Tag: wisdom
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4 Happiness Tips from an Introvert Who Spent Years Trying to Change
“Get comfortable being uncomfortable.” ~Jillian Michaels
I’m an introvert. I need lots of time to myself to recharge after socializing with others, and I relish solitude, as it gives me the time and space to think and be creative. I’m quiet and can be shy on occasion, but I really enjoy spending time with close family and friends.
Throughout my life, I’ve struggled with this part of my personality and focused a lot of energy trying to change it. However, the acceptance I have found over the last year has been life-changing, and I hope writing about my journey may help others find that acceptance sooner.
Growing up, especially during primary school, I never really questioned who I was. I spent my childhood on an island off the West Coast of Scotland, and my memory of that time was mostly idyllic. Looking back, I can see how everything was in place for me to be the best version of myself.
There was a big group of children where I lived, and after school my little brother and I would go home, get changed, and then meet up with everyone outside our house. We played with whoever turned up on the day. I was quiet, but no one ever really noticed, as we were all too busy playing.
Although I didn’t realize it at the time, school was my place to recharge. I loved quietly working away and spending my time listening and learning. I didn’t feel any pressure to be social in school, as I had the group of friends at home, so being with others felt more relaxed and less draining.
Unfortunately, that was to change. Just as I was about to start my first year at secondary school, we moved, and in an instant, all the friends I had grown up with were gone. My little brother, who was my best friend, also still had another year at primary school, so it felt like I had lost him as well.
Furthermore, from the moment I started secondary school there was now a focus on me becoming more extroverted. This pressure wasn’t from other children but from the adults and the education system . Every report card would comment on my quietness and say that I needed to be more confident, more outgoing, more sociable.
The daily comments followed—”mouse,” “the quiet one,” “dark horse,” “it’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.” Again, these were from the adults in my life, very seldom from my school peers.
I learned very quickly that to survive in life I should aspire to be someone else. To be more extroverted and less introverted. To me, my introversion was a flaw, a weakness to overcome. I needed to change and push myself into situations and “get comfortable with being uncomfortable.”
Secondary school was also a far more social and busier place, and it stopped being a place for me to recharge. I couldn’t get the time or space that I had flourished with during primary schooI. So I started using my time away from school to recharge, but for the teenager I was, this became very lonely.
Nothing in my life suited the core person that I was. I felt so much shame around being introverted and a failure for not being able to adapt better. Through this time my inner critic grew to a deafening level, as did my anxiety.
I was convinced that if I could just change this part of me, then I would make more friends, be more confident, progress career wise, and be a better version of myself.
I spent the next thirty years trying to do just that. Although I have had many wonderful adventures and a very privileged life that I wouldn’t change, nearly every choice I made and career path I chose was in some shape or form a way to reinvent myself into being more extroverted. To be more confident and outgoing. To get away from the quiet person I was.
Although I always started out well, I would eventually slip back into my old ways, feeling disappointed in myself for not being this better version of myself that I thought I should be. I’d then move on to try something else to this time succeed at the infamous change I craved so much. This cycle helped to feed my inner critic and anxiety, which followed me throughout my life.
Then COVID and lock down came and, although devastating in so many ways, the pressure to socialize was taken away. I didn’t need to keep forcing myself to go to events, be sociable, or pretend to be anything. It gave me the time to see what it was to be comfortable being myself again.
However, the moment lockdown was over, I instantly returned to my same pattern. I took on a new project to help become ‘a new improved me.’ But this time life took me on a different path. After a number of unexpected bereavements and the loss of my business, which I had worked so hard to establish, I also started to go through the menopause.
I remember at the time it feeling like my heart had physically broken. So no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t return to how I was. I had no energy left to do any more changing.
Over this past year, I have gradually started to rebuild my life. It hasn’t been easy and it’s still a work in progress, but it is a life that suits me. It’s a life that celebrates my strengths and allows me to be who I am.
I’m currently working in a job that has less responsibility than I have had in the past but that I really love. It also means I have time now to be creative through writing and painting, which brings me so much joy and peace.
I am mindful that whatever new projects I am taking on, I am doing them because they’re right for me and they align with my personality and allow me what I need to stay healthy and happy. I’ve found that this in itself has helped me to grow holistically, without any pressure or negativity of not being good enough.
My quiet times, which have in the past felt very lonely, have transformed to times for me to be creative, and the more I do this, the richer my life is becoming.
I’ve realized that I’m not shying away from becoming “comfortable being uncomfortable,” and hopefully I will always continue to grow, but that my whole life can’t be uncomfortable because I’m not as extroverted as I feel I should be.
Accepting that I am an introvert and allowing myself the time and space that I need has been so liberating. It has given me a fuller appreciation of life that I never thought possible and never felt like I deserved. So whether you are introverted, extroverted, or somewhere in between, here are four suggestions that helped me rediscover who I am.
1. Know your ‘core.’
Take the time to find out who the ‘core’ you is. What are your values and passions, and what would you like your life to look and feel like? Are you more extroverted or introverted? Do you like taking on responsibility or a less pressured role? How do you re-charge? Find out what the ‘core’ of you is and celebrate that. Do everything that helps to nourish you and let the person you are truly shine through.
2. Take a minute.
Whenever I make a decision now, I take a moment beforehand to check that I’m going into it for the right reason. In the past, I did a degree in communication with the expectation that I would become more outgoing, one of the reasons I became a teacher was because I felt it would make me more confident, and when I went into business, I thought it would make me more sociable. When none of these things happened, I felt that I had failed. Your path in life should help you to flourish as the person you are.
3. Let go of expectations.
Don’t let expectations from others, as well as yourself, mold you. There can be so much pressure to keep driving you forward, to keep pushing yourself, whether it’s to be more sociable, more confident, reach for the next promotion, next house, etc. But if you need to change who you are for it, then it can become more destructive rather than motivational.
4. Accept yourself.
You don’t need to change. By appreciating all the gifts you already have and letting them shine through, in whatever way suits you, you are already everything you need to be.
Having shifted from a place of constant self-criticism to one of more acceptance has been such a transitional moment for me. By leaning into things that bring comfort, peace, and joy, I have had the opportunity to remember how it feels to be content and deeply happy.
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I Felt Like I Didn’t Belong: 5 Lessons from a Former Misfit
“I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself.” ~Maya Angelou
In my final year of high school, I had a horrible breakup. I was heavily attached to my girlfriend because, with her, for the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged. Growing up in Germany, of Arabic roots, made me feel like I belonged nowhere. I didn’t feel German nor Arabic.
With her, I finally thought I had a place somewhere. So when this relationship ended, all I wanted was to escape. I hoped a change of location would solve my problems. So, after graduation, I packed my stuff, booked a one-way ticket, and fled to Australia.
My early days in Australia were anything but idyllic. Arriving there, not knowing anyone and barely able to communicate in English, I felt lost like never before. During the first month, I was constantly battling self-doubt. It seemed as if this was the first time anyone had ever experienced the harshness that can accompany travel. I felt like a loser.
Everybody around me seemed to enjoy their trips. They seemed to have found their place. Every conversation I had felt so awkward.
I was deeply ashamed of my English, so I isolated myself. I wanted to go home, but after telling everybody I was planning to leave, I promised myself not to give up. But the truth was, again, like in Germany, I felt like a misfit. The sense of isolation I had felt back home was still with me. It was so alive. It was like living in a nightmarish loop—unable to escape my loneliness and alienation.
Two months into my stay, I sat on a bench in Sydney, consuming junk food and battling the urge to give up. Nothing had changed. I felt out of place, had made no friends, and was utterly miserable.
At that low point, I was reflecting on my time in Germany and I had a realization that, looking back at it now, changed my life: I had taken my problems with me. My issues were about more than just a specific location. They were within me. I was responsible for my misery, isolation, and inability to fit in. The problems I had left in Germany had taken a new form in Australia.
This insight was crushing but made me stand up from this bench with a new sense of resolve.
The following day I checked into a new hostel. I promised myself to keep trying, push myself to speak English, and make a conscious effort to form connections with fellow travelers. It wasn’t easy at first, but I became more comfortable speaking as time passed. I started to trust myself more. I began to make friends, people started asking me if I wanted to join them on trips, and people were interested in my past.
Following my realization on this bench, this month was one of my life’s best. In this month, I made deep, lasting friendships that I still have to this day.
Ultimately, I stayed in Australia for almost a year and had a great time. I left Germany and was homesick, and I left Australia with newly gained confidence and trust in myself. Since then, I’ve traveled to over twenty-five countries. It became my nature to go to new places, and I no longer have the same issues fitting into a new context.
Also, I changed my relationship with Germany. Every time I go back, I embrace and like it. Ironically, the attempt to escape my roots formed a deeper connection to my German and Arabic origins. I smile when I look back. I was so ready to give up. I was at the lowest point of my life. One realization, one thought on this bench, changed the course of my life.
Now I want to share with you the key lessons I learned from my time in Australia.
1. Trust life.
Life puts us in difficult situations that ultimately lead us to grow. My time in Australia was a gift, particularly those first two challenging months. They forced me to confront my internal struggles, the issues I had been unwilling to face. I believe that life knows what it is doing and is working for us, not against us. This holds true for me to this day.
2. Take responsibility.
In Germany, I had a habit of playing the victim, blaming my circumstances and culture clash for my unhappiness. While those issues were real, acknowledging that I was also a part of the problem was liberating. Understanding that I had the power to change my situation was the first step toward actual change.
3. Be persistent.
In Australia, I came close to giving up and returning home. Looking back, I realize that would have been a huge mistake. The best year of my life and experiences that changed the course of my life followed that initial struggle, reminding me that persisting through tough times can lead to beautiful outcomes.
4. Hard times are necessary for growth.
Those two months in Australia were some of the hardest in my life. The loneliness I felt was crushing. However, looking back, those challenging times were also when I grew the most. I developed resilience and a better understanding of myself, which I wouldn’t trade for anything.
5. Be a blank sheet.
One of the most powerful lessons I learned throughout my travels was the power of approaching each new situation like a blank sheet.
For far too long, I allowed my past experiences and hurts to dictate my present and future. I was constantly recreating my past wherever I went, not giving my life story a chance to change or evolve. I carried heavy, invisible baggage of past failures, rejections, and loneliness that kept me rooted in a narrative no longer serving me.
It wasn’t about forgetting or denying what had happened but not letting it control my present and future.
Like a blank sheet, allow yourself to be open, to receive new experiences, change, and learn.
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How to Heal from Rejection (Without Getting Down on Yourself)
“This is a moment of suffering. Suffering is part of life. May I be kind to myself in this moment. May I give myself the compassion I need.” ~Kristen Neff
The handsome man I was dating sat on the easy chair to tell a difficult story. We were in my loft, and he was avoiding eye contact. I studied the symmetry of his jaw as he spoke.
“I did something stupid,” he said.
I thought he was confiding in me. Maybe this intimacy would bring us closer. Maybe his eye had wandered but he was choosing me. I leaned in.
There was someone else, but not in a way I ever would have guessed. The ugliness of his admission was at odds with my glowing perception of him.
Adding to my cognitive dissonance, at the end of his tale I was stunned to hear the words, “and that’s why I can’t see you anymore.”
My hands shook. I set my wine glass down on the coffee table. We’re all flooded with stress hormones during separations because we’re social creatures. My body felt like it was drowning. I had daydreamed this man would be a buoy to reach for and hold me in safety during life’s challenges. Instead, he put on his coat.
“I’m sorry,” he said, with genuine sentiment. Then he left, slipping away into the night, leaving me alone on my sofa in the riptide of emotion.
I was at once disappointed, disheartened, sad, betrayed, and scared to be alone. Yet in light of his revelation, I was also relieved.
I’d been broken up with before, but this time there was no punishing blame put upon me, and the shame was all his. For the first time I could see rejection as impersonal. It had nothing to do with my worth, value, or actions. It was about where he was at in his life, the recognition that I wasn’t in that same place, and the fact he didn’t want to take me.
Nor did I want to go there. His story was that he lost his cool while DJing a wedding on the weekend. A woman kept pestering him to play a song he’d already played. When she became irate and shouty he spit on her.
Her friends called the police, who charged him with assault. Spitting on someone is a criminal offense. It’s also disgusting and degrading. Now he was dealing with the legal consequences, something he was taking responsibility for on his own.
My brain said, “This breakup is for the best,” while my body processed the rejection as a bereavement. Our fun concert dates, record shopping field trips, and song sharing were over. He was gone, and so was the hopeful promise of our budding relationship. The indulgent illusion and fantasy of early-stage dating evaporated in an instant.
Alone on my sofa I wrapped myself in a fuzzy blanket, sipped wine, and watched a movie. I don’t remember which one. I was numb. But after that my rejection coping veered off the usual script.
The Old Post-Rejection Story
There’s a standard RomCom break-up montage—you know the one. The star of the story gets dumped then self-destructive. She gets drunk, sends the messy message she shouldn’t, wallows in her pajamas with unkempt hair, and eats pizza and ice cream until a bestie intervenes. Then she hits the gym, regains confidence, gets a new look, and is all set for a surprising meet cute with someone else.
But what if after a rejection you could skip the self-sabotage?
To sail through rejection, you’d have to see it as not personal, as I did with my crush. You’d also need to know it’s not perfect by perceiving people and situations as flawed, the way things really are. And you’d need to accept that nothing’s permanent and not be attached to outcomes. You would go in and out of relationships like a graceful butterfly, with no ego, expectations, fantasy, or old baggage.
In other words, you’d be a learned Buddhist, or Eckhart Tolle. I don’t know about you, but I’m nowhere near there yet in my conscious evolution.
But there’s another way to process rejection as an adult that also sidesteps the hapless drunken humiliation and numb hiding. It’s so simple we don’t do it, or if we do, we don’t apply it enough. We have to love ourselves.
Why Loving Ourselves Heals
It’s taken me a long time to learn that self-love is not just cheesy sentiment. It’s more than a positive mental attitude or a meme from RuPaul’s Drag Race. Active self-love is self-soothing, and for those of us who’ve ever felt inadequately comforted, seen, heard, or understood (i.e., virtually everyone), this concept can be hard to grasp.
I didn’t fully appreciate self-soothing until a few years after that breakup with the handsome spitter, when I moved to a new city by myself. In the lead up to the move I was so busy planning and packing I didn’t fully feel my myriad feelings. It wasn’t until I arrived and unpacked that I grieved the loss of my friendships and familiar comforts I’d grown used to. It was like I’d broken up with a whole city.
Then, facing the pandemic on my own, without my full support network, I took a deep dive into neuroscience, reading everything I could about resilience, anxiety, and burnout. In the process I discovered Kristen Neff’s groundbreaking research on fierce self-compassion.
I learned the reason rejections and losses are so painful is that the separation triggers all the times we’ve felt bereft before. We feel this in our bodies, which sound alarms. We typically react with fight, flight, freeze, or fawn reactions, and our minds spiral. We might blame or shame ourselves, twisting “this isn’t working,” “things change” or other impersonal reasons into harsh feelings of “I’m bad,” “I’m unworthy,” or “I’m not enough.”
If we act with self-love and compassion instead, we acknowledge the pain and sadness we’re feeling. We comfort ourselves like we would a sobbing small child—with soothing actions that calm down our activated nervous systems.
What We Get Wrong About Self-Love
In adulthood our attempts at self-soothing too often numb the pain instead of healing it. We blanket ourselves in escapist binge watching or video games. We reach for another glass of wine or something stronger. Or we overwork to exhaustion. Sitting with difficult emotions we’d rather avoid is too uncomfortable and scary.
But the worst thing we can do is to take our raw, unprocessed emotions and lash out at someone else. That’s when feelings turn into reactivity and abusive behavior, like spitting on someone or harassing them with tirades of vitriol. That’s when hurt people lose it and hurt others.
That means the corollary is also true: the best thing we can do for ourselves, families, friends, partners, communities, and the world is to feel our feelings fully and ride them, surf-like, to shore. To do that we need to be present and aware and know how to take care of our emotions through self-soothing. That’s healing.
Self-Love Practices That Really Work
Self-soothing is about being in your body, not checking out or judging yourself harshly. I’m still a novice at self-soothing, but so far, the methods that work for me are:
-Wrapping myself in a self-hug, or rubbing my upper arms
-Breathing in quickly and then releasing a long, sigh-like exhale at least three times
-Standing up and shaking out my hands, shoulders, arms, and legs, or dancing it out
-Taking a moment to notice as many details as I can about where I am (colors, sounds, smells)
-Breathing in steam from a hot cup of tea or a warm bath
-Listening to calming music
-Lighting a candle to watch it sparkle
-Going for a walk
-Doing gentle yin yoga
When I try to think my way through rejection I either spiral into rumination or shut down. Telling someone what happened can help make sense of it and provide validation. But the only words that truly salve the sting are loving reassurances we tell ourselves, like: “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” In this way, repeating positive affirmations can help too.
Remember It’s a Process!
One important thing to know about self-soothing is that it takes time! In our rushed, busy-is-better culture we don’t gift ourselves with time-outs enough. That’s why we’re so often on the edge and reactive. But self-soothing in the moment we feel the first sting of rejection completes the stress cycle faster. It takes less time to heal by self-soothing than we’d normally spend ruminating, numbing, or fuming.
And when you soothe yourself, you might see new ways to connect with others. I didn’t date the handsome spitter again, but by not taking our breakup personally I didn’t build up a wall of shame or blame against him either. We became friends and continued seeing concerts together until I moved to my new city.
Everything changes. Along with the best, the worst things are always going to happen. Loved ones leave or die. Opportunities are fleeting. Material possessions break or fade. There’s grief in losing the familiarity of a home you once lived in, even when it’s time to move on. Remember you’ve still got yourself to live with.
Loving yourself is a reason to keep going, find joy wherever you can, and attract more love. Loving yourself is the rescue buoy that’s always there. It’s the soft soothing comfort and calm power you’ve always longed for.
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The Pressure to Dream Big and the Beauty of Wanting Less
“What if I accept that all I really want is a small, slow, simple life? A beautiful, quiet, gentle life. I think it is enough.” ~Krista O’Reilly-Davi-Digui
Why do we feel such pressure to dream big? I think it starts in childhood when parents, teachers, and other adults start asking the question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
One of the many problems with this question is its premise. In the classroom, at church, at youth camp, at home, you are not alone, and you’re able to hear, understand, and internalize how others might answer this question. If you pay close attention, you’ll notice changes in responses from one age group to the next.
For young children, the answer is very simple and correlates with their immediate environment. A little girl may answer that she wants to be a mother when she grows up. A little boy may answer that he wants to be a police officer. A pre-teen girl might say she wants to be a teacher, while a pre-teen boy might say he wants to be a detective. A teenage girl might want to be a singer when she grows up, or a teenage boy might want to be a football player.
By the time most of these children reach young adulthood, the answers will not be as varied and light-hearted as they used to be. The answers will start to have a certain pattern. The most common answers will be doctors, lawyers, investment bankers, pilots, engineers, etc.
There are certainly many reasons for this, but the one I want to highlight is financial freedom and all that comes with it.
At some point in our lives, we become aware of the power that money wields, and our dreams, aspirations, desires, and lifestyles begin to shape around it.
Where I come from, it’s not uncommon for teachers to advise students not to become teachers, but to try to become doctors or pilots because those professions usually make more money. Everything else is less urgent.
There is a strange story that we tell ourselves that states that, as long as there is money, everything else will fall into place. If you’re already well into your adulthood, you’ve probably made the unpleasant discovery of how untrue this story is. But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve changed your goals.
Whether you become a doctor, a teacher, a creative, a small business owner, or something else, our dreams and aspirations usually take on very similar shapes.
Our dreams are no longer just about having a comfortable roof to call home, but about having an enviable location, income-generating properties, and vacation homes as well.
Our desire is no longer just to own a car for convenience but to own two or more cars, preferably expensive and good-looking ones.
Our goal is no longer just to be healthy, to have a perfectly functioning body in terms of strength, balance, flexibility, and proportions; it now has to be defined, toned, provocative, and basically a work of art to see, admire, and discuss.
Even a simple walk is no longer just a walk. You need to count your steps, calculate calories burned, and share your results.
Financial freedom is no longer about meeting everyday needs or putting a bit aside for a rainy season or emergency, but it is now a full-time job on top of your full-time job and side hustle.
With the advent of happiness gurus, vision boards, affirmations, and feel-good culture, our dreams and desires are becoming unbearable. There is now a formula to dreaming and desiring and an expected, standard result to match.
I always find it curious how almost all vision boards across the globe tend to look the same. It is even more curious when you account for the fact that we are all raised in different homes and different cultural and religious backgrounds, we physically look different, our educational background is varied, yet our desires, dreams, visions, and aspirations seem to have morphed into one.
Most common on the vision board are all the material possessions. The unique home, the expensive car, the enviable vacation destinations, the perfect partner, and despite our different genes, bone density, height, etc., the body goals are very similar if not identical.
We are all reciting the same morning and evening affirmations of prosperity and abundance.
You will be hard pressed to find a vision board that is filled with desires related to patience, kindness, apologizing, picking up trash, checking on your neighbor, calling family members more, feeding stray animals, finding contentment in your finances as opposed to making more money, being thankful that the bus stops next to your dwelling and that in that season you have no desire for a car, or making peace with the changes that come with: an aging body, a pregnant body, a sick body, a body that has carried and birthed other humans, a differently abled body, etc. There could be vision boards like this, but it’s not the norm.
We are all free to dream, desire, and visualize the kind of lifestyle we want; we all know this. What needs to be said is that you can also desire little and dream simply, and that your dreams and desires are still worthy.
You are not lazy, you do not possess little or no faith at all because your dream life, the one you visualize and create in your mind, those deep desires and longings, look something like this:
Walking or cycling to all the places you need to get to, buying second hand clothes, living in a simple home, eating what you grow and keep, creating your own entertainment with what you have and having a good time while at it, working and earning less, napping in the afternoon, reading on the balcony guilt-free, wailing away your evenings or weekends chatting with people, be they family, neighbors, friends, or just strangers, and showing up in your life make-up free, or without having to spend many hours and dollars on your appearance.
If you have never desired to wear expensive perfume and you are happy with a basic body spray or nothing at all, your desire is of value.
If you have crooked teeth but don’t have an overwhelming desire to get braces, you are not settling for less; you, my friend, have been touched by contentment.
Maybe you prefer to take walks, practice yin yoga or mat Pilates, or dance to your favorite music as opposed to doing HIIT and sweating at the gym. Yes, you have wide hips, a good dose of cellulite, stretch marks, perhaps a tiny stomach pooch, and the workouts you enjoy will not sculpt that body, but maybe you couldn’t care less.
No, you are not lazy for not wanting to put yourself through military-like training on a daily basis for a lifetime just to be an art form for others to enjoy. If you are at peace and see the value in the kind of body movements you enjoy, that is all there is to it.
If you don’t plan expensive vacations but instead choose to take small breaks in your everyday life—be it going to the seaside on the weekends, going to the beach in the afternoons, or just going for a hike once a week or treating yourself to lunch at a nice restaurant—these are all ways to relax and experience new things. You are not settling for a mediocre life just because you are doing life differently or cheaply.
Being financially poor by today’s standards should not equate, nor does it, to being mentally poor, physically poor, emotionally poor, friendship poor, relationship poor, happiness poor, joy poor.
You are not less of a person because you do not drive a fancy car (or any car), you live in a small apartment instead of a house you own, you do not own any luxury brands or items, you do not vacation in Greece, and you attended a small vocational college (or none at all).
Define what’s important and meaningful to you, and do not cast it in stone. Always allow yourself, your definitions, your ethos, your values, your dreams, your desires, your visions, your affirmations, your emotions, your body, and your belief systems to change, to evolve with time and the changing seasons of life.
Life doesn’t always have to expand, ascend, and increase. It also descends, decreases, and compresses. This is okay. All stages of life are worthwhile and hold value, and you are allowed to enjoy them, be in them, and be at peace while at it.
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How Childhood Bullying Influenced How I Treat Others as an Adult
“For me, that strong back is grounded confidence and boundaries. The soft front is staying vulnerable and curious. The mark of a wild heart is living out these paradoxes in our lives and not giving into the either/or BS that reduces us. It’s showing up in our vulnerability and our courage, and, above all else, being both fierce and kind.” ~Brené Brown
Many people have experienced bullying in their lives and have possibly been a bully by association without realizing it at the time.
While the type of bullying may differ, the emotions are often the same. Bullying is never okay, and the layered pain that bullies usually possess drives how they treat others.
For me anxiety, shame, and a lack of understanding has always been present. On a regular basis, I experience pings of past bullying in my head reminiscent of the notifications that pop up on my phone.
When I reflect on my teen years, it’s the cringe-worthy moments that are the headliners. These negative experiences can stick to you like glue throughout your life.
Like every teenager, I wanted to fit in, and I wanted to feel like I belonged. Unfortunately, I never belonged where I wanted to the most.
Much of the time I felt or knew I didn’t belong, or the belonging was fake, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. To make it just a little more complicated, I am a highly sensitive person (HSP), and at that age I didn’t understand how that impacted how I made friends and how I was treated by others.
Most of the bullying I experienced as a teen was emotional, and for a period it was physical. Standing up for myself wasn’t really in the cards as far as solutions went. I was an athlete and I lived for the sports I played. But you don’t get to choose your team, and that proved to be a dangerous reality for me.
My teammates did and said hurtful things. I’m not sure if they knew it or not, but I could hear them sometimes at practices. To this day I’m not sure if they knew that I knew; I waited on many days until I got home to fall apart. While the emotional toll has been tough, my worst memories pertain to physical bullying.
Without going into too much detail, I was targeted by teammates I thought were my friends. They picked a part of my body and thought it was funny to hit, slap, and punch me. I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it, but I didn’t stand up for myself or tell anyone that could help me either.
While the physical contact hurt, gave me headaches, and caused me to throw up, the most harmful part was that their game taught me that something was wrong with my body.
By eleventh grade, I’d developed body dysmorphia disorder, and I hid my body as much as possible. To this day sometimes my skin still burns if I feel like I’m showing too much of my body. The shame screams at me inside my head, so I cover as much skin as I can.
Earlier I wrote that it is possible to be a bully by association. Growing up, I hated when my mom said “guilt by association.” I loathe the feeling of those words ringing in my ears to this day. I didn’t stand up for myself, and I certainly didn’t have the strength or understanding that I could walk away instead of worrying about fitting in.
I can think of countless times when people who bullied me then targeted others. There were times that I didn’t say a word, times I agreed, and times I maybe laughed. I knew it was wrong. I was stuck between wanting to be accepted, not wanting to be targeted, and trying not to draw attention to myself.
I was like that in my youth, and I would get sick to my stomach about it all the time. I knew it was wrong but lacked the ability to do the right thing because of the emotional weakness that controlled me.
Knowing that I can’t go back to change those actions has made me passionate about standing up for what I believe is right as an adult. Because when you stand by, injustice just continues in a loop and things don’t change.
I don’t know if I could have changed things back then. I don’t know if simply walking away could have helped. But I know the pain from bullying may last well into adulthood and can potentially affect someone for life.
As someone who was bullied for a lot of my youth, it took me a long time to forgive myself for bullying by association. I was guilty of harming others even if I didn’t mean to.
Now, as an adult, I am more mindful of how I want to treat others. I have developed skills, become stronger, and worked extremely hard to hold my head high (which will always be a work in progress).
At the core, I believe that people are trying their best and do not set out to harm others. While I make mistakes and sometimes need to analyze my own behavior, I live my life with a high level of intention. I use kindness to help others, but also to heal from the harmful experiences in my past.
After developing a list of practices that reflect how I want to treat people, I now intentionally use my past experiences to do the following…
1. I pause to cultivate meaningful interactions and relationships. An inner mantra is “people first.” I want to make others feel like they matter and are seen.
2. I learn about the people around me, and I show my gratitude with acts of kindness.
3. I’m honest about my past experiences and struggles to help others feel validated.
4. I openly reflect with others about behaviors, actions, and mistakes that I’ve made that have harmed others. I also share how I work to do better when I make mistakes.
5. I encourage others to give me feedback and let me know if something I’m doing is hurtful or not helpful.
6. I practice patience and kindness in the moments when I feel annoyed, angry, or sad.
7. I speak up if I don’t agree with how someone or a group is being treated.
8. I exit toxic relationships faster than I used to, realizing that toxic relationships do not just harm me but those around me too.
9. I take stock of my actions and words on a regular basis to reflect on areas I can improve or how I can be kinder.
10. I no longer allow being an HSP to shame me into not being my authentic self. I work to use sensitivity as a tool to help myself and others to truly show empathy.
I know my actions may have harmed others in the past, and I will never arrive at a point where I am magically healed from the ways others hurt me. But I believe in the power of kindness and vulnerability. An important moment in my life was when I decided that I would no longer let my past dictate how I live my life. I decided not to hide who I was anymore. And when I leaned into the discomfort of the painful experiences, I started to grow.
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How I Found My Worth in Spite of My Father’s Abandonment
“Because if I myself saw my worth, I wouldn’t base my worthiness on someone else’s seeing it.” ~Unknown
I can’t be sure which title I would have preferred. Daddy, Poppa, Pa, Dad. Aren’t these the endearing titles one earns when they live up to all that it means in the role of the first and most important man in a little girl’s life?
The one who she can count on for love, guidance, comfort, and safety. The one who she adores. The one who teaches her how to play soccer or baseball because she is a tomboy through and through. The one who allows her to put makeup on his face or to have tea parties with him at a table entirely too small for his stature. The one who tells her the best bedtime stories that leave her feeling safe from the boogeyman living under her bed.
The one who sets the standard when she finds the love of her life.
From all that I have heard, they are the ones who are something special and to be treasured.
Mine, on the other hand, not so much. Let us then call him the sperm donor. Fitting since it’s the only role he’s played in my life. When one walks out on his wife and two little girls, the older, age three and the younger, age one (that’s me), offering no support, financial, emotional, or otherwise, he’s earned that title.
Bless your black little heart.
Maybe this all makes me sound harsh or bitter. That’s because I was, for a really long time.
And with that came all the issues: abandonment, people-pleasing, anxiety, lack of confidence and self-esteem. Choosing partners who didn’t respect me because I didn’t respect myself. Drinking and feeling regret over things I may have said or done that could have hurt other people. Always second-guessing myself and my choices because I didn’t trust myself to make my own decisions.
I became my own worst enemy, consistently and constantly beating myself up for anything and everything, and I filled my head with toxic thoughts about my worth that I believed were truths. Truths I lacked any ability to refute.
I needed constant validation and approval, and a steady stream of input from others dictating my life. I did not know who the heck I was or how to be true to myself. I spent many years trying to make sense of it all, and the more I tried, the more I suffered.
I hated the fact that I grew up without a father. I hated everything about it. And for so long, I let it define who I was.
Fast-forward to the second half of my life. After a series of difficult events, including a devastating breakup around my fiftieth birthday and the more recent unexpected death of my mother, the only parent I had ever known (with whom I shared a tumultuous, roller coaster relationship), I became sick of myself and who I had allowed myself to become.
How could I expect my own kids to grow into confident, kind, respectful adults if I was not setting the example? “Get it together, Charlene. Do it for them, and once and for all, do it for yourself!”
That was the pivotal time in my life that triggered the light switch for me. It was as if I was given a second chance and an opportunity to gain the clarity I needed to become exactly who I wanted to be as a person and as a mom.
I knew three things: it would take work, it would not happen overnight, and it would not feel good. It didn’t matter. I had made up my mind. I knew, first and foremost, I needed to find a way to forgive myself—for allowing my past to define my life, for my holding so much resentment toward my mother, and my own struggles as a mother after my divorce.
I spent time initially with my three amigos. Me, myself, and I. We got to know each other very well before shortly meeting up with my baggage. We all sat together most days in our group therapy sessions, and we went back. Way back. We rehashed our lives and all the unpleasant and unflattering times. We sat often, in silence and in our stench. We did this for as long as it took until we could look in the mirror and see the person we could love and be proud of.
It was not pleasant. It was not easy. And it was most definitely not fun. But it was worth it.
We, the four amigos (baggage included), were worth it.
I slowly allowed myself some grace and became kinder and gentler to myself.
Each day, I drove the short distance home from work on my lunch hour, hopping on my bike and looking for something, anything, to be grateful for… a bird or a butterfly in flight, the sunlight glistening on the water, a stone on the pavement in the shape of a heart, the sound of children laughing in the playground.
I flooded my email inbox and social media feeds with daily happiness reminders (Tiny Buddha being one of them), and I devoured anything resembling positivity. I committed myself to healing my broken heart and rewiring my broken brain. Rather than focusing on my flaws and perceived imperfections, I uncovered everything wonderful and unique about myself—my courage, my passion, my honesty, my empathy, and my own role as a mother.
I took my days minute by minute and inched my way forward.
Baby steps.
I will turn fifty-nine this year. Far closer to sixty than I am to fifty, back when the “you know what” started hitting the fan for me. When I think back to what my life looked like back then and all the worries and fears I had about what direction I was heading, I feel a sense of sadness.
Time is this funny thing when you are in the second half of the game (of life). While I don’t dwell too much on regrets, my age, or how much time I have left, I would be lying if I said I have not thought about the time I wasted anguishing over my bruised ego and the hell I put myself through for so long.
It is time I cannot get back.
But today, I can say that I am proud of myself, and I give myself some credit…
For overcoming my feelings of inadequacy and not being enough.
For realizing that I am not lesser because of my flaws and imperfections, or because I grew up fatherless, in a trailer park, and do not have a four-year college degree.
For having the courage and strength to walk my own path, even when the steps were terrifying and uncertain.
Today, I am good.
Good as in I can wake up and look in the mirror and like who I see. I could use a few less lines on my face, but I continue to learn how to embrace the whole package that is me. I can beat myself up and throw a good pity party once in a while, but I usually catch myself in the process.
Sometimes it takes a few minutes, sometimes a day or two. Just depends.
Either way, I have to sit the little girl inside me down and give her a reminder… to relax her shoulders, close her eyes, take a few deep breaths, and remember who the hell she is and just how far she has come.
Today, I am still under construction, and I have been single and on my own for eight years. I was broken for a very long time, and I knew I needed to work on my inability to love and respect myself and rebuild the shattered parts of myself before I could entertain a relationship again. But I believe there are no mistakes. I think the stars aligned exactly as they needed to for me.
If you can relate to any part of my story, I hope you find the strength and courage to dig deep and recognize where your lack of self-worth originated and discover all that is so wonderful and valuable about you.
Regardless of your circumstances or how anyone might have treated you in the past, you are worthy of your own love, just as I am.
