’t even get into college with that score.

    Anxiety. I was a tight ball of anxiety. Always worrying, anxious, and catastrophizing, with whole-body muscle tension, trouble sleeping, and intense restlessness.

    A perfect storm.

    After graduating from my master’s program, I started working in community mental health in order to obtain my 3,000 clinical hours for my clinical social worker license.

    This whole time I was going from doctor to doctor, trying to figure out what was going on with my body. I was looking for every solution under the sun. I finally found one after working at my first job for about a year. I was so burned out, anxious, and in pain that I took a sabbatical and went to California.

    There was a clinic in California that specialized in chronic pelvic pain and anxiety. I thought, “Finally, a place that can help me.”

    This is how my meditation journey started. A journey that I now can say changed my life. I do not know where I would be without this powerful practice.

    Let me paint the picture of what the clinic looked like for you. I was in a room of about eight to ten fellow anxiety and chronic pelvic pain sufferers lying down in what looked like sleeping bags, tucked in like caterpillars in cocoons.

    The psychologist at the clinic started to teach us how to meditate.

    He started doing a guided meditation without a script and told us to focus on the feeling of “sinking” when we exhaled, the “ahhhh” feeling. Can you imagine how hard that would be if your anxiety and pain were off the charts?

    After what felt like thirty seconds of this exercise, my first thought was, “WE ARE DONE, RIGHT??? That’s all for today. Time to go!!” Being someone who was a tight ball of anxiety, with a million thoughts running through my mind, and lying there in excruciating pain, it felt like torture. I thought I was going to explode.

    The worst part was that he kept going. I do not remember how long the meditation lasted. It felt like it lasted for twelve hours when in reality we may have done ten to twenty minutes. Throughout the rest of the clinic, we kept repeating this guided meditation, and it honestly kept feeling awful.

    Through dedication and practice, it took me a year and a half, twice a day every day, to be able to do that guided meditation for forty-five minutes. I can say now that the practice of meditation saved my life and dramatically calmed down my nervous system and anxiety.

    Here are the lessons that I learned throughout my meditation journey.

    1. Start small.

    When you want to start something new or create a new habit, start small. Starting big is overwhelming; starting small feels more manageable.

    When I first started to meditate, I began with a couple of minutes and worked my way up. After a couple of months, I was able to do ten minutes, then fifteen minutes, then twenty minutes, and so on, until I could meditate for forty-five minutes and it felt like only fifteen minutes went by.

    Be compassionate with yourself if it takes a while to be able to master those first couple of minutes. Meditation is difficult when you are first starting out, as is anything you are trying in the beginning. Give yourself the grace to be a beginner, knowing that you are engaging in a powerful practice, and that already is enough.

    After putting in the work for over a year and a half, I felt calmer and more present, more able to notice my thoughts without holding onto them, and better able to sit with the sensations in my body with ease.

    2. Long-lasting consistency is key for any change you want to make in life.

    Trust me, I struggled with consistency for a very long time. I would try out something new for three to four days, and after that time, I would say, “Oh, well, this doesn’t work” and stop doing the thing. I didn’t give the technique time for it to work.

    I realized that was the part of me that was impatient and wanted instant gratification and results. I would always tell clients that I worked with, “Trust me, if I had a magic pill that would take away all of your problems, I would give you one and then myself one. Then I would live on a private island and have my own personal dolphin to play with.” Wouldn’t that be cool if life worked that way?

    This was a cycle for me that lasted a very long time. It takes a little over two months to create a habit. Once I started to see the effects of meditation, I made sure to make it a daily lifestyle habit, something that I do for my physical and mental health.

    3. Change is uncomfortable. Meditation was and still is comfortable.

    Change sucks. Learning something new sucks. I also learned that in that moment, I could do something that was going to be hard and in the end be helpful, or I could stay stuck. I had a choice, and I knew that I could not stay stuck in super high levels of anxiety and chronic pain. I knew something needed to change despite feeling uncomfortable.

    “Life is the difference between what hurts and what hurts more.” ~Nicole Sachs, LCSW.

    Meditation was SO uncomfortable in the beginning. My brain felt like a game of ping pong with so many thoughts and sensations going on in my body. I had a really hard time focusing on the sinking feeling of my body during meditation because I became distracted with anxious thoughts and pain. Over time, it became easier until I was able to just focus on the sinking sensation or my breath. As with anything in life, practice makes progress.

    I do not meditate for forty-five minutes anymore. I use the Calm app and do the daily meditation for ten minutes. There are days that focusing on my breath is still challenging because of anxiety, pain, or the thoughts running through my mind.

    As with life, there are moments where days are harder and easier. What has helped me is to accept whatever is happening in the moment, which also takes practice. I have created compassion for myself when meditation feels harder for me. No judgment. I am human.

    4. You cannot run away from your mind and body.

    What I learned from my meditation practice is that you cannot run away from what is happening inside your mind and body. Your mind and body will keep giving you a thought or sensation until you are fully able to sit with it and accept it in the moment rather than sweeping it under the rug because it feels uncomfortable or scary.

    It is uncomfortable and scary. By running away from it, it’s also reinforcing the pattern and showing your brain and nervous system that the thought or sensation in your body is a threat.

    During my meditation practice, I had to sit with whatever was happening in my body: intense pain, tightness in my chest, queasiness in my stomach, “what if” thoughts in my mind, tightness in areas of my body—you name it. I had to feel all of it.

    At first, I hated it and it was terrible, but then it became easier. I had to learn to accept my body and its protection, because that is what it was doing. That acceptance turned into compassion, which turned into reduced symptoms.

    Your body and brain will keep giving you symptoms until you have processed them, accepted them, and turned off the danger signals.

    As with anything that you do, it will get easier with time and practice!

    I want to add a caveat that if you are having chronic pain, please consult a medical professional to rule out anything structurally happening with your body. I had every test and scan done under the sun, and my body was and still is normal, physically. Also, with anxiety, if you need support, there are many wonderful places to receive it, whether through therapy or online forums.

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  • Let Your Tears Flow: The Proven Benefits of Crying

    Let Your Tears Flow: The Proven Benefits of Crying

    “Crying is not a sign of weakness, it’s a courageous expression of emotions that leads to strength.” ~Unknown

    When was the last time you cried? Tears are often seen as a sign of weakness, but for me, they are a powerful guide that helps me recognize and understand my feelings. In a society that frequently suppresses emotions, I want to share my journey with tears and encourage you to reflect on your own experiences.

    The Change in My Relationship with Tears

    Sometimes, I like to cry. During my studies, I hardly ever cried sober and was proud of it. I attributed the nighttime tears to alcohol and suppressed them.

    The cause of my sadness was a stressful on-off situation with a man who emotionally drained me. This relationship was a constant up and down, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Rather than allowing my emotions, I often ignored them and hid behind my studies and social life. Looking back, I realize that this suppression was more harmful than helpful in the long run.

    Allowing Emotions

    Today, I cry much more often, and usually sober. In recent weeks, I have shed some tears and then wondered how other people deal with theirs. Have you also had such a strange relationship with your tears? It amazes me that a few years ago I was ashamed of them—and that sometimes I still am. However, in recent months I have clearly felt how powerful tears can be and how much they help me recognize and regulate my own feelings.

    Tears are not just a sign of grief or pain; they are an important part of our emotional lives and help us cope with difficult situations. Today, I see tears as a valuable tool to better understand and heal myself.

    Societal Expectations and Pressure

    In our fast-paced world, it is often difficult to recognize how you really feel. When you are angry or sad at work, for example, it seems easier to suppress these emotions in the stressful office environment than to allow them and possibly break down in tears in front of colleagues or the boss. After all, no one wants to be labeled as hysterical or not to be taken seriously. Can’t she control her feelings? Get a grip!

    And, of course, it’s not just your image that suffers: Many colleagues or supervisors likely don’t know how to deal with tears and would be completely overwhelmed. What do they do then? An awkward pat on the shoulder or an “It will be alright” while they glance at the clock, wondering how long this emotional interlude will last—can you just leave the crying person sitting there?

    I know this article may sound a bit harsh. But that was my view of tears in adulthood: They shouldn’t be there. But who says we always have to function perfectly?

    Suppressing emotions can be harmful in the long run. It can lead to increased stress, anxiety, and even depression. People who constantly suppress their feelings can also develop physical symptoms like headaches, stomach problems, and sleep disorders. Ignoring your emotional needs can significantly impair your mental health and overall well-being over time.

    Experiences of Other People

    Out of curiosity, in recent months, I have asked various people: When was the last time you cried? The responses I received included:

    • Fifteen years ago.
    • I can’t remember.
    • Last month.
    • Yesterday
    • Last week.
    • This morning.

    The first three answers came from men, and the last three from women. This supports what studies have been saying for years: Women cry more often than men.

    According to research by Vingerhoets and Scheirs, women cry on average five times more frequently than men. It is interesting to speculate whether the more frequent association of tears with femininity is the reason why they are often seen as weak and negative. Typically patriarchal: Everything associated with femininity and emotionality is initially considered weaker and less desirable. This may sound like a bold thesis, but forgive me—sometimes you just have to speak plainly.

    I still feel frustration and anger that I suppressed my tears for so long and didn’t take them seriously. Tears have their place and significance in our emotional lives—it’s about time we acknowledge that.

    Tears as Signs and Guides

    Today, my tears show me the way. When I feel the urge to cry for no apparent reason, I’ve learned to pause and reflect. I have found that there is always something behind my tears, and that they don’t just come for no reason.

    I wish I had known that as a young student because the man who caused my tears back then eventually cheated on me, leading to even more heartache. This experience taught me two important lessons: No more on-off relationships for me, and that I should simply be more honest with my feelings.

    Recognizing the Need for Action

    In situations where I am completely overwhelmed, my body sometimes reacts with tears. Recently, a disrespectful and humiliating encounter brought spontaneous tears to my eyes. This reaction surprised me because, at twenty-eight years old and with diverse experiences, I didn’t expect a condescending comment to trigger such strong emotions.

    The context was crucial: Other people were present, which added to my humiliation, and the comment came totally unexpectedly. This strong discrepancy between my perception and the harsh treatment by the other person threw me completely off balance. My body reacted with tears to compensate for the shock.

    I managed to escape to a quiet room in time to avoid breaking down in front of the whole group. The tears were short-lived but signaled unmistakably: This is the limit, and I am definitely over it!

    This experience also showed me that there are still unresolved issues within me that I need to address. A few months ago, I would probably have reacted differently and suppressed my emotions. Perhaps I would have stayed in a harmful situation—like my nearly year-long on-off relationship with said ex, who was apparently just as good at apologizing as I was at suppressing.

    Tears help me recognize that something is wrong, and that action is needed. Fortunately, I now listen to them, try to change situations, and if that’s not possible, I leave them.

    Regulating Emotions Through Crying

    Tears also help with emotion regulation. After I cry, I feel better: freer and relieved. Admittedly, I also look significantly worse with my red, swollen eyes. But I feel like tears help me tidy up. They wash away everything I no longer need. And for that, I gladly accept a bit of smeared mascara.

    Scientific studies have shown that crying can actually reduce stress hormones. Tears contain, among other things, cortisol, a stress hormone, whose excretion through crying can contribute to stress reduction. Additionally, crying can activate the parasympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for relaxation and recovery.

    Crying in Front of Others

    When was the last time you cried in front of others?

    Honestly, I still find it difficult to do this, but I am learning. It’s uncomfortable when others cannot handle the tears, but tears are not bad. They are part of our shared human experience and often lead to deeper understanding and connection. A sense of security probably needs to exist for this. I haven’t often cried in front of others and found it truly liberating.

    Last year in the summer, however, I had an emotional rollercoaster ride. First, I was at my grandmother’s funeral. Immediately afterward, I went to a very cool but exhausting four-day festival, where I received a painful rejection from someone I really liked. Additionally, I returned to Germany from a seven-month solo trip and was jobless and somewhat aimless. On the day of my return, I met with my closest friends in the evening and completely broke down.

    Those tears, dear people, were the most healing thing that could have happened to me at that moment. All my friends also had tears in their eyes, held me tight, and gave me the space and time I needed. From that point on, things started to improve, and I felt a new sense of security that, no matter how difficult things get or how deeply I fall, I am not alone.

    The Strength and Meaning of Tears

    That’s why I don’t want anyone to be ashamed of their tears. Tears have a reason, whether we are sad, overwhelmed, angry, or incredibly happy. It is unfortunate that tears are often viewed negatively. I believe it takes true strength to allow them and to find out what message they want to convey to us.

    Tears are like little messengers of our soul. Look closer. What might they want to tell you? What are they drawing your attention to? And what might it mean if you haven’t cried for a very long time? What is your relationship with your tears? I invite you to explore this with me—share your thoughts in the comments. I would love to hear your reflections and stories.

  • As You Heal, Things Become Clear

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