Tiny Buddha

Tag: wisdom

  • You’re Never Too Old To Feel Inspired, Excited, and Alive

    You’re Never Too Old To Feel Inspired, Excited, and Alive

    “I do not want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.” ~Diane Ackerman 

    I’m in the business of watching people take risks. I observe them tackling challenges, fear, and discomfort, and sometimes, “making firsts” in their life.

    I observe a lot as a flight attendant, and sometimes wonder if my official title should rather be “Human Observer,” or “Social Experimenter.” It feels more accurate, or at least it’s the part that I typically enjoy the most. I’m also what’s called a “Death Doula” and hospice volunteer, both of which I consider to be more of a passion rather than a kind of “job” or “position.”

    I not only enjoy observing and assisting people through their living process, but also through their dying process. That includes everything in between. My interest in humans isn’t just with the young (who the media unfortunately tells us are the only “relevant ones”), but I rather have a special spot in my heart for the old and the dying.

    I experienced a rather benign interaction a couple of weeks ago, walking to my gate in the Salt Lake City Airport at the beginning of my work trip. As I was passing the TSA security area, a hunched elderly woman, slightly ahead of me, dropped all of her belongings. Her belongings included a small rollaboard and a large tote purse. Her bags were ripping at the seams with the items I’m sure she diligently chose ahead of time.

    My husband, who also happens to be a “Human Observer” with the same Human Observing company, was walking with me. The timing aligned perfectly—she dropped her bags, resulting in several items spilling out, and we, following right behind her, were ready to help pick up the pieces.

    It was just the interaction I needed at that time.

    As with any job, position, or career, it’s easy to feel “burnt out,” rundown, or simply uninspired, given the right circumstances. No matter how exciting your job or life may seem to other people, it’s your “normal,” but likewise, it’s your individual responsibility to keep that flame of inspiration burning.

    A similar idea can be true for what may seem like a “boring” life or “boring” job: it may be your ultimate passion and inspiration. Either way, life and circumstances ebb and flow. Sometimes you just need to get out of your own head and stop thinking about the same day-in, day-out rudimentary topics of your life.

    At the time, I had been feeling fairly lackluster. I’d been working more than normal and had barely had time to myself to contemplate and be introspective (which I desperately need on a regular basis), let alone time to even be home. This interaction changed things for me in that moment and has stuck with me since.

    It was clear that she was traveling solo. I helped pick up her dropped rollaboard luggage as my husband started helping with her tote bag. I noticed that some of the items that dropped from her bags were French language and culture-related books. She was disorganized, no rhyme or reason for any items’ place, and you could tell she used every inch of space possible.

    “I’m going to Paris for a month, and I’ve never traveled before! This is everything I’m bringing!” She exclaimed, her smiling face closely looking up at me. I’ll never forget her look—that wrinkled, rough face with a peeling nose, disheveled short hair, and haphazardly put-together outfit. She was ecstatic, and it almost seemed as if she had been waiting to tell someone—anyone—about what adventures she was about to embark upon.

    As my husband worked on putting some items back in order, quietly talking to himself (“these will just fall out again if we don’t put them here”), I told her how excited I was for her and how amazing it is that she is doing this—going for it. Her excitement radiated onto me, and I couldn’t help but feel absolutely elated for her.

    We exchanged some additional niceties, and we helped her find her departure gate. For the next several minutes after parting ways, I had the biggest, dumbest smile stuck on my face.

    I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall (plane “wall” or otherwise) throughout her journey—to see her sense of wonder and curiosity with everyone and everything she was to encounter. I think about her now, conscious of the fact that she’s exactly halfway into her journey.

    This entire interaction then made me wonder, “What was it in her life that served as the catalyst for this decision of hers?” What made her decide, “Yep, this is the time. I’m just going to go for it. What have I got to lose?” She didn’t look like your stereotypical “adventurer.” She wasn’t trying to be anyone but herself.

    In a modern world where the young, adventurous ones are on Tik Tok, YouTube, or Instagram, it was refreshing to see a normal, mature person just going for it. I see and experience examples of this kind of thing on a regular basis, but I guess I just wish that perhaps someone from a younger generation who may be insecure about the direction of their life could experience these things with me.

    As much as I’ve experienced those who are brave and taking up hobbies or doing things that inspire them, I’ve also seen the opposite: those who are afraid of the new. It seems as if people get settled in their ways and end up saying to themselves, “Welp, this is it. This is my life now.”

    But why do we do that? It seems so counterintuitive to how life should be: full of exploration and wonder. I don’t think this is a particularly new or modern concept. I don’t think it’s because of social media that more mature folks aren’t taking risks or taking up hobbies they genuinely enjoy.

    This is not to say that I think everyone should get on a plane and go to Paris. Traveling isn’t inspiring for everyone. For some, perhaps the exhaustion or the stress outweigh any benefit. To each their own. Perhaps your version of exploring curiosity or wonder is creating a garden, deciding to read more, finally getting into stand-up comedy, going outside more, or digging into that sourdough bread kit.

    Deciding to lead a life full of exploration and wonder doesn’t need to fit a particular theme. It’s getting out there (or staying in there) and doing what inspires you. It’s doing it for you—no one else. And sometimes it may take a catalyst against your will to make something happen.

    I can’t assume that it was something perceived as “negative” that happened to our Parisian friend that made her, for the first time ever, embark on a month-long trip across the world. But I find it fun to explore the possibilities.

    Many may also say they have a fear of “failure,” but what are we defining as “failure?” Does “failure” even exist if you’re actively enjoying yourself and not doing it for anyone else? You’re never too old to find inspiration—whether it be through a hobby, an activity, or through others. Our lives and deaths are constantly in cycle. That cycle is always in motion. You’ve got to keep moving.

    I think Ms. Paris, who I admire so, knew this. We didn’t need to have this particular conversation for me to know that.

  • If You Want Your Children to Turn Out Well

    If You Want Your Children to Turn Out Well

  • Why Relationships Matter Most: We’re All Just Walking Each Other Home

    Why Relationships Matter Most: We’re All Just Walking Each Other Home

    “We’re all just walking each other home.” ~Ram Dass

    Living in the hyper-individualist society that we do, it’s easy to forget our obligation to those around us. Often in the West, we are taught to prioritize ourselves in the unhealthiest ways, to ‘grind’ as hard as we can to achieve wealth and status.

    We are taught, between the lines, that our first responsibility is to create a ‘perfected‘ version of ourselves to such an extreme that it is alright to forsake our relationships with others to accomplish it.

    From day one, it is embedded in us that it is our individual selves against the world. Like many others, I’d like to challenge this notion. Because what is the purpose of wealth and status if not to share it with the ones you love and who love you the most?

    What is the meaning of life itself if not companionship, community, and love?

    I want to disclaim, of course, that this is by no means attacking the notion of having personal external goals. Career success, physique aspirations, and other tangible objectives can absolutely be noble in pursuit and attainment.

    What I would like to say is that none of those external goals will fulfill you the way that genuine human connection can—and that those goals should not be completed by abandoning your healthy relationships and support systems. And if you are thinking, “who actually does that?” this introduction is not for you.

    To put it simply, life is a series of circumstances, situations, and experiences that we get reluctantly swept into (and sometimes, foolishly, sweep ourselves into). It’s just one adventure after the next, for better or worse. That sounds gloomy, but it is what makes life so beautiful—the human ability to feel a vast range of emotions within an hour and find charm in the worst circumstances.

    A little over a year ago, my aunt passed. Through a blur of tears, I remember thinking about how beautiful the flowers people had sent were and how vibrantly green the grass of the cemetery was. And amidst all the despair, I remember looking around and seeing my friends.

    When I think back to all the times in my life when it felt like the roof would cave in, that I had nothing left, that I didn’t know if I would be strong enough to move forward and continue on, I remember what exactly it was that pushed me forward. It was always my friends, my people. Those who almost daily not only told me that they would be there for me but showed up when I needed them the most.

    Would I have survived my hardships alone? Yes. Would I prefer to do it alone? Never.

    I am infinitely grateful for the community I have created for myself—the network of friends that have become family and mentors that help guide me when things seem too chaotic to untangle.

    Through the gentle counsel of my loved ones, I have come to realize that there is no nobility in solitary living. There is no wisdom or bravery in taking on hardship or challenges alone when I don’t need to. Every time I forsook my loved ones to be (my distorted idea of) independent, it seemed almost like I was just adding gasoline to already growing flames. There was no more profound message beneath suffering in silence, only suffering.

    And I think most of us can agree that attempting to handle problems alone feels infinitely more difficult to manage than with support. It’s part of why people seek romantic partnerships, to have someone always there to walk through the flames alongside. It’s why people invest so strongly in their loved ones in general. It is to feel heard and be seen, to hear and to see.

    Part of the purpose of life, I have come to learn, is within the attempt to know someone else, to recognize yourself in another person deeply. Connection is everything we have in this world. It’s the mirror that holds itself up to us in the face of conflict with another person. It makes us think twice before buying from a brand that uses slave labor, and it’s what makes us recoil at the thought of abused animals or children.

    Connection with all living beings is the deeper understanding that we are all somehow joined by our humanity. And in that, understanding that one of our primary purposes is to know and be known. To know my friends and their joys and fears and draw parallels to how they reflect my own. To walk alongside them through the difficult times and the blissful times. I recognize now that it is in the attempt to know others that I now know myself.

    We are all just walking each other home. Life, at its core, is that simple.

    I am walking, hand in hand, side by side, sometimes a little bit ahead or a little bit behind, with the people around me. Some of those people may walk too quickly for me to keep up, and some may move too slowly. That is when I thank them for walking me as far as they could and continue on without them, as they will continue on without me.

    If the journey of life is a path we walk, then the purpose of our travel buddies is to help us navigate the storms on the road and to make the journey as funny, exciting, and comfortable as possible. If life is a journey, then the whole point of friendship, companionship, and mentorship is to just be with each other.

    If I am walking you home, is my purpose not to try my best to protect, guide, and love you throughout that journey? We are all walking each other and ourselves home. And the least we can do is do our best to make that journey as beautiful, warm, and light as possible.

    So many of us are falling into a spiritual trap of sorts and being wholly sucked into the hyper-consumerist and individualist mentality of the West. Some of us are actively fighting the true nature of our being, which yearns for deep and genuine connection above all else.

    As you age and the world around you changes, your values begin to change. When you’re nearing your final days, when all you want is your family and friends surrounding you, will you have planted those seeds? Will you have spent time cultivating and nourishing your relationships with those around you? Will you have walked your loved ones down their path and done your best to create joy in your (and others’) journey?

    The message I am trying desperately to convey here is that we need one another. We need love, and we need companionship. We need forgiveness, and we need grace. We need to be open to giving our hearts away and open to the risk of being hurt. And in that same breath, we need to do everything possible in our power to avoid hurting those around us. We need to use the path to grasp the importance of being tender with each other.

    The journey of life is not easy. Take a moment and reflect on all those who have walked you in the past and all those who continue to walk you home.

    Think about the connections you have made, the empathy and love you have nourished in the lives of those you care about.

    And remember that at the end of the day, despite all of the problems and chaos around us, we are all just walking each other home, and we are all just trying to be better companions, one day at a time.

    Dedicated to my travel companions, you know who you are.

  • An Unhealthy Parent Denies It Ever Happened

    An Unhealthy Parent Denies It Ever Happened

  • How to Ease the Pain of Being Human: From Breakdown to Breakthrough

    How to Ease the Pain of Being Human: From Breakdown to Breakthrough

    “Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know” ~Pema Chödrön

    We are all works in progress.

    We all have skeletons in our closets that we may wish to never come out. We have all made mistakes. We will all make mistakes in the future. We all have our scars.

    None of us are close to reaching that mythical ‘perfect’ status. Never will be.

    None of us should consider ourselves fully evolved. Not even close. There will always be space for improving an area of our lives.

    Truth be told, most of us are a contradictory mix of elements that make us, us. Life is not all black or white. There are many shades of grey in between.

    Being human isn’t always simple, tidy, or pretty. Being human involves trying to adapt to the ups, the downs, the challenges, the heartache, the struggles, the loss. We are given no manual on how to live our precious lives. No hacks or shortcuts will help us through some of the tough times.

    Breakdown or Breakthrough? Personal Challenges and Scars of Battle

    I want to share a story here that I have not shared elsewhere in writing.

    Over the course of a few months, at the end of 2021 and into early 2022, I had what can rightfully be described as a full-blown breakdown.

    Over this period, I was cloaked in a blanket of darkness, seemingly of my own making.

    The breakdown had me in a sleep-deprived, paranoid state where I started to have auditory hallucinations (i.e., hearing voices). At certain points I convinced myself I was tapped into some paranormal world and able to communicate through my mind with others that were trying to harm me and my loved ones.

    I was normally a considered and pretty thoughtful person, but my mind had started to work against me.

    This is the first, and hopefully last, time anything like this has happened to me. I have had no such experiences like this in the past, not even close.

    Scariest of all, at the time, to me at least, this experience seemed to come as a total bolt from the blue.

    In retrospect, however, the signs something was coming were there. I just failed to see them or heed their warning in real time.

    What happened?

    I was burnt out emotionally and physically. I had been running on cortisol and stress for too long, and my body had enough. My subconscious had enough. So they started to shut down on me in the most unexpected and alarming of ways.

    Subsequent internal work I have done also indicates that I had tried to repress emotions, including anger and sadness, without fully dealing with them. Some of these feelings had festered for a long time, so they came back to me to let me know they were not quite done with me.

    Dealing with Pressure

    Writing is a passion for me, but it only pays some of my bills. My other career is acting as an independent consultant to organizations that need help delivering and simplifying projects and increasing performance in existing teams.

    This work is often high-pressure and time-bound. Alongside this, I can also put myself under pressure even if my clients do not. Doing my job well is important to me, but sometimes my own expectations of what I can do can bite back at me.

    For a series of many months before the mental health episode, I had been pushing hard, without letting up. Running toward a finish line that kept moving.

    I had started to hold tension in my body (chest tight, shoulders hunched, breath shallow). My body was giving me clear signs it was not happy, but still I pushed through.

    My energy was not where it should be. A general sense of fatigue and tiredness followed me, however early I went to bed. My enthusiasm for things I normally enjoyed started to wane. I became more agitated, irritable, and quick to blow my fuse.

    I was feeling like I needed a break. Not just wanting one but really feeling I needed one. A long break, at that.

    These signs were all there. What did I do? I tried to push through them, push harder. I tried to repress them, believing I could just tough them out. Drink more coffee. Push. Meet the next deadline. Push. The team needs me. Push. The client needs me. Push.

    Rather than acknowledging my body and mind were telling me they needed deep rest, not just the weekend off, I pushed on. And I paid a heavy price. But I was lucky because it could have been heavier. For other people it is heavier if they are unable to escape this cycle.

    Coming Out the Other Side

    Where am I now?

    I am pleased to say I got that rest I needed (I took three months off to travel). I sought professional help in the guise of a therapist (not something I ever thought I would need) and other healthcare professionals.

    I leaned on my wife and family for support rather than believing I had to do this all alone. I shared my struggle with friends.

    I doubled down on my efforts to take my self-care practices seriously. I introduced new self-care techniques into my life (breathing techniques, formal meditation, as well as walking meditations). I now make this time a priority in my life.

    I took, and continue to take, a hard look at my life to shed what was not serving me in a positive way. Peeling back layers of conditioning. Trying to understand myself more fully. Trying to identify and acknowledge triggers more acutely so I could explore what they might be telling me.

    I now feel more energized. I got my spark back. I get excited about the things that used to excite me again, like music, writing, exercising, being in nature, and taking long walks.

    In short, I feel like myself again.

    While I do not want to be defined by that singular experience, I also do not want to forget the lessons it holds. I want the experience to make me stronger, not break me. Part of that means accepting that this did happen to me. And it could happen to any of us. How I respond is now up to me. And I am determined to respond in a positive fashion by making changes that will serve me in the future.

    I was lucky. Others are not so fortunate.

    Making Our Way in Life

    The inconvenient truth is that life is struggle. Life can be hard. We will all face significant challenges. None of us can escape that.

    Yours will be different than mine, but you will face your own demons at times.

    So what can we do?

    We can do our best to put one foot in front of the other and make progress—understanding that sometimes that progress will be slow, sometimes the steps forward will be small, and sometimes we will also feel stuck. Sometimes just not losing ground is the win we need most.

    We can try to learn lessons from the past but commit to the now. Focusing on developing and supporting our future selves. Focusing on being true to ourselves.

    We can celebrate our successes, large and small.

    We can be grateful for all we have.

    We can live a life of contribution, finding small ways to be of service to the world around us in our own unique way. We can find purpose and value in our days.

    We can invest in our own development so we have the necessary internal tools to support us in living our best lives. We can adopt practices that support us living this type of life.

    We can take our self-care seriously. Planning and making time for techniques that serve us. We can commit to protecting this time as the valuable investment it is, understanding that, to help and show up for others, we must first show up for ourselves.

    We can lean on others when we need to. Not seeing this as a weakness to be avoided but as a necessary component of the human condition. We can lean into our ‘tribe.’

    We can continue to learn and be curious about our own emotional state and feelings, asking ourselves questions: Why do we feel a certain way? What are our emotions telling us? Is this just a passing feeling, or is it really trying to tell us something or protect us in some way?

    We can get to know ourselves on a deeper level.

    We can embrace the light, share our light, and be a light for others.

    We can love and live the best way we know how.

    We can try to make peace with the fact that to struggle is to be human. The journey isn’t easy for any of us, but there is much reward and joy to be found along the way.

  • The Absence of Empathy and Understanding

    The Absence of Empathy and Understanding

  • You Can’t Be Best Friends with Everyone

    You Can’t Be Best Friends with Everyone

  • How Yoga Helped Heal My Anxiety and Quiet My Overactive Mind

    How Yoga Helped Heal My Anxiety and Quiet My Overactive Mind

    “The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you really are” ~Carl Jung

    Yoga is often celebrated for its physical benefits: greater flexibility, increased strength, improved circulation, and so on. But nothing could have prepared me for the transformational effect that yoga has had on my mental health and well-being.

    I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression when I was fourteen, and I have struggled with both for most of my life. My mind was my worst enemy, constantly worrying and criticizing to the point where it became hard to do anything. Even the things I really wanted to do became too overwhelming.

    I knew about the positive impact of exercise and healthy living on mental health, and I had dabbled in yoga classes at the gym for years in an attempt to drag myself out of this hole I was in.

    I did notice some small changes in my mood and energy levels. I couldn’t explain it, but I would always feel a certain buzz after a great yoga class.

    So, in 2022, I decided to take this yoga thing seriously. I began practicing daily and even studied for a yoga teacher training qualification.

    Since then, I have noticed significant changes in not only my physical body and well-being but in my mental health too. Most notably, my anxiety levels have significantly decreased. Of course, I still have moments of anxiety, but I feel better equipped to cope with them and less likely to allow them to pull me into a downward spiral.

    Disclaimer: This is not medical health advice; it is simply my own experience. If you are struggling with your mental health, please seek a medical health professional.

    How Yoga Can Help with Anxiety

    Yoga helps you recognize your emotions and triggers.

    The first thing to know about yoga is that it is not a series of complicated poses used to make you look a certain way or increase your flexibility.

    Instead, it is an inner practice where we unite our body, mind, and spirit and become one with the universal life force energy that sustains all of life.

    Meditation and breathwork are just as important parts of yoga as the poses (known as asana).

    With this knowledge, yoga has the power to transform your mental state from a place of stress and anxiety to complete peace with yourself and the world around you.

    It allows you to notice how you’re feeling and what you’re thinking without judging yourself. It allows you to understand your body, how it works, and what messages it’s trying to communicate to you about your health and your needs.

    By learning to recognize when I felt anxious and why, yoga provided a safe space to release those triggers and emotions that I would ordinarily suppress.

    Yoga regulates your nervous system.

    When we experience high levels of anxiety, we are constantly living in fight-or-flight mode. The fight-or-flight response is designed to switch on in moments of danger and stress to protect you and then return to homeostasis once the threat has gone.

    However, in this day and age, many people are experiencing an overactive fight-or-flight response due to an increasingly stressful lifestyle. And many live in a constant state of hypervigilance as a result of trauma or abuse.

    Living in fight-or-flight mode takes up an enormous amount of energy, and our bodies cannot keep up with the demands long term. Over time, the body and mind begin to shut down and we get illness and disease as a result.

    This is what happened to me. My body could not cope with the pressure I was putting it under daily, so my mental health suffered.

    Practicing yoga allows you to calm your nervous system and creates a space where the mind and body feel safe to exit fight-or-flight mode and actually relax.

    One way to do this is through practicing breathwork, also known as pranayama.

    Yogic philosophy believes that the breath is how we can harness our energy and the energy of the universe. We can alter our emotions, energy levels, and even physiological responses, such as the fight-or-flight response, with just the breath.

    When I notice I am starting to feel anxious, I breathe deeply into my stomach for the count of four, hold it for four, and then slowly exhale for the count of four, also known as belly breathing.

    While this may sound trivial, it really helps me to feel calm in moments of stress and anxiety.

    Breathing slowly and deeply activates our parasympathetic nervous system. This sends signals to the brain that there is no danger here and the fight-or-flight response does not need to be activated.

    Yoga teaches you new coping mechanisms.

    Yoga taught me different techniques to cope with my anxiety and panic attacks.

    Firstly, yoga teaches that you are not your mind. You are not your thoughts, your beliefs, or even your body.

    When we study the five koshas (layers of the self) we can see our physical being is just a vehicle to navigate this world in; it is not who we are as a whole. For example, the koshas teach us that our essence cannot be entirely in our physical body because physical bodies are subject to change, yet who we are remains.

    This mindset applies to our thoughts too. Once I started acknowledging that my thoughts did not always come from me, they began to hold less weight. Most of our thoughts are just ‘re-runs’ of things we are told as a child or things we repeatedly hear from society that get internalized. They are not necessarily representative of who we truly are.

    This knowledge allowed me to distance myself from my anxious thoughts instead of letting them consume me.

    Secondly, through pranayama and meditation, both essential aspects of yoga, I learned to recognize how I was feeling and allow those feelings to exist within me, without trying to change them or distract myself from them.

    When we don’t allow our emotions space to be there, we are instead rejecting that aspect of ourselves. We push these feelings deeper and deeper down as a way to avoid dealing with them, without realizing we are actually ingraining them deeper into our psyche.

    By giving our emotions space to be felt, we can release them from our mind and body so we don’t have to carry them with us through our life.

    Yoga helps you be more present.

    To practice yoga, you need to be focused and in the present moment. To hold balance poses like tree pose or to get into the correct alignment of warrior 1, you need to be paying attention to what is happening around you right now.

    If your mind drifts while you’re holding a balance pose, you can bet your body will lose all balance too.

    Yoga forces you to be in the present moment, to be fully engaged in what you are doing, and doesn’t allow room to think about anything else.

    For me, this is exactly what I needed to get out of my anxiety-ridden head. One of my main struggles with anxiety was that I could not stop myself from thinking. The incessant noise of my own mind was exhausting to live with.

    However, when I am in a yoga flow, the noise stops. The mind chatter about future scenarios that will probably never happen is no longer there, as I am using all my focus to get into the proper alignment of the pose.

    The more you practice focusing, the easier it is to apply this in your daily life. I can now notice when my mind is overactive and instead re-direct it to the task at hand. By giving our full attention to the thing we are doing, we can quieten that anxious voice within and begin to enjoy the present moment.

    —

    Yoga has so many incredible benefits physically, mentally, and spiritually. Since sticking to a consistent yoga practice, I have noticed my anxiety decrease dramatically and I am able to live a full and happy life without my mind controlling me.

  • 8 Ways You Can Help Fight the Loneliness Epidemic

    8 Ways You Can Help Fight the Loneliness Epidemic

    “The antidote to loneliness isn’t just being around random people indiscriminately, the antidote to loneliness is emotional security.” ~Benedict Wells

    Emotional security. The feeling of being at home in the presence of another. Safe to be who you are, good times or bad. Feeling seen and seeing the other clearly, accepting the other’s whole lovely mess. It’s good stuff, and it can be hard to find.

    In fact, ever-increasing loneliness stats have led many experts to describe the problem as epidemic. You might assume it was caused by the pandemic, but it was a crisis long before lockdowns and social distancing.

    In 2018, Cigna conducted a survey of U.S. adults and found that loneliness was at 54%, already at epidemic levels. Since then, it shot up to 61% in 2019, with three in five Americans reporting feeling lonely, and now sits at 58%—we’ve got ourselves a big problem. And it’s not just the fact that it’s unpleasant to feel disconnected from others and not have anyone to talk to; research also shows it’s also bad for our health.

    As someone who went thirty-seven years not knowing I’m autistic, for most of my life I’ve hidden a lot of who I am (masking), making it impossible to feel truly connected and seen. So, despite formerly frequent socializing, I’ve been exceedingly familiar with feeling lonely for most of my life.

    However, when health issues took me out of the day-to-day world altogether in 2015, I was surprised at how much worse it got. At first, rarely interacting with others was largely a much-needed relief, but a few months in, things got dark. I was communicating with the people I knew so little—sometimes it’d be months—that I felt ungrounded, like I could just disappear, or die, and no one would even know I was gone.

    When I did get to talk to the people who I then considered close, it often felt like I wasn’t really allowed to talk about my life anymore because it’d become too sad. (So cringe. Positive vibes only.)

    Even with the support of a therapist, feeling so alone in what I was going through made me feel like my life didn’t matter. And it’s not that I was associating with awful humans, it’s just how we’re socially conditioned. Society prioritizes seeming-pleasantness to a severe degree, and as a result most folks have no idea how to hold space for the hard stuff. We just aren’t taught to be emotionally equipped for providing that kind of support; instead, the general example is to repress and deflect.

    It’s like we’ve decided compassion is inefficient and awkward, instead honoring placid insensitivity as a virtue. And, as a result, people feel like it’s not safe to talk about what’s really going on in their lives, what they’re really thinking and feeling. This, of course, creates loneliness.

    Eventually, after half a decade of dealing with severe health and life trauma in isolation, I was diagnosed with autism, which was amazing in many ways… but also a core-shaking thing to handle with only the support of online groups and a telehealth therapist who had dozens of other clients. It was too much to process, and I had a nervous breakdown.

    Afterward, I accepted that I needed to work harder to find people I could regularly and, especially, authentically connect with. It took some time, but I eventually found aligned friends via reaching out to people I didn’t actually know all that well (yet) but had met through very authentic circumstances.

    Routinely talking and connecting with them has changed my life. I’m still homebound for health reasons, and it’s still hard, but despite still being without human company like 95% of the time, I don’t feel like I could just float away anymore; I now feel warmly and safely connected, even seen and understood.

    Honestly assessing if I had people with the bandwidth to connect regularly, that also know how to hold the kind of safe-feeling emotional space I need, was the first step to having consistent connection with people who let me be my whole self; relationships that do provide that precious and hard-to-find feeling of emotional security—progressively replacing my loneliness with connected perspective, understanding, and acceptance.

    If your honest self-assessment comes to the same conclusion as mine—“I need to confront this loneliness thing”—these sorts of authentic-connection-seeking efforts can do the same for you.

    8 Ways to Combat the Loneliness Epidemic

    1. Honestly assess your needs.

    Do you feel lonely? What do you need to feel socially connected? Which interactions leave you feeling drained and which ones lift you up, making you feel less alone? Do you feel safe to be your whole self with the people in your life? What are some characteristics of those who’ve made you feel safe?

    2. Reach out (and reach back).

    Once you’ve got an idea of what you need, reach out to someone who makes you feel relaxed, safe to just be you, and see if they want to catch up. Maybe they’ll be down for it, and maybe they won’t, but keep trying.

    If you don’t really know anyone you feel safe to be authentic with, try joining like-minded activity groups or using a platonic friend-finding app. And if someone who seems safe reaches out, don’t let fear stop you from reaching back.

    3. Set and respect boundaries.

    What you need from someone and what they’re able to provide might not mesh. It’s important to understand that some of us are comfortable with having open, potentially vulnerable, conversations, and others prefer to stick to more shallow waters. And the same is true for the reverse.

    It’s okay to prioritize time with those who connect in a harmonious way and also to distance yourself where needed. Life is pretty demanding and people can only do so much, so try not to take it personally if people can’t meet what you need, and let others (gently) know when you can’t meet theirs.

    4. Practice ‘holding space.’

    Make sure you’re present enough to really listen and ensure you’ve understood and/or been understood (we rely far too much on easily misinterpreted nonverbal communication).

    Learning to stay in the moment—resisting deflection, going into judgment or fix-it mode—is crucial to creating authentic connection in your life (and that includes holding space for your own honest, but difficult, emotions).

    It can be scary to hold space, and/or ask someone to, but we need to get over our societal fear of awkward experiences; isn’t it worth it when it could lead to connection, growth, and clarity?

    5. Resist the pressure to lean on small talk.

    It can be tempting to stick to trivial matters, but it’s not without harm. I concur with the take on small talk that Natasha Lyonne shared on an early February episode of Late Night with Seth Meyers:

    “I don’t believe in it. I would say I aggressively don’t like it. I think it’s damaging to society as a whole… it’s like John Lennon said, just gimme some truth. I think it’s really dangerous because when you ask a person ‘How are you?’ their only option is to lie aggressively, right? Society says you’re supposed to say, ‘Oh, I’m good’ and keep it moving, but you’re not good, are you?”

    It’s isolating that we’re expected to talk in pleasantries, especially since it often happens even in relationships considered close.

    6. Gossip doesn’t count as connection.

    In the same interview, Meyers fights for small talk as a segue into shit-talk, and Lyonne suggests that maybe instead of talking about other people they could segue into some other talk (she suggests inanimate objects, which I don’t hate).

    Our society depends on gossip far too much. People very often rely on it to judge another’s trustworthiness, a fact that is manipulated all the time. And if you’ve ever played the game “telephone,” you know it’s not exactly a science to depend on hearsay.

    Real conversations, asking direct questions, can be intimidating—but it’s a hell of a lot better than writing someone off because of what so-in-so told so-in-so. Also, gossip isn’t connection. It might feel like fleeting togetherness à la “we hate them,” but you know your shite-talking cohort’s talking about you as well. It’s fake. If gossip’s the primary mode of convo, you’re just flapping jaws.

    7. Reflect on and articulate your feels.

    When we don’t understand why we feel alone, it makes it much harder to address, so it’s unfortunate that introspection is underrated in our society (sometimes even ridiculed, which is revealing).

    Gaining emotional awareness and being able to express our feelings is key to reducing loneliness. To quote sociological researcher Brené Brown, “The more difficult it is for us to articulate our experiences of loss, longing, and feeling lost to the people around us, the more disconnected and alone we feel.”

    When we don’t have the words to describe our emotional experience, emotional communication becomes foreign—but by gaining emotional awareness and vocabulary, that kind of connection becomes possible.

    Crucially, we must know that it’s okay to feel whatever it is that we feel, as many of us are taught that emotions like anger or fear aren’t okay. They are. Using tools like the emotion wheel, journaling, and therapy can be of great assistance, as well as opening up to trusted others and holding space when they open up to you.

    8. Know (and love) yourself to connect authentically.

    Finding relationships where I felt supported the way I needed to be involved a lot more time getting to know myself than I thought it would; tons of self-reflection and, ironically, solitude were necessary for me to find the self-acceptance it takes to have any shot at finding authentic support.

    To again quote Brené Brown, “Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them—we can only love others as much as we love ourselves.”

    As far as how to get started on fostering self-love, I think all love grows from appreciation, something many of us find hardest when it’s pointed in our own direction. Appreciate your efforts to choose growth by reading articles on a website like this over mindless scrolling, or reaching out for connection instead of your favorite escape. And acknowledge your needs in addition to your efforts. You deserve love (the whole you).

    —

    Self-reflection and cultivating emotionally secure relationships inherently involves vulnerability, but our social norms dictate staying away from that—safe in the shallows of small talk, leaving the depths to be explored in fifty-minute therapy slots by a complete stranger who won’t have the same security with you (if you’re lucky enough to have the coverage).

    While therapy can be very helpful, emotional support shouldn’t primarily be found at a price as one of many clients on a therapist’s roster. We need to have the emotional tools to express our feelings and support another’s.

    And, in addition to our individual efforts toward authentic connection, we, as a society, need to recognize the costs of mass loneliness and prioritize having a populace that knows how to be there for each other in good times and bad. It’s time to learn how to allow space for authentic connection in our lives and relationships. We need it, we deserve it, and we can do it.

  • The Butterfly Is Only Beautiful Because…

    The Butterfly Is Only Beautiful Because…

  • Trust Restored: Why I’m Letting Go of Preconceived Ideas About People

    Trust Restored: Why I’m Letting Go of Preconceived Ideas About People

    “The problems around us are only compounding. We will need to rediscover our trust in other people, to restore some of our lost faith—all that’s been shaken out of us in recent years. None of it gets done alone. Little of it will happen if we isolate inside our pockets of sameness, communing only with others who share our exact views, talking more than we listen.” ~Michelle Obama

    I’m up at the American River, one of my favorite summertime spots. I have a ritual of floating down it, then hiking back up the hill to my clothes. I love how the swift current knows exactly where it’s going, making any paddling unnecessary. I love how you can just lie back and let it take you as you look up at the cloudless blue sky.

    As I float, the sun beats down on my skin, but the river’s coolness counteracts its scorch. Small groups of Canadian geese speckle the shore. The air is still, its quiet punctured only by the occasional train sounding in the distance.

    Once I’ve reached the bottom, I set out back towards my towel—walking along a series of dirt paths consisting of small hills. They’re quick and steep like bunny slopes, coated with golden dust that glints beneath the sunlight.

    While walking them I notice two men picking fruit from a tree in the distance. Feeling exposed in my half-clothed state, I immediately tense up. I realize that having no shoes means I’ll be unable to walk quickly past.

    Bracing myself for discomfort, I continue walking. As the distance between us narrows, I wait for them to whistle, or to jokingly ask  if I need help finding my clothes—or create discomfort in whatever other way, be it through words or stares (as I’d become accustomed to men doing).

    I walk past, armor on, shield up—raising it a little more when one of the men begins to speak.

    His words are, “Hello,” followed by,  “You’ve got some tough feet!”

    They contain no sexualizing, nor any subtle attempt at intimidation. And in response to this comment— the kind one human would make to another, his equal—I find myself reacting with human thoughts in return:

    Yes—this terrain IS pretty rugged. I guess my feet ARE pretty strong. Thank you, Sir.

    **

    I think about how, in Whistling Vivaldi, a black man whistles classical music when crossing paths with white strangers on the street. He does this in hopes of quelling their fear and discomfort that are born from prejudice. Implying benevolent intentions and sophistication, his whistling preemptively wards off prejudicial treatment.

    Perhaps this man’s comment was the (gender) equivalent to this example—an attempt at polite conversation to keep from coming across as threatening.

    Or maybe he’d briefly entertained the same thoughts that often precede the sorts of comments I’d anticipated. Maybe in the past he would have converted those thoughts into unwitting weapon words, then launched them my way. Maybe, though, because our society is growing and learning and its people are evolving, he decided that day not to.

    Either way, I felt relief that the men did not behave in the way I’d predicted.

    It got me thinking about preconceived ideas. How we often develop templates, then apply them to the individuals we regularly interact with. How few encounters encourage us to challenge or expand these templates, because much of our lives are structured around familiarity. And how it’s easy to take one look at a person and file them away into a specified bin inside our minds, perhaps unaware we’re even doing it.

    How often do we go into an encounter with our mind already made up—both about the person and about what they could possibly have to say? Their words pass through a filter in our head, confirming what we already know or believe to be true.

    Sometimes our expectations turn out to be accurate. Other times they do primarily because we expect this of them, therefore never open our minds to the possibility that we might be proven wrong.

    People act in ways that contradict our initial views of them, but we don’t see it when we’re not looking for it.

    When I was a Lyft driver, I drove many passengers I was sure I’d have nothing in common with. One was a seemingly straight-laced white man who worked for a tech company. I thought we’d have little to talk about, but an hour later we were eating In ‘N Out and discussing everything from our country’s quick fix approach to handling emotions to how his brother’s coming out changed their relationship to finding a balance between impactful work and a job that pays the bills.

    So often we decide a person is a certain way. Our mind closes. Thereafter we do, indeed, fail to connect. But not on account of differences, but the fact that no connection is possible when the heart and mind are closed.

    **

    No shift in thinking takes place in a single instance. The fact that those two men at the river pleasantly surprised me, for instance, doesn’t erase the overall pattern. Many more such encounters would be necessary for a true paradigm shift.

    But it’s a start. And from now on when I have the bandwidth, I want to give people the opportunity to act in ways that contradict my preconceived notions of them.

    I don’t want to get to that point anymore where I stop seeing others as individuals. Where I’m blinded to what we have in common because I’m seeing only what they represent; the harm done by the larger group they belong to; the political implications of their behavior.

    For instance, several years ago a young man had approached me while I was reading at a bar—and I completely ignored him. At that time I was so fed up with men, so annoyed with their repeated intrusions on my dates with women, and so frustrated that it was them who approached me in public (never women), that I just kept staring down at my book. I didn’t say anything back. In the moment it felt empowering.

    When I thought about the incident years later, though, I regretted my behavior. The guy hadn’t even been aggressive in the way he’d approached me. He’d been earnest, apprehensive, even shy—the way I imagine I can also be at times when I approach women. He didn’t represent All Men; he was his own person, doing something in that moment that might have made him nervous, or pushed him out of his comfort zone.

    I’m not saying it was my job to ease those feelings, or that I owed him this. It’s more that I realized that now I would have genuinely wanted to. Wanted to have at least said hi. Wanted to have at least politely told him I wasn’t up for conversation. Wanted to, maybe not have smiled, but at least treated him more like a human than an implied enemy.

    I want to take my frustrations with patriarchy and heteronormativity up with the concepts themselves—and with individual humans only when they are truly practicing it.

    I’d like to believe that polarized positions aren’t set in stone. That they can evolve and expand with time. That we won’t be doomed to perpetual gripping of shields while walking this planet.

    This isn’t our climate right now—but I hope and wonder if one day we’ll at least start inching closer.

  • The Right People Appreciate You

    The Right People Appreciate You

  • “But He Never Hit Me!” – How I Ignored My Abuse for 30 Years

    “But He Never Hit Me!” – How I Ignored My Abuse for 30 Years

    “People only see what they are prepared to see.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

    Abuse is a funny thing. I don’t mean humorous, of course.

    I mean the other definition of funny: difficult to explain or understand.

    Abuse shouldn’t be difficult to understand. If someone is mistreated, we should be able to clearly point a finger and proclaim, “That is wrong.”

    But not all abuse is obvious or clear-cut.

    I was abused for most of my adult life and didn’t know it.

    Crazy, right?

    Let me state it again: I was abused and didn’t know it.

    I only saw what I was prepared to see.

    Is That Really Abuse?

    I’ve read enough biographies and seen enough movies based on true events to know what physical abuse looks like. But broken bones and bruises are only one kind of abuse.

    Through deep discovery with a therapist who cradled me protectively, I can now say with certainty that I have suffered abuse in several forms:

    • Emotional
    • Financial
    • Sexual
    • Spiritual

    Yes, abuse comes in many forms.

    It is often invisible.

    My abuser was my husband—the very person who was supposed to love me more than anyone.

    A man I started dating when I was seventeen years old and married when I was twenty-two years old. We were married for thirty-one years.

    He never was physically violent. He never screamed at me or called me names. That abuse would have been more obvious.

    His abuse was subtle and manipulative.

    Invisible.

    What People See

    Imagine you stand outside to watch the day end with a beautiful sunset.

    A friend stands next to you and remarks, “What a beautiful green sun.”

    “Green?” You scoff, “The sun is orange and yellow like a big ball of fire. It isn’t green. Maybe you should get your eyes checked.”

    A neighbor overhears your conversation and joins in. “It certainly does look magnificent tonight. That is my favorite color. Emerald green with shades of lime.”

    You wonder why two people suddenly think the sunset is green. Could they be playing a joke?

    You squint your eyes, looking at the sun critically. You see an orange ball surrounded by yellow haze shooting out until it blends into the ocean-blue sky.

    No green.

    You overhear more conversations around you. Everyone is talking about the green sun.

    A kid cruises by on his bike. “Look how green the sun is today!” He shouts and points up in the sky. Everyone murmurs their appreciation of the view.

    You slowly begin to think maybe you are the one that is confused. Maybe you aren’t seeing things right.

    You keep hearing that the sun is green, but you don’t see it. Maybe there is something wrong with your eyes.

    And just like that, your perception has changed. The next time you look at a sunset, you look at it differently. You’re going to be looking for green instead of the oranges or yellows.

    You only see what you are prepared to see.

    Abuse is a lot like that.

    The more you are told something, the more you believe it.

    I was told I was worthless, and I believed it. I didn’t argue against it. I didn’t see it as abuse because it didn’t fit in with my idea of abuse.

    My Abuse

    The abuse I suffered was so manipulative and deceitful that I didn’t see it coming. I was belittled and bullied. I slowly lost who I was while I fed my husband’s constant need for validation.

    These are the words I often heard:

    • You’re too emotional.
    • That’s not what I said. You never remember things right.
    • Are you cheating on me?
    • You’re too sensitive.
    • The husband’s role is harder than the wife’s.
    • It’s a good thing you have me–who else would love you?
    • I never said that. Why do you always twist my words?
    • Your body doesn’t belong to you, it belongs to me.
    • Why do you always make me feel bad about myself?
    • Remember when you messed up that one time? Let’s talk about that again.
    • Most women are better… and I got stuck with you.
    • Women just aren’t as smart as men.

    Thirty years of these statements left me feeling inadequate. Worthless. Hopeless.

    I wondered why I couldn’t be a good enough wife.

    If you read through those sentences above, you may see the obvious gaslighting that was going on.

    Classic gaslighting.

    My husband made me think I was ‘wrong’ about everything in life. I was too emotional and sensitive. I had a good body but didn’t want to have sex 24/7. (He called that false advertising.)

    I was not allowed to ask him questions about things like our finances and savings … or I was questioning his manhood.

    If I asked an innocent question, such as if he was going to have to work on Christmas Eve, he would chastise me for making him feel bad.

    My husband used my faith to control me. He would cherry-pick bible verses and common ideologies to support his authority over me.

    And then he made me feel like I was overreacting and ridiculous.

    What’s worse, I began gaslighting myself!

    I would chastise myself for not being his ‘ideal’ woman.

    I blamed myself for not being a perfect wife who could take care of everything in the home, raise three children, hold down a job, and take care of his mother who lived with us… all while fighting lupus—a progressive autoimmune disease.

    I felt like a failure.

    And then something happened…

    The House of Lies Falls

    Thirty years is a long time to live in ignorance. When I finally realized what was happening, my whole world collapsed around me like a brick building in an earthquake.

    The blindfold was finally taken off my eyes.

    In the span of four months, I discovered every heartbreaking lie my husband told me. And there were mountains of lies.

    First, he hadn’t had a job in over fifteen years.

    Every day he would tell me goodbye and go to a “job” he didn’t really have. He had lied about his job so convincingly that he had made up fictitious friends and co-workers, and even told stories about them.

    We didn’t have health insurance. He hadn’t filed taxes. He hadn’t filled out financial aid for our college-aged children. We didn’t even have car insurance.

    We had no savings. No retirement. We had been living on my meager income. We made ends meet because we were living with his mother.

    He missed many events because of his “job”: soccer games for the kids, concerts, school programs, church events. I lived like a single mother because his non-existent “job” demanded so much of his time.

    He has never given me an answer as to why he did this. But honestly, could there be an answer that would be forgivable?

    He confessed he had a porn addiction. He was watching porn every day. This skewed his sense of reality.

    This is why I was never good enough for him. He expected a porn star for a wife.

    Then came the infidelity…

    The Final Straw

    It’s not going to be a surprise to hear he was cheating on me.

    When I first learned of all the lies, my husband tried to maintain that he had been faithful to me. Well, when everything about him was revealed to be a lie, I couldn’t blindly believe him anymore.

    He finally broke down and confessed that he had been cheating on me since we began dating over thirty years ago.

    He thought he should win some brownie points because he never had a girlfriend, so he hadn’t cheated emotionally. I wasn’t too impressed.

    He had sex with over fifty people. Fifty!

    I can’t count how many times over the years he accused me of cheating on him. Now I understand why; it’s called projecting. He was projecting his own guilt on me. All the things he did, he assumed I must have been doing as well.

    And the cherry on top? He said he cheated because I didn’t fulfill him.

    In a nutshell, he cheated, accused me of cheating, and then blamed me for his cheating.

    There is no coming back from that.

    A Shift in My Thinking

    My ex-husband has narcissistic personality disorder (NPD). He is a pathological liar and a sex addict.

    He can’t think beyond taking care of his immediate needs and desires.

    But here is where I had to change my thinking: He didn’t act maliciously. Atrociously and carelessly, yes. But not with malice.

    There is something wrong in his brain, a disconnect. His emotional intellect is a cross of a horny teenager and a petulant child.

    I know I’ll never get a sincere apology from him. (How can you really be sorry about lying for thirty years?) I will never fully understand the way he thinks because his brain doesn’t work the way most people’s do.

    And that’s okay.

    I don’t have to understand him to heal, move on, and live a peaceful life.

    My perception has changed. I do not accept the blame for his issues and shortfalls. It is not my fault.

    This shift in my perception did not come overnight. It has taken a lot of time, and I was helped by an awesome therapist.

    In fact, during one session, my therapist had me write in big letters on a piece of paper: I didn’t do this. That visual reminder helps me view the situation through a new lens. Now:

    I no longer accept abuse.

    I no longer ignore abuse.

    I will never again be abused.

    No one can convince me that the sunset is green today. I see the golden oranges and yellows as they really are. I am prepared to see clearly.

    But He Never Hit Me

    Remember the second definition of funny: Difficult to explain or understand.

    This whole situation is funny; it is impossible to explain or understand.

    It’s abusive.

    The only good thing to come of this is the shift in my perspective. I am now important in my life. I am the top priority.

    I remember telling my story to a friend. He listened kindly, and then asked THE question in hushed tones. “Did he ever hit you?”

    Dumbfounded, I shook my head no.

    “Well, thank God he didn’t cross that line. Then you’d have so much more to heal from.”

    This friend wasn’t being flippant. He just spoke out loud what many people think: Abuse is visible.

    But I now see abuse as it really is—hurt, harm, and mistreatment that can be visible but is often invisible.

    Scars of Abuse

    I wish I could show the marks his abuse has left on me.

    I’d love to reveal how my self-worth has been chipped down to sawdust. Or how my self-confidence has been beaten down by fear and panic.

    The wounds on my heart are deep and scored like an ancient oak tree; no amount of repair work can erase the damage that has been done.

    The bones of my joy have been broken and re-broken too many times to properly set anymore.

    Scars sheathe the joints of my freedom from the bondage of “til death do us part.”

    And the gentlest, softest part of my soul is shaded dark by bruises.

    No, he never hit me. But great damage has been done all the same.

    I am an abused woman.

    I am a victim.

    But I am a survivor.

    And my story is just beginning. I walked away from my abuser and am embracing a new life, a life where I am in charge.

    I call the shots.

    My scars may not be visible to the eyes of people who don’t know what to look for. But they have forged a new woman who is strong, courageous, and much, much happier.

  • How To Make Peace with Regrets: 4 Steps That Help Me Let Go

    How To Make Peace with Regrets: 4 Steps That Help Me Let Go

    “Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse and regret.” ~Don Miguel Ruiz

    The other day, I told my adult niece that I regretted selling my downtown condo several years ago.

    “On no,” she said. “You told me back then that you were finding the lack of light was getting to you. You weren’t happy there.”

    I had no memory of that until she reminded me. And surprisingly, it lifted a great deal of my painful regret around it. It helped me change from regret to recognition that I’d made the right decision.

    That got me thinking about other things I regretted. Am I remembering them correctly, or am I revising history? In other words, am I suffering needlessly?

    Memory is a funny thing. We don’t usually remember all the details of a situation. We pick and choose.

    For example, my regret around selling my condo focused on missing its cool location, being aware of how the value had increased, and reflecting on the many fun times I had with friends and family there.

    My memory did not include how much construction has been going on in that location these past years, how my two favorite restaurants closed, and how the best neighborhood coffee shop in the world went out of business.

    My regret, my emotional pain, was based on very limited data, some that isn’t even relevant anymore.

    Isn’t that interesting?

    Is it possible that all our regrets don’t take into account enough information to help us feel more at peace with these painful situations?

    I decided to sit and reflect on some of my other regrets. Would it be possible to alleviate some of my suffering by broadening my perspective on them?

    Here’s how I made peace with my regrets:

    Step One: I reviewed the regret and thought about all the things that were going on at the time of the disappointment.

    For example, let’s take my early career as a singer/songwriter. When I looked back on it, I felt regret, deep emotional pain over never recording an album of my songs.

    There was a lot going on in those years surrounding my career. Specifically, I was never totally happy. I spent more time reading self-help and spiritual books than practicing my craft.

    I had a hard time relating to other musicians. And I really had a terrible time with the record company executives and producers. I didn’t like how they treated me.

    I even had my manager ghost me. And that was way before we even knew what ghosting was.

    In addition, I was on the road a lot, playing in smokey bars, which was really challenging given that I neither smoked nor drank.

    And because I spent a lot of time as a solo performer with just me and my guitar, I spent way too many days, nights, and weeks alone in strange communities, eating in bad restaurants, because that was all I could afford.

    Hah! You see how remembering the details around the regret can be so eye-opening? Until I did this exercise, I honestly had forgotten about all of that.

    Step Two: I reflected on how this bigger picture influenced the outcome that I was currently regretting.

    There was nothing very inspiring or exciting about the day-to-day grind of being a musician on the road for me.

    Everything seemed very hard. Finding places to play, driving long distances, meeting with executives who were judging me and my music, dealing with agents and other musicians, and missing my family.

    It was all hard. And I didn’t like it.

    I dreamed of finding colleagues who would help me to fulfill my potential as an artist. Except for a small handful, the ones I worked with seemed much more interested in furthering themselves.

    I felt used.

    Ugh!

    And although I enjoyed the time I spent living and working in New York City and Los Angeles, I was a Canadian citizen and unable to obtain a proper work visa.

    That meant I would go back and forth across the border often, keeping my fingers crossed that I wouldn’t get caught!

    Step Three: I explored another way to look at the situation, often called “reframing.”

    Reframing is exactly what it sounds like. If you had a frame, maybe 24” x 24”, and you placed it on a very large painting, you would be focused on the section of the painting within the frame.

    But what about the huge picture all around it? If you moved the frame, you’d see another piece of the picture.

    And if you expanded the frame to be the full size of the entire canvas? Now you’d see a very different picture.

    We can reframe situations in our life this way. By moving the frame around, and especially by expanding it, we simply see a different picture of reality.

    As I reflected on all the things that were going on with my early musical career, I began to see the bigger picture. And guess what? I felt the pain of regret lift from my heart.

    Of course I quit that career!

    Of course I was unhappy!

    Of course I didn’t get to fulfill my goal of creating an album. The situation was not going to support that, no matter how hard I tried.

    Step Four: I made peace with what was once a regret.

    Certainly, sitting here now with an MP3 of my songs in album form seems like a great thing.

    But there was always a good chance that it was not going to be something I was proud of. I didn’t have the support structure to make that happen.

    And what happened instead of sticking with my music career?

    I came back home to my family, went back to school, and had the best time learning, writing, and studying topics that I found inspiring and fascinating.

    Coming back to school gave me the chance, as an adult, to explore who I really was, find my true passions, and commit to how I might share those passions with the world.

    University was the best time of my life.

    Conclusion

    This exercise has helped me heal. I no longer have emotional pain around what I used to see as a disappointment for my life.

    I have insight now that leads me to believe that the music business was not my passion, not my purpose, and would never have made me happy.

    This great insight provides me with great relief. I have found peace where once there was the emotional pain of regret.

    I hope you try these steps for yourself and learn how to make peace with your regrets.

  • The Real Glow Up

    The Real Glow Up

  • Before You Put Yourself Down

    Before You Put Yourself Down

  • Love Does Not Come to Take Our Pain Away

    Love Does Not Come to Take Our Pain Away

  • How I’m Overcoming Perfectionism and Why I’m No Longer Scared to Fail

    How I’m Overcoming Perfectionism and Why I’m No Longer Scared to Fail

    “Perfectionism is a self-destructive belief system. It’s a way of thinking that says: ‘If I look perfect, live perfect, and work perfect, I can avoid or minimize criticism and blame.’” ~Brené Brown

    I struggled with trying new things in my past. I learned growing up that failure was bad. I used to be a gifted child, slightly ahead of my peers. As I got older, everything went downhill.

    Whenever I tried out a new activity, I would quit if I wasn’t instantly perfect at it. If there was the slightest imperfection, I would get extremely frustrated and upset. I would obsess over the same mistakes in my past over and over.

    This made me procrastinate and avoid trying new things, fearing failure. I would simply tell my friends “I’m not interested” when they tried to get me to grow outside my comfort zone.

    I tried out various passion projects, solely focused on the results. Sketching was a fun hobby of mine, but I was slowly losing steam. “All the drawings I’m doing aren’t good enough! Argh!”

    I attempted public speaking competitions. “I didn’t get any prize? This is such a waste.”

    And even stopped having an interest in sports when I was dominated in a match by my friends.

    I didn’t know it at that time, but this was a clear case of unhealthy perfectionism.

    Growing up, I thought I was good at everything. I embodied this identity with pride. But when I did something that contradicted this identity, like failing at something, I did everything I could to not feel that pain again. Even if it meant I didn’t pursue my passions and feared failure my whole life.

    Now that I’ve grown internally more, I’ve realized that perfectionism is really about control—trying to control how people see you. Perfectionism is, at its core, about earning approval and acceptance.

    “Perfectionism isn’t striving to be our best or working towards excellence. Healthy striving is internally driven, perfectionism is externally driven with a simple, all-consuming question: ‘What will people think of me?’” ~Brené Brown

    Studies show that perfectionism actually hampers the path to success and leads to anxiety and depression. Achieving mastery is fueled by curiosity and viewing failures as opportunities for learning. Perfectionism kills curiosity.

    When I was struggling to reach my own high standards, I learned that it’s better to move on and figure out how to thoughtfully bridge the gap between where I was and where I wanted to be over time, rather than spinning my wheels and being stuck in place in an effort to get everything perfect today.

    Curing my unhealthy perfectionism and letting in authenticity, I believe, mainly came down to grace.

    I gave myself the acceptance and grace to be where I was that day, and to enjoy the process rather than the result. I allowed myself to make mistakes, be curious, and experiment. This was a major turning point in my life. I didn’t want to live with fear anymore, so I vowed to live authentically and be free.

    I stopped putting pressure on myself and let my childlike curiosity out. I became adventurous and started trying new things. Every time I did something outside my comfort zone (and a little scary), I wanted to jump with excitement. I felt truly alive and present.

    This is what it means to be successful—growing from failures and enjoying the journey instead of trying to do everything perfectly.

    I practiced mindfulness, self-love, and gratitude to further improve my mental state. I realized that I badly craved approval from the outside world, even though I used to deny it and have this “I don’t care what others think of me” attitude. I used to be wary of how others would judge me, so I focused on developing my relationship with myself and loving myself exactly as I was.

    But of course, the change wasn’t immediate, and it took me some time to fully cure my perfectionism. I started slowly changing my thought patterns by speaking kindly to myself, as if I was my younger self. I imagined myself as a young child who just needed love and acceptance. I forgave myself when I made mistakes, let go of the past, and moved on.

    I encouraged myself to keep improving and I continued to work on my passion projects—showing up every day. Now, it has led me here, where I can share my guidance and love with those who need it. I am more fulfilled and happier than ever.

    And I now know that failing doesn’t mean I’m a failure. It means I’m someone who’s brave enough to try new things, and that’s the identity I now embody with pride.

  • Please, Keep Looking

    Please, Keep Looking

  • Sometimes It’s About Making Different Choices

    Sometimes It’s About Making Different Choices