Tiny Buddha

Tag: wisdom

  • All the Ways I Tried to Numb My Loneliness and What Actually Helped

    All the Ways I Tried to Numb My Loneliness and What Actually Helped

    “A season of loneliness and isolation is when the caterpillar gets its wings.” ~Mandy Hale

    I feel so alone right now. Like, crawling out of my skin, I’ll do anything I can do to not feel this way alone.

    I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Thank goodness I have tools to take care of myself. Let me explain.

    My earliest childhood memory is my mother’s empty bed. The sheets are white, untucked, and messy.  The duvet cover is loose and hanging halfway on the floor. The room is quiet, there’s no sign of mom, and I am all alone.

    That’s when I met loneliness for the first time. When I was three-and-a-half years old and my mom had just passed away.

    Loneliness came upon me before I could understand what was going on. It came upon me when I was unprotected and exposed, when I was vulnerable and needy, and it pierced me to my core.

    As I got older, loneliness made me feel unworthy and different—as if I was the only person in the world that felt that way. It made me feel flawed and defective, and it liked to catch me off guard.

    Being in this headspace was so intense and overwhelming, I would do anything I could to make it go away. I would binge watch television, emotionally eat, play video games, and watch pornography (yes, I just admitted that).

    I didn’t have the emotional tools to ride out the discomfort of feeling alone, so I made myself feel better the only way I knew how—by numbing out.

    If I had a tough day at work, I’d come home and “escape” my feelings with television. If a girl I was interested in didn’t show interest in me, I’d watch porn so I didn’t have to deal with my fear of abandonment and loneliness.

    Upon first look, the solution seemed simple: learn to be comfortable in solitude. Ha! That’s like telling someone who wants to lose weight “Just eat less and move more.”

    If letting go of our patterns were that easy, none of us would suffer. This is why healing and self-intimacy aren’t for the faint of heart.

    It’s called inner work for a reason. I digress.

    What I discovered was that my “pattern” of escaping was actually a coping mechanism. I was trying to help myself, albeit in a not-so-healthy way.

    My fear of being alone felt too big to meet, so instead, I used television, food, video games, and porn to help manage it. To squelch the inner anxiety going on inside of me.

    And it wasn’t even conscious. I didn’t wake up each day thinking, “I’ll watch porn today to escape my feeling of loneliness.”

    In fact, it was the opposite. I would go to bed each night saying I was done with this type of behavior only to repeat the pattern the next day.

    It was default programming that was running on its own—until I slowed down to be with what was running it. As soon as I courageously did this, my patterns shifted.

    With the help of a mentor, I’ve developed a practice where I connect with loneliness rather than run away from it. After all, loneliness is part of the cast of characters that live inside each and every one of us.

    Any time I feel this way, I come up with a list of five to ten questions, like: Why are you here? What are you here to teach me? Will I be okay if I just sit in the discomfort of what’s coming up for me? I then invite loneliness to pull up a chair next to me and I interview my greatest fear. I work on the relationship rather than running away from it.

    When I sit with my loneliness I remember I am whole and complete, just the way I am. I often think about my mom during this time and have gone back to that place as a little boy to let him know that he is okay and remind him that his mother loves him very much.

    In the beginning I shed many tears, but after a while I was no longer plagued by a constant sense of longing. In fact, I began to enjoy being alone. Go figure!

    This got me thinking—what if our patterns of binge watching TV, checking out on social media, watching pornography, etc. are well-intentioned? What if they are here for us?

    We humans play this game all the time. We try to manage our feelings through acts of busyness, distraction, overwhelm, food, alcohol, pornography, work, and more. We use something outside of us in order for us to feel better on the inside.

    What I’ve realized is that management is a defense—a protector trying to help. It’s innocent and wonderful in its own way. Yet, real help only comes when we go within and meet what’s going on inside of us.

    Loneliness doesn’t go away. It’s a part of who we are.

    It’s a normal human emotion and can teach us a lot about ourselves. It can teach us patience and the importance of self-love.

    Building a relationship with this part of you takes time. It’s a process.

    So the next time you feel the twinge of loneliness creeping in, don’t try and run from it. Rather, lean into it and see how your life changes for the better.

    Loneliness created the urge to numb my emotions. Learning to be comfortable in solitude strengthened my esteem.

    It’s your choice. Self-pity or self-love.

    Today I intentionally shift this relationship. Take the beginning of this article for example.

    My wife is away on a work trip for the next twelve days, and I’m feeling isolated and alone. Rather than binge watch television or escape via porn, I’m going to reconnect with loneliness by simply sitting with it and see what it has to teach me.

    Where are you managing your fears and feelings? And how can you meet them instead?

  • You’re Overthinking Because You Really Care

    You’re Overthinking Because You Really Care

  • It’s Just Not Your Door

    It’s Just Not Your Door

  • How I Lighten My Mood by Making a Bargain with the Universe

    How I Lighten My Mood by Making a Bargain with the Universe

    “Pain is what the world does to you; suffering is what you do yourself.” ~Gautama Buddha

    I don’t expect things to be a steady state of bliss.

    In fact, I agree with the Buddha that suffering is pretty much part of the human condition. Our expectations just get in the way of our experiences. I’m talking about your garden-variety suffering here, not the kind that comes with traumatic events that take you out at the knees or devastating clinical depression.

    I see the now-and-then emergence of lethargy or melancholy as part of the whole emotional spectrum. And, like stepping in water in your stocking feet, bound to happen from time to time for most of us. Plus, for me anyway, I think recognizing the difficult days enables me to better savor the wonderful and even the tremendously ordinary ones.

    Still, knowing that the spinning wheel is going to land on grey sometimes does not mean those days aren’t tough. For me, that greyness means my mood, my gait, even my ability to recognize the full bounty that is mine just feels heavier and more arduous. Sort of like moving through muck that slows your pace and clings to your boots.

    Just as I think those emotions are due to sometimes arrive, I also know they will leave—I just want to accelerate that departure. And I’ve found a way that works for me. I make a deal with the Universe.

    I speak this pact out loud—“I’ll try if you try.”

    I commit to trying to pull my boot out the mud by first focusing on my senses.

    Under the header of controlling what I can control, I might actively focus on taking in the smell of fresh coffee—holding the cup in my hands, without expectation, and just experiencing it. The rich smell, the playful bubbles, the warm solace held in a favorite mug. I try to let that singular moment envelope me, seeking nothing specific in return.

    Or I might stand at a window until I can feel the sun’s warmth on my face. I will then imagine my breath carrying that warmth down my neck to my collar bones, down to my fingers and into my belly. I’m not looking to be instantly “fixed,” just to prime the pump to receive and interpret information differently by bringing my senses and my nervous system into the equation.

    The Yoga Sutras, a text from perhaps as early as 500 BCE that codified yogic theory and practice (yoga with  “big Y,” way more than just the poses) reinforce the role of the nervous system in expanded consciousness. We take what we experience to be the truth, but as the theory goes, if you change what you feel/believe you experience, your conception of the truth changes.

    It’s like the ancient parable of the blind men and the elephant—you build your definitions of what is based on what you experience. My rationale proceeds then that if I alter my perceived inputs, the narrative that my nervous system spits out can also be altered.

    So that’s my part of the bargain—to widen the sense aperture and find a better experience. For the Universe’s part, I imagine it sending little gifts in return for my efforts—a great parking spot, the wave and smile of a colleague down the hall, a new local tour date for a favorite band.

    I don’t actually think the Universe is moving cars or colleagues or tour schedules to accommodate me. It’s simply me noticing. That doesn’t keep me from imagining a sort of an equal and opposite reaction in play that generates goodness in response to my attempts to notice goodness.

    I think of this noticing as a reframing of the “Toyota principle.” Long ago when my husband and I got a real car, we got a Toyota. Once we had the Toyota, we suddenly noticed all the other Toyotas on the road and wondered where they’d come from. They hadn’t suddenly flooded the market. It was more about moving the metaphorical antenna to recalibrate the signal—ah, I see things now.

    Actively being open to the light and marveling at its forms still doesn’t serve up a twenty-minute fix. It does remind me of all the good standing in wait for me and reinforces that “this too shall pass.” In fact, someone wise once told me “If you want to change something, you’ve got to change something.” These are my somethings.

    And so I commit to engaging my senses and being open to the beauty and love in my cup (even if my experience meter feels set to “low”). I believe that if I can do my part, I’ll again come into alignment faster with a Universe that offers no promises, but provides plenty of opportunity and wonder.

  • The Truth About Mr. S.: The Sexual Predator from My High School Band

    The Truth About Mr. S.: The Sexual Predator from My High School Band

    TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with accounts of sexual harassment and assault and may be triggering to some people.

    “There can be a deep loneliness that comes from not having a family that has your back. I hope you can find supportive people who show up for you.” ~Laura Mohai

    I feel and have felt extreme sadness, anger, isolation, and fear over several sexual harassments and assaults in my life.

    The first time I was sexually assaulted I was seven. I was at a friend’s birthday pool party. My friend’s dad put his hand down my swimsuit and grabbed my undeveloped chest, then said that once “these” grow, I’d be irresistible and a hot f*ck. I was seven.

    After that, my stepfather bought the first pair of “sexy” underwear I ever had, when I was ten, and made me model them for him, among other things.

    From these early formative experiences, I wanted to hide from the world.

    My mom was cruel and never protected me. She knew my stepdad would leer after me and that I hid in my closet. She just sneered and told me that I wasn’t special or that pretty. As a result, I learned from a young age that I didn’t matter, that I wasn’t going to be protected, and that I wasn’t special. This backward thinking allowed me to be prey to other men, one of whom was a teacher.

    I was sexually harassed and assaulted numerous times by a “valued” community member. Mr. S was my band director during my junior and senior years of high school. His behavior with me during my years as a student was completely inappropriate. He should be in jail. Yes, jail. I am certain I am not the only female who experienced his advances.

    Mr. S, as the students called him, preyed on the fact that I was very naïve and beaten down, came from a single-parent household, didn’t have much of a relationship with my father, and wanted to be a professional musician.

    My senior year of high school, I had early release but didn’t have a car. My mom worked, so I often had to stay very late after school to wait to be picked up. I would go to the band hall to practice during early release. Every single day, Mr. S would hide my clarinet somewhere so I’d have to come and ask him where it was. It was his way of making sure he got to see me, to control and harass me.

    He would leave lengthy typed “love” letters and lifesavers in my case every day. I was appalled. I told him to please stop. I never reciprocated and did not want this kind of attention. I just wanted to practice my clarinet, and he knew this, but preferred to toy with me.

    Before he would “allow” me to take my clarinet from him and go practice, he would make me sit with him in his office. He would pull his chair up to me and sniff my hair, telling me to never change my use of Finesse shampoo, as he associated me with that “lovely” smell.

    He would ask me if I read his love letters, and then he’d pester me as to why I never replied or reciprocated. I was very shy and didn’t say anything. I was scared. I felt ashamed, though I didn’t do anything wrong. I was embarrassed and knew many kids noticed that he gave me “special” attention, and I hated it.

    He controlled when I could leave his office. He knew I had no transportation of my own, so if I tried to leave to go to a practice room or to the library, he would tell me that I couldn’t because I still had lots of time to be with him.

    He would sometimes help me with my music, as it appeared that I was just in his office for that purpose. It wasn’t. He was obsessed with me. I am now closing in on middle age, and until last night, I had never told anyone that he used to come to my Spanish class and pull me out to take me places. How this was allowed, I will never know.

    Mr. S would tell my Spanish teacher that I had Drum Major duties, and that it was urgent, and then she would allow him to whisk me away. I hated it.

    He would often take me to Lake Lewisville, where he and his wife owned a sailboat. He would make me get in the boat, and then he would tell me how he wanted to sail the world with me. Again, I was silent. I was afraid.

    He would force me to sit leg-to-leg with him and would kiss my cheek, putting his arm around me. I would sit there like a statue, then I would try to pull away, but he would forcefully pull me back and tell me that it was mean to deny his advances and affection.

    Typing this now makes me want to vomit. It’s repugnant. The woman I have grown to be would never allow this behavior. However, I was sixteen and had no guidance and not much self-esteem.

    Looking back, I cannot understand how a man who had a wife and three daughters could be so disgusting, cross so many boundaries, and be so creepy.

    The time he crossed the line in the most extreme way was when he pulled me to him, held me next to his body, and forced a mouth-to-mouth kiss on me, while pressing his hard-on into my stomach, in San Antonio at All State. I was terrified, and pulled myself away from him, ran back to the hotel, and cried the entire night.

    I wanted someone to rescue me from his nastiness. “Can’t everyone tell he’s a creep and I’m miserable?” I would think to myself.

    You are probably thinking, “Why didn’t you tell someone?” I was afraid. He brainwashed me into thinking that if I told anyone, he wouldn’t write any recommendation letters for me and no one would believe me (I know this is not true now). And he would remind me that I didn’t want to stress out my mom, who already worked a lot. He guilt-tripped me and shamed me.

    It wasn’t until college that I eventually told someone, a childhood friend who attended the same school I went to. I showed him the letters Mr. S had written and told him about it. My friend was livid and then threw all the letters away. (I now wish I had kept the disgusting letters so that I could have them published.)

    Mr. S would call me at college and tell me he missed me. I told him to never call me again, but he continued until I stopped picking up the phone.

    Mr. S was a child predator who never should have taught children. He tried to Facebook friend me several years ago. I immediately shut that down. The gall, the nerve. No shame, no conscience. I am tired of being silent. I will not spare his peace to keep this quiet any longer. I can only imagine how many other teenagers and young girls were forced to be at the mercy of his sickness. I will be silent no more.

    The above abuses and others caused my judgment to be clouded and for me to take routes that weren’t always best for me. For example, I turned down a full scholarship from Baylor University to attend Eastman because I was terrified of my stepfather and Mr. S. I wanted to get as far away as possible from them. I jeopardized my financial future by taking out loans to pay for flights and college in order to escape Texas.

    I have beat myself up too many times over some of my poor decisions and my methods of survival. I won’t continue to vilify myself for finding ways, good or bad, to try to be and feel safe. I did the best I could, and I can now see that I am proud of myself for surviving. As a child and as a young adult, I should have been protected, cherished, loved, and guided, but I received none of those necessities.

    To those who have experienced abuse, who were not protected, who were not valued or cherished, you should have been. You matter. Find your truth. Abusers gaslight to disorient you. You are smart, you are brave, and you can proceed with life.

    I give myself kindness and love now. You deserve that too. You should have had those things before, but now you must give them to yourself. Be your own biggest cheerleader and know you are not alone.

  • Keep Watering Your Seeds

    Keep Watering Your Seeds

  • How to Be a Lot Happier: A Simple Solution

    How to Be a Lot Happier: A Simple Solution

    “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” ~Leonardo da Vinci

    There’s a funny thing with us humans.

    We spend our lives trying desperately to find happiness, and yet we don’t even know what it is. We can’t explain, describe, or define it. We just know that we want it because it’ll make everything peachy. Time and time again, though, studies have shown that our never-ending quest for happiness is quite often the very thing that makes us miserable.

    Trying to find happiness is an exercise in futility. This is a truth I did not easily come to realize. It took a succession of major depressive episodes, the sudden death of my father, a cross-country move, a broken heart, and countless hours reading airy-fairy, self-help nonsense for me to understand that instead of trying to find happiness, I should consciously take steps that let happiness find me.

    Suffice it to say, you will no longer find me spinning my wheels, dejectedly searching for answers and chasing the abstract. You will no longer find me on a never-ending quest for happiness.

    But given my endless fascination with the subject, my work as a coach, and my ever-present desire for more street cred, I recently found myself immersed in a year-long Psychology of Happiness certification program created by best-selling author and former Harvard professor Dr. Tal Ben-Shahar.

    During the program, we were asked:

    What was one of the happiest periods of your life?
    What did you do during that period that made it so good?
    How can you generate more happiness in your life?

    I had a profoundly difficult time answering these questions, particularly the first two. But the more I scanned through my mental scrapbook, the more I kept thinking about the months between ninth and tenth grade—my last romp as a camper at the sleepaway camp I’d been going to for six consecutive summers.

    It wasn’t so much what I did—or what we­ did—that made it so good. I think, perhaps, it was what we didn’t do.

    There were no smartphones. So, there were no screens to stare at, no calls to make, no messages to check, no constant dinging notifications.

    There was no social media. There were no Facebook rants, no Twitter trolls, no outlandishly phony Instagram influencers to drum up our insecurities.

    We weren’t constantly comparing ourselves to others while looking at the carefully curated highlight reels from their lives.

    No, we were making our own highlight reels in the middle of nowhere—or, more accurately, in the middle of northern Wisconsin. We hadn’t the slightest idea what anyone else was doing, and we didn’t care.

    There were no dating apps, no heads to swipe on for hours at a time. There was no ghosting, no haunting, no orbiting, no zombieing, no submarining, no breadcrumbing, no roaching. These hyper-specific subtypes of appalling human behavior simply didn’t exist.

    And despite our raging hormones, there was no palpable desperation. You either “hooked up” with someone the night before or you didn’t. Then, you moved on with your life.

    Nobody gave a damn who was president, either. We just knew it was some old, white guy just like it was the year before, and the year before that, and the year before that. He sat in his office, and signed some papers, and maybe spoke to the country every few months and that was it.

    There was nobody on the far left trying to ruin the life of anyone who’s ever made a mildly offensive quip. There was nobody on the far right trying to accelerate conflict and build some kind of white ethnostate. There were no conspiracy theorists trying to convince the world that celebrities run pedophile rings out of pizza parlors or that Jewish folks crisscross the country to start wildfires with space lasers.

    Oh, but Tony, you might be saying to yourself. There were definitely people like that back then! And you get no argument from me.

    But we never heard from them. They didn’t have public platforms. There were no 24/7/365 news channels, there were no online news magazines, and there was no YouTube; so, they just kind of kept their crazy crap to themselves.

    It’s no wonder that one of the happiest periods of my life was the summer of 1997, in the middle of nowhere in northern Wisconsin. We spent all of our time in nature, laughing and singing and bonding and playing frisbee.

    One could theorize that we were happier purely because we were kids, but I’m not so sure. From what I can tell, kids today are lost, distracted, and isolated. They spend most of their time indoors, glued to their devices. They are overstimulated, oversensitive, and overprotected. They are riddled with anxiety and depression as they deal with the psychological trappings of growing up in a technological world.

    Twenty-five years ago, during the summer of 1997, life was just…simpler.

    That’s what made it so good.

    And I don’t think that life in general will ever be that simple again.

    But every time I simplify my own life, even just a little bit, I’m a little bit happier.

    Every time I de-clutter, I’m a little bit happier.

    Every time I delete a dating app, I’m a little bit happier.

    Every time I forgo watching the news or sign off social media, I’m a little bit happier.

    Every time I turn my phone on Do Not Disturb, I’m a little bit happier.

    Every time I have a real conversation in real life with a real person I really care about, I’m a little bit happier.

    Every time I go outside and walk around and do nothing but look at the sky, and the trees, and the architecture, I’m a little bit happier.

    Every time I sit in silence and meditate and let my thoughts pass by like the weather, I’m a little bit happier.

    So, how can you generate more happiness in your life?

    Well, I don’t have a whole lot of street cred. But if I had to take a stab at it: Stop doing the things that cause you unhappiness. Simplify, simplify, simplify. And maybe find a summer camp for adults.

  • If We Truly Want to Break a Cycle and Heal

    If We Truly Want to Break a Cycle and Heal

  • 10 Signs You’re in a Toxic, Unhealthy Relationship and How to Help Yourself

    10 Signs You’re in a Toxic, Unhealthy Relationship and How to Help Yourself

    “Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly…the lover alone possesses his gift of love.” ~Toni Morrison

    Not all relationships are created equal. Some rage in like a storm and leave you far weaker than you were before. As you try to process the wreck that is now your reality, you wonder, how did I end up here?

    I found myself in a toxic and addicting relationship in my mid-late twenties. Now that some time has passed and allowed for reflection, I want to pass on some signs from my previous relationship that I should have paid more attention to, in hopes that this may help others who are in a similar situation.

    Signs a Relationship Has Become Unhealthy and Toxic

    1. You are putting in most of the effort, and your needs aren’t being met.

    Emotionally, I felt drained and exhausted. This frequently happened when I tried to communicate my wants and needs to my former partner. Most of the time, it felt like my efforts were in vain.

    2. You constantly feel like you are walking on eggshells.

    I never knew when I would say something that would be too much for my former partner to talk about and he would shut down emotionally. It made me nervous to bring up my concerns about the relationship, as I felt like he had a wall built around him that I just couldn’t knock down.

    3. You hang on because you think that’s what you are supposed to do when you love somebody.

    Blame it on Disney, romantic comedies, or countless love songs, but how many of us stay in unhealthy relationships because we feel like we owe it to that person to be there for them? But what do we owe ourselves?

    Looking back on my past relationship, I stayed in it for far too long because I thought that’s what you do when you love somebody. You stick with them when they are hurting. But what if it’s one-sided and it’s hurting you most of the time? Is that really love, or is it an unhealthy attachment to that person?

    4. You get addicted to the highs of the relationship.

    When things are bad, they are bad. But when they are good, you forget about the bad. The on-and-off-again pattern makes it passionate and addicting, almost like a game. It also makes it incredibly unstable. I felt like I was taking one step forward and two steps backward, constantly preparing for the next big crash.

    5. You are always giving in the relationship.

    I gave most of my time and energy to my previous relationship because I didn’t think I deserved to be on the receiving end of love. Now I know how wrong I was.

    6. You’re trying to solve problems that aren’t yours to solve.

    I tried too hard to solve my ex’s problems and didn’t focus on myself. I was overwhelmed by huge life transitions like moving and starting a new career, so it seemed easier to try to help him even though he didn’t ask me for help.

    This also allowed me to avoid admitting our relationship was deteriorating. It hurt too much to accept that our relationship was over and that I’d given 100% to someone who no longer cared about my feelings or well-being. After all, to admit is to acknowledge, and who wants to become aware that their relationship has become incredibly unhealthy?

    7. You get stonewalled.

    When I would be vulnerable and try to communicate how I felt, my former partner would go silent on me for long periods of time. This was pure mental torture. It was one of the most excruciating things I had ever experienced emotionally.

    Stonewalling was also incredibly confusing and traumatic. I would feel ignored, helpless, abandoned, and disrespected. This in turn would make me want to try to communicate more. Eventually we would start to talk again, and we got into an unhealthy cycle of me becoming anxious and him being avoidant.

    8. You lose a sense of who you are.

    At the end of the relationship, I felt broken and like a doormat that got stomped on incessantly. The person that I’d been before our relationship was no more, and all I was left with was a deep sense of shame for losing myself.

    I felt like I had fallen like Humpty Dumpty. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t put all my pieces back together.

    It was hard to admit that I’d enabled my ex to treat me disrespectfully over and over again. I’d worried so much about him that I stopped focusing on myself and became entwined in trying to save a relationship that had fallen apart long ago. I didn’t want to accept that after all the years we were together this was the way that it would end.

    9. You feel like you are in limbo and things are out of your control.

    When my ex stonewalled me, I felt like I was waiting on someone else for my future to start. Everything got placed on pause. I gave him all of the power in the relationship, and I felt like I was waiting for answers that I’d likely never receive.

    10. You feel disrespected.

    My former partner stopped caring about my feelings the moment the stonewalling started. I felt so hurt, shocked, and betrayed. I think part of me stayed in the relationship so long because I couldn’t admit that this person who cared about me in the beginning had stopped showing concern for me and treated me without any kind of dignity.

    That loss of love, communication, and affection was really hard to face. His apathy and lack of compassion made me feel like I was a piece of garbage that he threw out. I felt invisible, degraded, and unheard.

    To get a clearer sense of how an unhealthy relationship is impacting you, ask yourself these questions: 

    • Why am I staying in this relationship? Am I staying because I am scared to be alone and deal with my own problems?
    • How much of the time do I initiate communicating? Am I the one putting in all the effort in the relationship?
    • Am I enabling the toxicity in the relationship by continuing to allow this person to treat me in a disrespectful way? Are there boundaries in the relationship for disrespectful and inappropriate behavior?
    • Am I trying to save my partner? Am I constantly worrying more about them than myself?
    • Why do I want to fix things in the relationship so badly? Do I feel like a failure for having the relationship end?
    • Am I trying to control something that has run its course? Do we both want different things?
    • Am I co-dependent? Am I staying in a one-sided relationship to help care for this person even when my needs are not being met?
    • Am I living the life I want to live? Does this relationship make me feel loved and fulfilled?

    Ending and walking away from a relationship that is unhealthy and toxic may be one of the hardest things that you ever do. Know that you are not alone and that you are worthy of being in a loving and healthy relationship. You deserve a relationship full of mutual respect, love, and healthy boundaries.

    Some activities and resources that have helped me on my journey to self-empowerment and growth have been:

    1. Express yourself; find your voice.

    Holding in all of the hurt from a toxic relationship isn’t going to make it go away. Talk openly to trusted loved ones or friends about what you’ve experienced. It may surprise you to hear that others have similar stories. Talking to a counselor, who can give you tools, strategies, and resources to help you navigate this difficult time, may also be helpful.

    Write in a journal or compose a mock letter to the person who hurt you, or to your past or future self. I wrote a letter to myself ten years into the future in hopes of where I wanted my life to be and found it to be inspiring and motivating.

    2. Educate yourself on codependency.

    I was familiar with the term codependency, but I didn’t truly understand what it was until I heard a podcaster mention the book Codependent No More by Melody Beattie. This book put words to everything that I felt during this turbulent relationship.

    It made me realize that I put all of my energy into a relationship that wasn’t mutual or healthy and lost myself on that journey. The book helped reinforce the notion that we only have control over our actions and not others. It motivated me to always be the driver of my life.

    3. Spend time alone.

    After things ended, I didn’t realize how addicted to the relationship I was and how challenging it would be to not reach out to my ex. It felt like I was going through withdrawal. It was intense and frustrating because, rationally, I knew it was for the best, but when I stopped contact, it was a visceral experience.

    I forgot how important it was to be alone, which is also the hardest and scariest thing. The healing truly began when I was able to sit with myself and all of my thoughts. Meditating and participating in yin yoga helped me recenter and decrease my anxiety while also decreasing built-up stress and tension in my body.

    4. Take responsibility for your part.

    I wasn’t just a victim in the relationship; I was also an enabler. I stayed in something that became incredibly unhealthy and allowed my ex to treat me in an inconsiderate and unkind way. I enabled this pattern to continue, which was the hardest thing to admit to myself.

    5. Be gentle with yourself.

    We are all human and are learning. Be patient and kind with yourself.

    When this relationship was finally over, I wanted to rush through all of my grief and uncertainty in order to move on because it hurt too much. It was too real.

    I knew deep down that this would take time to heal, and I wanted to fast-forward through that phase. Give yourself time and grace. Some days will be worse than others. Just know that eventually you will have many more good days than bad days.

    6. Forgive yourself.

    Initially, I wanted to forgive my ex and felt an urgency to do so because I thought it would stop the pain. However, the person that I was most upset with was myself. How did it take me so long to realize this relationship was unhealthy? Why did I allow someone to treat me so poorly emotionally?

    The person that I really needed to forgive was myself for allowing someone to walk all over my feelings for such a long amount of time. Once that process starts, everything gets easier. You may never get closure from your former partner after things end, but you can find it on your own.

    7. Use this experience as a lesson.

    Every relationship is a lesson. Even if it was a difficult time, learn what worked and what didn’t work. What you want and don’t want. Decide what are acceptable and unacceptable boundaries in a relationship so that the cycle doesn’t get repeated in the future.

    8. Take control of your life and be the author of your own story.

    Don’t wait for someone to change to start living your life. Hit the play button and start focusing on your goals and dreams and where you want to be in the future. You may not be able to put all of your broken pieces together in the same way they were before the relationship, but take time to figure out what person you want to become and rebuild yourself.

    9. Love and believe in yourself.

    Take good care of yourself because if you don’t, nobody will. Have high standards for what you deserve in a relationship and don’t accept less. Practice positive affirmations about your worth. How you perceive yourself will impact how others perceive you.

    —

    We might not have control over others’ actions, but we do have control over our own. It’s time to empower ourselves to live the life we want to live.

    If we take time to truly understand why a relationship was unhealthy and toxic, we can vow to break the pattern and not allow it to happen again. We can love in a secure and healthy way and in turn attract partners who do the same. After all, we deserve to be in a healthy, fulfilling, and happy relationship, with ourselves and with others.

  • How Trauma Can Cause Mental Illness (It’s Not Just a Chemical Imbalance)

    How Trauma Can Cause Mental Illness (It’s Not Just a Chemical Imbalance)

    “What seems to be clear is that we humans are an accumulation of our traumatic experiences, that each trauma contributes to our biology, and that this biology determines, to some extent, how we respond to further traumatic events as they emerge in our lives.” ~Shaili Jain

    The stigma of mental health is decreasing. That’s wonderful, but the way we’re doing it is wrong and damaging. We are ignoring the trauma that is so prevalent and pervasive in our society.

    Think about how many times you’ve read something equating mental illness to cancer or some other disease. People say that taking medication for mental illness should be considered the same as taking medicine for blood pressure, cholesterol, or other medical issues.

    The phrase “chemical imbalance” is used quite often when referring to mental illness. There is a connection, but there’s so much more to mental illness than that.

    When we say that mental illness is simply a result of a chemical imbalance, we are pretending our trauma isn’t what causes so many of our mental health struggles. Most of us have had more than enough of others invalidating our trauma and the mental illnesses resulting from it.

    Now, before anybody starts screaming that their mental illness is purely a result of a chemical imbalance, hear me out. I do believe it is possible to have a genetic chemical imbalance.

    At the same time, I think that possibility needs to include a look at epigenetics. I’m not going into detail about that. Take yourself on over to Google for that.

    What I will say about epigenetics is that I believe these “genetic chemical imbalances” come from trauma that is inherited from each generation. It has been proven that trauma can change our DNA.

    That is probably why scientists have shown that some have a genetic predisposition to mental illness. The brain has a chemical imbalance as a result of epigenetics.

    Now, back to simply labeling mental illness as a chemical imbalance. I suppose it feels like a softer blow for some to believe that’s why they have a mental illness.

    This allows them to think that they and/or their experiences have nothing to do with their mental illness. Let me just take this pill to fix my brain.

    When I hear or read that anywhere, I get incredibly frustrated. It is minimizing or completely ignoring the fact that mental illness is typically a result of trauma.

    My father was a depressed alcoholic who died of cirrhosis nine years ago. I experienced a good bit of trauma as a result of his drunken rages on top of him being absent for a large part of my childhood.

    Not only that, but I had the additional trauma of my mother pretending there was nothing wrong with him. I was also taught to pretend the violence wasn’t a big deal.

    It was incredibly confusing for me as a little girl because my mind and body knew those experiences were traumatic, but I heard otherwise.

    I got a double whammy when it came to mental illness. Unfortunately for me, my mother was not emotionally available. I needed a parent who would validate my feelings and allow me to express what I was feeling.

    So, I had the genetic predisposition to depression from my father and probably my mother as well since she stayed with him for many years. However, I also had severe depression and anxiety as a result of my childhood trauma.

    I believed my depression was simply genetic and a chemical imbalance until I began therapy. As it became clearer that my childhood trauma was the biggest reason I struggled with my mental health, that way-too-simple theory began to piss me off.

    If a genetic chemical imbalance was the sole reason I was depressed and had anxiety, that meant my trauma shouldn’t have affected me the way it did. That didn’t sit well with me.

    How could a genetic chemical imbalance result in my thinking that I was worthless and unlovable? How could it be the reason I never felt safe, emotionally or physically? It just was not possible in my mind!

    A genetic chemical imbalance wouldn’t cause those negative, false beliefs. It would make me feel depressed or anxious overall, but not linked to any particular event.

    Witnessing violence in my home was the reason I had anxiety. I never felt physically safe after the first episode. I was always creating plans of what I could do to be safe if this or that happened.

    When I was little, there was a roof over a storage shed outside my window. If I heard my father throwing furniture or screaming violently, I could go out my window, slide down the roof, and run into the woods behind my house.

    I had escape plans for every room in my house. I also used to sleep with a portable phone so that I could call 911 if I was ever somehow brave enough to do that.

    Hearing that the violence I witnessed was not a big deal and being told not to talk to anybody about it resulted in a very confused little girl.

    I felt intense sadness because I believed that my father didn’t love me enough to quit drinking. When I would voice that sadness, I was told that I didn’t have a reason to be sad. So then I thought there was something really wrong with me.

    Why am I so sad if I don’t have a reason to be? Why should I feel unlovable if that’s stupid to say or feel?

    Once I began therapy, I learned that all of those thoughts and feelings resulted from my trauma. So, even if I didn’t have that predisposition to a genetic chemical imbalance, I would still have had depression and anxiety.

    Any child who experienced anything similar to what I experienced would have depression and anxiety. That genetic chemical imbalance garbage was keeping me from acknowledging the fact that trauma was the cause.

    As I mentioned earlier, I hear a lot of people saying they need medication for mental illness simply because they have a chemical imbalance. In my opinion, that is incredibly dangerous and prevents people from healing.

    It typically results in people thinking a pill will solve all of their mental health struggles. I’ve yet to hear about anybody who took a pill that completely removed all symptoms of mental illness.

    Now, I’m not saying the medication does not help. It most certainly does for many people. However, there is much more to mental illness.

    Not only that, but the chemical imbalance can also be a result of trauma. There is much more needed to heal trauma than just a pill.

    In my late teens and into my early twenties, I tried tons of different medications for depression, but I knew I needed more than that.

    Also, each medication only helped a little bit, and only with the day-to-day functioning to get my work done. I was just going through the motions, though. I never even had moments of peace or happiness.

    There was no medication that changed my feelings of worthlessness. I still felt unlovable. If I heard or saw certain things, I would get triggered with anxiety. Quickly, my mind would return to that childhood fear that I wasn’t safe emotionally or physically.

    If my mental illness wasn’t a result of trauma, then the medications would’ve cured it all.

    Oh, how I wish those medications would’ve been the answer for me. That would’ve saved me a lot of time, energy, and money in therapy.

    Therapists wouldn’t even exist if mental illness were nothing but a simple chemical imbalance. Medications for mental illness truly would be “happy” pills.

    It just doesn’t work that way. Mental illness typically results from years of trauma, covered up or not processed.

    Trauma needs intense therapy in order for the brain to get rewired. Trauma also needs to be acknowledged and validated for people to function in a healthier way and begin the healing process.

    Saying mental illness is just a chemical imbalance sends the message that your brain is just screwed up and some loose screws need to be tightened.

    Equating mental illness to cancer or any other medical illness or disease is denying the major damage trauma causes.

    For me, I had enough people downplay my childhood trauma. I’ve also heard way too many people downplay their own.

    So, let’s stop doing that. Let’s start naming trauma as equally damaging, if not more, than a simple chemical imbalance.

    Name the traumas that resulted in your mental illness. Acknowledge the significant impact that trauma has had on your life and the ways it continues to affect you on a daily basis. And find a good therapist who can guide you through processing your trauma, as I did, so you can heal. Your mind, body, and soul need you to do that.

  • You’ve Been Tested Before and You’ll Be Tested Again

    You’ve Been Tested Before and You’ll Be Tested Again

  • Before You Pass Judgment on Someone Who Is Self-Destructing

    Before You Pass Judgment on Someone Who Is Self-Destructing

  • How My Anger Helped Me Learn to Speak Up About My Needs

    How My Anger Helped Me Learn to Speak Up About My Needs

    “If we are holding back from any part of our experience, if our heart shuts out any part of who we are and what we feel, we are fueling the fears and feelings of separation that sustain the trance of unworthiness.” ~Tara Brach

    This morning I received a WhatsApp message, and I found myself immediately blown into a state of fury. On the surface the message didn’t seem inflammatory or dramatic; it was a simple request from another parent asking me to do something that wasn’t convenient for me. On the surface it didn’t seem like this message warranted such rage.

    The anger exploded inside my body, and I immediately wanted to ring the person who had messaged me. I wanted to shout and scream at them. And I wanted to blame.

    I didn’t ring them. I hate the anger, but what I hate more is conflict. To ring someone up and start throwing blame and anger at them would be deeply terrifying to me.

    I also wanted to stomp and shout, “This isn’t fair! I hate you! Why are you so selfish?”

    I didn’t do that either because I felt so silly having this reaction to a small, insignificant message. The flood of judgment was quick to come: “Why should I, a grown woman, get so ridiculously upset over a small social arrangement organized over text message? What kind of stupid person am I?”

    Oh, how emotions can judge and belittle!

    In the back of my mind, in a small but annoyingly reasonable voice, someone was saying, “You’re angry. Even if you want to shout at that person, it wouldn’t help. The anger isn’t about them really, is it? You know that about emotion, don’t you? Don’t you…?!”

    The anger was so alive in my body, I would have loved to punch something, or scream, but I started pacing instead. I started ranting in a small, quiet, but persistent way, about how annoying and horrible this person was. I attempted to talk to my husband to get some relief from the pressure inside me, hoping he’d say, “Oh, they are awful! You’re right.”

    But he was working. And to be honest, I should have been too.

    But still, this anger that was in my body—so uncomfortable! So unpleasant! I find it so scary to have the energy in my body because to let it out feels so wildly dangerous. Yet to confine it inside me feels like a bull smashing a china shop to smithereens.

    After a while I settled into myself and started actually doing what I know to do with anger—feel it and work with it instead of trying to remove it from my body by complaining or ranting. I stopped focusing on the situation that activated the anger and instead started to notice how it was playing out in my body.

    What I know about anger, and all emotions, is that they are rarely caused by what’s happening in the present. The emotion is there before a situation activates it. If we don’t work to release it, it will be there after the situation, waiting for something else to activate it, on the off chance we’ll finally pay proper attention to it and release it in another way.

    No one is making us angry. That’s not to say people don’t do hurtful things sometimes, but they are not to blame for the unprocessed emotion that was already there. Not even the person who sent me the text message that screamed to me of selfishness.

    Emotions come up over and over, usually around the same frustrations and challenges in our lives. When we don’t know how to release an emotion, it gets stuck in our body and is activated again and again, because we don’t work deeply, at the very core, to release it.

    Emotions often get activated where there are unmet needs. Because this feeling of anger has come up again and again over this same issue, I know that on the other side of my anger, something is waiting to be attended to. There is a need that I have that I am not acknowledging or expressing.

    The anger was so physically uncomfortable that I stood up—I needed space to fidget and move around—and I tuned into the sensations in my body. I thought about how the anger was showing up.

    It felt like there were a thousand fires in my chest. All raging with big intense energy. Underneath the fires, it felt like a bottomless pit of fear and sadness.

    This was all so uncomfortable, so to help me stay with these sensations, to have the opportunity to work with this feeling, I started to hold myself and rub my arms. I gave myself a lot of tenderness, love, empathy, and comfort.

    “I’m here for you,” I said to myself. “This is really tough, Di. I totally get how uncomfortable this anger is in your body. I get how hard this situation is for you, how it brings up such big, deep, old feelings.”

    And as I was holding myself and giving myself love, the sensations started to shift. A little.

    I put my hand on my heart and allowed myself to be with it all. The horror of the anger. The deep, nauseating sensations of fear.

    All emotions want to be held; they want to be seen and heard. And they need to be felt. But in our society, feeling emotions is uncommon. When we tell a friend we are feeling sad, they try to cheer us up. When we feel upset, we might try and distract ourselves. When we hear our partners are upset, we might try to convince them out of it.

    Or we often blame and judge others: They made me upset! They irritated me! They scared me! We rant and complain. Or we suppress ourselves, ignore the emotions. Run far, far away from them.

    The truth of it, though, is that the feelings just want to be felt. They want us to say, “I see you! I’ll stay with you.” Emotions want to just be allowed to show up in our bodies and to move through them, like clouds in the sky. This is the really tricky, painful, or scary part for most of us—learning to be with those sensations that emotions bring.

    As I stayed with the feeling of anger and met it with love and patience instead of judgment, the intensity of it lessened.

    As the fires of the anger started to fade, I asked it what it was trying to tell me. And I heard that it was trying to tell me to stand up for myself, to say to the person who messaged me, “No, I am not happy with that arrangement.”

    I have learned that so often my anger is trying to give me the courage to say “no.”

    It wasn’t about blaming another person; it wasn’t about forcing someone to do what I want or disagreeing with their requests. There was nothing I could do about anyone expressing themselves, and that’s okay. My anger just wants me to state in a clear, strong voice, “No thanks, that doesn’t work for me.”

    My anger wanted me to be comfortable expressing what I wanted and needed. That’s what the anger was trying to help me do.

    I saw, though, that the reason I didn’t just say what I wanted and needed was because underneath the anger there was fear—fear of saying what I needed.

    I saw how much I wanted to say what I wanted, but how scary it felt in my body. But why would I feel scared about saying what I wanted? What I needed?

    Many of us, myself included, learned to deal with our emotions and needs in early childhood by not expressing what we wanted. We learned to defer to other people’s emotions and needs, to allow their  emotions to take up more space. It felt safer, and still feels safer, to think about other people’s needs and emotions rather than our own.

    But our emotions don’t want us to defer to others; they don’t want us to not express ourselves. They want us to be fully expressed humans who say what we need and who we are.

    And that is why anger kept showing up in my life over and over again when I was asked to do things for people—because my default would be to agree and do whatever anyone asked of me. And anger wanted me to say instead “NO!”

    Until I listened to the anger, until I started to say what I wanted, this anger around being asked to do things would keep going on repeat.

    I saw that I needed to spend time tending to myself, working with my emotions, and helping myself become more comfortable with saying what I deeply, truly wanted to say.

    To be all that I am in the midst of these emotions. Authentically me.

    I checked in with my body again and felt the anger had subsided somewhat; the flames were small now, just a little pile of glowing embers. There was a small pool of sadness and fear still near the fire, and I walked over and sat with it.

    I said, “Fear, I get it. I get why you feel like this. It’s hard. Thank you for trying to protect me. I get why you don’t want to say what I need. You’re afraid I will be rejected, right? Well, I really need to say what I need, even if there is the chance of rejection. Otherwise, I will feel angry again.”

    In this admission of what I needed to do, the fear and sadness seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and all at once the emotions eased out of my body. The fire was gone, the nausea and bottomless pits. All gone.

    I sat with myself, put my hand on my heart, took a deep breath, and calmly and confidently replied to the message.

  • Some People Just Teach You How Not to Be

    Some People Just Teach You How Not to Be

  • How to Wake Up Smiling: 5 Daily Habits That Made Me a More Positive Person

    How to Wake Up Smiling: 5 Daily Habits That Made Me a More Positive Person

    “You create your future based on your energy in the present.” ~Unknown

    I’m usually a pretty happy person, but about a year ago—perhaps due to a lack of social connections and laughter—I experienced a few dark months. During those months, I spent most of my waking hours (and probably nights as well) consumed with negative thoughts.

    I woke up feeling angry in the morning, continued having negative thoughts most of the day, and went to bed in that same state of mind.

    Luckily, I didn’t have many opportunities to spread my negativity to others because we were in confinement.

    On one of those moody mornings, I played a video of a spiritual teacher that a friend had recommended listening to while getting ready for the day.

    Halfway through the video, he said, “Humanity is ascending into more loving and conscious states of being. You are becoming more of who you truly are, which is love.”

    At that moment, I caught my eyes in the mirror and stared at my unhappy face.

    “I’m not ascending. I’m descending further and further into the ‘hell’ in my own mind.”

    My negativity was eating me alive, but, strangely, it was so addictive.

    Since it had been escalating for some time (a few months by then) and had acquired a good bit of momentum, I really didn’t know if I’d be able to shift all that negativity into a more positive state of being. I knew that the longer I waited, though, the harder it would be.

    Still looking at my face in the mirror, I noticed the corners of my mouth pointing slightly downward.

    “If I continue like that, I’m going to get grumpy face wrinkles.”

    I made my bed and then went to the kitchen. As the coffee was brewing, I grabbed my laptop and Googled “how to be a more positive person,” and I scribbled down a few ideas that resonated with me.

    Later that day, after mixing and matching advice from different articles, I created what I called my “emotional hygiene routine.”

    It’s a series of simple habits that I committed to doing most days of the week for an entire month (and still continue to do today on most days) and that, over that month, took me out of my depressive state and made me wake up smiling in the morning again.

    I’d like to share them with you.

    1. Fall asleep in the “vortex.”

    One idea I came across in my research on being more positive came from Abraham Hicks:

    “If you go to sleep in the vortex, you wake up in the vortex. If you go to sleep not in the vortex, you wake up not in the vortex.”

    Being in the “vortex” refers to a state of pure positive energy. The idea in that quote is pretty straightforward: go to bed thinking positive thoughts and feeling happy feelings, and you’re more likely to wake up thinking and feeling positive in the morning.

    I knew this had to be true. I knew it because when I went to bed thinking angry thoughts, I usually dreamed that I was unhappy and then woke up grumpy (and exhausted) in the morning.

    So, I decided to try something. As I closed my eyes to sleep at night, I scanned the day from the moment I woke up until the present moment when I was lying in bed, and I tried to recall all the positive things (even tiny things) that had happened that day.

    I could have thought about the delicious mocha latte that I drank that morning, the fact there wasn’t snow on the ground and that I was able to run outside in the afternoon, or a nice comment someone left on one of my videos.

    I spent a few seconds remembering a happy moment before moving on to the next one. After scanning the entire day, I would do it again, trying to find even more subtle positive things, and I did this until I fell asleep.

    This exercise is probably the number one thing that helped me (and still continues to help me) wake up happier in the morning.

    2. Have something to look forward to on the following day.

    Something else that has helped me wake up happier is having something to look forward to every day, even if I have a busy day ahead and have minimal free time available.

    Still to this day, every evening, I schedule at least one activity that brings me joy for the following day. It can be going for a walk with a friend, baking cookies, or watching the sunset. It can also be as simple as wearing my favorite outfit.

    Scheduling one activity that brings me joy for the following day gives my mind something fun to anticipate and puts me in a good mood in the evening.

    And again, how the day ends is a good indicator of how the following day begins.

    3. Absorb uplifting ideas in the evening.

    We all know that what we feed our minds affects our mood. I don’t have a TV and don’t follow the news, but my Facebook feed is often enough to get me irritated. So, I decided to stop scrolling mindlessly on Facebook (or at least do so less often) and consume positive-only content instead.

    For the past few months, first thing in the morning and before going to bed, I’ve been reading a few pages of an inspiring book—usually something spiritual. I just finished reading the entire Earth Life book series by Sanaya Roman, and right now, I’m reading Wishes Fulfilled by Wayne Dyer.

    Reading those kinds of books brings me peace. I can notice a significant difference in my mood and stress level if I just take even fifteen minutes to consume uplifting content in the morning and evening.

    (If you have any book recommendations, you can share them in the comments.)

    4. Make a gratitude list—with a twist.

    After reading in the morning, I write down three to five things I’m grateful for—and why I appreciate each thing.

    I used to write gratitude lists of fifteen-plus items and do it very quickly—almost mindlessly—just to “get it done.” It made the practice sort of mechanical and not very effective.

    I’ve found that writing fewer items on my list and taking the time to dive into the reasons each thing makes me happy intensifies the feelings of gratitude and makes the exercise more profound. I try to do this daily, although I do forget sometimes. When I forget several days in a row, I can feel the difference in my general mood.

    Gratitude is perhaps the lowest-hanging fruit for cultivating a more positive attitude.

    5. Choose your state of being as you open your eyes.

    The last thing that has helped me is a piece of advice from Dr. Daniel Amen, one of the leading brain health experts. In an interview on The School of Greatness Podcast, he talked about the importance of setting a positive intention from the very start of the day to cultivate what he calls “a positivity bias.”

    An affirmation he uses himself and recommends using is: “Today is going to be a great day.”

    When we tell ourselves this in the morning, our unconscious mind then looks for things that are going right to prove that this is true. This isn’t toxic positivity—ignoring or denying the negative. It’s training our brains to see what’s positive instead of focusing on the negative by default.

    I’ve taken the habit of saying this affirmation (or a similar one) just after waking up and before opening my eyes in the morning. It’s a bit like choosing and declaring from the very start of the day what attitude you’ll adopt that day. It’s easy to do, and it sets the tone for the day.

    In the beginning, I didn’t always remember to declare my intention until later in the morning, but it didn’t take long before it became automatic. Now, just remembering to think about my intention (and then mentally saying it) makes me smile as I wake up.

    . . .

    Our lives don’t need to be perfect to wake up smiling in the morning; they just require a conscious effort to develop a positive attitude, which is what the five habits in this article have helped me accomplish.

    I hope they serve you well, too, if you choose to implement them.

  • When We Start to Get Better, We Often Get Sad

    When We Start to Get Better, We Often Get Sad

  • Our Creative Genius Shows Us Possibilities the Rational Mind Can’t See

    Our Creative Genius Shows Us Possibilities the Rational Mind Can’t See

    “There are moments in our lives, there are moments in a day, when we seem to see beyond the usual. Such are the moments of our greatest happiness. Such are the moments of our greatest wisdom.”  ~Robert Henri, The Art Spirit

    In my twenties, I worked for a Fortune 500 company at 401 North Michigan Avenue in downtown Chicago. It was fun to work in the city, and my office overlooked Lake Michigan—I never got tired of the stunning view. Weekends were spent with friends eating at unique ethnic restaurants and visiting comedy clubs, blues bars, art galleries, museums, and theater.

    Chicago is a thriving city with a vibrant cultural life. I had a great time.

    I eventually went on to get a Ph.D. at the University of Chicago, and after I completed the degree, everything in my external world nudged me to “get out there and do great things.” Fellow students were receiving grants, fellowships, and prestigious tenure-track positions at major research universities. My advisor (Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the author of Flow) was excited about my dissertation research and wanted me to publish.

    Everywhere I went, freshly minted Ph.D.s were busily writing papers, interviewing, and speaking at important conferences. And if that wasn’t enough incentive, my department was being closed by the University, and administrators, faculty, and students were launching a massive fight to try to keep it open. The centerpiece of their argument was to show how their recent graduates (i.e., me…) were doing amazing, brilliant things in the world. Yikes.

    I pushed myself—secluding myself away at a quiet retreat center for a week to try to focus, write a research article, and finally get serious about my academic career. My writing was stiff, contrived, and boring.

    I was miserable.

    So, instead of launching an illustrious academic career, I moved to the wilderness of northeast Montana.

    Montana enchanted me. Everything was so different. I fell in love with the spectacular natural beauty, but also the people who were so different from anyone else I’d ever known.

    There were backwoods hippies living off the grid, musicians who played on homemade instruments, unique one-of-kind handmade houses, and artists of all kinds.

    I moved in with a longhaired hippy in a teepee. My dog and I could hear the wolves howl at night, and we crossed paths with bears during the day. I immersed myself in the beauty of the wild with its craggy mountains and deep dark winters.

    I was far, far away from the world of exalted professional accomplishments. Here’s what happened instead.

    1. I developed self-reliance.

    One day a bird flew in and got stuck between windowpanes when trying to get out. Another day, a neighbor’s stray dog got his eyelid hooked on barbed wire. (Ouch!)

    In the city, my go-to response was to get the nearest person to help. But here in this remote area, there were no neighbors to be called. I managed to successfully extricate both animals on my own and without harming them further.

    2. I developed a wide skill set.

    In rural and remote areas, by necessity, you become a generalist. I did things I never would have done had I remained in the city.

    I was asked to speak at a church service. I started leading creative writing workshops at the yoga center. I was asked by an artist to write a book about her work and the local paper invited me to participate in a community forum.

    3. I developed openness.

    In the city, I held staunch beliefs about issues such as the need for gun control. Living in the country, I developed a deeper and more fleshed out understanding of diverse views. In rural Montana, churchgoers, new-age hippies, and hunters all mix together at the post office, grocery store, and local cafe.

    My perspectives broadened. I was no longer automatically locked into a particular position. Whereas before I saw the world in stark black-and-white, I now saw shades of gray.

    4. I developed leadership skills.

    In the city, civic organizations can feel large and intimidating. In a rural setting, everyone pitches in.

    I was asked to organize a United Way meeting. I became involved in the Rotary club. The employment agency asked me to lead a staff meeting,

    5. I developed passions for different things.

    I became proficient at river rafting. I spent weekends contra dancing. A band needed a bass guitar player and there was no one else around, so I volunteered to give it a try. (I loved it.)

    I had no idea of the fun to be had in the country.

    6. I discovered a freedom of identity.

    I’d spent my life growing up in a conservative Midwestern family, then following corporate rules as a computer scientist before embarking on a rigorous Ph.D. program.

    In Montana, I let myself break the rules for a while, stepping out of everything I had known and trying on something completely new and different. I discovered what it felt like to be free of roles and expectations.

    A friend of mine, a massage therapist, absolutely loved her work. After several years, she decided she wanted to make more money and she made the rational decision to switch to a career in nursing. Since both professions involve healing work, she naturally believed nursing would be a good choice for her.

    Years and tens of thousands of dollars later, she admits that she hates nursing. Logic doesn’t help us find our next step.

    By the way, I also have a dear friend who loves being a nurse. This is not a story about nursing (or academia). It’s a story about uniqueness.

    What are the unique paths that inspire each of us? What are the unique places, people, and situations that help us grow?

    When we’re stuck, it’s often because our minds are dead-set focused on the direction that seems reasonable. It’s the only direction that our minds can see.

    Our creative genius has a much different approach. It offers us unique, peculiar possibilities that our rational mind can’t see.

    Your creative genius will take you in directions that you don’t expect and can’t predict ahead of time. Directions that aren’t a linear, incremental next step. Instead, they open up entire new worlds that you didn’t know existed.

    Here’s a tip…

    When you’d like to make a change, feel blocked, or frustrated that whatever you’re doing is no longer working, consciously step back and imagine opening space for possibilities you hadn’t considered. This can be a challenge—your mind may have a hard time letting go of the reins.

    You are more than your thinking mind. You have another, non-cognitive creative intelligence operating in your life as well. It’s your creative genius and it’s worth listening to.

    Opening space for it will give it a chance to express itself.

  • How My Narcissist Ex Was a Catalyst to My Healing and Self-Love

    How My Narcissist Ex Was a Catalyst to My Healing and Self-Love

    “It’s okay to let go of those who couldn’t love you. Those who didn’t know how to. Those who failed to even try. It’s okay to outgrow them, because that means you filled the empty space in you with self-love instead. You’re outgrowing them because you’re growing into you. And that’s more than okay, that’s something to celebrate.” ~Angelica Moone

    I thought I had married the love of my life. I had never felt a connection so strong before. I was sure he was my soul mate, and I thoroughly believed he was my twin flame—my one and only.

    I can’t even begin to tell you the horror that started to unfold after we got married. The accusations that my beloved other started to hurtle at me. That I didn’t care about him and I didn’t love him enough. He was convinced I was having affairs behind his back, and conspiring against him, and was clearly out to take his money.

    I was not just perplexed by this, I was shattered. How could he not see that I loved him unwaveringly, without question, and that I never even considered having eyes for anyone else? And trying to take his money? That was incredibly bizarre because I discovered, contrary to his initial proclamations, that he hardly had any.

    Yet I didn’t care. I loved him. I tried to love him, and I was convinced that my love would be enough—that he would know that I loved him, and we would soon return to the comfort and the knowing that our love for each other was real, safe, and forever.

    No matter how much I tried to love him, things were spiraling out of control. I couldn’t be five minutes late from the supermarket without suffering his wrath. Life outside of “us” was getting smaller and smaller.

    If I looked out the window, I was thinking the wrong thing or looking at something the wrong way. If I didn’t take his hand when we were together, I was advertising that I was single. Visiting friends or family or working outside of the property became as possible as flying to the moon.

    Eventually it happened: I stopped trying to love us back to unity and fought back. Initially to try to stop the despair that he didn’t trust me, then for my literal sanity, freedom, and autonomy. Without these things I was losing my soul.

    None of it worked. As my attachment to him became more panicked and devastated and I was losing control of my reactions, his abuse accelerated, and then I realized I was coming close to losing my life.

    I had complicated post-traumatic stress disorder. I shook. I sweat. I couldn’t eat. I could barely sleep. Everything and everyone I cared about was turning away from me.

    I had married a narcissist. I didn’t realize it at first, because back then, fifteen years ago, not many people were talking about narcissism.

    I had always believed that narcissists were arrogant people who were “up on themselves.” I had no idea that they were people who presented in our lives offering the love, total acceptance, validation, and “life” that we thought we had wanted our entire life. I had no idea that someone like this could enter my life and they would feel so right to fall in love with.

    The day that the word “narcissist” popped into my head, and I googled it, I nearly fell off my chair. I was ticking every point that was so “him” off a list of traits and behaviors. I was in shock.

    Entitled—tick. Can’t take personal responsibility for wrongdoings—tick. Has hair-trigger reactions to things that most adults don’t get bent out of shape about—tick. Argues in circles in ways that make your head spin—tick. Pathologically lies while looking you straight in the eye—tick … and on and on the list went. I needed to get to the punch line: Could a person like this be fixed? Could they get well from this disease?

    I searched high and low; I turned over every possibility and read all the research I could find. The answer was a flat “no.” Then, believing there is always a solution, I was determined to heal him, to fix our marriage, to return to the dream of the “one and only” that I just knew he must have been.

    It didn’t turn out well. In fact, it turned out terribly. Now I was experiencing things I never believed I could or would: Mental and emotional abuse that had me curled up in a corner. Physical abuse that had me fearing for my life. Financial abuse that was ripping my life to shreds. At times, for self-preservation, I had to escape. Eventually, I left him and relocated.

    But I wasn’t getting better away from him. I was totally unprepared for feeling so haunted. By the fact that he was in the home I had bought, seeing other women and seemingly having a great life while I was so empty, devastated, and traumatized that it hurt to breathe, it hurt to live, and I thought that I was going to die.

    I returned to him countless times. Either because he would contact me and promise to change, or I missed him so much I couldn’t function.

    Every time I returned, it got worse. The makeup periods were briefer, and the explosions more damaging and horrifying. Then, I broke. I had a complete psychotic and adrenal breakdown. I was told I would never heal from it and would need three anti-psychotics to be able to function, but I would never be the same again. I was told I now had permanent brain and nervous system damage.

    Of course, he didn’t care. He did what he had always done when I needed him—he discarded me. It was then that I decided to die. So, I started trying to formulate how to do this in the kindest way for my family and son.

    However, my soul had a different idea for me. A voice in my head kept insisting, “No, there is another way.” I thought it was just my madness speaking. I argued with it, but it wouldn’t let up. In desperation I walked into my bathroom, fell on the mat, put my hands in the air, and shrieked, “Help me, I can’t do this anymore!”

    In that moment the most incredible thing happened. It was like my head parted and the blinding truth entered me. I had never known such clarity in my entire life. Maybe you have to be “out of your mind” to really know the truth?

    The voice in my head told me that my husband was a catalyst. He was never meant to grant me my “self” and my “life”; rather he had come into my life to show me the parts of myself that were unhealed, that I hadn’t healed yet, to generate my true self and true life.

    A whirl of incidents and truths flashed into my mind. The ways I was so hard on myself and was always needing more, saying to myself, “Melanie, I can’t even like you (let alone love you) if you don’t get your to-do list all done, if you don’t lose ten pounds, if you don’t look like this or that … “ and how he had treated me the same—as not good enough, right, or acceptable.

    How I had always kept busy rather than “be” with myself, care, validate, and love myself. How I had terminally self-avoided and self-abandoned my inner being, and how I had yelled at him, “You don’t even know who I really am!” yet had never taken the time to have a real relationship with myself.

    On and on, the realizations came hard and fast. And I knew, he hadn’t treated me how I had treated him; he had treated me how I had really felt about and treated myself.

    I knew that if I let go of him, healed, and came home to my inner self, I would recover. I would save my sanity, life, and soul. I knew I could heal, get better, and do better. I knew that finally my life and love could be real and work.

    I knew this because in this divine intervention experience, I had been thrust into a vision in the future where I was healed and whole, and I had felt it for real. I saw who I was. I saw what I had and most importantly, I felt who I had become.

    He wasn’t the healer of my wounds; he was the messenger of them instead.

    I let go. I turned inward. I healed.

    This I now know at the highest level of truth: A twin flame, as the nemesis who reflects back to us our unhealed parts in intensely painful ways, offers the greatest love of all—the returning home to ourselves. From there my life has blossomed, from this true relationship with myself, life, and others in ways that I could never have previously imagined.

    I am love. I am self-acceptance. I am free.

  • Maturity Is Working Through Your Trauma

    Maturity Is Working Through Your Trauma

  • You Know What’s Attractive?

    You Know What’s Attractive?