Tag: wisdom
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A Message for Those Who Feel Lost and Are Looking for Answers
“Wherever you go, there you are.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn
On June 24th I got in a cab at the corner of 72nd and Broadway headed to JFK, hauling two huge suitcases full of medications, bug spray, sunscreen, gluten-free foods, a bug tent (really), and cheap cotton clothing.
I checked in, made my way to the gate, and embarked on a twenty-four-hour flight to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam.
Months of confusion and identity crisis brought me here.
Almost a full year ago, after returning from performing with a national tour that ended up being a lot less fun than I’d dreamed and having a foot surgery right after, thanks to a doctor who made just a little mistake, I decided I wanted to try going off of Zoloft. I had been on it for the better part of six years to help with anxiety and depression.
This marked the beginning of what I am now referring to as my “quarter-life crisis.”
I started working with a life coach, began a dedicated daily meditation practice, joined a yoga studio, broke up with my boyfriend of three years, and read Brené Brown, Mark Nepo, Tara Brach, and Byron Katie.
I went to a million and one auditions, suffered some major loneliness and isolation living in a studio apartment in a Manhattan winter, began letting my ex-boyfriend back into my life, and after several months of this, working so hard to keep myself afloat, I felt 100% lost.
I began asking hard questions, like “Why are you in showbiz? Are you just trying to prove something? Was this ever what you really wanted to do? Do you even like New York anymore?”
I sat in my apartment and ruminated, oscillating between feeling God profoundly (life is beautiful! Look—God is in that steam coming out of your humidifier!) and feeling painfully hopeless.
On one of my few gigs last spring, I was chatting with the make-up artist about her travels to Southeast Asia the previous summer.
She told me about the nonprofit organization she taught English with. Before she went to Vietnam, she felt uninspired and “over it”; after, she felt like a new person. A light went off inside—maybe this is what I need to do!
In May I applied, and within weeks I had been interviewed and invited to join the trip to Duc Linh, a rural region about 100 miles northeast of Ho Chi Minh City. I had five weeks to make up my mind, get my act together, and either board the plane or not.
I was terrified, but I said yes. I hoped that this trip would bring me some answers and force me to grow in the ways I needed to in order to make it through this no-mans-land of confusion, and into the next chapter of my life.
Duc Linh was nothing like I imagined and nothing like described. I taught English to a group of teenagers and some adults, and spent afternoons playing with little kids of all ages. They absolutely embraced me; it was unconditional love at first sight.
I felt simultaneously alone and isolated there, as well as overwhelmed by human interaction. The kids would yell “LOW-RAH!” as I walked by, run up to me, adorn me with flowers, touch my clothes, touch my hair, touch my armpits, and hold my hand, all while chattering away in Vietnamese.
I kept a blog and drafted posts that I assumed I would fully write and publish in a week or two, once I had learned some amazing, life-changing, clarifying lessons.
I couldn’t wait for several Oprah-worthy “aha!” moments. Those drafts remain drafts, and the “aha” moments came in smaller, less expected ways.
There was no “Aha! I want to be a (insert amazing profession that totally makes sense and clearly was my calling all this time)!”
It was more like “Aha! I can ride on the back of a bike with a fifteen-year-old kid who doesn’t speak my language, have no idea where we are going, and have an amazing adventure in a rambutan garden!”
Or, “Aha! I can become ‘big sister’ to a little girl and boy (Chi and Bao) without having a single conversation.”
And, probably the biggest one, “Aha! You are enough just as you are. They don’t care that the National Anthem you sang for them on the Fourth of July was totally off-key and had some improvised lyrics; they don’t care that you are a sweaty, frizzy mess; they don’t even care that you can’t speak their language: they love you just for being here.”
For the first time in my privileged life, I was exposed to an impoverished world, to kids who had no idea what the heck I was talking about when I said “Broadway!?” and who looked at photos of Central Park and said “Wow! It’s like a resort!”
They wore the same clothes every day and played outside barefoot in the dirt. They slept in houses with tin or straw roofs and anywhere from one to four walls.
But they were happy. They were beautiful, and giving, and constantly smiling. I realized that the things I thought were important and necessary were not. I realized that the first world doesn’t hold the key to happiness anymore than the third world does.
My concerns in Vietnam were much more immediate than my American QLC (Quarter Life Crisis) concerns.
I recalled my QLC problems and thought man, what a luxury to be able to think about that nonsense! If I had a working shower and a bed and a quiet space, I would be perfectly happy!
After spending a month in Vietnam, I became completely amazed at the life I live.
In Man’s Search for Meaning Viktor Frankl writes, “A man’s suffering is similar to the behavior of gas. If a certain quantity of gas is pumped into an empty chamber, it will fill the chamber completely and evenly, no matter how big the chamber. Thus suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore the ‘size’ of human suffering is absolutely relative.”
When I first returned from Vietnam I was overwhelmed with gratitude for my life, but over time the normal anxieties crept back in.
The confusion I experienced before I left Vietnam was still there, waiting for me in my apartment on 72nd and Broadway, saying, “What, you think you can just leave me here all summer and I would move out?”
Before I left for Vietnam, I had a great plan of how the following months would play out. I would learn a lot, grow heaps, and hopefully figure out my life purpose over the course of the month spent there (so reasonable).
Afterward, I would return to the city a new woman with new dreams and plans and a clear sense of purpose and direction. I would write a captivating article all about my transformation and it would be inspiring, motivational, and amazing.
Everything in my life up to that point would make sense, and I would look back on the last few years and say, “Ahhh, I see why all that happened. It was all to bring me here to this amazing place of self-actualization and peace.”
Alas, there is no amazing conclusion, no way to tie this piece with a clarifying bow.
Of all the lessons learned this summer, the greatest one may be “Wherever you go, there you are.”
I’m still here, confused, and lost and scared—but maybe that’s okay.
Maybe all we can do is be where we are, do our best, and go out on a few limbs, not for the sake of finding answers, but for the sake of fully living.
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Letting Go and Enjoying Annoying Situations
“Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny.” ~Steven Pressfield
This week I had the pleasure of waiting in a queue. Now, that is not normally something that I would be able to say, as I’m not the most patient woman.
The queue was for the immigration department in Chiang Mai, Thailand—a busy place full of people who were stressed because they were unsure about where to get a number for their place in the queue, unsure if they had the right paperwork, unsure of how long the process would take, and unsure if their right to stay in the country would be extended.
Friends had warned me that I might be sitting in that crowded room for hours, so I had come prepared with postcards to write and a notepad to write my next newsletter. I did neither of those things.
Instead, I sat on the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs, observed the people around me, and observed myself. I watched people get grumpy and impatient. I watched the staff trying to do their job well while dealing with grumpy and impatient people.
I watched myself getting nervous about whether I had all of the documents that I would need to get my extension.
I watched myself getting impatient as the staff didn’t call the first number in the queue so that processing of applications could begin, right on the dot at 8.30AM. I was number fifteen.
I watched myself itching to ask the first person processed how long they would now have to wait for their passport to be stamped and returned to them.
Then I made a decision. None of this really mattered. Perhaps I would have to come back again if I had the wrong documents. Perhaps the queue would move at a crawl. Perhaps I would have to wait a long time to actually get my passport back. Perhaps I wouldn’t get an extension at all.
None of these things were inside my control, so I made the decision to let it all go. To sit quietly. To enjoy the time not doing anything “constructive.” To let my mind wander. To have a brief conversation with the family next to me, the kind you have when you don’t speak much Thai and they don’t speak much English but you understand each other perfectly.
My decision turned a stressful experience into a relaxing and, dare I say, enjoyable one. I even played a game with myself to guess the time that I would be able to leave. I guessed 10:00AM. I left at 9.55. Not bad at all!
This experience showed me that there is a massive difference in how I feel when I deliberately choose to view a situation in a different way.
I know that in the past in situations like this I wasn’t even aware that I had a choice as to how I felt. It’s taken some hard lessons and a growth in awareness to realize just how much influence I can have over my own feelings.
It turned out that the Universe had a reason for keeping me in that queue for as long as it did. As I was cycling back to the countryside, where I volunteer at a dog shelter, I came across a puppy in the middle of the road.
Five minutes either side of that moment and I might have missed the puppy or, worse still, have come across a tragedy on that busy country road.
I was able to get close enough to pick him up. I then had a dilemma; how would I get him back to the shelter, which was an hour’s walk away on a sweltering hot day?
Using my well-rested and relaxed brain, I came up with a solution. I emptied the contents of my bike’s basket into a bag I fashioned out of what I had, and then tied the puppy up in a spare shirt so he couldn’t wiggle about. Into the basket he went.
He sat in that basket the whole bumpy ride back to the shelter with the calmness of one who knew that this situation was outside of his control. He is now taken care of and was adopted after only nine days in the shelter.
The lesson I learned is that we always have a choice about how we feel about a situation. Even if we initially react poorly, we still have the power to change what we think and do next. It’s simply a matter of changing what is going on internally and making a conscious decision.
This week I’m grateful that I had the pleasure of waiting in a queue.
Woman in a waiting room image via Shutterstock
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Being Grateful for the Ordinary: The Life We Have Is Enough
“If we do not feel grateful for what we already have, what makes us think we’d be happy with more?” ~Unknown
From time to time during my schooling years I’d be asked to identify my role models. I always chose someone who’d changed the world in a big way—Martin Luther King Jnr, Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Gandhi.
I never looked within my own life for role models. I had lovely parents and great teachers, and still, I was always looking well beyond what was right in front of me. I was always striving for something more, out there, beyond my own life.
As I reflect back, I see the dissatisfaction that this bred. I see how little I valued myself and by extension, my immediate surroundings. Somehow it all seemed… not good enough.
People and experiences that were far away from my hometown seemed so much more important and exciting.
It wasn’t until I started keeping a gratitude journal that this really began to change. I started the journal because I was depressed. Not sad—can’t-get-out-of-bed-or-even-talk-to-anyone depressed.
It would hit me on and off over the years, and the only coping mechanism I had at the time was to hide in my bedroom and breathe through the long and agonizing hours, waiting for it to pass.
A gratitude journal was the first tool I had to help me shift the fog. I would start very simply with the breath. I’d express gratitude that there was breath in my body (although at times I wasn’t even grateful for that).
Then I’d be grateful that I had a home and a bed to rest in while I recovered. I would then build from there in an attempt to find at least five things I was grateful for that day.
I wrote in that gratitude journal for a good couple of years before I started to see significant shifts in my perception of life. It was a slow and gradual process, but with each list I subtly turned my focus away from the world outside and toward my own life. Eventually, I turned my focus within.
As I began to value myself and my life more deeply, I also valued those around me more. I stopped judging them or dismissing them as unimportant.
I stopped thinking that there might be better people to be spending my time with or emulating, and I started appreciating the people who were right in front of me.
Eventually, that brought me to appreciate my favorite role models of all time; a small handful of yoga students that I used to teach in an outdoor space by the ocean each Friday morning.
The students were all women and they were all over the age of fifty.
Although I’m sure they had very full lives and many reasons not to get out of their comfortable beds each Friday morning to do yoga, they would show up week after week, no matter the weather.
Some had injuries, some were recovering from illness and some were simply not as strong as they once were. It was this fact that most impressed me.
When you’re young and ably bodied, it’s not overly challenging to do something like yoga. Your body is reasonably supple and your muscle tone hasn’t atrophied with the passing of time. As you age, it’s easier to find excuses—arthritis or a bad hip, the onset of an illness, or injuries in your back or knees.
There’s a saying in yoga that the most difficult part of the practice is doing the practice. I’ve often found this to be true in my own life. It’s even more challenging when it’s dark outside and rainy and cold, and the alternative of staying in bed is right there in front of you.
But here were these women—perfectly ordinary, everyday women—making choices that made them extraordinary.
Every week they were the embodiment of the wisdom I’d learned through my gratitude journal; that with persistence and in small gentle steps, lives are transformed.
Those beautiful students came every week on faith and on trust. They worked hard to build upper body strength and flexibility.
I saw each of them giving it their all, and although I didn’t know them outside of the classroom, I knew that they understood the value of commitment, the value of continuing even when things are tough, and most of all, I knew that they were brave.
After class I would watch them swim in the ocean (no matter the season). They would swim and then they’d have breakfast together. Over breakfast they’d share stories about their lives.
Watching them, I realized something else about these women. They were women who knew how to build community around them. They weren’t isolated and lonely; they were a part of something.
They’d found a place to come together, to connect with themselves, to connect with nature, and to connect with each other.
In witnessing the simplicity and authenticity of this weekly ritual, I felt a deep gratitude that I’d been privileged enough to be both participant and witness.
I realized too that my gratitude journaling days had come full circle. That gratitude was no longer something I needed to draw from the depths of my being as a means of abating depression, but was instead a living, breathing everyday experience.
And in that moment there stopped being somewhere to go and someone to admire who was better, more accomplished, more intelligent, or more influential than me. There was, quite simply, the world and every living being within it.
All teaching through their actions and all learning through their interactions. All role models to one another and for one another. In that moment there was no separation and no isolation. There was only oneness, and it was all home.
Taking steps toward change can be so much simpler than we realize. We can start by noticing what’s around us and finding something to be grateful for in that.
We can stop looking far away for role models in the recognition that we’re surrounded by teachers everyday, and they’re showing up as our friends, family members, colleagues, and neighbours.
We can stop trying to force change to occur immediately and relax into the realization that change occurs through repetition and commitment—by continuing a practice (such as a gratitude journal) even when we’re not sure if it’s making a difference.
And we can remind ourselves that we always have a choice. We can choose to be a victim of our life circumstances or we can choose to build on what we have right in front of us.
My students could easily have stayed home, focusing on what their bodies could no longer do and what they felt they’d lost.
Instead, they chose what they could do. They could show up. They could build community. And in so doing they declared in actions rather than words, “We are enough. This life is enough and we are grateful.”
I couldn’t think of a more appropriate prayer to guide us each and every day.
Woman with open arms image via Shutterstock
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You Are Not Your Thoughts and Feelings, and They Don’t Have to Bring You Down
“Give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. ” ~Reinhold Niebuhr
Think about the future! Don’t do something you’ll regret! You need to plan for tomorrow! I wish I hadn’t done that! Will things ever work out? Why did they do that? Will I ever find happiness? Why has life made me the way I am? What’s wrong with me?
Around and around it went inside my mind, a never-ending internal conversation full of questions and uncertainties—the not knowing driving me insane and the desperation increasing every day. I must be able to resolve this, I thought. I need answers. I was overwhelmed by questions, uncertainty, indecision, paralysis, and fear.
I couldn’t hold on to jobs or relationships. I became depressed, hurt the people I loved, and coped with it all by losing myself in drink and drugs. I was either reckless or petrified. I couldn’t communicate for fear of saying the wrong thing, but I desperately wanted to tell someone.
The truth is I felt liberated when I couldn’t think. When the internal conversation was either struck dumb or so garbled I could laugh it off, I had some sort of respite.
Later I would learn that I was self medicating for a generalized anxiety disorder but, at the time, I just knew that being out of my mind was preferable to being in it.
Change Is Possible When We Act Mindfully
I was extremely lucky. I live in a society that has within it people who understand and services that give support. Most importantly, I have an incredible family and true friends.
When I needed it, was ready to make a change, and able to accept responsibility for my own behavior, my recovery began.
During my recovery I was taught and used a behavioral model called Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (or ACT.) This is based upon three basic concepts:
Acceptance
I learned to foster greater acceptance for my own thoughts and feelings, other people, events beyond my control, and the beliefs I held at any given moment. By doing so I was able to break away from my preoccupation with anxiety and focus upon my recovery.
Commitment
I committed to change—to focus upon moving toward the things that really mattered in my life and to travel through the spiral of change on my own journey of recovery.
Behavior
I changed my behavior through mindfulness. I learned that regardless of my circumstances or the thoughts that colored my perception, my behavior could either move me away or toward the things that mattered to me. I had a choice. Not necessarily an easy choice, but a choice nonetheless.
The Importance of Just Being
I was one of the many with an addiction who had learned to act mindlessly. This is not to say that my behavior was without reason. Far from it.
I always had good reasons to get wasted. I was feeling anxious and told myself I couldn’t cope, or I was angry and couldn’t see the point, or I was happy and felt like celebrating. In fact, I had an inexhaustible supply of reasons.
I had learned a coping strategy that enabled me to manage my condition. Just like learning to drive or making coffee in the morning, I behaved on autopilot, without awareness of my own behavior.
There’s nothing wrong with this psychological process. It’s an important part of being able to function. If every time you got behind the wheel or wanted a coffee you had to consciously relearn the process, your day would soon become totally unmanageable.
Autopilot behavior like this is learned by repetition and sits in our subconscious, ready to be put into action when we need it. This is fine as long as the behavior benefits us and moves us toward the things that we need. Like driving us to work.
The problem comes when the behavior not only takes us away from the things we value but also starts to create more problems than it solves.
This was the nature of my addiction. Beyond the physical dependency (brutal but relatively short lived through medical detox), I discovered that my sense of self had been replaced by a yearning to be someone or something else. Something not me. Not me at all.
I’d developed an obsession with wanting to become—become free from anxiety; become a more interesting person; become relaxed; become fulfilled; become happy.
It was my desperation to change that led me to stay the same for ten years.
How Living In The Now Changes Everything
Acting mindfully and being aware of the now changed everything for me. As Eckhart Tolle so wisely wrote, “…the past gives you an identity and the future holds the promise of salvation, of fulfillment in whatever form. Both are illusions.”
I discovered that I am not who I think I am.
My thoughts are my own but they do not describe me. Because I think or feel anxious, that doesn’t mean that I am anxious. It means I am experiencing the symptoms of anxiety, not that I am anxiety.
If I am aware of now, then I notice these symptoms as they elevate my heart rate, dry my mouth, place intrusive thoughts in my mind, and push me toward “fight or flight response.”
By noticing these sensations, I can be an observer of them and no longer a slave to them. I choose to identify them and give them a name. I choose to look at them in their stupid faces. Yes, it’s uncomfortable, but I have learned to be comfortable with feeling uncomfortable.
I do not need to compensate for the things I feel or believe because they are simply thoughts and sensations that cannot harm me.
If we are self-aware and mindful of behavior, then we can exercise choice over what we do right now. We can act not in response to the pressure of our thoughts and feelings, but because we are aware of what we value.
Noticing is key. If we don’t notice what’s happening, then we can’t have a choice over how we respond to those things (whatever they may be).
If I go to a room I’ve never been in before, open the door, and meet a person I’ve never met before who then tells me that I look ugly, I will have an emotional response. I can no more control those circumstances or my emotional response than I can the orbit of the planets.
By noticing my reaction, I can accept my thoughts, feelings, and the reality of my situation. If I don’t, I will probably just react to the way I feel. Perhaps I’ll cry, shout abuse, or even take a substance to “help me calm down.” However, if I am aware and I notice what’s going on for me, then I have another option.
I can pause before I act. I can choose my behavior based upon my awareness of both the situation and what matters to me.
I have let go of trying to change the way I feel, and of trying to become something or someone else. I am simply living in the now, and I know that only my behavior shapes my destiny, regardless of my thoughts.
I am aware of my behavior and I can control it; and, in doing so, I am living my life with purpose.
If like me, you have struggled or are currently struggling with anxiety, mindfulness could help you, as well. You are not your thoughts, beliefs, and feelings. You don’t need to try so hard to control them; you just need to accept them and come into the present moment so you can control what you do.
Woman in tree pose image via Shutterstock
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How to Get Through Hard Times by Throwing Yourself into a Hobby
“Almost everything comes from nothing.” ~Henri F. Amiel
There are uncountable ways to deal with difficult times in life. Some people turn to prayer or meditation, others open their hearts in therapy or to friends, and many choose to hide from the pain by eating their weight in chocolate or purchasing expensive bags; to each their own. I have a different approach: crafting.
When I’ve gone through difficult times in life—depression, unemployment, relationship problems—I have often turned to craft projects. For a long time, I didn’t think much about it, but eventually I realized how much it has honestly helped me.
When I went through a serious bout of depression, combined with unemployment, I started to participate in craft swaps on an Internet forum.
Part of what helped was certainly the communication and fellowship with my swap partners. Isolation breeds unhappiness, and making things to another person’s tastes requires getting to know them, which is an effective antidote to isolation.
But a lot of what helped was the crafting itself—making things with my own two hands, planning projects, and so on.
When I was at my lowest and most frustrated, when I was writing yet another cover letter for a job I wasn’t quite sure I even wanted, the promise and plans of creation got me out of bed and into my day. It was something to look forward to when I did not have much else going for me.
But honestly, that’s something I could have gotten from almost any hobby or activity. Hell, a television show with eight seasons on Netflix can give me something to look forward to. Crafting gave me something more: healing.
How the heck did crafting heal me?
It gave me something else to think about. Rather than focusing on my own feelings and situation, I focused on picking patterns, selecting supplies from my stash, and then making things.
It was productive. There is something healing about creating something from raw materials—wool into felt, yarn into crochet, fabric into quilted bags.
It brought a confidence boost. When I felt like crap, it was easy to feel like I had no control over anything, but making something proves that, at the very least, I have control over craft supplies. It may not sound like much, but it’s a start.
It’s a sort of movement meditation. The repetitive actions of certain crafts can bring about a sort of clarity and calm, which is certainly helpful under any stressful circumstances.
It got creativity going again. When I was going through a crappy patch, I needed out of the box thinking in order to get through it. That means creativity, and crocheting vampires and embroidering pumpkins can be the first step to loosening the neural pathways.
So how can this help you?
Is there anything you enjoy doing with your hands? Whether it’s painting, sewing, crochet, embroidery, fishing, origami, woodworking, painting miniatures, or any other handicraft, it’s worth re-introducing it into your life.
If you’ve never had a hands-on hobby like that, pick something interesting and try it out. Wander around a craft store until you see something you like, or search for how-to kits on Etsy. Ask that friend who’s obsessed with Robin Hood to take you with next time he goes to the archery range, or see if your local community center offers a shop class.
Learning something new can be even more absorbing than doing something you already know. The only limit I suggest is that you find something with a physical component. While I adore cerebral activities like writing, they have a different set of benefits.
Let yourself be absorbed by it. It’s okay to become obsessed, to spend your lunch breaks and your after-work time pondering and planning for the next time you can pick up your project. In fact, that is part of the point.
If you’re fixated on making a sweater or tying a fishing lure, then you are not obsessing over everything that is wrong with your life.
Chasing those same thoughts around in circles will not help you solve anything, but breaking out of them to do something else can provide a much needed change of perspective. That change of perspective may well show you the way out (and even if it doesn’t, it’s less time that you’ve spent being miserable).
As coping mechanisms go, hobbies are a healthy one. They are inherently creative, never destructive (even fishing creates something: dinner). When you’re in a tough spot, you need to build a new life, not tear yourself down.
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Rekindle Your Joy by Harnessing the Power of Play
“It is a happy talent to know how to play.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
It was one of those weeks that felt like I was dragging my feet through mud. Everything seemed like an effort and nothing seemed to be flowing.
I was caught up in conflicts from the past—a miscommunication with my boyfriend, which resulted in hurt feelings on both sides, and a professional crisis that plunged me into fear and self-doubt.
In an attempt to calm my mind and become more present, I meditated and chanted mantras, but the tape of negative self-talk continued to play in my head. It berated me for not handling both situations better and made me feel like I was not measuring up.
A cloud of depression began to hover at the edges of my psyche, threatening to block me from the sunlight of the spirit. I was a captive to thoughts of inferiority. Self-compassion seemed like a far off destination I would never reach.
I live in a beautiful part of Mexico, but even the warm tropical air wasn’t enough to bring me out of my mental slump.
Then, my sister came to visit from the states, having taken a long weekend off from work. It was a great diversion and I knew just the place to take her. We drove to a secluded beach on the Pacific coast to spend the day.
When we arrived, we saw that the usually calm ocean had been churned up by a distant storm. Waves crashed violently upon the shore and a steady wind whipped against our cheeks.
I took to the water anyway. I wasn’t brave enough to tackle the hulking waves but waded into the shallow white wash. It swirled around me like a natural Jacuzzi. The changing tides threatened to destabilize my footing, so I crouched down to avoid toppling over like a bowling pin.
Releasing control, I was moved by the push and pull of the current. At one point, a large wave hit further out, sending the tide rushing in. It spun me around like laundry in a machine. A hearty laugh escaped from my lungs as I tumbled around in nature’s whirlpool, completely present in the moment.
It washed me up on the shore like a happy seal and I whooped with the simple joy of it. My hair was tangled with sand and salt and my swimsuit twisted around me. My sister sat calmly on the shore and, seeing my dishevelled state, laughed along with me before joining me in the water.
We giggled heartily as we played in the shallows like children. I bodysurfed the whitewash of the waves with my arms outstretched, allowing the water to carry me like a twig. In that moment, nothing existed except the water and the shrieks of joy that erupted from within me.
The joy that had eluded me for the last week had been inadvertently tapped into by the power of play.
Sometimes even the most disciplined spiritual practice is not enough to provide the shift we need, and that’s where play becomes an important part of our lives.
We need only look at a young child playing in mud or a puppy fetching a stick to recognize the power of play. It is a healing practice that returns us to our innocence and brings us into the present moment; no chanting required.
As children we relished the power of playfulness and saw life as one big game to participate in. We threw our whole selves into tumbling down grassy hillsides or playing tag rather than spending time in our heads worrying and planning.
As adults we often forget that play still needs to be part of our lives. No matter how old we are, it is possible to return to that place of pure joy that exists within us.
It may require some extra effort on our part to make time for play, but it is worth it for the mental and physical benefits.
Here are five simple ways to harness the power of play in your daily life and rekindle your joy:
1. Get into the woods.
The woods make a wonderful playground, and spending time in nature is hugely therapeutic. Stomp through piles of crisp fall leaves and throw them into the air like natural confetti. Climb a tree and re-ignite your child-like wonderment.
If you really want to access your joy, play a game of “hide and go seek” among the trees with a friend. You will be surprised how much fun this game can be as an adult.
2. Play ball.
Play ball, any kind of ball! Whether a game of tennis, soccer, or shooting hoops, the mind-body connection required for ball sports is sure to relieve stress and shift negative thought patterns. Visit your local driving range to hit golf balls. Even if you’ve never golfed before, this can be super fun.
3. Dance up a storm.
One of my favorite ways to play is to put on music and dance around my house. Dance in your bedroom, in the kitchen, or in the backyard, with or without other people around. In fact, dancing alone like no one is watching provides a massive release of endorphins which is great for the mind, body and spirit.
4. Host a game night.
Next time your friends want to get together, why not host a game night instead of going to a bar or restaurant? Games like charades Pictionary or even the classic Twister bring out the playful side of even the most serious adults.
5. Visit your local park.
Visiting your local park is one of the simplest pathways to play. Swing on a swing, slide down a slide, and if there is a grassy hill that takes your interest, roll down it! Just because you are an adult doesn’t mean you have to give up your favorite childhood activities.
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We can all harness the power of play to access the ever-present joy within us. Making time for play in our lives between work, relationships, and other commitments can relieve stress, transform negative thinking into spontaneous laughter, and may just be the greatest gift we ever give ourselves.
Kids running image via Shutterstock
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We Are All People Who Need People
“But first be a person who needs people. People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” ~Bob Merrill, lyricist, Barbra Streisand, artist
Act 1: Babs and Me
Barbra Streisand and I could be twins.
For starters, we were born on the same day.
Sure, she got here a couple of decades earlier, but except the part where she’s a rich, famous, writer-director-actress married to James Brolin, and oh, that singing thing, we could have been separated at birth.
We both have blue eyes and chemically enhanced blonde hair. We speak the same language; in Brooklyn or Philly, you say, tuh-may-duh, I say tuh-may-duh.
Our cultural heritages are similarly steeped in neuroses and commandments, thus our identical self-confidence issues. A small sampling of the insecurities we share:
- We are overly concerned with our appearances (but complain about getting dressed and combing our hair.)
- We have stage fright and always will.
- We suffer from PTCSD (post-traumatic-childhood self-worth disorder).
- We only remember our bad reviews.
- We photograph better from the left, we believe.
- We want people to like us, mostly so they don’t hate us.
- We prefer dark rooms filled with people we don’t know to small rooms of people we are supposed to.
- We worry about money, me a little more than she.
- We are people who need people.
“People” was Babs’s first Top 10 hit. When my mom sang along with the “Funny Girl” in the sixties, I thought “People” was a love song. You too?
Lyricist Bob Merrill’s original hook was “one very special person,” because “Funny Girl” is the story of how singer Fanny Brice found the half that made her whole in gambler Nick Arnestein.
Lucky her.
Except, there are two kinds of luck, as Nick learns, and Fanny ends up hungry and thirsty again.
So Merrill put the kibosh on only lovers being very special in favor of, first, an emotional connection with people. Plural. The new focus reflected a key plotline in the movie: the need for people to be vulnerable enough to ask for help and have more than one person to ask.
Barbra gave us a glimpse of Fanny’s vulnerability when she sang “People.”
The audience connected to Fanny when she performed because they saw a real person with self-doubt and sorrows, despite her success. Fanny needed the audience to give her the confidence to come back after she lost everything.
At the time, Barbra told reporters she too connected with the audience by being authentic. Thus, putting on a show made her vulnerable, to her emotions and to criticism, the worst of which came from herself. Her constant internal refrain was:
“What if they don’t like me?”
That’s it, isn’t it? The real feeling deep in our souls? What if they don’t like you?
And we aren’t acting more like children than children.
We crave inclusion so much that admitting we want a connection with another person—not even a lover, a fellow human—is as frightening as a death threat. Grown-up pride can’t hide the need to belong.
So we hid, Babs and me. From the world, for years, for the same reasons, on fraternal twin timelines.
I went underground a little later than Barbra. At thirty-three, I walked away from public office after seven successful years because I couldn’t live in the spotlight. Despite building playgrounds and guarding the treasury to the acclaim of voters and editorial cartoonists, I drew the curtains on 10,000 constituents.
Fast-forward to forty and still single, my remaining confidence was shredded like a New York Times review. “One of these things is not like the others, one of these things does not belong” was my hit song. The words are forever imprinted in my brain.
Stage fright seized Barbra’s confidence at twenty-five, when she forgot the words to a song, in front of 135,000 “voters,” under a literal death threat. Spotlight size is relative, though, so it was essentially the same situation as mine, and so Babs walked away from public performance too.
What’s more, by her early forties, the great and powerful Ms. Streisand shared my Sadie envy. We had similar spinsterly reactions: we blamed ourselves and then spent years and thousands trying to fix ourselves.
Working from home aided and abetted my self-imposed isolation for seven years. Barbra tightly controlled, well, everything, for twenty-seven years.
Lucky her.
While hiding from paying customers, Barbra used her talent to make the world a better place in performances for protecting the environment and civil rights. I try to make the world a better place by protecting animals and writing about single life. I hope I’m talented.
We were happy during that time, B & me. Fear was barely an impediment. Life was a Greta Garbo bio-pic. We were content cocooning. Searching deep in our souls, we discovered we were already whole.
Then we remembered we need people.
Act 2: Babs and Me, Reprise.
And people needed us.
Were we ready for our comebacks? Seems so.
Barbra hit the trail partly because her calendar was open: two films were serendipitously postponed. She also wanted to secure her financial future. Lucky her, she required only two performances to be set for life.
A secure financial future is on my trail too, though right now I need two jobs to be set for the year. That said, I’m just about the age when Babs went public again. Give me another twenty years to achieve international fame and fortune.
Time and money are powerful incentives, but as Barbra declared, “Opening your heart is the goal of the quest.” Ultimately, what brought us both back was the need for connection, with people.
Despite stage fright and a black hole of confidence, we needed to belong, where we belong.
So what did we do?
Like twins, we did the same thing. Babs went back on tour. I went back East.
While I moved home to Philadelphia, Barbra brought her home to the stage. The set for her first comeback concert looked like a living room, albeit Louis XIV’s living room.
On her seven-month tour, Barbra had family on hand. On my return, I stayed with my sister for seven months. Needing people and living with them entail completely different kinds of vulnerability. And restraint.
Barbra managed any word-related worries with Teleprompters. I prompted myself to exchange kind words with neighbors and to meet new friends—no worries.
Babs had something to do with her hands, and visual aids. Me too—a puppy.
She told stories, which is my real talent. Amusing anecdotes are mood-stabilizers for me.
Speaking of drugs, we are both honest about it. Barbra and I benefitted from advances in psychopharmacology. A beta blocker here, an SSRI there, and we can face our mutual under-abundance of confidence.
Medicine aside, maturity helped. By fifty, we understood that some losses are forever; some things cannot be changed. We realized we are each, first, a person who needs people, and that’s okay.
Gambling with our vulnerability continues to pay confidence dividends.
Barbra is able to do public shows whenever she wishes. She re-connects with her audience; she belongs on stage. Going solo in a duo society gives me the confidence to connect with people and to show up, for myself and my friends. This is where I belong.
Barbra still retreats, hiding in Malibu, with James Brolin. I still hide at home, in Philadelphia, with yet another puppy.
What’s really funny, girls and boys, is how many of us think hiding behind the curtain or in our bedrooms is riskier than opening night or opening a door. We might feel safe but we won’t ever feel secure without emotional connections. Poets, playwrights, and psychiatrists agree: people really do need people to survive.
Maybe you have stage fright, and all the world is a stage. Maybe you are shy, or ‘new around here.’ Maybe you made a bad bet at work or love and lost your confidence.
Take it from Fanny, Babs, and me, be vulnerable. Maybe for the first time, let yourself be a person who needs people and your luck will change.
Are you ready for your Act 2?
Man behind curtain image via Shutterstock
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When the People We Love No Longer Exist
“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life.” ~Steve Jobs
A week ago a woman I loved died. She was a member of my family and had been dying for a while from bone cancer, so her death did not come as a surprise.
I was traveling when I got the email, and I sat in Abu Dhabi airport surrounded by the banging and steps of people and grieved.
Yes, I knew her death was imminent, but at a deeper level I found the news confusing. When I last visited her in her hospital room, her eyes were open and her breath constant; we chatted, she laughed, and we talked about seeing each other again.
What was deeply confusing, and still is, is the fact that she will never exist again—not in the same form. Some believe she has gone to another world, some believe she now exists as particles, but the reality is that her shape, the twinkle in her eyes, the way she held my hand will never exist again.
All of us who have gone through loss will understand this deep confusion. How can something no longer exist? How can one not call or talk to or hug a person anymore within the space of a day?
My husband and I sat on the pews in the small suburban church and listened to beautiful things said about her.
People spoke of her struggles with self-doubt and loss, as well as her ability to inspire and support women to find their own path. She could be conflicted and generous at the same time—she was human.
A friend of mine once said that light on fractured glass is more arresting than glass that is robust and flat. I couldn’t have agreed more, as the words in the church about the woman we had lost recreated her and we could feel her living, just for that moment, in all her light and shade.
From everything I’ve read coping with grief, it’s all about letting it out, about not having expectations about when the grief will end, about communicating about it with family and friends who understand.
I let it out yesterday; I couldn’t help myself. The real rain came, though, when I looked over at the coffin and knew there was a woman inside, and her lack of life, of existence, overwhelmed me.
So, how do we process the confusion that occurs when people that are special to us are no longer in our lives? Death is just one way these people can disappear; they can also disappear through relationship breakups, geographical separation, or they can simply vanish.
The overwhelming feeling I get is one of too much space. It becomes very obvious that that person occupied some space within my existence and the vacuum is very hard to bear.
In practical terms, it may be that I saw that person once a week, once a month, once a year, and now my dance card is not as full because they are no longer on the floor. Even if they had a negative impact on my life, I miss them, some parts of them.
I guess the comforting thing I’ve learned from experience is that eventually others will come onto the floor, that the vacuum is not permanent, that each person who comes and goes brings more and more to my life and my understanding of existence.
As Salman Rushdie writes in Midnight’s Children, “I am the sum total of everything that went before me, of all I have been seen done, of everything done-to-me. I am everyone everything whose being-in-the-world affected was affected by mine. I am anything that happens after I’m gone which would not have happened if I had not come.”
When the people I care about no longer exist, I have the perfect opportunity to reflect on how I can integrate the best parts of them into my life.
The woman I loved and lost was passionate about empowering women. I have carried the same flame, and her death inspires me to work even harder to encapsulate women’s voices into my writing.
As a counselor, teacher, and friend, she also cared a lot about people and always wanted to help. When she spent the last year in and out of hospital, the love that she gave came back in spades with the constant stream of visitors and helpers by her bedside.
Watching this really taught me the value of giving, not only to help others but also to develop relationships that were more about creation than destruction.
We also have a choice to address the question of existence more broadly when people we were close to no longer exist in our lives.
The older I get, the more I understand that existence really is very temporary. It makes sense, then, that the temporary nature of existence means that existence is, in itself, quite extraordinary.
As science writer Lewis Thomas wrote, “Statistically, the probability of any one of us being here is so small that the mere fact of our existence should keep us all in a state of contented dazzlement.”
We can choose to ignore just how temporary our lives are, or, we can choose to say, “Well, I’m only here for a bit so I’d better get on with it and work out how I want to live and give.”
Steve Jobs said, “Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life.”
Steve’s understanding of the temporary nature of existence motivated him to create an extraordinary life, and, ironically enough, he will live on through his creations for years to come.
It’s the day following the funeral. There’s a bunch of bright purple, pink, white, and yellow flowers on my desk. Someone left them at the front of the church because they wanted to do something tangible that indicated just how much they appreciated the woman’s life.
In writing this I’m also doing the same. My gift of flowers, of words, for the woman who no longer exists, but who is now a part of this temporary life that is extraordinary just because it is.
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Learning to Let Go and Trusting That We Will Be Okay
“You must learn to let go. Release the stress. You were never in control anyway.” ~Steve Maraboli
While going through some major life changes, I am finally learning to let go. I am learning to relinquish control. And I am learning that everything will be okay in the end.
I am in the middle of my first pregnancy. I thought I could control my body. I thought I could control my outcome.
Something I regularly preach to anyone who will listen is that we can’t control the outcome of any situation. We can only control our actions.
That means we can aim for a particular outcome, and do everything in our power to achieve it, but we cannot control what actually happens.
We can’t control other people, the weather, bureaucracy, or anything else that is outside of ourselves. Obstacles will always get in our way, and we have no power over them.
I have always considered myself a fairly fit and active person. I’ve competed in many ultramarathons and powerlifting competitions. I like to go hiking in technically challenging and precarious locations. But pregnancy took this all away from me.
Working in the fitness industry, I am bombarded with what perfect fitness professionals look like and do. I see fabulously fit pregnant females lifting weights, running marathons, and doing all the things I enjoy doing. But my body just doesn’t want to cooperate.
I only recently realized that I need to let go.
I thought I could climb one more mountain before my body had enough, so I chose what I thought would be a relatively short and easy mountain to climb.
Unfortunately, I completely forgot that my heart rate is now much higher, so I was getting puffed much earlier and had to walk much slower than usual.
The mountain was very steep toward the top, and I was crawling up on feet and hands, with my awkward belly getting in the way. There were huge fallen trees strewn across my path, and I did my best to climb around, over, or through them.
But 500 meters from the top of the mountain I got stuck. I was too short to climb over one fallen tree, and too big to climb through the gap where it had split.
In ordinary circumstances, I would have climbed through and kept pushing until I reached the top. But this time I sat down and realized that the further up I went, the more difficult and uncomfortable sliding down I’d have to do on the return journey.
My body was no longer the right shape for this sort of activity.
I sat down and realized I no longer have complete control over my body. My body has control over me. I had to let something go.
I let go of control over my body. I let go my ability to cover tough terrain. I let go of challenging adventures in the near future.
I simply let go.
And I realized that letting go is not so bad. Everything would be okay in the end.
Later, I would be able to try these things again. I would try to teach my child about the great outdoors. One way or another, everything would be okay. I would be okay.
I am also in the middle of renovating our house and looking for a new one. Again, I thought I could control the situation and the outcome.
I thought that we would have a new house and have sold our current one by now. I even thought we would have a nursery set up by now.
I have searched for houses, I have helped pack up and de-clutter our house, and my husband has done a lot of renovations. But I did not count on finding multiple faults in our house that need repairing. And I did not count on our dream house not showing up yet.
I have controlled my own actions, and I did my best to control the outcome, but I discovered that I could not.
So I sat down and I realized that it doesn’t matter where we live or when we move. The baby will come when it is ready, whether we are ready or not.
Again, I had to let go. And I was set free. Free of control. Free of being perfect. And free of the future. All I can do is live in the present.
There are so many things in life that we strive to control. We strive to control our future, our finances, our career, our relationships, and our lifestyle.
We get stressed when obstacles prevent our complete control and things don’t work out as planned.
Stress causes unhappiness, and no one wants to be unhappy.
We can only control our actions and be happy and satisfied that our actions have taken us closer to our dream outcome. But in the end, the exact outcome may be slightly different, or not come to us as soon as we’d like.
If we relinquish complete control over everything and everyone, then we can set ourselves free.
We gain the ability to live in the present. And when we live in the present, we are able to think clearly. We can realize that we will be okay no matter what happens.
If we don’t get our desired outcome, we can learn from the experience. We can try something different, and still aim toward a brighter future. There is always hope for us.
I know that I can no longer physically challenge my body as much as I used to. But in a few months, or maybe even a few years, I can try again.
I have also learned that although we have not found our next house yet, we can make do where we are now until we are able to move. It’s not our ideal situation, but we will continue to do what we can to move toward that.
We keep learning, we keep growing, and we can be happy knowing that everything is okay, no matter how our journey pans out. It is quite liberating now knowing that we do not have to stress about losing control of the situation.
We can only control our own actions, and by doing that, we can rest easy, knowing that in the end, we will be just fine. In the end, we will be better off for our experiences. In the end, everything will be okay.
Man jumping image via Shutterstock
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Keeping Your Eyes on the Prize When Your Goal Seems Far Off
“Doing your best means never stop trying.” ~Unknown
As a teacher, the summer season is special, sacred time when I recover from a busy school year and prepare for the next one. The bonus is that I also use the time as a personal blank slate to be as productive as I can be in the other areas of my life that got neglected when all of my energy went into teaching.
June began with a long list of goals and a meticulously planned schedule for every day and hour of the week. I had big eyes and high hopes about what I’d accomplish. I thought I would definitely finish that novel I had been working on for ages.
And then I became pregnant and none of it materialized as I sank into a pit of nausea and chronic fatigue. I couldn’t believe all of my plans were falling apart.
In my “normal” state I’m a productive person who extracts a great deal of personal self-worth (for better or worse) based on the progress of my to-do list. Once I was pregnant I wasn’t able to continue at the same speed.
I couldn’t believe the injustice of it all. I felt like a complete loser, and it was a difficult, never-ending process trying to forgive myself.
In life, we inevitably encounter obstacles that are discouraging and make our goals feel unattainable. It doesn’t have to be pregnancy—it could be illness, a new job, a relationship, unexpected stress, an overextended schedule—anything that diverts our attention away from a goal.
Often the obstacles in our path can be temporary, momentary glitches. Other times they are more complex and formidable and can threaten to delay us indefinitely.
We have to be able to objectively assess the roadblocks and step away from our emotions in order to identify a new route and keep moving forward. We must always, always move forward, even if it’s at a snail’s pace. It’s a lot easier said than done.
After months of hating myself for not writing, not exercising, not doing the chores I used to do with efficiency, I had to sit back and strategize. I got tired bemoaning the failure of my plans. There came a point in time when I realized I just couldn’t accept defeat.
The first step was to embrace the idea that it’s okay to have a change in our path as long as the destination is the same.
We can all start off with the best-intentioned plans, but inevitably life gets in the way. When that happens we have to be able to go back to the drawing board and think of new ideas to keep moving forward.
I’m back to writing. It’s not much, but in light of the fact that I feel like a giant slug, work full time, serve on three different committees, and oh yeah, I already have two small children, I feel okay with the progress I’m making. I feel confident that when the time comes for me to re-calculate a new route that will take me to my destination faster, I’ll be able to do it.
Many people mistakenly think the path to achieving our goals is supposed to be direct and easy, and consequently when they encounter the inevitable detour they don’t know what to do, and their unanticipated disappointment undermines their momentum.
In reality, achieving our goals has more to do with our determination precisely in those moments when the universe gives us every sign that we should give up. Those are the times when we have to force ourselves to keep moving forward.
We have to calibrate our expectations and become creative with our strategy, embracing the inevitable ebb and flow of productivity. In a world where nothing is ever perfect, we have to settle for fighting for our very best and turning challenges into unforeseen opportunities.
When I have to re-think my strategy, this is what I do:
1. Nurture your desire.
It’s easy to lose focus of our end-goal, especially when something unexpected is thrown our way. Despite any obstacles, it’s important to keep your desire alive and well. If you’re spending your time criticizing yourself, try to re-frame the situation and channel your energy into something positive that will move you forward.
If you find yourself losing enthusiasm, do something to rekindle your desire. Sometimes something as simple as reviewing your goals on a regular basis is enough to spark a renewed sense of interest.
2. Take time for yourself.
I’m the worst at this, but at the height of my morning sickness I tried really hard to embrace the idea of kicking back with my feet up and indulging in something relaxing. I did a lot of reading, plowing through several Stephen King books that I never usually have time for. Now that I’m back in “work” mode, I appreciate the time I had to read for pleasure.
We will always have the valleys and peaks in our lives, and although we want to be on top, it’s important to take the time when you are stuck in the valley to relax, rejuvenate, and strategize your next move. It will only make your journey back to the top more successful.
3. Re-evaluate your goals.
Halfway through my summer of disappointment and after a lot of denial, I finally realized my list of goals weren’t going to materialize. They were unrealistic for me at that moment. It’s difficult to admit to yourself that you can’t do something.
When I was ready to embrace the reality of the situation, I sat down and listed what I knew I could handle. I reminded myself that something was better than nothing as long as I was doing my best. Then, I added a little bit more to the list to challenge myself but at the same time make it manageable.
4. Chunking.
As a teacher I love to teach my students the concept of chunking. When confronted with a large task or assignment, an effective strategy is to “chunk” the assignment, doing a little bit at a time. This will increase your chances of successfully completing the task and also doing a good job at it.
Prior to my disappointing summer, I was writing 1,500 words a day. I had hoped to write 2,500 words a day. Today, I don’t have time for either of those goals and settled for a manageable 500.
As I find myself able to handle more, I know I can always move up or down in my personal quota, but for right now my “chunks” are a realistic measure of something I can reasonably accomplish. While challenging yourself is never a bad idea, you shouldn’t set yourself up to fail.
5. Log your efforts.
One way to help yourself see the “big picture” is to keep track of what you do. I have a small journal where I log my effort each day on a particular project. By the end of the month I can see on paper what I’ve accomplished and it serves as a reminder that I am moving forward even when it feels like I’m not.
6. Celebrate.
Taking the time to celebrate means you are taking care of yourself. You are the most important vehicle in accomplishing your goals and as such you should treat yourself with love and respect. When you’re making progress, big or small, never forget to take the time to celebrate your efforts.
At the end of the day you must be your biggest fan. Put one foot in front of the other and keep walking forward, but don’t forget to pause and celebrate the small victories throughout the journey.
Woman looking into the distance image via Shutterstock
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How a Major Crisis Can Sometimes Be a Blessing in Disguise
“Pain can change you, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad change. Take that pain and turn it into wisdom.” ~Unknown
Ten years ago my life changed in a dramatic way. What I experienced in 2004 seemed like a major disaster at first, but it turns out that sometimes what seems like the worst life experience can actually be one of our biggest blessings.
In 2004, I was in graduate school, working toward a PhD in history. When I graduated from college in 2001, I wanted to be a professor. Well, that’s what I thought I wanted, but the truth was I was scared to “grow up” and get a real job, and graduate school seemed like a less scary option.
When I got to grad school in the fall of 2001, I immediately felt like a fish out of water. While in college, I thrived and loved learning about history and doing primary source research. Graduate school was different.
I remember feeling out of place in classes where everyone read books written by other historians and argued about what they thought of the book instead of diving right into research.
In addition, I didn’t click with my advisor; we couldn’t communicate with each other, and that frustrated me. I was also a teaching assistant and realized that most of my students couldn’t care less about studying history. I quickly became disillusioned and unhappy.
When I would talk to my family about how unhappy I was, my parents kept saying, “Well, what do you want to do?” I had no answer to that question. I just knew in my heart that this was not it, but I was too scared to face the unknown.
Fast forward three years to 2004 when I was planning to have elective surgery that summer only to discover through the pre-op blood work that something was majorly wrong with me.
After several weeks of tests and a long hospital stay, I finally had a diagnosis (which turned out to be a misdiagnosis, but that’s another story). I was told that I had Chronic Mylogeous Leukemia (CML). The diagnosis terrified me.
While I was very deeply shaken by this, I attempted to continue with my graduate school program, only to feel more and more dissatisfied with what I was doing.
Then, in September of 2005, my best friend from college passed away suddenly. Her death rocked me to the core and was the final wake-up call that I needed to change my life.
After several months of grief and deep depression, I came to realize that life is way too short to be so incredibly miserable.
Since I didn’t know how long my life would last because of this medical diagnosis, and because I was well aware that twenty-five year olds do just die, it was time to make some major changes. Even though I didn’t know my path forward, I knew to my very core that the one I was on was not for me.
It took a major health crisis and the death of my friend to get me to admit that it was okay to not know what my next step was, but I needed to give up the path that was so clearly not mine.
I got a job because I needed health insurance, and I started to work on healing my body, mind, and spirit. I spent hours each week going to therapy and exploring other healing modalities.
It was through this healing process that I came to realize in a relatively short time what I did want to do. I was sitting in a biofeedback session and I had a moment where I actually saw myself in the practitioner’s chair, doing what she was doing.
The lightning bolt of inspiration hit and I knew my next path was becoming clear.
I went back to school, this time pursuing a master’s in psychology. I knew that what I had gone through was a wake-up call and a very statement of what my purpose in life was.
I knew that I hadn’t gone to hell and back to just work for someone else in a job that didn’t feel deeply meaningful and fulfilling to me.
I knew, to my very core, that I was here to help others along the healing path.
If you had told me in 2005 that I would say that what I went through in those two years was on many levels some of the best things that ever happened to me, I would have looked at you like you had two heads.
But ten years later, I know deep in my heart that without those huge wake-up calls, I might still be pursuing a path that isn’t truly mine because I was too scared to take a big leap.
If you are currently going through a tough time, allow yourself to feel and express your feelings and, as you do so, practice self-compassion.
It is okay to feel sadness, anger, frustration, grief, fear, and a whole host of other emotions. By allowing yourself to feel those feelings and letting them move through you, without being self-critical in the process, you allow the energy to shift instead of getting stuck and bottled up.
Spend some time reflecting on whether there’s some kind of hidden opportunity in what you are experiencing.
For example, if you have been laid off, perhaps you are being given the opportunity to find more meaningful work. Getting sick can be the opportunity to take a break, rest, and to heal yourself on deeper levels. A breakdown can be the chance to heal pain from your past that hasn’t been fully resolved.
Lastly, remember that you are not your tough time. For me, not identifying as a “cancer patient” was crucial because if I identified that way, then my whole life was seen through that filter. Don’t attach to any labels that don’t feel right to you.
Sometimes an experience that seems incredibly horrible can actually have hidden gifts inside it. Just be patient with the path you are on, take it one day at a time, and know that sometime in the future, you will likely gain incredible insight on the gifts of what you are going through.
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8 Draining Habits to Let Go if You Want to Be Happy
“We first make our habits, then our habits make us.” ~John Dryden
This may look good, sound good, and maybe even feel good at first, but it’s not serving you well in the end!
I’d hear this thought in my head over and over and still not believe it. But it had persisted ever since I started questioning the status quo in my life. And I don’t mean a loud, in-your-face, obnoxious line of questioning, but rather, a gentle curious whisper that asks: Well, why does it have to be this way, if I may ask?
Questioning the status quo is not a novelty in our modern society, but here’s the thing: I was questioning the good stuff, like great habits that I grew up with and ideals that are the foundation of my value system.
In a sad way, the thought made sense. Every time I’d finish going through the motions of one of my “great habits,” I’d feel drained, in a funk, out of sorts, exhausted, but not in an accomplished kind of way.
So I started adjusting my autopilot habits and I’m already feeling a shift toward serenity. I suppose this is the counter-intuitive inner work that makes self-discovery so much fun, right?
So, ready to question some of your great habits too? Check to see if you fall in the trap of a great habit that may not be serving you.
1. The habit of working hard at the exclusion of all else.
For the first six years of my corporate job, I was a complete workaholic. Those first years were also the least rewarding, financially and emotionally, because I neglected the more essential aspects of building a career, such as creating relationships and building trust.
Most of us are hard workers and we identify a sense of pride with it too. It’s how we were brought up; it’s what society expects and rewards.
Just beware the trap of hard work, especially if you’re using it as a Band-Aid on something that hasn’t given you results, such as working even harder to get ahead at work or to please someone in a relationship.
What to do instead: Pause long enough to examine the big picture and the situation at hand, and question your current approach. Is more work going really to give you the results you need?
2. The habit of taking care of everyone and everything else first.
I watched my mom make a lot of sacrifices for us over the years, but even as a kid I could see that a lot of them were at the expense of her own livelihood. I noticed that this made her bitter. While everyone around her was grateful, she did not need to go that far. She could be self-nurturing and caring to the rest of her family.
You may be a loving mother (or father or sibling), caring and giving, but to a fault.
You take care of everyone and everything else—even the laundry and the dishes!—before taking care of yourself. Sometimes at the expense of it. You’re sacrificing your own well-being because you don’t want to seem selfish.
What to do instead: Know that sacrifice does not earn the respect or gratitude of others. Being a good role model does. Take care of yourself so you’re strong and healthy for the important people in your life. It’s not selfish. It’s self-nurturing, it’s necessary, and you’re allowed.
3. The habit of listening to everyone’s problems without boundaries.
As an immigrant to the US, I was so hungry for making friends that I was over the moon if someone confided in me.
This habit grew into a habit of listening without any boundaries, and so I became the place my friends deposited all their problems. When I saw that it wasn’t helping them and it was wearing me down, I had to draw the line.
Listening is a gift, and if a friend needs to be heard, if a parent needs to voice concerns, if a spouse needs to vent about work, if a co-worker needs to complain, who better than a great listener?
Just watch out because being the bank where everyone deposits their complaints, outrage, sorrow, and pity can have its negative consequences and take its toll on you.
What to do instead: Listen enough to hear the initial problem, then gently move the conversation toward finding solutions, being optimistic, and focusing on the positive. If they still need a professional therapist, remember: it’s not your job to be one!
4. The habit of responding to every call to attention—email, phone, text—right away.
It’s wonderful to be responsive. I love responsive people, and I do my absolute best to get back to people. But this constant distraction can ruin your focus, disrupt your routine, and cause problems when running a business.
What to do instead: Be more stingy with your time and set aside dedicated slots to respond to texts, emails, and phone calls. Unless it’s an emergency, it can wait. Because this one’s deeply ingrained, train yourself little by little to master this one.
5. The habit of offering your expertise, products, or services free or cheap to friends and family.
My sister-in-law is a doctor and her generosity toward my family’s health questions knows no end. Sometimes, I feel that we abuse her medical expertise.
Whatever side of the situation you may be on—giving or receiving the deed—going too far can have an adverse short- or long-term effect on the relationship.
What to do instead: Set clear boundaries; give and ask for respect in this regard. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to offer your services or products at a discount or free just because people are related to you. It makes you a professional, that’s all.
6. The habit of getting straight A’s in every class in your life.
Ah, the A student dilemma! Every culture and society praises the A student and frowns on the C student. As a straight-A student my entire life, I can clearly see that it robbed so much happiness and fun out of my life.
If I could go back, I’d settle for B- and more fresh air and yoga, thank you!
What to do instead: Decide first if you even want to go to university or graduate school. Then define your own measure of success and stick to it. Learning and applying the knowledge is way more important than the final grade from your teacher so focus on that.
7. The habit of doing everything for your kids or students or elderly parents.
My mom has an aunt who still cooks and cleans for her thirty-five-year-old daughter, who’s a perfectly capable woman.
Do you do everything for others instead of showing them how to do it? Sometimes people need help, but if you condition them to having you do it all the time, they never become self-sufficient. You do them and yourself a disservice.
What to do instead: Before doing the next task for the person you’re helping, ask them if they’d like to learn how to do it. Start teaching and showing more and doing less.
8. The habit of pleasing others at the expense of your own dreams and desires.
The hardest part of quitting my job and starting my business was that I was going against my parents’ wishes for me. It was hard but absolutely and positively the only right path for me.
We are conditioned to say “yes” to please our family and loved ones. This can be detrimental to your happiness if you happen to want something else.
What to do instead: Be true to yourself. You can still be kind and gentle toward others, but you get one life, and your dreams and desires are your business, and they deserve your best shot.
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Your turn now: Do any of these great habits make you pause and think? What other good habits have you found to get in the way of happy living?
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How to Stop Fearing the Worst and Worrying About “What Ifs”
“Our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strengths.” ~Charles H. Spurgeon
There’s nothing like a real health emergency for putting insignificant worries into perspective.
By the time I was pregnant the second time, I had left my struggles with anxiety largely behind me. Having been to therapy years earlier to find coping mechanisms for managing my ever-present phobias, I was in a fairly good place when I learned I’d been given a second chance at having a child.
But worry is as much as part of me as breathing, and having lost a pregnancy the year prior, I spent the first eight to ten weeks of the second one constantly preoccupied with the what-ifs that tend to haunt anxiety sufferers, even reformed ones like me.
One day in week forty, after many hours of irregular contractions, something told me I needed to check myself into the hospital. It was a different feeling than the one I’d experienced during my panic attacks, which was always induced by the fight or flight response.
It was calmer, and felt more peaceful. So I listened.
Once I got there, the midwives discovered my blood pressure was 200/110 (stroke territory). I was in the middle of a hypertensive crisis caused by undiagnosed pre-eclampsia—a dangerous condition that affects a small percentage of pregnant women worldwide.
They admitted me immediately, and a scene from an emergency room TV drama ensued. Machines screamed. Nurses ran. Doctors were paged. IV’s were administered.
Between waves of doctors and nurses I learned that if they didn’t succeed in getting my blood pressure down soon, I could seize, stroke out, or suffer irreparable damage to my liver and kidneys.
To further complicate matters, my son was starting to show some signs of distress, and I got the sense from the folks in scrubs around my bedside that they weren’t quite sure how to manage it.
Through it all I remained surprisingly calm, somehow at peace with what was happening around me, despite the many hours I’d spent worrying about just such an event in the past. I felt saddened by the possibility of dying—or worse, losing my son—but not panicked or afraid.
When my son was born, healthy and strong by emergency C-section, then I truly understood the futility of my past concern.
Having survived the incident unscathed, I spent the next six years of my life working on building the skills that keep the time-suck that is anxiety from ever coming back.
If I had to tell my past self something I’ve learned to prevent unnecessary suffering, it would go something like this:
Don’t argue with a fool. (People may not know the difference).
One piece of advice for anxiety sufferers I read and hear often is to take a deep breath and reassure yourself that you are safe, your anxiety can’t hurt you, and your fears are all in your head.
Anxiety is irrational, and no amount of rational thinking will banish unnecessary worry or anxious thoughts. In fact, trying to fight irrational thinking with logic can be counterproductive and lead you down the rabbit hole of self-doubt.
Instead, respond to irrational fears by accepting that there is a (however remote) possibility that what you fear may come to pass, but also trust that if it does, you will have the tools to manage it.
Don’t ask others to argue with a fool.
Mental illness is tough, and having support from friends and family is key to making it through unscathed to the other side.
Asking your friends and families to tell you why your fears are unfounded and your worries are irrational is not asking for help—it’s asking for validation.
Many of us suffering through anxiety believe that if we can’t trust our own logical arguments for why everything is going to be okay, maybe someone else can make it okay for us.
This kind of behavior often serves to undermine your self-confidence and create codependent tendencies, since you’re relying (most often very ineffectively) on others to manage your anxiety for you.
Find a more productive focal point.
A few years before my pregnancy, when I was first treated for anxiety, my therapist taught me a trick I carry with me to this day.
Anxiety needs a focal point, but with a little sleight of hand you can find one that is less disturbing than your worry.
When embarking on a trip to Cabo for my friend’s wedding (I’m afraid to fly), she told me to wear the most uncomfortable outfit I could tolerate for the flight. I chose a tight, itchy strapless corset, and spent a good nine hours trying to fight the garment’s pinch.
Guess what I wasn’t doing, though, while cursing my existence? Worrying about plane crashes.
Over time, I’ve found many other tools to help me stay present and banish unnecessary concerns. If I have a legitimate worry, I take action to mitigate risks and try to move on with my life.
If there’s nothing I can do, I occupy my mind with something else. I practice yoga. I wear itchy underwear. Most of all I trust. I trust that I can deal with any unexpected hurdles life might throw my way.
And if for some reason I encounter one I can’t manage, it simply was meant to be, whether it’s what I want for my life or not.
And then I move on and enjoy the moment. Or at least I try, anyway.
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7 Ways to Live a Less Fearful, More Peaceful Life
“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when adults are afraid of the light.” ~Adapted from Plato
I was digging in my half-empty refrigerator one day, searching for leftovers, when my phone rang. I glared at it wondering who the hell had the nerve to interrupt my hunt for sustenance.
I grabbed the phone with pure agitation and put it to my ear. On the other end of the line I heard a faint voice mutter the three most unforgettable words I had ever heard: “Dad is gone.”
The faint voice belonged to my stepmom Rose. She told me that dad was headed for surgery that morning when he had a massive heart attack. She said that he sprang up in bed and reached out to her with his eyes stretched open in terror. And that was it. He was gone.
As an anxious twenty-two-year-old, suffering wasn’t new to me, but this was different. It wasn’t long after my dad died that I spiraled into daily panic attacks and became a whimpering victim of anxiety.
We all encounter fear sometimes—it’s normal. But I did it all wrong. I let it control my life. After my dad passed away, my days were usually filled with uncertainty, self-doubt, and misery.
I later wondered if the same fate awaited me, to the point where I developed all kinds of phobias: health phobia, social phobia, and a crushing fear of death. I was truly lost.
Fear became my new normal. I allowed my negative thoughts to shape my reality. I stopped believing in myself, in other people, in the future; all of it seemed meaningless.
Over the years I struggled to tame my fears, and if I’m being totally honest, on some days I still struggle. The good news is that I don’t stay stuck like I used to.
I’ve learned to understand my fears for what they really are, rather than what I imagine them to be. And I live with less fear every day because of seven rock solid tips that I learned after losing my dad.
1. Relax.
When we are fearful, we get tense without even knowing it. Learning how to let go of tension was a key factor in my recovery from fear and anxiety.
I learned progressive muscle relaxation exercises and practiced daily. I learned that making peace with your body is a great way to make peace with your mind.
2. Find your inner observer.
I had no idea that I had one, but there is a part of the mind that is able to observe thoughts without judgment or expectation. Getting in touch with your inner observer weakens the power of fear and reduces “what if” thinking.
Meditation is hands down one of the best ways to train yourself to identify and strengthen this part of your mind.
3. Reframe.
Words are powerful. The ones you use to describe life and all its challenges will not change what happens to you, but it can change how you feel about it.
Instead of obsessing over my “palpitations,” I reframed this as “I’m nervous.” Reframing helped me to form positive perspectives about all kinds of stuff.
4. Be mindful.
When I was really anxious I lived in the past or the future. I totally forgot about living my life in the present. Take the time to enjoy today.
5. Connect.
Fear has a way of isolating us from ourselves and others. But it’s important to remember that connecting with other people is a vital part of a healthy life. Reach out!
6. Challenge your fears.
Do you want to know how absurd fear can be? I used to fear soft drinks! Well, actually, I was afraid of caffeine, but seriously. Challenging your fears builds self-confidence and over time ensures that you get to live the full version of your life.
7. Be kind to yourself.
There is a 100% chance that things won’t always go your way, including being afraid when you don’t want to be. Don’t punish yourself for being “stupid” or “weak,” though. It’s okay to be afraid sometimes. The question is: What are you going to do when fear comes to your doorstep?
When I’d get anxious, it was because I didn’t believe that I had what I needed to be okay. But the truth is that we all do—somehow, someway, we always do.
And therein lies the “secret” to living with less fear: the realization that you do have the means to weather any storm. That you are stronger than you give yourself credit for.
Peaceful man image via Shutterstock
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How to Give Yourself and Others the Gift of Happiness
“It is every man’s obligation to put back into the world at least the equivalent of what he takes out of it.” ~Albert Einstein
My son recently returned home from college with a new demeanor.
He was helpful, considerate, interested in others, and genuinely happy. The change was a far cry from the boy who had left for college just a few short months before.
Don’t get me wrong, he has always been a good kid, but up until now he’s been a typical teenager. He was a bit messy, a bit lazy, and if it wasn’t part of his video game he was mostly uninterested.
So what changed?
My husband and I began discussing it over dinner. I told him I thought it had a lot to do with the philanthropic efforts of the fraternity he joined. Now instead of playing video games all weekend, he was volunteering at animal shelters and helping the less fortunate by providing physical labor.
My husband was intrigued. He had always associated philanthropy with money. After all, it’s a word often associated with wealth or large foundations; was it possible for an average person to be philanthropic?
We began doing research on philanthropy and found that anyone can be philanthropic.
The word philanthropy actually means “love of humanity.” To be philanthropic means to care, nourish, develop and enhance the human experience.
Philanthropy is different than charity. The easiest way to explain the difference is that charity takes care of an immediate need, where philanthropy tries to solve a problem.
Think of it as you can give someone money so that they may buy a meal (charity), or you can teach the person a skill so that they may make a wage and pay for their own meal (philanthropy).
Research suggests one of the keys to happiness is the act of helping others. It is known as the “helper’s high.” This would explain the change in my son’s personality.
Medical research into the “helper’s high” phenomenon has shown people who volunteer experience feelings of euphoria. They also found this “high” has possible health benefits that far outreach the act of giving.
Research suggests people who regularly participate in charities have less pain, sleep better, and have a personal sense of reward and fulfillment.Giving leads to a happier life.
Philanthropy goes beyond the basics of giving time or money to a cause. It is a foundation that when regularly practiced builds relationships and strengthens self-worth. It is a circular action that builds momentum. We give because it makes us feel good. We feel good because we give.
Like anything worthwhile in life, there has to be balance. Sometimes too much of a good thing can cause harm. In order to maximize the benefits of philanthropy it’s important to understand how to be a healthy giver.
Here are five things you should know in order to maximize the benefits of happiness from philanthropy.
1. Understand philanthropy is selfish.
Some people find fault in giving to receive, but how else can you give? It’s like eating without satisfying hunger. Yes. We receive and emotional high when we give, but the happiness experienced from giving is natural.
Some research suggests that you cannot fulfill happiness without giving. Philanthropy is a route to give happiness away in exchange for our own new recharged happiness.
2. You cannot save the world.
Some get discouraged because they think too big and their efforts become unrealistic. This can actually have the adverse effect and brings unhappiness. You cannot change the world by yourself, but your efforts, in conjunction with others, can change a life.
Concentrate on the smaller benefits of giving to maximize the cycle of happiness.
3. Don’t give to the greatest need unless your heart is in it.
Only choose causes that speak to your heart. If you love animals, volunteer in a shelter or become a foster home for a kill shelter. If you love children, become a mentor to a high-risk child. The closer your heart is to the cause, the more benefit for your natural cycle of happiness.
4. Make giving a regular part of your routine.
Not being consistent in giving your time or money will not increase your happiness. It’s like diet and exercise. If you don’t practice the change consistently, you cannot maximize the benefits.
Benefits come when relationships form and strengthen over a time of regular giving. This is the best way to see your efforts at work and receive the valuable feedback regarding the difference your efforts make.
5. Never give too much of yourself to help others.
Balance is a key in giving just like in all things in life. Never sacrifice your own needs for the needs of others. It’s just like the flight attendant tells you before the plane takes off. Secure your own oxygen before assisting others.
After seeing the difference giving has made in my son’s life, I’m ready to begin incorporating regular giving into my own life. I hope you join me.
Do you have a cause that’s close to your heart where you give regularly? How has it made a difference in your life?
People holding hands image via Shutterstock
