Tag: wisdom

  • Embracing Rejection Helped Me Love Dating and Meet My Husband

    Embracing Rejection Helped Me Love Dating and Meet My Husband

    “Every time I thought I was being rejected from something good, I was actually being redirected to something better.” ~Steve Maraboli

    I think most single people these days dream of meeting someone “in real life.”

    The fantasy is that in “the real world” it’ll be easier.

    I dated BA and AA. Before apps and after apps.

    The sad truth is that technology changed the game whether you’re on apps or not.

    The life skill of walking up to someone in a bar and starting a conversation out of thin air has vanished. The ability to be the receiver of that conversation without the safety net of a screen followed close behind.

    I’m from a small town where everyone says hello to everyone, but do that in the city, and people jump back like you’re an apparition.

    Dating apps are hard, but meeting someone in real life just might be harder.

    You need to be confident enough to walk up and chat with anyone, let everyone know that you’re single and want to be set up (even your work colleague Sue from accounting), and be ready to be rejected to your face.

    It’s a classic “grass is greener” scenario.

    The reason people hate apps so much is because of the rejection, the sheer volume of it.

    You’ll get rejected less in real life simply because you’re probably rarely meeting anyone to get rejected.

    Reframing rejection helped me meet my husband.

    I’d been single for years after leaving a toxic relationship. Sure, there were a few relationships here and there, but like a sitcom with low ratings, none of them lasted too long.

    I worried I’d be swiping left and right forever. I was stood up at 10 a.m. on a Saturday at a Melbourne landmark, I’d been ghosted, and I was constantly rejected.

    I felt the need to bend and shift myself and rewrite my Bumble bio just to be chosen.

    I was born with intuitive abilities, meaning I can see, hear, sense, and know things that others can’t. I always wondered at what point should I share with someone that I know they have a strained relationship with their dad or their boss at work can’t be trusted.

    Obviously, I’d never word it this way. But essentially, I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. People don’t love the idea of dating a human lie detector.

    You might wonder, why tell people? Well, these abilities are my work; they are a massive part of who I am. So it’s pretty unavoidable. It’s like Chad not telling me he works in finance. Or trying to hide the fact I have brown eyes.

    I tried sharing about my abilities early on the apps, or on first dates, or third dates. All to avoid rejection. Thinking I could somehow change the outcome as to whether someone accepted me or not.

    I hated the feeling that something that was a big part of me was being made fun of, or deemed weird, or even that it just wasn’t ‘for someone.’

    This fear of rejection was preventing me from meeting the right person.

    I was wasting SO MUCH time trying to please the wrong people, cloaking myself, and not being authentic. It meant that anyone interested in who I really was would never find me. The real me was nowhere to be found.

    When I shifted my perception of rejection, dating became so much easier and, dare I say, enjoyable!

    I almost encouraged rejection. I put my true self out there and held nothing back—not in a creepy share-every-intimate-detail-about-yourself-on-a-first-date kind of way; I just wasn’t filtering or scared to scare anyone off.

    I had the new mindset that rejection saved me time and energy for the right ones. Rejection freed me up. Rejection was a normal part of dating; it wasn’t a ‘just me’ thing.

    Cut to: I met my husband. Our first date was non-stop talking about everything from J Cole to Arrested Development, to exploring life’s big questions like Where do people go when they die? We got married two years later.

    Just the other day over brunch at our local café we reflected on how embracing rejection changed everything when it came to dating.

    My husband has a disability and could have let that hold him back from putting himself out there. I could have been completely discouraged from countless ‘failed’ dates. But thankfully, we kept going.

    If you’re reading this and you feel deflated by the dating process, but you really want to meet someone, my hope is that you don’t give up.

    Someone out there is looking for you, just as you are, and what a shame it would be if you were nowhere to be found.

  • Healing Anxious Attachment Patterns to Create Space for Love

    Healing Anxious Attachment Patterns to Create Space for Love

    “Anxious attachment stems from a deep sense of inner instability where old wounds make people anticipate that they will be abandoned again and again.” ~Jessica Baum

    I have recently met the love of my life. Yay!!! He is the person I’ve been imagining for as long as I can remember, hoping and praying that one day I would find him.

    It took such a long time that I began to suspect I was delusional for imagining that such a love was possible, and I almost gave up on the idea of him. But now he is here, and we share the most incredibly beautiful love and my soul is so vibrantly happy to be next to him.

    But the story isn’t so simple because my soul shares this space with my conditioned mind (old parts of myself that developed their own ways of being). To these parts of my ego mind, love feels alien and threatening. When these parts take over, I fall out of alignment with the frequency of our love and tumble back into the fears and worries that trigger me to play out old patterns.

    Until quite recently, I believed myself to be unworthy of loving or of being loved. I was born into a toxic family, to parents who were mentally and emotionally unwell, and as a result, I experienced much neglect and abuse. As is usual after such childhood trauma, I developed a deeply ingrained insecure attachment style, a deep mistrust and fear of others, and a consuming sense of unworthiness.

    For decades, these wounds led me unconsciously down the same paths I had witnessed around me as a child. My idea of love was deeply confused. I sought validation and reassurance of my worth continuously, while feeling in my core that I was unworthy of love. I was only attracted to unavailable men who couldn’t, didn’t, or wouldn’t love me, confirming my idea that I was unlovable and unwanted.

    As a therapist, I knew enough to try to manage my thoughts and feelings and work on myself. But in all truth these patterns of being anxiously and obsessively codependent continued to play out, making me both deeply miserable and also ashamed of my inability to fix, change, or manage them well enough.

    After my divorce four years ago I was so broken, vulnerable, and devastated and so tired of these repeated patterns within myself that I made the decision to invest wholeheartedly into my relationship with myself. I wanted to heal these old childhood wounds that still haunted me so powerfully.

    While these old parts still nudge me with their thoughts and feelings of being unlovable, of not feeling safe, of needing to remain vigilant and needing to perform as they always did, they are now way less consuming. I’ve healed enough that I’ve been able to find my love, and I’m able to separate enough from them that I can see them as they arise and support myself as they do.

    I want to share with others the things I do to ride this inevitable wave of oscillating between the old patterns and the new emerging, more securely attached version of myself.

    Last week our plans changed because his daughter was sad and needed him. It meant that I didn’t hear from him for the rest of that day and a little through the next one.

    I imagined that he would realize that he had been neglecting his daughter, hence her sadness, and that he would decide that he needed to end our love so that he could better focus on his important role of being a good father to her. I felt so saddened by the thought of him leaving that I cried as the anxiety coursed through my body and the old familiar feelings of abandonment threatened to overwhelm me.

    The good news is that I knew that I could soothe and support myself, so I stepped into the following action.

    I listened.

    I spent a good hour or so writing about my thoughts, feelings, and fears and letting this part of myself know that I was there and I was listening.

    I gave her (this young part of myself) space to process what she was experiencing without jumping in to judge her. I approached her with open, compassionate curiosity by asking her a variety of what, why, how, and when type questions.

    I let her write and share and come up with a plan to deal with what might happen (in the worst-case scenario), and I sat with all the heavy feelings it brought with it.

    I offered reassurance.

    I told her that it would be okay, that whatever happened I would be there and I would support and love her through this.

    I asked her to breathe and be in this moment with me—to just breathe.

    I reminded her that whatever happened was for our highest good.

    I reminded her of the journey we had been on and how far we’d come to get to this loving self relationship.

    I reminded her that she was just a ghost from the past, that she had already served her time in trying to protect me from harm, and that she could relax now because she was safe.

    I refocused my attention.

    All this managed to ease my anxiety a little so I could get on with my day; seeing friends, doing a little work, and keeping myself busy. While I could feel the panic and anxiety within, it wasn’t debilitating, not like it used to be. But it was definitely still there. I couldn’t quite shift the sense that I should pay attention to the uneasy feelings in my body.

    I resisted the urge to text him seeking reassurance. I simply gave him space (with some phone stalking) and respected that he was having a process.

    I planned to talk with him, when he was ready, to shift our connection so that we could stay together and make more space for his important connection with his daughter. If that was what he wanted too. By now I was pretty sure he wouldn’t, and I reminded myself that if he didn’t, I would be okay.

    He arrived later that day, and I was ready for whatever was about to happen, but not actually what did happen.

    He was just the same—happy to see me, feeling good in our love—and absolutely nothing had changed for him. His daughter was fine, and he had none of the problems or concerns that I imagined he had had.

    And I was completely thrown!

    I had gotten so involved in the story, with a whole plan of how we could move forward from this place, that it took me completely by surprise that NONE of it was real or necessary.

    I just wasn’t able to see that the part of me that learned to be so vigilant of hurt or harm had imagined the whole thing.  I was so focused on practicing self-compassion and support that I hadn’t really stopped to question its validity.

    I guess the next level of my process is about recognizing when it is important and necessary to offer myself gentle compassion and support and when is it time for a tougher kind of loving compassion by saying “That’s enough, no more!” I’m pretty certain that both have their place and are necessary!

    What I’m learning is that loving and being loved is a huge process for the old parts of my ego mind, and maintaining the frequency of love is going to take some practice. And that my mind is really, really tricky!

    For now, I am oscillating in and out of higher and lower states of energy, thoughts, and feelings about intimacy, love, and connection. I am both in the process of becoming a higher vibrational version of myself AND of releasing the old ways of being that no longer serve me.

    I am choosing to remind myself that all these old energies, thoughts, feelings, and patterns are coming up in order to be released, and as long as I don’t believe in them, they will eventually pass.

    I want to detach completely from any shame I have about my humanness, so I am leaning into my humor and watching myself with loving curiosity as these energies pass by.

    For now, I am choosing to commit more fully to my daily mindfulness practice so that I can train my traumatized mind to stay present and enjoy this beautiful love.

    I write this for all of us who are brave enough to face our own ghosts so that we can love and be loved, just as we deserve. My hope is that by sharing my journey, it will help you with yours. 

  • Why You Don’t Need Many Friends to Be Happy

    Why You Don’t Need Many Friends to Be Happy

    “Introversion—along with its cousins sensitivity, seriousness, and shyness—is now a second-class personality trait, somewhere between a disappointment and a pathology.” ~Susan Cain, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking

    I’ll be honest, I don’t have many friends.

    And it’s something I’ve always felt a level of shame about.

    In fact, I recognize it’s a self-limiting belief I’ve been carrying around since secondary school: I don’t make friends easily or have a big circle; therefore, I’m unworthy or there’s something wrong with me.

    That’s not to say I’ve never had friends. I’ve had friends from childhood I’ve drifted apart from. I’ve had my share of intense, toxic friendships. And I’ve even had a few healthy friendships that withered and eventually died because I didn’t nurture them enough (incidentally, this is probably why I can’t keep houseplants alive, either…).

    In all seriousness, is it okay not to have many friends? Does that make me ‘less than’? And just what is a ‘healthy’ number of friends, anyway?

    Understanding the Traditional Tropes Around Friendship

    Let’s be clear here—I’m not denying that friendships can have wonderful benefits.

    Friends provide emotional support, create a sense of belonging, and allow us to build meaningful connections through shared experiences.

    In studies of the Blue Zones—regions where people live the longest and healthiest lives—friendships are often highlighted as one of the main factors contributing to longevity.

    On the flip side, the experience of loneliness or social isolation has been linked with a higher risk of early mortality.

    Human beings are a social species. Historically, the survival of our ancestors relied on forming close-knit social groups. If you became an outcast from the tribe, you were highly likely to die. So, in many respects, the need for friendships and social acceptance is hardwired into our DNA.

    While I don’t think that anyone can exist in a vacuum, it strikes me as important to note that you’re not going to die anymore if you don’t belong to a group. Just like having children used to be an inevitable part of life, forming friendships is now something we have more of a luxury of choice over in a 21st-century world.

    The Moment That Hit Me

    “Have you got a lot of friends?” Steve Bartlett asks out of the blue.

    “No,” Molly-Mae Hague looks uncomfortable. “That’s a blunt question! Straight up, no, no, I don’t. My circle is minuscule… And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I work, I spend time with my boyfriend, and I go to bed. That is literally my life… I don’t really drink, I don’t party, I don’t go out, but that’s because I actually don’t enjoy it.”

    “So you don’t actively want more friends?”

    “No,” Molly-Mae asserts more confidently. “It’s time-consuming, trying to make people happy… I’d rather focus on the things that are going to elevate me.”

    “I ask that question in part,” Steve says, “because every successful person I’ve sat here with doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

    If I’m being truthful, I was unfairly judgmental going into this episode of Diary of a CEO. I can’t say I was expecting to get many pearls of life wisdom from a former Love Island contestant.

    But I think that’s why this was such a lightbulb moment for me—because Molly-Mae strikes me as exactly the type of popular girl in school who would have had a huge, tight-knit friendship group.

    For years, I’ve berated myself for just not trying hard enough when it came to making and keeping friends. Even my family and partner have commented on it before. It’s made me feel like there’s something wrong with me for not wanting or needing friends as a strong presence in my life.

    But perhaps the issue was never my lack of friends, but rather my belief that it was a problem in the first place.

    7 Reasons Why You Don’t Need Loads of Friends to Be Happy

    1. Being introverted is a superpower.

    I’d always seen my introversion as a deficiency.

    Why was I not like other girls who wanted to get ready for a night out together and paint the town red?

    In true rock’n’roll style, I’d much rather be snuggled up in my PJs with a book and a cup of tea at 9 p.m. on a Saturday night.

    But when I strip all the layers back, I see that it’s simply a matter of valuing different things. And just because it looks different, doesn’t mean it’s not valid.

    While introverts may not have the loudest voices in the room, we are gifted with vibrant inner worlds. Our natural disposition toward self-reflection, creativity, and deep thinking are remarkable strengths worth celebrating.

    2. You get clear on what you truly want.

    When you spend time with other people, you’re like a sponge. The psychological concept of mirroring is testament to this—an unconscious tendency to mimic the gestures, mannerisms, and expressions of those around us to establish rapport and empathy.

    There is also an unavoidable level of compromise in friendships where you can’t help but go with the flow (unless you love the exact same things).

    Fewer friendships, on the other hand, mean less social pressure to conform to expectations or engage in activities that don’t align with your values or interests. This enables you to better understand who you are, what you value, and what you want out of life.

    This singlemindedness is probably why Steve Bartlett sees a strong correlation between ‘success’ and fewer friends.

    3. Popularity doesn’t equal self-worth.

    The idea that I could use my perceived popularity as a barometer for my self-worth is something I’d subconsciously internalized for years. But it should go without saying that there is no link here. You are not defined by social status or external validation.

    I’d also point out that it’s so easy to fall victim to comparison. In the past, I was particularly sensitive to social media portrayals of people with the ‘perfect’ group of friends.

    But remember that Instagram is a highly edited version of someone else’s life. Most people don’t have as many friends as they’d like you to think they do.

    4. You are whole and complete.

    First and foremost, your number one relationship in life is with yourself. People come and go, but the one constant you can always rely on is you.

    I’ve been through some of the hardest times on my own. Maybe I’d have found it easier leaning on friends for support. But, in many ways, I think I only found out how strong I was by understanding that I could get through things alone.

    In this sense, loneliness can be transformational. Relying on yourself to be your own best friend encourages independence, self-reliance, and insane personal growth.

    5. You don’t indulge in toxic tendencies.

    When I was younger, I wanted more than anything to be liked and accepted, so I inevitably ended up trying way too hard. I’d go along with what other people said and did because I was so desperate for their approval. And in the process, I completely eroded my own sense of self.

    I recognize countless times where I’ve lacked boundaries, entertained drama, or gossiped and bitched about other people, despite deep down hating how it made me feel.

    Instead of clinging to toxic friendships for fear of being alone, you are 100% better off without these people in your life. Integrity and authenticity are worth so much more.

    6. Family can be your support system.

    I recognize that not everyone is blessed with a strong support network, but it’s worth pointing out that close-knit familial relationships can often provide a foundation of love and trust, especially among siblings.

    Alternatively, we may find much of the emotional security we need in our significant other.

    The unwavering presence of family or a life partner can be reassuring. Having a space where you feel heard, can be unapologetically yourself, and aren’t required to make small talk provides a haven where you can regroup and recharge at the end of a long day.

    7. Quality is more important than quantity.

    When it comes to friendships, the old saying “quality over quantity” holds true.

    Investing in a handful of genuine, supportive friends is far more fulfilling than having lots of superficial acquaintances. If you’ve ever felt intensely alone in a room full of people, you’ll know exactly what I mean by this.

    As humans, we crave deep, meaningful connections that create a safe space for vulnerability and allow us to be our true selves. So, when our circle is too broad, we risk spreading ourselves too thin and diluting the quality of our relationships.

    All relationships require work and commitment, so make sure you’re investing in those which genuinely add value to your life.

    Embracing the Power of Introversion 

    For those of us striving to live more intentionally, it can be difficult to identify where there is genuine room for improvement and where we simply need more self-acceptance. And in this area, it was a case of reframing my perspective to come to peace.

    So, for all the guilt-ridden introverts out there, I want you to know that it’s okay if you find yourself going through life without many friends. So long as you feel happy and fulfilled in yourself, you don’t need to try harder to be someone you’re not.

    Who knows, perhaps I’ve simply not found my tribe yet. Ironically, now that I’m not clinging or wishing things were different, I may allow more of the right people into my life.

    But you know what?  I’m perfectly content either way.

  • I’m Not Sorry for My Tears: A New Movement

    I’m Not Sorry for My Tears: A New Movement

    “Do not apologize for crying. Without this emotion, we are only robots.” ~Elizabeth Gilbert

    A few nights ago, I was at a groovy, loud Mexican restaurant with some friends. In between sips of spicy margaritas and bites of chips with guac, I was talking with one of my friends privately about her latest struggles. She was confiding in me that she was still quite emotional about losing her mom.

    Although it had been two years, she still found herself crying alone and in front of others when she talked or thought about her mother. She mentioned that the week prior, someone at work had asked her a question about her mom and, upon answering, tears had started to flow freely. Then, she was embarrassed and quickly took her hands to her face to wipe the tears and started apologizing profusely.

    “I’m so sorry!” she quipped. “I did not anticipate getting emotional. I apologize for the tears.”

    This stopped me in my tracks. I was literally stymied by it all right then and there. I thought about this, and it hit me. What the heck is wrong with our society? Wait, don’t answer that. There are way too many things, but I’m referring to this one in particular.

    Why do we apologize when we cry? It absolutely should be the opposite. Crying is opening one’s heart and soul. It’s being vulnerable. It’s being real, open, and in touch. It’s exactly what we’re supposed to do when we’re hurting. We are purging ourselves of our sadness with our tears.

    When my boys were little and they would burp or fart, I would always say, “Better out than in,” and this is the same. Better out than in. Let them go. Release the flood. Cry your eyes out. And, for the love of all of us, do not apologize.

    Instead, I propose we start a movement. Instead of apologizing, how about we do the opposite? Upon tears starting to fall, how about saying, “I’m not sorry I’m crying”? This is taking our power back. It’s taking pride in knowing that you are being real, vulnerable, and open.

    My best friend is a therapist. I discussed this with her, and she told me that almost every time a client cries, they apologize to her. Think about that. They are paying her quite a bit of money so that they can be “seen,” and they tell her they are sorry for crying. She told me that she always tells them to never apologize for crying, but that generally doesn’t stop them from saying it in each subsequent meeting.

    After realizing the glaring phenomenon of apologizing when the tears start to flow, I noticed it everywhere. It was exemplified in every reality show on TV, as these seem to be prime platforms to cry. Every single time I witnessed someone crying, they uttered the words, “I’m sorry… ugh, so sorry…” as they tried to compose themselves. I could see the embarrassment in their faces and their mannerisms.

    I also attended a funeral recently and noticed that every time someone relayed a story to me and started to cry, the next words were always “I’m sorry.” It is ubiquitous. I have never been around someone or seen someone on a show or movie say, “I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry for showing you my heart, opening my soul, and being vulnerable.”

    Think about how you feel when you’re with someone who begins to cry. For me, I completely soften inside. No matter what the circumstances. Even if I am mad at the other person, I don’t like them that much, or I don’t know them very well.

    The moment someone cries in my presence, I melt a little inside. Whatever guard I had up, whether it was big or small, it comes down. I truly see them as a feeling soul who just happens to be human. I am drawn to them. I feel connected. I want to be closer to them.

    I am also a bit honored that they feel safe crying in front of me. I feel a little special, even if that is totally unintentional on their part. I feel like they are letting me in and showing me more of who they are.

    So, after coming up with this new manifesto, I knew I needed to start practicing it and see how it felt. It came up two days later. I was telling my husband about a memory I had about his dad, who had recently passed, and in this tender moment, tears started to fall.

    I fell into my rote way of thinking and feeling and quickly apologized.

    “I’m sorry I’m getting emotional,” I said, and then I remembered. Oh shoot, nooooo, not that. So I course-corrected. “I’m not sorry, I mean.”

    The funny thing is that I’m certain he didn’t even notice my backpedaling. I, however, did. I noticed that it felt better to say I wasn’t sorry. It gave me agency. I didn’t feel weak. I felt power in my words and in my tears. And it’s not even about power; it truly is about being real and honest.

    There is power in being completely transparent. Life is hard, and our hearts break a little and a lot, and sometimes often. It is our opportunity to truly live the human experience. To cry is to be human. There is no reason to apologize for being human. Let it go. Let it all out with gusto, and then stand strong and say, “I’m not sorry I’m crying” and see how that feels.

    I’m not sorry.