Living a Meaningful Life: What Will Your Loved Ones Find When You Die?

Living a Meaningful Life: What Will Your Loved Ones Find When You Die?

“At the end of life, at the end of YOUR life, what essence emerges? What have you filled the world with? In remembering you, what words will others choose?” ~Amy Rosenthal

Most people believe sorting through a loved one’s belongings after death provides closure. For me, it provided an existential crisis.

After glancing at the angry sky in my father’s driveway for what seemed like hours, I mustered up the courage to crack open the door to the kitchen. The eerie silence stopped me in my tracks. Wasn’t he cooking up a storm in this cluttered kitchen just a few days ago?

I started with the mounds of clothes and cuddled them gently before pitching them. The sweet aroma of his fiery cologne still lingered. The air smelled just like him.

My father’s belongings served as physical reminders of how he spent his time on Earth. Some of my favorites included:

A weathered yellow newspaper clipping of his parents. Cherished family photos, with him grinning ear to ear. A collection of homemade cookbooks. Framed quotes such as Mi casa es su casa. A prestigious Pottery Barn leather chair, distressed by puppy claw marks. Nostalgic t-shirts from the early 90’s.

Chipped and heavily-used Williams-Sonoma platters. An entertainment center that mimicked a NASA operation center, with 70’s CDs left in the queue. Invitations to neighborhood block parties. An embroidered apron which read “World’s Best Grill Master” paired with still fresh barbeque sauce stains.

Homemade recipe cards with quirky quotes like “It’s good because it’s cooked on wood.” An entire closet of camping gear. Leftover birthday celebration goodies. Glazed pottery from local North Carolinian artists. Entertaining sports memorabilia on full display. And a tender card from me:

Dear Dad,

You’re the best dad ever! I hope you have a birthday filled with tasty BBQ, blaring seventies music, and a pepperoncini pepper to start the day off right. Thank you for being there for me. You are my hero. I can’t wait to celebrate with you this weekend!

My father collected items that brought him joy, and, clearly shared them with others.

While you may not know him, or think you have anything to do with him, you do.

You will be him one day. We will all be him one day. At some point, someone will rummage through our drawers. Scary, isn’t it?

Weeks later after organizing his possessions, I returned to my lavish apartment with cloudy judgment. As soon as I arrived, I dropped my luggage near the door and waltzed into my closet. The items that once made me proud, made me nauseous. If someone rummaged through my keepsakes, they would find:

A closet full of color-coordinated designer brand clothes. Scratched CDs listing my favorite nineties bands. An entire drawer filled with vibrant, unused makeup. A high-end collection of David Yurman rings, necklaces, and bracelets. Wrinkled Nordstrom receipts. An assortment of gently used designer handbags. And, pictures of fair-weather friends scattered throughout.

Do you know what they all had in common? Me.

ME! ME! ME!

Comparing my life to my father’s led to a life-changing decision. Should I continue to splurge on meaningless items or start completely over?

After a moment of contemplation, my life mirrored a blank slate. Products related to “keeping up with the Jones’s” were no longer my jam. Instead, my money was reserved for incredible moments that produced long-term joy and warm memories.

My new spending habits derived from the following financial values:

  • Seek experiences that make me feel alive.
  • Purchase life-changing products.
  • Invest in creative hobbies that I’m proud of.
  • Provide others with joyous moments.
  • Initiate celebratory activities.
  • Make financial decisions out of love.

With a little trial and error, I traded in frivolous shoulder bags for top-rated camping gear. Saturday shopping days transformed into baking Sundays. And most importantly, I went from feeling not enough to experiencing fulfillment.

Twelve years later, I’m happy to share that I continue to evaluate my purchases using a “Will this make a good memory?” lens. In retrospect, mending my financial habits was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Why? I’m no longer impressed by status. I prefer art, learning, and the outdoors over any invitation to shopping. In return, my life is filled with purpose, meaning, and long-term satisfaction.

What I know for sure is that most commodities on their own overpromise and underdeliver, unless we intentionally create an evocative memory with them. Materialistic purchases provide us with fleeting moments of happiness. On the contrary, curating beautiful moments with others delivers long-term joy.

While you won’t find many luxurious products in my house now, you will find:

A four-person picnic backpack for sunny days at a park. Bird feeders galore. A fine assortment of tea to share with others. Homemade bath bombs for birthdays. Color-coordinated self-improvement books. Aromatic sea salt exfoliants that replicate a spa experience. Cheery holiday decorations.

An assortment of various vision boards and bucket lists. Seasonal candles galore. A bathroom drawer filled with citrus soaps, shampoo, and lotions for overnight guests. A collection of homemade scrapbooks featuring beloveds.

An emerald green trekking hiking backpack for outdoorsy adventures. Crinkled Aquarium tickets. Handwritten family cookbooks. Seeds for a blooming garden. Hygge and cozy themed library nooks. A bright blue hybrid bike, for nomadic quests. A closet full of board games. And my most prized possession of all, a sentimental card from my darling father, John:

Happy Graduation, Britti!

I am proud of who you are and proud to be your dad. I like how you hold your head high. You are becoming a beautiful young woman and fun to be around. You have taught me things. You are so important to me. I treasure our time together and will always be here for you! It’s not always easy, but, you have a lot of love around you. I hope that life keeps blessing you. Keep spreading your wings and following your dreams!

Love, Dad

The real question is, when someone organizes your belongings, what will they find?

About Brittany Powell

Brittany Powell is the founder of Positivity Pledge, an online community where people build meaningful lives. Brittany’s work has appeared in various publications, including Voyage Phoenix and Shoutout Arizona. To build your own meaningful life, visit Positivity Pledge and follow her daily meaningful activities on Insta.

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The Unconscious Vows We Make to Ourselves So the World Can’t Hurt Us

The Unconscious Vows We Make to Ourselves So the World Can’t Hurt Us

“You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.” ~Jonathan Safron Foer

Are you aware that we all make unconscious vows early on, and they become our internal blueprint for life? These vows dictate who we can be and are often deeply engrained.

Our vows are attached to a deeper need we’re trying to meet—the need for love, acceptance, safety, connection, and security. They’re not bad or wrong, and neither are we for having them; they come from a smart part of us that’s trying to help us feel safe.

Vows are more than a belief; vows are a “never again” thing or “this is the only way to be because my survival is at stake.” 

What is a vow, you may ask? Well, let me paint a picture for you.

When I was a little girl, I was teased for being fat, stupid, and ugly. Soon enough, I started blaming my body for being hurt and teased. I thought that because I was “fat, stupid, and ugly” there was something wrong with me, and that was why I didn’t have any friends.

At age thirteen my doctor told me to go on a diet, and that’s when I started to believe that I was a “defect” because I was fat. At that point I made a vow: “I will never be fat again.”

I started cutting back on my food, I became a maniac exerciser, and being thin became the only thing that mattered

Then, at age fifteen, I entered my first hospital for anorexia, and for over twenty-three years I was in therapy and numerous hospitals and treatment centers. No matter how much weight I gained in these programs, when I left, I went right back to losing weight by limiting my food intake and exercising excessively because I’d vowed to myself “I’ll never be fat again.”

The process of gaining weight only added to the trauma and fears I was already experiencing. Instead of being compassionate and understanding and helping me offer love to the parts of myself that were hurting, staffers “punished” me when I didn’t eat my whole tray of food by taking away my privileges and upping my meds.

When we experience trauma like I did as a child, it’s not what happened to us that stays with us; it’s the vows we made and what we concluded it meant about ourselves, others, and life in general that stay.

We concluded who we needed to be in order to be loved and accepted by our family, and that became our unconscious blueprint that started dictating our thoughts, feelings, and actions.

“I will never be fat again because if I am I won’t be loved and accepted” was a trauma response, which turned into a vow that carried a lot of fear and anxiety. I used undereating and compulsive exercising as survival tools, and I would not let go of this pattern no matter how much anyone told me I needed to.

If I couldn’t exercise, especially after I ate, my heart would race and I would panic, sweat, and shake. Those symptoms were my body signaling to me that I needed to exercise so I wouldn’t get fat

This was the only way I knew how to be. I was living in a trance, an automatic conditioned response. And no matter how much conscious effort I exerted to change my habitual ways, something inside would bring me back to limiting my food intake and exercising excessively.

When we’re forced to let go of our survival mechanisms without healing the inner affliction, it feels like jumping out of an airplane with no parachute; it’s scary and overwhelming. This was why I became suicidal, too, especially when I perceived I was getting fat again; I would rather leave my body than be traumatized and teased.

Eating disorders, addictions, depression, anxiety, pain, or illness are often symptoms showing us where our energy is frozen in time, where we’re carrying deep wounds and holding onto vows we made from traumatic or painful experiences.

When someone is anxious or depressed, it may be because they’re not living their truth, and this may be because they feel they’re not allowed to. They may think they need to meet everyone else’s expectations, because if they don’t, they may be punished and/or abandoned. 

They may use food, drugs, smoking, or drinking as a way to find ease with what they’re feeling and experiencing. They may be using a substance to numb the pain stemming from traumatic experiences or from the idea of not being “perfect” or not feeling “good enough.”

Why is it hard for some people to love themselves and ask for what they want and need? Because, if you’re like me, you may have been screamed at or called selfish for doing these things when you were a child, so you may have made the unconscious vow “I’m not allowed to ask for anything or take care of or love myself.”

The habits and behaviors we can’t stop engaging in, no matter how hard we try and how destructive or limiting they may be, are meeting a need. The goal isn’t to override our impulses and change the behavior; instead, a better approach is to understand why they exist in the first place and help that part of ourselves feel loved and safe.

No matter how many affirmations we say or how much mindset work we do, our survival mechanisms and vows are more powerful, so a part of us will resist change even if it’s healthy.

Often, when I’m working with a client who struggles with addiction, anxiety, depression, and/or loving themselves and allowing themselves to have fun, when we go inside and find the root cause, it’s because of a vow they made when they were little, when they were either being screamed at, teased, left alone, or punished.

They concluded that they were bad or wrong for being true to themselves, asking for things, or wanting to be held and loved. They learned that having needs and acting naturally wasn’t okay, so they started suppressing that energy, which created their symptoms as adults.

“I don’t need anyone; I’m fine alone” may be a vow and a way to protect ourselves from being hurt again. The challenge with this is that, as humans, we need approval and validation; we need love and caring. This is healthy and what helps us thrive and survive as human beings.

When trauma gets stored in our body, we feel unsafe. Until we resolve it and reconnect with a feeling of safety in the area(s) where we were traumatized, we’ll remain in a constant state of fight/flight/freeze, be hypersensitive and overreactive, take everything personally, and seek potential threats, which makes it difficult to move on from the initial occurrence.

So, how do we see what vows are dictating our life journey?

We can notice our unconscious vows by being with the parts of ourselves that are afraid. They often come as feelings or symptoms in the body. For instance, I would panic, sweat, and shake if I couldn’t exercise, especially after I ate.

When I sat with this part of myself with unconditional love and acceptance and a desire to understand where it originated, instead of using exercise to run away, it communicated to me why it was afraid. It brought me back to where it all began and said, “If I’m fat I’ll be teased, abandoned, and rejected, and I want to be loved and accepted.”

Healing is about releasing that pent up energy that’s stored in the body and making peace with ourselves and our traumas.

Healing is about reminding our bodies that the painful/traumatic event(s) are no longer happening; it’s learning how to comfort ourselves when we’re afraid and learning emotional regulation.

Healing is about getting clear about where the hurt is coming from; otherwise, we’ll spend our time going over the details and continuously get triggered because we never get to the real source.

Healing is not about forcing; it’s about accepting what’s happening. It’s a kind, gentle, and loving approach. We’re working with tender parts that have been traumatized and hurt. These parts don’t need to be pushed or told how to be. They need compassion; they need to be seen, heard, loved, and accepted; they need our loving attention so they can feel safe and at ease.

They’ve been hiding; in a sense they’ve been disconnected. When we acknowledge them and bring them into our hearts, we experience a loving integration. When we experience a loving integration we experience a true homecoming, and in that we experience a sense of inner peace. Then we more naturally start taking loving care of ourselves and making healthy choices.

About Debra Mittler

Debra Mittler is a warm and compassionate healer with a unique ability to touch people’s hearts and souls. She enjoys assisting others in loving and accepting themselves unconditionally, feeling at peace in their body, and living authentically. Debra is a leading authority in overcoming obstacles and supports her clients by holding a space of unconditional love and offering encouragement, effective tools, and valuable insights allowing them to experience and listen to their own inner wisdom.

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How Weight and Food Obsessions Disconnect Us and Why This Is so Harmful

How Weight and Food Obsessions Disconnect Us and Why This Is so Harmful

“We are hard-wired to connect with others, it’s what gives purpose and meaning to our lives, and without it, there is suffering.” ~Brené Brown

I was inducted into diet culture in my early teens and then into the health and fitness industry in my early thirties, when my “fitness journey” had finally really taken off, and I ultimately became a personal trainer and nutrition and wellness coach.

Once we’ve given enough years of our life to diet culture, many of us begin to recognize the ways that it’s harming us and all the things it’s stealing from us.

Peace of mind. Self-worth and self-trust. Mental, emotional, and physical health and well-being.

My grandmother’s cookies.

The ability to just eat and enjoy food without fear.

Self-respect.

Body trust.

But we don’t notice all the ways “health and fitness” are promoted in our culture and how they do the same thing. And there are so many other things it steals from us that we often don’t think about or notice.

One of the biggest examples of this for me, and the women I work with, was connection.

Connection with myself and connection with others.

I didn’t start losing my ability to connect because of my induction into diet culture. That started earlier as a result of growing up with an abusive, alcoholic father.

But those industries preyed on it, fueled it, flamed it, and then ran away with it for decades.

Feeling connected is a core human need. According to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, love and belonging are right up there after things like food, water, and safety.

We are hardwired to connect.

Recent research has suggested that the brain processes the pain of feeling disconnected or rejected the same way it processes physical pain. Nearly every aspect of our health and well-being relies on connection.

And while it may seem like we’re constantly connected, especially now through things like social media or video calls, it’s not actually the case.

Loneliness has been on the rise, worldwide.

Chatting about what food we should or shouldn’t eat; commiserating over how much we hate our bodies, how much weight we gained, the latest diet attempt we just failed; bragging about how we did in the gym, how much weight we lost, how many steps we took, or how “clean” we’re eating—this isn’t connection. It’s not connecting with others, and it’s definitely not connecting with ourselves.

In fact, those things keep us from being able to connect with ourselves because we’re so focused on controlling external “shoulds.”

We may form friendships around those things, but they aren’t based on genuine connections.

Curating the picture-perfect Instagram feed, gathering around mutually hated or demonized “others,” and sharing memes or videos of the latest TikTok trend are also not the same as real, genuine human connections.

It’s all just filling space with mindless, external distractions.

It’s not truly allowing ourselves to be raw, real, and vulnerable. To be seen, heard, and valued for who we uniquely are as individuals—not just the perfectly curated image we present to the world but the messy, raw, and real parts we try so hard to hide.

The parts we fear make us most undeserving of love and belonging.

I certainly hid behind many of those things. I used them as a cover, as a tool to hide behind. A mask. A role I played, behind which I could feel (somewhat) safely tucked away and protected.

My “passion for health and fitness” allowed me to play the badass.

(In reality, I was scared all the time.)

It allowed me to play the inspirational “success” story.

(In reality, I was terrified of putting an ounce of weight back on because I desperately craved the praise and validation I was receiving. And it was destroying my mental, emotional, and physical health and well-being).

The strong, fearless, confident “fitness freak” that could do anything she put her mind to.

(Which, in reality, hid the fact that I was so scared and emotionally fragile and felt so broken that I needed the physical strength I could build through exercise just to get through the day.)

I was good at these roles. I loved these roles, at least in the early years.

Just be what people expected. Be what I’d seen get celebrated in others. Easy, right? Sure, until it isn’t.

The longer I wore the mask, the more it started to hurt.

The harder I worked to keep up those appearances, to maintain that external image of perfection through my body and what I was eating, the more damage it was doing.

Externally, I was doing everything “right.”

In reality? I ended up a binge eater, bulimic, clinically depressed, and living with generalized anxiety disorder and panic attacks. For many reasons, not the least of which because I was completely disconnected—from myself, my body, and from others.

I was so focused on trying to be something I thought I was supposed to be, so I’d be liked, admired, impressive, that I lost who I was and what I needed.

I lost what truly mattered to me and in life.

I lost the ability to trust myself, to trust others, to let them in and truly see me.

In fact, I was terrified of being really seen.

Because I didn’t like myself and I didn’t believe anyone else would either if they knew the real me.

So I hid behind what my body looked like. My external strength. The image I built.

Holy cow, it got exhausting. And soul-crushing.

You simply cannot simultaneously spend your life worried about what other people think about you (or your body), trying to micro-manage and control the image you project, and also be truly connected to yourself and others in any meaningful way. 

Because in order to keep up those appearances, you have to actively work to hide parts of yourself—large parts of yourself that you’re terrified will be seen if you dare take off the mask.

If you’re actively hiding parts of yourself, you’re not able to truly feel seen, heard, and valued… because you are hidden away. Locked in some dark, dusty corner of your inner world, and in my case, stuffed down with food.

After a while, I didn’t even remember who I was. My identity became so wrapped up in who I thought I was (a worthless failure who was completely undeserving of love or acceptance) and who I was trying to be (the perfect, badass inspiration) to hide it, that I was lost.

And completely disconnected. From myself and others.

What I wanted or needed didn’t matter because my entire existence was being driven by fear and the disconnection that causes.

Fear of rejection and abandonment if I stopped playing the role.

Fear of weight gain and not looking “good enough.” Fear of not being good enough. Fear of what the binge eating was doing to my health. Fear of what would happen if I stopped micro-managing every morsel of food I ate and just trusted myself with food.

Fear of judgment.

And every time I turned around, there were diet, “health and wellness” cultures swooping in and stoking those fears.

Eventually, I recognized that I couldn’t keep it up. I couldn’t keep playing the role. I was too tired, and it had completely broken me. I couldn’t keep caring about trying to be impressive or accepted. I had to start caring about being healthy and at peace with myself.

In order to do that, I needed to find my way back to myself. I needed to shut out the garbage that was keeping me disconnected and learn how to connect.

First with myself, because how could I ever truly connect with others if I didn’t even know who I was when I wasn’t playing the role?

And how could I heal all that weight and food stuff if I stayed in the fear and obsession that kept me so disconnected from myself?

I couldn’t.

So I started working on being present with myself, not an easy feat when you don’t much like yourself. But required, nonetheless.

I started getting curious and practiced connecting with my body, my thoughts, my emotions, my needs… my inner world.

Who was I, really?

What really mattered to me in life?

Forget what I thought I should eat or do… what did I need?

Was I really put here to spend my life hating myself, obsessing over these things that are destroying me, distrusting myself, and fearing real, meaningful connection with others?

What if I could find a way to unconditionally accept myself and my body? How would that change the way I treated it and showed up in the world?

What did I want to eat? Forget what I was “supposed to” eat; what did I want? How were the foods I was eating making me feel? How did I want to feel in my body?

Forget what it was supposed to look like or weigh; how did I want it to feel to live in? How were my thoughts and conditioned patterns with food and exercise impacting that? Were they helping or harming? How could I learn to change them if they weren’t?

And I started practicing being more intentional with my thoughts, beliefs, and actions. Intentionally making choices that were loving and kind, that helped me feel better, in general and about myself. Anything that wasn’t helping me live or feel better, and more connected with myself, could have no place in my world anymore.

Once I started feeling deeply connected with myself and my body, I slowly started working on learning to connect with others.

That’s still something I find difficult and am learning to do, but I’m still practicing. In baby steps.

Because what I learned when I started reconnecting with myself was how much living with an alcoholic father impacted me as an adult.

It taught me that not only is the world scary, but people are. They’re scary and unpredictable. It also created abandonment issues, and it’s where the fear of not being good enough, and the feeling that I needed to play a role to be loved or accepted, had actually begun. No wonder I had so much trouble connecting.

I share this story because I’ve come to realize that most of us have an underlying fear around not being good enough that started in childhood for one reason or another. And those predatory industries sneak into every corner of our world, capitalizing on our fear with broken promises that do nothing but make things worse.

The weight and food obsessions are a diversion.

A socially acceptable, surface-level distraction that keeps us so externally focused and consumed that we spend most of our adult lives not even knowing that we’re disconnected—or that we’re living in fear and we’re just trying to “fix it” by making ourselves feel more socially acceptable.

All while disconnecting us more and more. From ourselves and others.

Because we’re hiding behind diversions and masks.

Well, my mask is finally off.

Under it, I have belly rolls. I have wrinkles. I have gray hair. I dye it because I prefer dark hair, but sometimes I put it off and rock a solid skunk stripe of gray down the middle of my head.

Like all bodies, mine changes.

None of that means I let myself go. It means I let myself just be.

I’ve overcome a lot of things in my life, but still struggle with some others.

I screw up a lot, even fail sometimes. Often, actually.

I’m exceptionally good at some things and full-on suck at even more.

I can’t do everything myself. Sometimes I need help and support. I’m still not very good at asking for it, but I’m working on it.

All of that simply means that like you, I’m human. And I cannot connect with myself or anyone else if I’m trying so hard to be impressive that I’m not being real.

So I don’t anymore.

About Roni Davis

Drawing on her own healing process plus over a decade of professional knowledge, education, and experience, E-CET founder Roni Davis guides women through the process of uncovering and changing the thought and behavior patterns that cause weight and food struggles. Her clients break unhealthy eating habits and heal their relationships with food and their bodies while learning to approach their overall well-being from a place of connection, self-trust, compassion, and love. Learn more with her free Why We Eat video series.

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Abuse is Like an Iceberg: The Cruelty and Pain You Never See

Abuse is Like an Iceberg: The Cruelty and Pain You Never See

“What we see is only a fractional part of what really is.” ~Unknown

On the surface, in the public eye, it can seem trivial. It might look like the seemingly harmless teasing of a child or romantic partner, joking about words they have mispronounced or silly mistakes they have made. Inane mistakes like putting on a shirt backward, burning something in the oven, or losing their keys. Mistakes that everyone makes.

Abuse might sound like judgmental comments that appear to come from a place of compassion. Comments like:

My daughter doesn’t apply herself; she’s lazy, and I wish she would care about her education so she can make something of herself.
At the moment she likes girls, but I’m sure she’ll grow out of it because I just want her to be happy and get married and have a family.
I wish he would make plans and stick to them instead of changing careers every five minutes; he would be so much happier.

Sometimes on the surface abuse can sound like frustration:

I wish she would just pick up after herself; it annoys me that I have to live in a pigsty.
She doesn’t do well in school, which is embarrassing for me because I am a teacher.
He never has any time for me; he’s so selfish, and all he thinks about is his work.

Abuse can also sound like statements of compassionate control:

If she doesn’t do better in school, I’m not going to pay for her cello lessons.
If he doesn’t help out around the house, I’m not going to make time for him.
If she doesn’t try to dress nicely, then why would I make time for date night?

I’m not saying that all teasing or comments expressing frustration necessarily mean that someone is being abused. I am only drawing your attention to them and encouraging you to look closer.

The victim might give you subtle hints. Hints like:

My parents really don’t care what I do; my parents only care if I do well in school and that’s all.
My partner is only happy when I’m doing things for him.
I don’t get a lot of me-time because me-time is selfish.

The victim might show you emails or texts the abuser has written. Oftentimes, these emails or texts may seem benign or contain subtleties that can be easily overlooked. They might have a few verbally abusive comments and a handful of demands, or they might even be disguised as messages of concern.

Sometimes these messages may be written so persuasively you might find yourself siding with the abuser or wondering why the victim is so upset about something so trivial.

Beneath the teasing, the frustration, and the deprecating comments disguised as compassion lies a world of abuse that you are not looking for.

Behind closed doors teasing turns into putdowns and verbal abuse:

You will never amount to anything.
You are incompetent.
You are lazy.
You are fundamentally a failure.
You will never be able to support yourself.
You’re a fag.
How can you be so dumb?

These harsh words may come with physical violence, but even on their own, they can be devastating.

Compassionate control that appears on the surface may be an indicator of neglect or financial abuse.

I have the money for music lessons, but you’re not doing what I want, so I’m not going to support you. I’m not giving you money for shampoo because it wouldn’t change the fact that you look ugly.

You have not become the person I had hoped you would become, so I’m not going to pay for your educational opportunities.

Sometimes you might look at abuse victims, like me, and wonder why we don’t wear better clothes, get regular haircuts, or take better care of ourselves. However, many times these simple choices were not within our power to make.

Victims of abuse often make self-deprecating comments. Comments like:

It was no big deal; anyone could have done it.
I’m not good at a lot of things.
I can’t do anything right.

Over the years we have been groomed to put ourselves down before you do. We have internalized the abuse narratives to the point where we no longer see our lack of self-esteem, or our talents.

Victims of abuse often don’t know how to accept a compliment and at times can feel uncomfortable in the spotlight. We’ve learned to make ourselves small and build you up so that we can keep ourselves safe. We downplay the favors we have given to you or the kindness we have shown you because we have learned the needs of others matter much more than our own.

We become overly anxious when we made a mistake, when we’ve expressed an opinion contrary to yours, or when we think we might have offended you.

We put your needs first, and we act overly agreeable and easy to please. We don’t mind where we go or what we eat when we are out with you. We don’t tell you if we’re feeling tired or cold, and we hyperfocus on you because we have learned that our needs don’t really matter to anyone.

Because we have been gaslit and our reality has been denied over and over, we have learned to downplay the abuse and even to deny it. We might say contrary things about our abuser, such as:

My mother loves me; she just doesn’t know how to express it.
Yes, that was a nasty thing that he said, but if I had been kinder to him or done a better job, he wouldn’t have felt the need to say that.

You might occasionally hear us expressing frustration about the way our parents have treated us. You might hear our longing for love and acceptance, but in response you may find yourself saying:

Your mother really loves you; she just wants what’s best for you.
I know you’re frustrated with your dad, but you should really try and forgive him.

You might hear us expressing frustration about our partners and you may find yourself saying:

You should be grateful for all that they have provided for you and done for your family.
I don’t believe you; he or she doesn’t seem like the type of person to do a thing like that.

Your comments leave us feeling invalidated, so we become silent.

Abuse was always there in plain sight, but like an iceberg you only saw the tip. A tip you could easily normalize, rationalize, and dismiss.

If you suspect that someone is being abused, here are some small steps you can take to protect them.

First, realize that the victim may not know that they are being abused or that the way they are being treated is wrong.

Oftentimes, they have been groomed to believe that they deserve to be treated poorly and that the abuse is somehow their fault. If they do realize that they are being abused, they may not be in a position to do anything about it; therefore, their denial serves as a temporary coping mechanism. The best thing that you can do is to treat them with kindness and compassion.

Ask questions that encourage the person to get in touch with their feelings or needs. For example, I noticed that your mother makes a lot of negative comments about your abilities. How does this make you feel? Or, last night when we were out your partner said some harsh things about your appearance. How did you feel about this? I notice that you look thirsty. Would you like some water?

By encouraging them to get in touch with their feelings, you validate their lived experiences and help them recognize that the way they have been treated is not appropriate or healthy. By encouraging them to focus on their needs, you help them to prioritize self-care even if only in a small way. This allows them to take back the power they have lost and helps them realize that they deserve to be treated better.

Sometimes the simplest compassionate questions can help them take small steps to decrease the amount of abuse they are exposed to and eventually take drastic actions to remove the abusers from their lives entirely.

If you witness someone being teased or shamed during a social event, firmly tell the perpetrator that their behavior is not kind or appropriate. If the perpetrator does not stop, invite the victim to walk with you to another part of the room or engage in a different activity to give them a break.

Never join the perpetrator in teasing or criticizing the victim even if you believe that the teasing is just for fun.

When you join the perpetrator in teasing you are engaging in a benign form of abuse and reinforcing their power and control. You are unknowingly teaching the perpetrator that you are a person they can use against the victim. Additionally, you are affirming and normalizing the perpetrator’s opinions of the victim, making it hard for the victim to break free from toxic narratives and limiting beliefs.

Never engage in discussions about the victim with the perpetrator. Oftentimes, abusers use people who are close to the victim to convince them to do things they are not comfortable doing. Sometimes these conversations are disguised as concern for the victims, their well-being, or their financial future. If you suspect that you are being used in this manner, make it clear that you are not comfortable engaging in these sorts of conversations. Keep your communications with them brief yet firm.

Never confront the abuser or tell them that you think their behavior is abusive. This may prompt them to encourage the victim to cut you out of their life. If you need to call the abuser out on their actions, talk specifically about why you do not like their behavior or why it is not appropriate. If you suspect that the victim is in serious physical danger, contact the police, a social worker, or a local women’s shelter for professional advice.

Abusers tend to isolate their victims in order to maintain control over their lives. Invite them to activities you both enjoy so you can spend quality time together and give them a break from their home life.

If you have a friend or family member who cancels plans at the last minute or frequently declines invitations, they may not be making this choice of their own free will. It is important not to take this personally or wall the victim out of your life. This is what the abuser wants you to do.

Instead, continue to call your friend and invite them to social events even if you  think that they will not attend. Knowing that you are in our lives even in some small way can make us feel less isolated.

Make it clear to your friend or family member that you are always there if they need to talk and frequently remind them of this. If you feel comfortable you can also let them know that they are always welcome to stay at your home if they ever need a safe place to go. You can also offer to help them create a safety plan should they ever feel unsafe.

By taking these small steps you are choosing to see the abuse that lies beneath the tip of the iceberg and helping your loved one make it safely to the surface.

About Jen Hinkkala

Jen Hinkkala is PhD student, researcher, and teacher of arts education in Canada. She strives to understand what factors and experiences lead to higher levels of wellness, resiliency, and self-care among arts educators and students. Jen is also a life coach and specializes in self-care, well-being, time management, performance anxiety, estrangement, overcoming abuse, career paths, and anxiety. Jen runs a support group for estranged adults and a group to support personal development. Follow her on Twitter here.

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Why I Broke Down Mentally While Striving for Work/Life Balance

Why I Broke Down Mentally While Striving for Work/Life Balance

“Maybe it’s time for the fighter to be fought for, the holder to be held, and the lover to be loved.” ~Unknown

I was breastfeeding my infant son when he bit me. That bite set the stage for a deeper unraveling then I could have ever imagined.

I unlatched him, handed him to my husband, and got in my car. As I was driving I began to lose the feeling in my hands and feet. My vision started to blur, and my breathing was fast and shallow. I was terrified I was not going to make it back home. I pleaded with the powers that be to allow me to safely pull over to the side of the road.

I was about a mile away from our house, but that mile felt like eternity. My vision continued to blur and my whole body was starting to tingle.

When I got home, a miracle not lost on me, I couldn’t shake this fear. I couldn’t be left alone. I was afraid if I was alone, I would take my life.

I couldn’t reconcile this. How could I so badly want to live and be afraid I’d end my life at the same time? What an interesting, terrifying place to be in: a place where you can no longer trust yourself to keep you safe and alive.

Turns out what I had in the car was a panic attack, and what I was feeling at home was suicidal ideation.

My sister and brother-in-law drove down to Southern California in the middle of the night to be with me and insisted I seek help that next morning. I was incredibly reluctant because I had a huge project due at work and didn’t want to let my team down. They didn’t care.

I went to see a doctor the next day, and that landed me in a treatment center for mental illness. I reluctantly admitted myself into an inpatient program.

I had to go on medical leave, just three weeks after returning to work from maternity leave. I was so afraid of how that would impact my career. What would people think? Would my boss resent me?  Would I ever be able to get promoted? Even though this was truly a choice of life or death, it was still one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. I was terrified of the outcome.

What I received in treatment, albeit begrudgingly, was more than just mental health support. I also gained a healthy dose of perspective and clarity. This wasn’t just postpartum anxiety. This was trying to balance work and life and leaving myself out of the mix. Not only that, but I didn’t feel worthy of taking time for myself.

I realized I no longer knew who I was. I had become everything to everyone and there was no space for me. I felt empty and defeated. I had exchanged every last piece of me to fulfill the roles that were prescribed to a woman of my age. 

This was a shocking realization, as I’m a self-proclaimed feminist. I spent most of my life keenly aware of the loss of identity that mothers often face once they have children. I didn’t want kids for that exact reason. When I met my partner, that piece changed, but I was dead set on making sure I didn’t lose myself in the process.

It’s funny how that works. You can be acutely aware of what you don’t want in life and still end up smack dab in the middle of the exact situation you swore would never happen to you.

When I thought of work/life balance I always thought of it as making sure I was showing up as a career woman and mother in the most balanced way possible. But where was the room for me in that?  Where did my needs and desires come into play?

After treatment, I began working with a life coach in addition to continuing to take care of my mental health (it’s important to note that life coaches are not medical professionals). In working with my coach, I was able to integrate more of myself into my day and reconnect with my needs and desires.

I was held, supported, and cared for, and that empowered me to care for myself and feel worthy of taking up more space in my life.

I took the time to reconnect with who I was before I became a parent, and I brought that version of me into the fold.

I created a list of non-negotiables that I would implement in my daily life. For instance, I go for a walk daily. No matter what. Movement is a literal life saver for my mental wellness. It doesn’t matter what is going on at home. It’s happening. And, I do it guilt-free!

I also keep a journal by my bedside. Every night, before I lay my head down on the pillow, I write out what I got “right” that day. It’s so easy to focus on all the ways I came up short that day. For me, my mind defaults on the negative, so having to come up with a list of at least three ways I showed up for myself is a powerful way to end my night thinking of the positive.

Do I think that we can do all of the things all of the time? Absolutely not. I feel work/life balance is a bit misleading. I don’t think we can evenly split work, life, and self-care. One will constantly outweigh the other, even if just by a small margin.

But what we can do is try our best to fulfill our needs and desires so that we can show up for each aspect of our life as grounded in our authenticity as possible. If we can remain grounded, we can remain fully present. And for me, being fully present is balance.

About Kelly Fabiano

Kelly Fabiano is a life coach that helps moms to end the tug-of-war between career and kids so they can live a fulfilling, balanced life with room for them in it. Through her signature coaching series, workshops, and speaking engagements, Kelly empowers mothers to reconnect with themselves, stop operating from empty all the time, and live a life of their dreams, free from mom guilt. Get her Free 21 Days to You Thoughts Cards here. Follow her on Instagram here.

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3 Ways to Help Someone Who’s Recovering from Trauma

3 Ways to Help Someone Who’s Recovering from Trauma

“Feeling safe in someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy. That feeling of peace and protection is really underrated.” ~Vanessa Klas

I’m now fourteen months into my recovery from complex post-traumatic stress syndrome (c-PTSD aka complex trauma). I’d been in therapy for a number of years before I was diagnosed. I’d been struggling with interpersonal relationships and suffered from severe anxiety and depression, although you wouldn’t have guessed it from looking at me.

There are so many misconceptions about trauma, and before my diagnosis in 2020 I wasn’t very trauma aware.

I was your typical millennial thirty-something woman, juggling a successful corporate career with a jet-setting lifestyle. My Instagram feed was filled with carefully curated photos of me adventuring through Europe, eating flashy dinners at Edinburgh Castle or entertaining friends with cocktails in my flat just off the Water of Leith.

Then 2020 hit. The world was thrust into a global pandemic that saw me lose my job and livelihood, and with it my visa and right to live and work in a place that I had fallen in love with. I went from having a thousand distractions at my fingertips to being confined in a house with nowhere to go and no one to distract me.

I was facing deportation since I no longer had the right to live in the UK, but wasn’t able to leave, as all flights back to Australia were stopped. I was in purgatory, stuck between where I wanted to be and where I had to go, with no way out

Everything unraveled. It’s the only way I can describe the slow, torturous unpicking of my carefully pieced together life. Illusions of control disappeared. Choice and freedom were stripped away, and in the prison of isolation I was facing all the shadows I had so carefully avoided.

In solitary confinement you are forced to face the parts of yourself you can ignore when you have a packed social calendar. We often think of trauma as something that happens if you’ve experienced a sudden violent incident, like a car crash, or if you’ve been assaulted, or if you’ve been in a warzone. Those are all true.

Trauma can also occur over time with prolonged exposure to incidents and events that dysregulate your nervous system.

The conflict in my parents’ relationship created the perfect breeding ground for c-PTSD, as my formative years (before I turned seven) were very volatile with a lot of upheaval, travel, and change.

The stress and anxiety my parents were experiencing, first trying to migrate to Australia from India for five years and eventually going to Canada, resulted in an unfriendly divorce and custody battle. The result: neither parent was available to meet my emotional needs.

What is Trauma?

The American Psychological Association describes trauma as an “emotional response to a terrible event such as accident, rape, or natural disaster.” Dr Gabor Mate goes further, describing trauma as “…the invisible force that shapes our lives. It shapes the way we live, the way we love and the way we make sense of the world. It is the root of our deepest wounds.”

Not everyone who experiences a violent or terrible event will develop PTSD. In fact, only a small portion of the population will develop trauma, even though the majority of people will be exposed to at least one traumatic event during their lifetime.

What is PTSD?

Post-traumatic stress disorder is considered to be a “severe reaction to an extreme or frightening traumatic event” and can include flashbacks of the event, intrusive memories and nightmares, avoidance of activities, situations or people that trigger these memories, and hypervigilance and hypersensitivity.

What is complex-PTSD

Complex trauma, or complex post-traumatic stress disorder, occurs after repeated and prolonged incidents that disrupt the nervous system’s ability to regulate itself. Complex trauma occurs from events experienced early in childhood development, and it causes problems with memory and the development of a person’s identity and interpersonal relationships.

Symptoms of complex trauma include negative self-belief, problems maintaining healthy relationships, difficulties expressing emotions, people-pleasing, substance abuse, and ongoing feelings of emptiness.

My diagnosis of complex trauma in early 2021 felt like coming up for air after being held underwater. It was painful; my lungs burned. But there was also relief.

At first it felt like I would never be able to fill my lungs with enough oxygen, and then slowly, incrementally, my body started to trust that the oxygen was there, and I could stop gulping, grasping, floundering.

For years I had been wrapped up in a toxic relationship with a man who was battling his own demons from childhood. For years I never felt like I was doing enough. I was never good enough or smart enough or pretty enough to deserve the relationship, the career, or the life I desired.

I dipped my toes in the shallows of life; I yearned for community and at the same time I pushed it away. I wanted closeness, but it felt suffocating. I wanted success, but it felt terrifying. Every time life would get good, something would unbalance and everything would crumble, so I would have to pick up the pieces and rebuild.

I was stuck in a spiral of going one step forward and five steps back in every area of my life. The pandemic only highlighted this as I was forced to move back to Australia, jobless and in debt.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but this constant spiral of stress and loss was a subconscious play that I kept re-enacting. Subtle, insidious self-sabotaging mechanisms from childhood that had kept me safe now tripped me up and kept me trapped. I kept repeating cycles that triggered familiar responses within my nervous system—ones of unsafety, loneliness, and abandonment.

Working on my trauma over the last fourteen months with a trauma-informed therapist, rebuilding safety within my nervous system, learning to self-regulate, to reconnect with my body, with myself, has been at times a harrowing process.

Through it all, it was interesting to see how different people reacted to my pain and loss and grief.

We’re not taught how to sit with our own uncomfortable feelings, let alone someone else’s. We live in a culture that thinks “positive vibes only” qualifies as a spiritual practice, when in reality, we need to be able to witness and love our shadows in order to fully heal.

If someone you love is going through a hard time, if you know someone who is struggling, here’s some advice on how to hold space for them, from someone who has been on the receiving end of well-meaning but unhelpful suggestions throughout my recovery.

Holding space for someone is essentially about being fully present for someone else. This means no agenda, and a judgment-free zone.

Be Present

Check in with yourself first. Are you ready, willing, and open to being fully present with this person right now? Are you able to leave your opinions, suggestions, and personal experiences at the door?

If not, that’s okay. Self-care starts with you, and forcing yourself to be present with someone when you aren’t in the right head space will not help the other person.

Let them know that you aren’t in the right head space right now and refer them to a helpline or specialist. Check back in with them to make sure they have followed through and have someone to talk to.

You will be doing both of you a favor. This comes down to co-regulation.

When you are grounded and fully present with someone who is going through a hard time, you are allowing them to “borrow” your nervous system to down regulate when they are in a heightened state of arousal and activation. If your own nervous system is activated, this will just exacerbate what they are feeling, causing more sensations of dysregulation and unsafety.

When you are able to sit with someone and be fully present for them, without judging their thoughts or trying to fix things, this can be a profoundly healing experience for the other person.

Being witnessed in our grief without judgment, pity, or awkwardness removes some of the shame we’re experiencing as we’re processing our difficult emotions.

Often, those with complex trauma did not have their needs met and didn’t have their feelings validated as children. It’s a deeply healing experience to be with someone who cares about you and to feel seen and validated at your most vulnerable moment.

Practice Conscious and Reflective Listening

When we are listening to someone, we’re only half paying attention to what they are saying. Half of our attention is already formulating our response, so we’re rarely ever focused on their words.

Holding space for someone means being fully present and listening, not only with our ears but with our full attention to what they are saying and how they are saying it. Pay attention to their words, but also observe their body language.

Allow for pauses. Silence can feel uncomfortable, but when we’re processing difficult emotions, sometimes we need a little silence to gather our thoughts or sit with what we’ve just said. Don’t try to fill the pauses in the conversation straight away.

Reflect and mirror back what the person has said. This doesn’t have to be verbatim. It could be as simple as “I can see that this situation has really hurt you. I hear that you’re feeling overwhelmed and stressed out because you’ve lost your job. I can image that’s really scary. Can you share more?”

This allows them to expand and clarify if they want to, or to just feel like they’ve been heard if that’s all they wanted to share.

Observe Without Judgment

Be willing to listen without judging what the other person is saying or how they’re interpreting their experience. Those of us with complex trauma grew up being hypervigilant and aware of the emotions of the people around us. This was integral to our survival in childhood.

This means you need to be aware of your responses, both verbal and non-verbal, to what we are expressing. Listen with empathy and compassion, and stay open to what we are sharing, even if you disagree.

Even if you think other people have it worse.

Even if you have a solution.

You may feel like we are overreacting, but often trauma triggers reactions to something we experienced in the past. When we’re triggered, we’re not only reacting to the situation we are currently facing, but also the unprocessed emotions from the previous situations. We’re dealing with the past and the present simultaneously, and it can feel overwhelming.

Being witnessed by someone who cares about us without judgment when we’re triggered is a deeply healing experience. Often, those of us with trauma, depression, and anxiety already feel ashamed about our emotions and reactions, so having someone witness us without judgment can be liberating.

About Amanda Louisa

Amanda Louisa is a sustainability specialist, feminine leadership coach, and recovering lawyer. She helps corporations and women harness the power of feminine leadership to create thriving and resilient organisations, paving the way for a better future. When she’s not trying to revolutionize how we treat the planet and women, you can find her with her two cats or cooking up a feast for family and friends. Grab your free cheat-sheet to regulate your nervous system.

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How to Reclaim Your Joy After the Pandemic: 3 Things That Helped Me

How to Reclaim Your Joy After the Pandemic: 3 Things That Helped Me

“Perfect happiness is a beautiful sunset, the giggle of a grandchild, the first snowfall. It’s the little things that make happy moments, not the grand events. Joy comes in sips, not gulps.” ~Sharon Draper

It was a rainy, late Sunday afternoon. The sun was already going down, and it was getting dark outside.

“How are you?”

“Oh, good. Nothing special. It’s quiet,” my mom responded when I called her a couple of months ago.

“It’s quiet” had been her response for the past two years, possibly before that. My mom is retired. Since the pandemic, her life became even more “quiet” than before—fewer friends, fewer activities, less fun.

I’m not retired, but I work from home, and the same happened to me. To some degree, I let it happen.

I got used to not seeing people, not laughing, and not dancing. I got used to being alone, and it became more comfortable to stay home on Saturdays than going out for social activities. Was I developing a mild form of social anxiety? Maybe.

Two things were for certain: my social skills had atrophied, and I had forgotten how to have fun. What was joy like?

“I feel like this must be what it’s like for the elderly; when no one visits them and they don’t have many friends and activities, they sort of start dying inside.”

“That’s how I feel right now,” my mom responded.

Have you experienced that too at some point? Not feeling like doing anything and seeing people because you forgot how to connect with them and what you even enjoy doing?

“I think it’s a slippery slope. We should do something about it. We should make an effort to break the pattern and start socializing and doing activities again before we die inside,” I told my mom.

After hanging up the phone, I reflected upon what I had just said. I knew that “shoulds” wouldn’t make the situation better; I had to be proactive and do something about it. I took out a pen and a notebook and started writing an action plan.

Here are the three things I wrote down that day that have most helped me to reclaim a sense of joy in my life.

1. Do one thing on your list of “joys.”

A piece of advice that was very helpful came from a friend who lost his partner to cancer a couple of years ago, just a few months after she was diagnosed.

It was a shock to him. They had projects together, like buying a campervan, traveling around North America, and building a house off-grid. Suddenly, those plans were gone, and my friend had to learn to live alone again while coping with grief.

One thing that helped him get out of depression and slowly regain his spark for life was to make a list of things that made him happy (even just a little). Every day for the next three months, he did as many things on his list as he could.

I took that advice and created my list of fifteen “little joys.”

They’re not complicated. They include things like watching the sunset, reading a book while drinking a mocha latte in the morning, walking in nature, wearing my favorite outfit, dancing to progressive trance music in my living room, and watching funny dog videos.

Every day, I picked at least three things on my list to do that day; if I could do more, great! But I did at least three. Over a few days, this simple practice started making me feel happier.

Of course, you’ll first have to create your own list of “joys,” but once you have it, it’s a wonderful tool to bring more joy into your daily life.

2. Do one thing to trigger the “helper’s high.”

Another thing that significantly impacted my mood and energy was to do one act of kindness every day.

I had read articles about the science of altruism and happiness, and I knew that helping or being kind to others makes us happy. There’s even a specific term for it: the “helper’s high.”

I began asking myself every morning, “What’s one act of kindness I will do today?”

Since I don’t always feel creative first thing in the morning, I made a list of fifteen acts of kindness ideas that I could choose from. Like my list of “joys,” they aren’t complicated. They include writing a nice comment on someone’s Tik Tok video, posting an uplifting quote on Facebook, and complimenting someone.

Just doing this one thing, intentionally, every day made me feel more alive. But in case you don’t feel inspired to do one act of kindness a day, here’s another idea.

Another thing I started doing recently, which I learned from Tim Ferriss’s book Tools of Titans, is a ten-second loving-kindness exercise created by Chade-Meng Tan, the man behind the popular mindfulness-based emotional intelligence course for employees at Google called Search Inside Yourself.

The exercise is very simple: A few times a day, randomly choose two people you see and secretly wish for each of them to be happy. You don’t have to do or say anything—just think, “I wish you to be happy,” with a sincere intention from your heart.

I find both the ten-second loving-kindness exercise and doing one act of kindness a day therapeutic. They take our focus away from our problems and increase our sense of connection to others, even when the act of kindness is anonymous, and we don’t physically interact with the person.

3. Do one thing every day to nurture your social circle.

It took me some time to realize that my mental health was being affected by a sense of isolation. I’m an introvert and enjoy my own company. It wasn’t obvious that my desire to eat more ice cream than usual and my lack of motivation to get out of bed in the morning had something to do with spending too much time alone.

Some weeks during the pandemic, I talked to no one except my clients on Zoom and the cashier at the grocery store. And the more time I spent alone, the less I wanted to see people. The idea of socializing began to feel daunting, and I chose to stay home (alone) more and more often.

But it was killing me inside. I had to break the solitude pattern before the hole I was digging and putting myself in became too deep.

I started small but did something every day to revive my social life.

One day, I commented on an acquaintance’s Facebook post. Another day, I messaged a friend on Messenger. The following week, that friend suggested we go for lunch, and I went.

Friendships must be nurtured to grow stronger and thrive; otherwise, they atrophy.

So, perhaps you can ask yourself every day, “What’s one thing I can do today to nurture and expand my social circle?”

Start small.

I did a few other things to bring more joy into my life in the past few months as well, like taking on a new hobby (learning to play the djembe) and attending social events every other week. But the three actions I mentioned in this article are the ones that made the most significant difference in my well-being in the long run.

What do you do to feel alive and inspired? Share with us in the comments so we can all benefit from each other’s wisdom.

About Emilie Pelletier

Emilie is a certified purpose and life coach, meditation instructor, and spiritual entrepreneur. She helps free-spirited minds to clarify their soul’s purpose, find their calling, and transform their work into play. You can get her free guide, “The Life Purpose Formula: The Easiest Way to Uncover Your Purpose and Calling,” or connect with her through her website ConsciousOriginals.com.

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The Lies We Tell Ourselves About Our Worth and How I’ve Let Them Go

The Lies We Tell Ourselves About Our Worth and How I’ve Let Them Go

“You either walk inside your story and own it or you stand outside and hustle for your worthiness.” Brene Brown

I was shaking and sweating with fear as I stood in front of my graduate professor for the final test of the semester. I was twenty-two years old at the time and felt like a fish out of water in my graduate program. I dreamed of being a professor, studying, and writing, but deep down I thought, “I’m not smart enough. I don’t fit in here.  No one likes me.”

When my religion professor announced that the final wasn’t a sit-down, bubble-in quiz, but a one-on-one translation, and I’d need to answer questions aloud, I knew I’d fail it epically, and I did. To add oil to the fire, I ran out of the room in tears.

I failed it before I even started because my fear was so great. My hands were shaking, and soon my teacher would know the truth: I didn’t belong there.

My professor was incredibly intelligent, and I was intimidated from our first meeting. The way I thought he spoke down to others, probably because his tone, diction, and vocabulary were academic (whether intentional or not), triggered a deep wound.

Since childhood I had developed a limiting belief: “I am not intelligent.” This followed me wherever I went.

In school, at work, and in relationships, I constantly trusted others to make decisions and discounted my own opinion. I looked to others for the answers and then compared myself to them. This left me feeling insecure and dependent on others. Not at all the leader I envisioned for myself.

It was the root of the shame I felt, and I allowed it to mean that I was stupid, I wasn’t worthy, and I would never succeed. My inner critic was loud and eager to prove to me why I was less-than.

There are a few memories I have from childhood that I can recognize as the start of this limiting belief.

I remember my first-grade teacher passing back a math worksheet. I received a zero at the top in red letters. I still remember that red marker, the questions, and feeling unworthy. I didn’t understand the questions or why my classmates got ten out of ten, and I was too shy to ask or listen to the answer.

This happened throughout my schooling. It took me more time than my classmates to understand concepts. I wanted to ask questions but was afraid I would look stupid or that I still wouldn’t understand, so I just avoided traditional learning all together.

I always looked around and thought, “If they understand it, so should I.” In other words, there is something wrong with me.

Growing up in the nineties, I was teased for being blonde and ditzy. I was friendly, silly, and loved to laugh, so I was labeled as a stereotype blonde airhead. It hurt my feelings more than I ever let on.

Even when the teasing was lighthearted and done by friends who loved me, it reinforced my belief that I wasn’t smart or good enough. This belief made me feel small and kept me locked in a cage because no matter what I achieved and how much love I received, I still felt like a failure.

This limiting belief even made its way into my friendships because I held this insecurity about myself and felt that I could not be my truest self in front of others. I wanted to please my friends by listening, supporting, and championing their dreams rather than risk showing my leadership abilities and the intellectual pursuits I yearned for deep within me.

Looking back now, I see that I was capable of excelling at school and in relationships, but due to my misconceptions about my worth, it felt safer not to stand out. Drawing attention to myself was too dangerous for my nervous system, which was always in survival mode.

I preferred to fly under the radar and pass classes without anyone noticing me. I preferred to focus on my friends’ problems and dreams because it felt safer than vulnerably sharing my own.

I never attended my graduate school graduation, nor did I complete all my finals. I still passed, but I didn’t celebrate my accomplishment.

In fact, I wanted to write a thesis, but my guidance counselor (a different professor) discouraged me. She told me how much work it would be and that it wasn’t necessary to pass instead of motivating me to challenge myself. Since writing was always important to me, I actually wanted to do it but never spoke up or believed in myself enough to tell her.

I have heard from many people like me and know that I am one of many sensitive souls that have been discouraged by a teacher. I mistakenly thought my differences made me less capable than others, but I am happy to say that none of these experiences stopped me from moving forward.

With time and building awareness I took steps to heal these wounds and to change my limiting beliefs about myself.

Learning about shame is the biggest step you can take to change this for yourself. Whether the shame you carry is from childhood, a traumatic event, struggles with addiction, coming out with your sexuality, or anything else, there is healing to be done here, and you are not alone.

At the present moment, I don’t allow this feeling of shame to run my life. I am aware of it when it arises and no longer value its protection. I have done the inner work to heal.

The first step I took was talking to someone about it. Letting it out. Shining a light down upon it. If we want to heal or change anything in our lives, we have to be honest about what we want and what we’re afraid of.

Once I did that I realized many other people had the same fear and that it wasn’t true.

It wasn’t true that I wasn’t smart enough. I had evidence that proved this. I’d been accepted to programs; I’d passed classes; I understood challenging ideas. I liked research and writing and was open to feedback in order to improve. I even had a graduate degree.

I was able to learn new skills in environments that felt safe and supportive to me and my sensitive nervous system. I realized I did better in small groups and with one-on-one support.

Knowing that didn’t mean the wound was no longer triggered, but it meant that I had the awareness to soothe myself when it was.

It meant that it hurt, but I didn’t allow it to stop me from moving forward. Instead, I let myself feel the pain while supporting myself and reminding myself of the truth: that I am unlimited and worthy of love, acceptance, and approval.

Whenever we believe a lie about ourselves it creates major internal pain for us. That pain is an invitation to dig deeper, expose the lie, challenge it, and adopt a new belief that makes us feel proud instead of ashamed.

The person that I most longed for approval from was myself. I had to be the one that finally accepted my differences without labeling myself as unworthy. I had to love myself even if I felt unsafe or unsure. Once I did that, it was reflected back to me tenfold.

We all have fears and limiting beliefs and carry the burden of shame within us. These are human qualities, meaning this is a natural challenge shared by all healthy people.

Instead of hiding them, numbing them, and burying them deep within, share them in a safe space, shine a light on them so the truth can emerge, and take your power back by feeling the emotions while knowing the truth: No matter what lies you’ve told yourself, you are good enough and worthy of love.

About Orly Levy

Orly Levy is an Intuitive Life Coach and Writer. She offers guidance for the sensitive soul struggling to see their gifts. Through her one-on-one programs, she leads others to meet with "what is" to release blockages, reconnect with their intuition, and discover true peace. Visit her virtual home for tools, to schedule a free session, and follow her on Instagram.

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Free Thich Nhat Hanh Audio Series: Living Without Stress or Fear

Free Thich Nhat Hanh Audio Series: Living Without Stress or Fear

When you think of the teachers who’ve had the greatest impact on your life, who comes to mind?

For me, it’s the calm, the humble, the patient—the people who not only imparted useful life lessons but also embodied their message with their grace and equanimity. People I was fortunate enough to know personally, like my grandmother, and others I never met that brought me clarity and peace from afar, like the inimitable Thich Nhat Hanh.

Thay, as his students called him, was a Vietnamese Zen monk, author, poet, peacemaker, and founder of the “engaged Buddhism” movement—the act of leveraging our personal healing to help transform the world.

Known as the “father of mindfulness,” Thay had a gift for helping others liberate themselves from their afflictions and find joy in the present.

His message was simple: that mindfulness, practiced in both the ordinary moments and the extraordinarily hard ones, can help us understand the roots of our suffering and transform our pain. And that this is the key to serving others—because we can only help the people around us if we first help ourselves.

Whether you’re already familiar with Thay’s teachings or you’re looking for new tools to help free your mind, I have a feeling you’ll appreciate this free gift from Sounds True: Living Without Stress or Fear, an audio series of Thich Nhat Hanh dharma talks.

May his words soothe you, support you, and help you find peace so you can help bring peace to the world.

I leave you with ten of my favorite Thich Nhat Hanh quotes:

“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything—anger, anxiety, or possession—we cannot be free.”

“I come here empty-handed, and I go empty-handed. My actions are my only true belongings.”

“Feelings come and go like clouds in a windy sky. Conscious breathing is my anchor.”

“To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself.”

“We have more possibilities available in each moment than we realize.”

“Our notions about happiness entrap us. We forget that they are just ideas. Our idea of happiness can prevent us from actually being happy. We fail to see the opportunity for joy that is right in front of us when we are caught in a belief that happiness should take a particular form.”

“Even though things are not as we would like, we can still be content, knowing we are trying our best and will continue to do so.”

“Hope is important because it can make the present moment less difficult to bear. If we believe that tomorrow will be better, we can bear a hardship today.”

“There is the mud, and there is the lotus that grows out of the mud. We need the mud in order to make the lotus.”

“If you take a handful of salt and pour it into a small bowl of water, the water in the bowl will be too salty to drink. But if you pour the same amount of salt into a large river, people will still be able to drink the river’s water. If your heart is small, one unjust word or act will make you suffer. But if your heart is large, if you have understanding and compassion, that word or deed will not have the power to make you suffer.”

About Lori Deschene

Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She’s also the author of Tiny Buddha’s Gratitude Journal, Tiny Buddha's Worry Journal, and other books and co-founder of Recreate Your Life Story, an online course that helps you let go of the past and live a life you love. For daily wisdom, join the Tiny Buddha list here. You can also follow Tiny Buddha on FacebookTwitter, and Instagram.

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