What Happened When We Chose Not to React in Anger

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response.” ~Viktor E. Frankl

A few months ago, I was on a crowded highway with my wife and son. Traffic was barely moving. Vehicles were inching forward, one small gap at a time, with the usual impatience hanging in the air.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang. It sounded like something had burst.

For a second, I didn’t understand what had happened. Then I realized a motorcyclist trying to squeeze through the narrow space between cars had hit us. His side bar had torn into our rear tire, and he had fallen onto the road.

We stepped out immediately. We were all shaken. The motorcyclist was getting up, visibly startled.

My first reaction was anger.

We had already been stuck in that traffic jam for over an hour, and now there was a damaged tire to deal with in the middle of it. The inconvenience, the carelessness, the sudden disruption—it all came together in that moment.

But something unexpected happened.

I didn’t react.

My son was driving, and I could sense the tension in him. The motorcyclist walked up, apologized, and offered to pay a small amount for the damage. It was clearly not enough, and under different circumstances, we might have argued.

I might have reacted very differently. Raised my voice, questioned his carelessness, and insisted on compensation right there on the road.

It could easily have turned into an argument, drawing attention and adding to the chaos around us. And it would have only added to that tension.

But we let it go.

Instead, we focused on the immediate problem. Changing a tire in that kind of traffic was not possible. Cars were packed too closely, and there was no space to do it safely.

So we made a tough decision. We drove on.

For nearly two kilometers, we moved carefully on a damaged tire, the car unsteady, the sound of it reminding us of what had just happened. Eventually, we found a small roadside tire shop and got it replaced.

The entire episode set us back by almost two hours.

For a while, there was still tension. We had already been irritated before the incident, and this had only added to it. But as we got back on the road, something shifted.

The tension eased.

We found ourselves talking normally again. We stopped for a delicious lunch and, almost without noticing, began to enjoy the rest of the journey.

Later, I thought about how easily that moment could have gone differently.

We could have argued with the motorcyclist. We could have held on to the anger, replaying the incident in our minds. It would not have changed what had happened. The tire would still have needed to be replaced. The delay would still have been there.

But it would have changed the rest of the day.

Sometimes, not reacting is not about being calm or patient in a deliberate way. It is simply about seeing clearly what the situation needs.

In that moment, what we needed was not an argument. It was a solution.

The anger came, but it did not stay. And because it did not stay, it did not take anything more from us than it already had.

That small difference changed the experience of the entire day.

It reminded me that we often carry moments longer than necessary, turning them over in our minds, letting them shape what comes next.

But sometimes, we can let them pass.

Not because they don’t matter, but because holding on to them does not help.

And when we do that, even an ordinary day that briefly went wrong can find its way back again.

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About Ashok B. Heryani

Ashok B. Heryani writes reflective essays on everyday life, exploring human behavior, social patterns, and the quiet forces that shape how we live and relate to one another.

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How to Heal on a Deeper Level After Moving On

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” ~C.G. Jung

For twelve years, I believed I was the architect of a perfect life. I had the “Summa Cum Laude” degree, a respected career in human services, a devoted husband, and two healthy daughters. I had checked every box on the “Success” list. I truly thought I had outrun my past.

But trauma has a way of waiting. It doesn’t disappear just because you stop looking at it. It simply goes underground, like a silent program running in the background of a computer, waiting for the right key to be pressed.

When I was twenty-one, I escaped from a ten-year, on/off toxic relationship that had consumed my entire adolescence. At the time, I didn’t have the words “narcissistic abuse” or “gaslighting.” I just thought he was a man who couldn’t get his act together. He went to jail and I moved on; I built a fortress of a life.

And then, twelve years later, I bumped into him. We’ll call him X.

The Return of the Familiar

It wasn’t a calculated move. It was an extreme chance encounter that felt like a lightning strike. Within weeks, the fortress I had spent over a decade building began to crumble.

I did the unthinkable: I separated from my family. I broke apart the peace I had cultivated to go back to the man who had nearly destroyed me as a girl.

From the outside, it looked like madness; from the inside, it felt like an irresistible pull. It was a biological “homecoming” to my nervous system that I had never actually healed; I had only suppressed it. My mind and body felt like magnets to the familiar trauma, disguised as “true love” and a “happily ever after.”

Within a month, X’s mask slipped. The same jealousies, the same mental games, and the same chilling gaslighting returned. But this time, I was different.

I was an adult. I was a mom. I was finishing my master’s degree and learning about abusive relationships at this very time, and I had spent years working in the human services profession.

And suddenly, I had the epiphany.

The Holes in the Wall

I remember standing in a cramped, crappy apartment—the one I had moved into just to be with X. I wasn’t DIYing a dream home like I had planned. I was holding a putty knife, trying to patch holes in the drywall that had been put there by X’s fists.

As I smoothed the spackle over the damage, the absurdity of the moment hit me with the force of a tidal wave. Here I was, a high-achieving professional, a woman who taught others about empowerment and boundaries, hiding the physical evidence of my own destruction. I was literally trying to cover up the holes in my life, hoping that if I made the surface look smooth enough, I wouldn’t have to face the rot underneath.

I realized that my entire “success story” over the last decade had been a version of this spackle. I had spent twelve years painting over the “adolescent me” with layers of professional accolades and academic achievements. But because I hadn’t addressed the original trauma of my youth, the foundation was still brittle.

At the first sign of heat—the first encounter with my past—those layers cracked.

That’s when I saw the “ghost in my system.” I wasn’t fighting the man standing in front of me; I was fighting a version of myself that had been stuck at age twelve. I had “moved on” at twenty-one, but I hadn’t integrated the experience; I had simply built a beautiful life on top of a broken foundation.

The Turning Point

I left that apartment. I went back to my family and did the grueling, messy work of repairing the damage I had caused. But this time, the “work” was different.

I wasn’t just healing from the mistake of my thirties; I was finally reaching back to that twelve-year-old girl and telling her, “I see you now. We’re going to fix the foundation this time.” I had to learn the hard way that we often mistake a change in scenery for a change in soul.

We think that because we have a house, a career, and a “perfect” family, we have outgrown our struggle. But healing is not a matter of time; it is a matter of awareness.

Lessons from the Foundation

Through this journey of losing and finding myself, I discovered three truths that changed how I view personal growth:

1. Success is not a substitute for stability.

You can be a high-achiever and still be highly vulnerable. Many of us use “doing” as a way to avoid “being.” My career success was my armor, but it didn’t make me immune to old triggers.

2. You cannot fix what you haven’t defined.

For years, I didn’t realize I was an abuse survivor. I thought I was just “strong.” It wasn’t until I used my professional training to look at my own life objectively that I could name the beast; but once you name it—gaslighting, narcissistic abuse, trauma bonding—it loses its power over you.

3. The “why” is in the roots.

I had to stop asking, “How could I be so stupid?” and start asking, “What did that twelve-year-old girl need that she is still looking for?” When we approach our mistakes with curiosity instead of contempt, we find the roadmap to the cure. Contempt keeps us stuck in shame; curiosity leads us home.

The Power of Giving Back

I realized through this experience that while I was lucky enough to have the education to eventually catch myself, so many people are left wandering in the dark without a map. Not everyone is ready or able to access traditional therapy or support systems. Those paths can often feel expensive, time-consuming, or even intimidating when you are already in a state of collapse.

I now believe that one of the most powerful steps in our own healing is the act of sharing what we’ve learned. Giving back isn’t just a kind gesture; it is a therapeutic necessity. When we translate our private pain into a public resource for others, we finally strip that pain of its power to shame us, and we turn our “devastation” into a “blueprint” that someone else can use to find their way home.

Practical Steps for Rebuilding

If you are currently standing in your own “broken apartment,” wondering how to start patching the holes, here is what I have found to be most effective:

1. Audit your foundation.

Stop looking at the “new paint” of your current success and look at the original wood. Ask yourself: Am I reacting to what is happening today, or am I reacting to a ghost from my past?

2. Name the beast/ghost.

Don’t just say you are “stressed.” Use specific language—whether it is gaslighting, a trauma bond, or a nervous system spiral. Once you name a pattern, you are no longer a victim of it; you are an observer of it.

3. Find a way to serve.

Even if it’s just sharing a single truth with a friend or posting an honest reflection online, the act of helping someone else navigate their challenging circumstances is often the very thing that pulls us out of our own.

The Ongoing Commitment

If my own mid-life crisis taught me anything, it’s that healing isn’t a destination you reach and then stay at forever. It’s a commitment to checking your own foundation every single day. It’s about making sure that the life you are building is one you actually want to live in – not just one that looks good from the street.

While the devastations we face are often our greatest teachers, my hope is that by sharing my story, I can help others leave the quagmire of confusion and emotional pain much sooner than I did.

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About Stephanie Nelson, M.A.

Stephanie Nelson, M.A., is a Human Services professional with over 20 years of experience. After nearly losing her "perfect" life to a ghost from her past, she founded MySelfGrowthTools.com to provide free, 24/7, no barrier, digital tools for those navigating recovery and self-growth. She lives for "aha!" moments and helping others rebuild their lives on a foundation of true self-trust. Follow along on Instagram @my.selfgrowthtools.

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Finding Peace with Money After Years of Feeling “Responsibly Broke”

“A big part of financial freedom is having your heart and mind free from worry about the what-ifs of life.” ~Suze Orman

During my upbringing, my parents often fought about money since we didn’t have much of it. My mom was more of an occasional spender, while my father would go as far as making me wear shoes that were a size smaller just so he could save money.

This conflict of opposites created real tension in our home, and eventually, my dad instructed my mom to give my father her entire salary so he could manage it. She had to ask for an allowance even for things like menstrual pads or coffee. Today, I understand that this type of dynamic is called financial abuse.

When my mom left my dad, it was very difficult for her to support our family financially since she was making less money than my father while they were together.

Even in spite of that, she wanted us to have more. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was twelve years old, and my mom took me to a clothing store called Mango. I loved that store but could never buy anything from there because it was outside of our price range.

I noticed a simple black sweater and immediately fell in love with it. I showed it to my mom. It was around $20, which was a budget for our groceries for the week. And as any child would, I started begging her to buy it for me. Eventually she gave in and said okay.

I remember we were standing by the register. She was to my right side, and when I looked at her, I could not only see but literally feel the stress she was going through by spending $20 on a sweater she couldn’t afford. My excitement was immediately replaced by profound guilt and shame that I was the reason she was stressed and sad.

Although I didn’t realize it for many years, this was a defining moment when I unconsciously decided I wasn’t deserving or worthy of having more money or making good money.

Years later, when I began my healing work, I understood that these seemingly small and insignificant moments shape the way we see money, how we feel about it, and whether we believe we deserve it or not.

At first, this seemed to have a positive effect. In my twenties, I became an extreme saver.

When I was twenty-two, I moved to the US. During my first year as an au pair, I lived with a generous family and still managed to save, believing I was good with money.

After my year was up, I moved to Florida on my own and started to become aware of how the financial system works in the US. My husband at that time told me I needed to build credit because, well, everybody does it. We all need credit to live in this country. So I got my very first credit card. This was the time when my saving muscles began to weaken.

The standard of living I was used to in Slovakia was different here since I was starting from zero. Being a customer service representative, my mani-pedis, haircuts, and the desire to live the high life because I was in America ate a significant portion of my earnings while leaving me high and dry at the end of the month.

Looking back now, I’d say the breaking point happened when I had a tooth emergency. I woke up with my right side completely swollen and had to rush to my dentist for an emergency appointment.

I had insurance, but I wasn’t aware that often there is a significant portion you must pay out of pocket. Once the emergency was averted, I was standing at the reception desk, handing the receptionist my insurance card. After a few moments, she looked at me with a smile and said, “Your total out of pocket is $1,600.”

I froze, cold sweat pouring over my anesthetized face. Say what? I don’t have $1,600. She looked at me again, smiled, and said, “That shouldn’t be a problem. We have a payment plan available.”

And that’s how my path of debt cycles began.

Could I sit here and tell you that the reason I was in such a bad financial position was the system or the bankers and lenders that so freely offered me their money? Of course. But that is a very small part of the equation, and it actually isn’t the reason I ended up broke.

After about eight years of personal loans, medical debt, a car loan, and about six credit cards, I hit rock bottom and eventually filed for bankruptcy.

One thing I couldn’t wrap my head around was that I was responsible, reliable, and capable in other areas of my life, but when it came to money, I was failing horribly. Even my payment history was perfect because, well, I was a responsible borrower. Later on, I used to joke that I was responsibly broke.

The bankruptcy was a turning point for me. Once everything was over and my case was settled, I remember sitting on my bed in my studio apartment, asking myself: “How did I actually get here?”

After I reflected, I recognized that it was a combination of three things. First, I never healed my money blocks and beliefs, which affected my income level. Second, I refused to educate myself about money. And third, I was using debt as a way to finance my lifestyle, although I couldn’t afford it at the time.

Once I sat with this for a while, I made a commitment to myself that I would never again find myself in such a financial position. I decided to face my financial fears head-on and purchased my very first financial book, Total Money Makeover by Dave Ramsey.

As one of the first steps, he suggests you should save your first $1,000. I couldn’t see how I would be able to do that, but I stood strongly in my faith. I started with $50. Then it was $100, $200, and eventually, within two months, I saved my first $1,000.

Saving my first $1,000 was less about money and more about self-trust while rebuilding confidence in my choices. Suddenly, I felt more capable and reliable when it came to money, a feeling I wasn’t familiar with.

Step by step over the years, I started to make healthier financial choices. I opened my first brokerage account and started investing, and no matter what point system a credit card company offers, I am staying away from having any.

Looking back at this journey of financial struggle and how I tied it to my self-worth, there are three pieces of advice I’d offer when it comes to money.

1. Address your financial trauma.

Whether people grew up with money or without it, many of us have financial limiting beliefs that hold us back.

Five minutes in a clothing store with my mom at the age of twelve directed another twenty years of financial stress for me. Money directly affects our nervous system as well as our mental and emotional well-being.

Of course, for people who are truly struggling or living at poverty level, financial stress is inevitable. But for many of us, a paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle is a combination of bad financial habits, a negative relationship with money, and a lack of financial knowledge.

Addressing your relationship with money won’t only help you understand your current financial situation but also uncover deeper wounds you might be carrying, like feelings of unworthiness or a desire for validation. Money problems are often symptoms of a deeper issue.

2. Spirituality and money can coexist.

I grew up atheist, so when I started to explore spirituality later in life, I developed a certain obliviousness toward money. I saw it as something materialistic that didn’t belong in the spiritual world.

I later realized that spirituality became another way for me to avoid my financial trauma, justifying that I was above money and could manifest my way out of being broke. Although I’m not minimizing the power of attraction and manifestation, I think it’s important to be practical and logical when it comes to our finances.

The hardest lesson was learning that I can’t reach higher states of consciousness or heal much of my trauma when I’m stuck in constant survival mode and my nervous system is paralyzed by fight-or-flight mode because I don’t know how I’m going to tackle my rent next month. We must take care of the survival aspects of our life before we can dive deeper.

3. Learn about money.

There are so many negative financial statements we hear all the time. Things like “money can’t buy happiness” or “money is the root of all evil” when in fact, there is nothing wrong with being interested in money, understanding it, and effectively working with it. Money is simply one of the many essential aspects of living a healthy and balanced lifestyle.

You don’t need to strive to be the richest person in the world, but understanding your budget, having an emergency fund, and saving for retirement are the basis of your financial health.

When I started learning about money, it gave me a sense of empowerment and competency. It made me feel more confident, gave me clarity, and brought a sense of peace into my day-to-day life. There is so much I was able to accomplish on a deeper personal level and heal because I wasn’t consumed by daily financial stress.

Today, I no longer carry the shame of that moment at the register. Instead, I carry the knowledge that I am capable, worthy, and deserving of financial stability, and so are you.

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About Silvia Turonova

Silvia helps financially independent women transform their relationship with money, addressing both the emotional and the practical side through a personalized money system. She created the HerEaseWithMoney Starter, a free 10-minute money guide for women ready to take their first step. Get it here. You can also find her on Instagram.

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The Sounds That Helped Calm my Mind

I recently had the opportunity to take an online Sound as Medicine workshop with Phyllicia Victoria through the Omega Institute, and what a beautiful experience it was.

As you may know from my previous emails, I’ve been moving through the hardest time in my adult life for the past eighteen months.

I’ve been back and forth across the country numerous times to support my father through brain cancer treatment. All the while, I’ve been homeschooling my oldest son, adapting to changes in my industry, and in recent months, coping with estrangement from one of the closest people in my life.

Life has felt heavy, overwhelming, and relentless, and I’ve depended on my self-care routines, like walking in nature and reading in the tub, to maintain a sense of equilibrium.

After taking this workshop, I now feel confident that sound baths should be a regular part of that routine.

First, about Phyllicia—an artist, yoga teacher, reiki practitioner, and sound healer. I’d read on her website that she grew up feeling broken, lonely, and unworthy, with trust issues, and I instantly felt a sense of connection because I could relate.

She started facilitating sound baths because she felt how the sound helped settle her thoughts and quiet some of the chatter in her head.

That’s exactly what this workshop did for me. The combination of Phyllicia’s soothing voice, her uplifting words, and the resonant, hypnotic sounds created a truly transcendent experience.

After the practice, she led us through some gentle movements and stretches and then invited us to journal about what came up in the meditation.

I started by writing a number of words that came to mind:

• Release
• Peace
• Spaciousness
• Ease
• Clarity
• Calmness
• Gratitude

And then I wrote the following:

I felt a deep sense of relief from the stressful thoughts that had been gripping me earlier. The sound transported me in a way words alone could not. I felt the vibrations deep within my body, and it felt like they were cleansing me of the noise of my own mind and creating space to just be, without judgment.

When I heard other sounds—some that I think came from her environment and some in my own, like my father moving around and turning on the faucet in the kitchen—my mind thought, “No judgment—just new sounds.”

I was reminding myself to simply hear them, mixed in with the more calming sounds of her singing bowls and chimes, and then release them without thinking they “shouldn’t” have been part of the experience.

And I thought to myself, what a wonderful practice for life. Often, we hear more dissonance than harmony in our days, but sometimes it’s the other way around. It’s a tremendous gift to be able to train the mind to hear the dissonance without getting lost in the story of it, so we can shift our focus back to what’s beautiful and healing.

—

The journaling practice ended after this, and I decided not to listen to the Q&A at the end of the workshop so I could just be in the space I’d created within myself for a bit.

I’ve read that sound baths can not only calm the nervous system and reduce stress, but they can also help relieve tension and physical pain. And I can see why. I ended my session feeling deeply relaxed, physically and mentally, and honestly better equipped to handle whatever might come in the day ahead.

I’ve been grateful for my recent partnership with Omega because I truly love what they offer.

I also appreciate that they put together a page of free resources specifically for the Tiny Buddha community, which you can access here.

If you’re interested in attending a workshop on their campus in New York this summer, here are a few that caught my eye:

• Get Healthy with Sound: Tuning Forks & Voice for Vibrant Health
• The Journey Inward: Frequency, Neuroscience & Longevity
• Holotropic Breathwork: Sacred Geometry & the Healing Nature of Mandalas

And in case you missed my previous email, I wanted to reshare some of the programs I recommended last month, including:

• Omega’s emotional resilience workshops, which focus on training your mind for your best life possible, healing from betrayal and toxic relationships, and more,
• And Omega’s nervous system regulation workshops, with programs focused on accessing neuroplasticity, healing your nervous system, and more.

That’s a picture from their campus above. If I could take an in-person workshop at this time in my life, I’d be there in a heartbeat, as I know it’s a true sanctuary and a place for meaningful connection and deep healing.

If you’re feeling the way I’ve been feeling lately, I encourage you to explore the free resources, and if you decide to take a workshop, I’d love to know what the experience was like for you!

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About Lori Deschene

Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She started the site after struggling with depression, bulimia, c-PTSD, and toxic shame so she could recycle her former pain into something useful and inspire others to do the same. You can find her books, including Tiny Buddha’s Gratitude Journal and Tiny Buddha’s Worry Journal, here and learn more about her eCourse, Recreate Your Life Story, if you’re ready to transform your life and become the person you want to be.

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The Beautiful Gift We Give Without Even Knowing

“The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh

Five years ago, my son missed a basketball tryout.

We had been out of town, and by the time we got back, the rosters were already set. I made a few calls anyway, hoping someone might give a kid a late shot. One coach said yes. He had a spot left, and he was willing to take a chance on a name he’d never heard from a father he’d never met.

That coach became one of my closest friends.

I started coming to practices to help out. Then I kept coming back. Five years later, I’m still his assistant coach, and somewhere along the way, a basketball court became the place where one of the most meaningful friendships of my adult life took hold. He’s forty. I’m fifty-two. He tells people I’m like an older brother to him, and I don’t take that lightly.

We talk several times a week. About basketball, yes, but also about our kids, our fears, what we’re proud of, what keeps us up at night, and the bigger questions that don’t have easy answers. We laugh often. We’re there for each other. And we’ve both said, more than once, that what we have is rare. Not because we agree on everything, but because we see each other. The real stuff. The soul underneath the surface.

That kind of friendship is harder to find than people admit.

Which is why what happened recently stopped me cold.

He had been up for a new job, a role that would be a game changer for him and his family. I knew the opportunity was on the horizon, but I didn’t know the timing.

When my phone rang the other day, I picked up the way I always do. We fell into one of our usual conversations, easy and unhurried. Silly jokes. Updates on the kids. The kind of talk that doesn’t require effort because the comfort is already there.

No pep talks. No last-minute prep. No mention of anything high-stakes. Just two guys talking about nothing in particular on an ordinary afternoon.

The next day, he reached out with an update. And then, almost as an afterthought, he mentioned that during our call the day before, he had been sitting in a waiting room, just minutes from walking into his interview.

I sat with that for a moment.

“You didn’t tell me,” I said. “I had no idea you were sitting there in the middle of all of that.”

He laughed the way he does. “I know. I didn’t want to talk about the job. I just wanted to talk to you. It kept me calm. Thanks, man.”

I’ve been thinking about that moment ever since.

I wasn’t doing anything remarkable. I wasn’t coaching him through the moment or offering wisdom about pressure and performance. I was just being myself, which is the only thing I know how to be when we talk. But for him, in that waiting room, our ordinary back-and-forth was exactly the footing he needed.

He just needed a reminder that a world existed outside that office. A world where he was already known. Already liked. Already enough. And without either of us planning it, that’s what our conversation became.

I’ve spent a lot of years measuring my value by the visible things. The advice I gave that someone used. The moment I said the right thing at the right time and watched something useful happen. We tend to think of impact in those terms, the big gesture, the obvious intervention, the moment we can point to and say, “I helped.”

But my friend reminded me that presence is its own kind of power. Not the dramatic kind. The just-answer-the-phone kind.

There’s something I’ve learned from five years of watching him coach my son.

The kids who grow the most under his watch aren’t always the most talented. They’re the ones who feel seen. He has a gift for looking at a young person and communicating, without making a speech about it, that he believes in what’s already there.

My son has become a better basketball player over these years. But more than that, he’s growing into the young man he was always meant to be. And a key part of that is because someone took a chance on his name on a list and then kept welcoming him back.

That’s the thread. Coming back. Paying attention. Being present and paying attention without an agenda.

We move through our days as the main characters of our own stories. We’re managing our own pressures, our own timelines, our own private concerns. And in doing so, we sometimes forget that we’re also essential characters in the stories of the people around us. Although we don’t always know which scene we’re in for someone else.

There are days when I feel like I don’t have much to offer. The path forward isn’t clear, and I wonder whether I’m contributing anything of any real value.

And then I think about my friend sitting in a waiting room, not wanting to talk about the moment ahead of him, calling because the sound of a familiar voice was the one thing that could settle his nerves and remind him to come back to himself.

On the days when we feel smallest, we might be the thing holding someone else together. We might be the calm in a storm we didn’t even know was happening.

We don’t need to be extraordinary to matter. We just need to be present. To answer the phone. To come back to practice the next day. To say yes to a name on a list when everyone else has already moved on.

My friend took a chance on my son five years ago and in doing so, gave both of us more than he’ll ever fully know. I hope that somewhere in our conversations, I’ve offered him something back. Even on the days when it felt like nothing more than two people just hanging out and talking.

We never truly know when an ordinary moment becomes the thing someone needs the most. But we can choose to keep answering, keep returning, and trust that our presence and attention are exactly enough.

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About Daniel H. Shapiro

Dr. Daniel H. Shapiro is keynote speaker, workshop presenter, and mentor. He is passionate about human connection and the stories we carry with us. For more information about his book, The 5 Practices of the Caring Mentor, or his mentoring and speaking services, check out: www.yourinherentgoodness.com.

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A Little-Known Truth About People-Pleasing and How to Stop (for Good)

“Being a people-pleaser may be more than a personality trait; it could be a response to serious trauma.” ~Alex Bachert

Growing up in a home, school, and church that placed a lot of value on good behavior, self-discipline, and corporal punishment, I was a model child. There could have been an American Girl doll designed after me—the well-mannered church girl with a nineties hair bow edition.

I was quiet and pleasant and never got sent to the principal’s office. Complaining and “ugly” emotions were simply not allowed. Though I was very rambunctious and “rebellious” as a toddler, all of that was cleansed from my personality by the time I was school-aged.

I had no other choice. I felt unsafe in my body at the slightest hint that someone was upset with me. It was enough to tame my inner rebel, at least for many years.

I carried this pattern into adulthood. I found myself in jobs with supervisors who would fly off the handle at every opportunity. I worked extra hard, more than anyone else, to avoid getting in trouble. When my colleagues got yelled at over their mistakes, they laughed with amusement under their breath—but when the anger was directed at me, I was ridden with anxiety.

How could my coworkers brush off our manager’s anger, but I felt triggered for hours afterward?

It took me many years to learn the answer—that some of us are conditioned from a young age to develop a deep-seated fear of losing our sense of belonging and safety in our relationships. To cope with this fear, we develop strategies to safeguard ourselves, which, for some, turn into a habit of people-pleasing.

There’s one clear common denominator for people-pleasers—feeling beholden to others. You put your needs last and feel obligated to manage everyone else’s happiness. You’re hypersensitive to being judged, shamed, and rejected. You worry about what other people think about you. You overextend yourself to be helpful. When you dare to stand up for yourself, you suffer from anxiety and guilt.

When you don’t address and change these patterns, you may eventually feel resentful, frustrated, and angry. It compromises your emotional and physical well-being and contributes to an overwhelming sense of powerlessness.

And it lights a blazing fire under your ass.

Because we aren’t responsible for juggling other people’s emotions.

We don’t owe anyone comfort.

We’re not a charity receptacle for others’ emotional venting, unhealed trauma, or misdirected anger.

Our time, energy, and well-being are not up for negotiation.

And we don’t deserve the guilt-tripping manipulation.

Truthfully, we cannot control how other people show up in our relationships, but we can change our patterns of powerlessness and take back our lives, and it doesn’t have to compromise our genuine desire to care for others.

Brain Ruts

It’s not a mystery what you should be doing in lieu of carrying the burden of responsibility that comes with people-pleasing.

You need to set boundaries, speak your truth, be more confrontational, use your voice to advocate for yourself, separate your feelings from others, and put your needs first.

Which begs the question—what’s getting in the way of you taking these steps?

Though you may feel the need to change your patterns through sheer willpower or more self-discipline, that isn’t the answer.

You don’t need to read useless books about how to “grab life by the horns” or “grow some balls” (ew, gross!).

You don’t need to muscle through debilitating anxiety or guilt.

You don’t need to give up your generosity or empathy to take back your power in one-sided relationships.

You don’t need to be “thicker-skinned” or less “sensitive.” (Your sensitivity is a gift.)

Here’s the little-known truth about people-pleasing—it’s a learned pattern that gets “turned on” in your unconscious mind over and over again.

Whether it’s avoiding conflict, freezing up when you need to speak your truth, or feeling guilty, people-pleasing is a survival strategy. And all survival strategies are a set of automated behaviors, thoughts, and emotions that repeatedly get turned on unconsciously.

In a sense, you’re not fully in control of how your people-pleasing habits show up. Which is why just “trying harder” doesn’t work, because you can’t beat the speed at which your unconscious mind is turning on patterns.

Ninety percent of how we show up in life is unconscious and based on our past. Your brain needs to save energy, so it’s automating your decisions, behaviors, and feelings for you. Think of your bad habits as brain ruts.

Every time a people-pleasing habit is presenting itself, your brain is riding down the same neural pathway, deepening the grooves, much like how a dirt path naturally forms over time if you keep walking over the grass.

This well-worn path appears to be safer and easier than walking through the wild, unruly grass, which feels unfamiliar, dangerous, and risky to deal with—you fear being judged, shamed, or rejected out there. Just the thought of standing up to your evil mother-in-law turns on the anxiety.

But you’ve reached a point where you long to be in the wild grass. It represents the life you could be living—taking up space, effortlessly putting your needs first, being in your pleasure, and feeling amazing in your emotional well-being.

So how do you take the leap into the metaphorical grassy field of your “hell yes” life?

By planting new seeds in your unconscious mind and watering them on a regular basis.

Planting Seeds

If people-pleasing wasn’t a problem for you anymore, what would be possible in your life?

Imagine a scenario where you’ve already reconfigured the pathways of your unconscious mind and you feel exactly how you want to feel, showing up exactly how you want to, and it’s just easy. You’re confident, powerful, and unapologetic.

Whose rules would you stop following?

What boundaries, enmeshed in barbed wire, would you put in place?

Whose misdirected emotions would you feel bulletproof against?

What responsibilities would you shamelessly give up?

What self-indulgence would you treat yourself to?

What truths would come spilling from your mouth? (Truths that are SO electric, that you feel you might burst if you don’t say them right now!)

There’s a reason it’s so intoxicating to fantasize about our ideal life. We’re wired to “believe” what we imagine because a part of our brain doesn’t know the difference between what is real and imaginary. It’s the same reason we get emotionally pulled into TV and movies. You do realize it’s acting, right?

When the critical thinking part of your mind goes quiet—as it does when you’re getting wrapped up in a good story—you’re accessing your unconscious mind, where all habits are formed. It’s where we’re most swayed, influenced, and sold on ideas.

To get out of a people-pleasing brain rut, you need to plant seeds in your unconscious mind to “influence” yourself to show up the way you want in your life. Done with repetition, these seeds help build new neural pathways, making it possible to be your best self at home, at work, and in your community.

One of the most powerful ways to plant seeds is to visualize while in a deeply relaxed state of mind. Here are some tips on how to get started.

Start in the Right Frame of Mind

Visualization works best when you’re feeling relaxed and calm in your body. If you’re actively triggered, self-regulate your emotions before jumping into visualization.

One quick and easy way to do this is to combine a breathing exercise with stimulation of the acupressure points on your wrist. Grab one wrist with the opposite hand and squeeze. Take one big inhale, hold at the top of your inhale for a couple seconds, and then exhale twice as long. Repeat two to three times. Once you feel nice and grounded, find a quiet place without any interruptions so you can focus and go inward.

Get Specific

The brain works in very specific, finite ways. If you want to be a badass who lives life on your terms, what exactly does that look like? Imagine yourself in specific places, taking specific actions, feeling a certain way about it. Focus on actions like speaking your truth, confronting people, feeling confident, setting boundaries, etc.

Repetition Counts

Your mind needs enough new information on who you want to be in order to generalize the changes into your life. You don’t need to visualize for long periods of time—two to three minutes at a time is enough, but be sure to make it a part of your routine. Try starting with a handful of times a week.

Water the Seeds

Take real-life action that supports the person you’re becoming. Your brain and nervous system are always learning and adapting when you show up in new ways. It’s like providing the proof to yourself that yes, I can do this. Start with small steps. Choose places where you want to put yourself first and practice using your voice to advocate for yourself. Be tenacious about doing this work—the confidence and bravery you crave will naturally emerge.

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About Krissy Loveman

Krissy Loveman is a neuroscience-informed Life Coach. She works with the conscious and unconscious mind to create deep, lasting change. Get her free toolkit to jumpstart your inner work journey.

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What My Body Actually Needed to Feel Better Again

“Take care of your body. It’s the only place you have to live.” ~Jim Rohn

I used to think tiredness was a personality trait.

I was the person who could work fourteen hours, sleep five, and do it again. I wore my exhaustion like armor. It proved I was serious. It proved I was dedicated. It proved I was worth something.

What it actually proved was that I was running my body into the ground.

The Surgeon Who Could Not Heal Herself

I trained as a surgeon in London. My days started before the sun came up. They ended long after it set. In between, I made decisions that affected people’s lives while running on caffeine and willpower.

I was good at my job. I was terrible at taking care of myself.

The irony was not lost on me. I could look at another person’s body and see exactly what was wrong. I could diagnose, treat, and repair. But I could not see what was happening inside my own body.

The Moment Everything Changed

It was not a dramatic collapse. It was a quiet Tuesday. I was walking to check on a patient at 2 a.m. My legs felt heavy. My vision blurred for half a second. I steadied myself against the corridor wall and waited for it to pass.

It was not an emergency. It was something worse. It was a signal I had been ignoring for years.

I was thirty-three. My blood tests were normal. My colleagues said I looked fine. But I knew something was off. I just did not know what.

What I Found When I Stopped Running

A colleague suggested meditation. I laughed. I did not have time to sit still. I barely had time to eat.

But one morning, out of desperation more than curiosity, I sat on the edge of my bed for five minutes before my shift. No phone. No plan. Just breathing.

It felt pointless. But I did it again the next day. And the next.

After two weeks, something shifted. I started noticing things I had been too busy to see. The tension in my jaw. The shallow breathing that had become my default. The way I ate without tasting anything. The way I fell asleep not from rest but from depletion.

Slowing down did not fix anything overnight. But it gave me the clarity to ask a better question: what does my body actually need?

Looking Under the Surface

As a surgeon, I was trained to see damage after it happened. Scarred tissue. Worn joints. Clogged arteries. I treated consequences, not causes.

When I started reading about cellular health, I realized the damage I saw in patients did not appear overnight. It built up over decades in silence, in small increments, in all the moments when the body asked for rest and got stress instead.

I learned that every cell needs specific molecules to produce energy and repair itself. I learned that these molecules decline with age. I learned that the fatigue I felt was not laziness or weakness. It was my cells running low on what they needed.

For the first time, I looked at my own health the way I looked at my patients. With curiosity instead of judgment. With data instead of assumptions.

The Small Changes That Made the Biggest Difference

I did not overhaul my life in a week. I made one change at a time.

First, sleep. I committed to eight hours even when it meant turning down invitations and leaving work earlier. The guilt was real. The results were undeniable.

Then, movement. Not punishing gym sessions. Just walking. Thirty minutes every morning before I looked at my phone. Rain or shine. It became my reset button.

Then, food. I stopped eating for convenience and started eating for my cells. More berries. More vegetables. More olive oil. Less sugar. Less alcohol. Not perfectly but consistently.

Finally, stillness. Those five minutes of morning breathing became ten, then twenty. Meditation was not spiritual for me. It was practical. It helped me notice stress before it became damage.

What I Wish I Had Known Sooner

I wish someone had told me that tiredness is not a character flaw. It is information.

I wish someone had told me that the body does not wait for a convenient time to break down. It accumulates damage in the background, in the nights you did not sleep, in the meals you skipped, in the stress you swallowed.

I wish someone had told me that prevention is not dramatic. It is boring. It is sleep and walks and vegetables and sitting quietly for a few minutes. And it works.

Where I Am Now

Today, I have more energy than I did at thirty. I wake up without an alarm. I exercise because it feels good, not because I feel guilty. I eat slowly. I breathe deeply. I sleep well.

I am not a different person. I just stopped ignoring what my body was telling me.

The surgeon who could not heal herself finally listened. And it turned out the prescription was simple: slow down, pay attention, and take care of the one body you have.

If You Are Running on Empty Right Now

You do not need a complete life overhaul. You need one kind decision today.

Sleep an extra hour. Take a walk without your phone. Eat something colorful. Sit quietly for five minutes and notice how your body feels.

Your body is talking to you. It has been for a while. The question is whether you are willing to listen.

Start there. The rest follows.

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About Dr. Prarthana Venkatesh

Dr. Prarthana Venkatesh is a London-trained surgeon, award-winning researcher, and founder of Longevita, a longevity supplement built on clinical insight and aging science. She writes about health, mindfulness, and the intersection of medicine and daily life.

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How to Feel Safe When Panic Feels Dangerous

“Anxiety isn’t you. It’s something moving through you. It can leave out of the same door it came in.” ~James Clear

Years ago, I had a panic attack while driving across a bridge, and I thought I might die that day.

Suddenly my heart started pounding. My breath became shallow and tight. My chest felt constricted, and a wave of dizziness washed over me.

I was driving sixty miles per hour, and there was nowhere to pull over. The bridge stretched for miles, suspended over open water, and I was alone in the car.

A terrifying thought shot through my mind:

Something is seriously wrong.

I gripped the steering wheel and tried to keep driving, convinced I might pass out before reaching the other side.

In that moment, it felt like my body had completely betrayed me.

For a long time afterward, I was afraid to drive and lived in quiet fear of that feeling returning.

I began avoiding certain activities and situations. I constantly monitored my body for signs that another attack might be starting. Even when I appeared calm on the outside, a part of me was always on high alert.

If you’ve experienced panic attacks, you may know this feeling well.

The racing heart. The dizziness. The sudden sense that something terrible is about to happen.

It’s not just uncomfortable—it’s terrifying.

And most people experiencing panic believe the same thing I did:

Something must be seriously wrong with my body.

But what I eventually learned changed everything.

The Body Isn’t the Enemy

The first idea that really shifted things for me was this: the sensations of panic feel dangerous, but they aren’t.

They’re your nervous system sounding an alarm.

When we perceive danger, the body activates a natural survival response known as fight-or-flight. Adrenaline floods the bloodstream, the heart beats faster, breathing quickens, and muscles prepare to react.

This response evolved to keep humans alive.

If our ancestors encountered a threat, like running away from a predator, their bodies needed to react instantly. When the nervous system is regulated, the rest-and-digest response prompts the body to naturally return to a relaxed state once the threat has passed.

However, if the nervous system has been under stress for a long time, it becomes imbalanced. The fight-or-flight response is working on overdrive, and the rest-and-digest response no longer functions properly. The body doesn’t relax.

The outcome: the nervous system sometimes sounds this alarm even when no real danger is present.

This was definitely true for me. I was a single parent, living in San Francisco, running a wedding photography business (hello, super-stressful career).

I was in the car dealing with insane traffic for hours each day: A two-hour roundtrip commute getting my daughter to and from school, client meetings, evening engagement photoshoots…

I photographed weddings most weekends, leaving three to four hours ahead of time because wedding photographers aren’t allowed to be late. Ever.

Rest was something I dreamed about. I was consistently exhausted, burnt out and on edge, and there was no end in sight. So yes, my nervous system was basically fried, which meant my panic attacks became more and more frequent.

I lived in terror of the next attack.

When the body releases adrenaline unexpectedly, the sensations can feel overwhelming.

Many people interpret these sensations as signs of catastrophe.

Am I having a heart attack?

Am I about to faint?

Am I losing control?

Those thoughts create even more fear, which causes the body to release more adrenaline.

And just like that, a cycle forms:

Sensation → fear → more adrenaline → stronger sensations.

It can feel like being trapped in a panic loop you can’t escape.

The Shift That Changed Everything

My healing didn’t begin with trying to control the panic.

It began with understanding it.

For the first time, I saw that my body wasn’t malfunctioning. It was responding exactly the way it had been designed to respond.

My nervous system had simply learned to stay on high alert.

Once that understanding settled in, something subtle but powerful shifted.

The sensations of panic were still uncomfortable, but they no longer felt like proof that something catastrophic was happening.

They became signals from a nervous system that had been carrying too much stress for too long.

And nervous systems can learn new patterns.

Learning Safety Again

I realized that healing from panic isn’t about forcing the body to calm down.

In fact, fighting the sensations often makes them stronger.

Instead, the process involves helping the nervous system relearn what safety feels like.

Sometimes that looks like slowing the breath. I practice a simple breathing technique I call “four-six breathing.” You close your eyes, then inhale, counting to four, then exhale, counting to six.

The longer exhale slows your heart rate and sends a message to the nervous system: “We’re okay.” This activates the rest-and-digest response, and the body relaxes.

Sometimes it means allowing sensations to pass without resisting them. The sensations of a panic attack can be uncomfortable or intense, but they’re not dangerous. Once I understood this simple truth, it was easier to be with the sensations, knowing they came and went, like an ocean wave.

Sometimes it’s simply learning to trust that the body knows how to return to balance. Healing wasn’t an all-at-once event but a gradual process. As my panic attacks became shorter and less intense, I felt more confident, because I knew exactly what to do to care for myself.

Eventually, they went away and have never returned.

Some people believe that panic attacks can’t be cured, but I’ve found that this simply isn’t true.

With practice, the nervous system learns a new pattern and begins to recognize that the alarm is no longer necessary.

The response becomes less intense.

Episodes become shorter.

Eventually, many people find that the cycle of panic dissolves entirely.

A Different Relationship with the Body

My panic attacks were once so severe that I was afraid to drive for years. Today, I drive without fear. Road trips have become a favorite hobby and a meditative experience. This past summer I drove more than 3,500 miles around the country—by myself.

I move through the world with a sense of trust in my body that once felt impossible.

What I discovered during my healing journey eventually became the foundation of a new way of life:

Listening to my body’s signals instead of overriding them.

Prioritizing rest because it’s a key component of health.

Unearthing my own deepest wisdom and ability to maintain my energy, vitality, and well-being.

Gathering tools and practices that allow me to be peaceful and grounded, no matter what’s going on in my life.

Being the calm, confident, joyful person I wanted to be.

Because the truth is this:

If you experience panic attacks, your body isn’t broken.

It’s trying to protect you.

Sometimes healing begins not by fighting what we feel, but by understanding it—and in that understanding, the body slowly remembers how to feel safe again.

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About Grier Cooper

Grier Cooper is a trauma-informed anxiety coach and creator of The Panic-Free Formula. She helps high-functioning women retrain the nervous system patterns behind anxiety and panic so they can feel safe, steady, and fully present. A former professional ballet dancer, she brings a body-based, compassionate approach to healing. Her work focuses on transforming fear into safety and helping women reclaim inner calm and trust. Download her free 3-Minute Panic Reset at GrierCooper.com.

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