Why Life Felt Hard for Me for Years (and 7 Lessons That Have Helped)

“You’re so hard on yourself. But remember, everybody has a chapter they don’t read out loud. Take a moment. Sit back. Marvel at your life; at the mistakes that gave you wisdom, at the suffering that gave you strength. Despite everything, you still move forward, be proud of this. Continue to endure. Continue to persevere. And remember, no matter how dark it gets, the sun will rise again.” ~Unknown

All my life I knew I was different. If I didn’t look so much like my mom, I would have believed the jokes my brother told me about how I was adopted. I just couldn’t relate to everyone else in my family—or the rest of my world.

I was a little black girl that often got called an oreo because, well, you can imagine.

I didn’t talk a lot, spent a lot of time writing, and a lot of time alone. Going to parties gave me headaches, and being forced to mingle made me want to hide.

Although I didn’t know it had a name for it, I was introverted even as a child.

As I grew up, those things didn’t change much. And I found life to be hard. Exhausting even.
But no one ever said that life was easy, right? I kept that thought at the forefront of my mind and pushed on like the rest of the world.

I did what everyone did.

I got pregnant and found not just pregnancy to be a challenge but parenting as well. Moved out of my parents’ house and was met with more challenges. Got married and felt as if I was literally losing my mind.

The responsibility of it all had become so much. Too much.

Everyone else made it look so easy. Why was this proving to be so hard for me? My mind wouldn’t let me rest.

I was never suicidal, but I was waking up wishing I hadn’t. I needed help. And not just prayerful thoughts or a comforting word.

I needed professional help. And I needed it fast.

So I sought out a doctor and made an appointment. Turns out I was suffering from depression and anxiety.

Well, that explained a lot. Things made a lot more sense now.

I adjusted my lifestyle to support my mental health by doing things like journaling, eating healthier, and exercising. I even took the medication that I was prescribed.

But something still wasn’t quite adding up. As hard as it was, I brushed it off as anxiety and carried on with my life.

It wasn’t until my baby, who was now twelve years old, confided his own life struggles to me that I had to revisit the whole mental health issue.

After finding a psychologist for him, she suggested we do some testing to see what was really going on.

Those tests revealed a few different things, including depression and anxiety. And also, autism spectrum disorder.

I hurt for my baby. And honestly, I didn’t know how to relate to him anymore with this whole autism thing. It forced me to do a deep dive into research because I needed to understand how I could best help him.

That’s how I found my missing piece.

The way I identified with the characteristics of autism was shocking. The relatability was unreal. I scored so high on an online assessment that I knew I had to share this with a doctor.

The results were in, and it was clear that I had autism spectrum disorder as well.

For thirty-seven years and nine months of my life, I thought I was just like everyone else. I thought that life was just supposed to be this hard.

Turns out there was a reason I couldn’t relate to how everyone else was getting on.

It felt so good, knowing that I had a valid reason for thinking it was harder on me than those around me.

I was so relieved to discover that I wasn’t a bad mother because of the times I would have preferred to be working on my ‘special interests,’ like jewelry-making and crocheting, rather than parenting. It was eye-opening to find out that my executive functioning skills were behind what formerly seemed like laziness and a lack of motivation. I was thrilled to know that I wasn’t the only one with conversational issues.

What I learned brought my son and I so much closer together. And we’re learning how to get through life with this newfound knowledge. It has also taught me some valuable lessons about life.

1. Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing.

We are all born differently, and everyone has their own purpose in life. You can’t spend your life trying to copy someone else because their life seems so great.

I never wanted to be like anyone else. But because the world has a way of making you feel like you’re not enough as you are, I tried to be like everybody else.

I went to college even though I had no interest in it. I worked at jobs that ate away at my soul. And I got married before I understood what marriage was even about.

I did these things because my dreams were dismissed by people who had professional careers, high social standings, and a successful family life.

But what I didn’t know then is that we weren’t made the same. Just because it worked for them, doesn’t mean it was supposed to work for me.

They have talents and skills that make it easier for them to appear effortlessly awesome at what they do.

But they also have struggles behind the scenes that I didn’t see.

Following traditions and trends is not mandatory. Do what’s best and easiest for you and you will create a life worth living.

2. Pay attention to your feelings.

What you feel is valid. If there is something going on with you, don’t dismiss it right away. Lean into those feelings and ask yourself why you’re feeling that way so that you can figure out what you need to do to feel better.

Just because the people around you don’t understand how you feel, it doesn’t mean what you feel is wrong.

3. Be gentle with yourself.

It’s so easy to be rude and disrespectful to ourselves, often without even realizing it.

I used to beat myself up because I couldn’t keep a job. I would get depressed because I didn’t know how to be social with other people. And I always put myself down because I felt like such a flake.

But I know now we are each the one person we have to be around all day, every day. We can’t just cut ourselves out of our lives.

So treat yourself how you would treat a good friend. Lift yourself up even when you mess up. Be honest but gentle.

Pay yourself compliments. Treat yourself. And don’t let anyone else treat you poorly.

4. Know that you aren’t the only one going through difficult times.

Life does come with some hardships. Even though you have your own things that you’re going through, there is someone out there rocking a big ole smile every day that is going through something too.

Had my son not been so open with his feelings, it would have been much more of a struggle for him to just live.

Pay attention to your loved ones. Notice changes that are going on. And ask others how they’re doing.

5. Get help when you need it.

Pride can keep you from getting the help you need. So can denial and believing you’re unworthy. It takes strength to admit that you need support for your mental health, but your mind is just as important as your body.

When you know what’s going on, you can better address the situation.

Discovering that I have depression, anxiety, and autism has led me to learn about the differences in my brain. Because of that, I’ve been able to find ways to get things done that work for me so that life isn’t quite as hard as it’s been.

6. Know who you are.

Take time to get to know yourself. The more you know about who you are, the better prepared you’ll be for whatever comes your way.

Knowing what you like and want out of life will keep you from going after things that will not make you happy. Knowing what you don’t stand for will keep people from running over you and make it easier to see when you need to remove yourself from certain situations.

It will also give you the confidence to go after your dreams and believe in yourself.

7. Know your limitations.

Some things are hard to do just because they’re uncomfortable. Others are hard to do because you have mental or physical limits that, when reached, can lead to serious ramifications.

One of the hardest things for me to do is socialize. Even the simplest conversations can stump me. And sometimes, I physically and mentally freeze and simply can’t do it.

An example of this is when I take my son to therapy every week. He goes in with the therapists without me and comes out with the last therapist he’s seen, and it’s her job to inform me of how the sessions went.

It’s the most stressful two minutes of my week. The other moms seem to have it all figured out. They go back and forth with lots of lively conversation, laughter, and other body language that they throw into the mix.

But when it comes to me, my eye contact is sporadic, I’m full of one-word answers, and I typically have no follow-up questions. I’m sure I do more head-nodding than speaking.

I used to walk away feeling so lame and defeated. The truth is, I still feel defeated at times because I’d like to be able to socialize successfully, but I’ve accepted that it’s just not for me. I’m okay with that. I definitely don’t feel lame because of it anymore.

Know how far you’re willing to step outside of your comfort zone. If you want to try new things, find out what you can do to work around your limitations, but know that it’s okay to stay comfortable as long as you’re in a good place for you.

—

The truth is life isn’t easy. It’s full of uncertainty, trials, and craziness. So much craziness.

Even though life may deal you a hand that doesn’t seem fair, there is always a way to get through even the darkest moments. Keep hope alive and search for a way to push through.

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About Lashonda Cooper-Blackman

Shon is a wife, mother, and mental health advocate with autism who has always had a passion for writing and helping others. She is also the blogger behind Puzzle Me Shon, where she covers topics like self-improvement, spirituality, autism, mental health, and making money for the neurodivergent mind. Visit her website at puzzlemeshon.com to learn more and sign up for the newsletter.

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How I Feel the Best I Can Despite My Struggles with Depression and Anxiety

“There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn’t.” ~John Green

I remember being fifteen. I was a high school freshman who loved drawing, books, Harry Potter, and Taylor Swift. I hated math class with a passion. I had a loving family and a small white dog named Maddie. I wanted to be a writer, and to have a boyfriend. I also wanted to die.

It started in seventh grade, when my best friend, Meghan, dumped me. You hear about romantic breakups all the time, but no one seems to talk about friendship breakups. They hurt a lot. This person who you thought would be by your side in life suddenly isn’t.

I remember the phone call. It was a January night in 2007. We were fighting, as usual. We’d been fighting for a while by then. About what, that particular night, I can’t remember. I do remember, though, her pausing, then saying those words that changed everything: “I don’t think we should be best friends anymore.”

I remember feeling shocked that she’d say that. Then angry. I replied with a quick “fine then” before hanging up the phone. Then the pain hit. I went into my parents’ room, crawled into bed beside my mom, and cried.

I’d never felt this kind of pain before. There was a lot of emotion going through me, but the biggest thing that stuck out was a feeling of betrayal and loss.

We’d been best friends since first grade. Seven years. We were supposed to get through middle school together, then go on to high school and share the experiences of prom and homecoming games. We were supposed to help one another through the stress of SATs and college applications. And then we were supposed to tackle adulthood together.

There had been a comfort in trusting I’d have one person beside me as I went through life. Now that comfort was gone, and I felt abandoned. A more pressing matter hit me too. How was I going to get through the next day of school without her?

School became hard. She had been my only friend. Sure, I’d had other friends growing up, but those friendships had naturally fizzled out or the girls had switched schools. I tried to make new friends. Some lasted a little while, but ultimately, none panned out. I was looking for that lifelong friend. Such a friendship, I began to learn, though, was rare.

I started to feel hopeless. School was lonely. My social life was nonexistent. I felt isolated and became depressed. As my ex-best friend seemed to thrive in her new friend group, I sank deeper into depression. Finally, I hit a breaking point and began a journey to treat my clinical depression.

I went through treatment in a psychiatric hospital followed by an outpatient program. The psychiatric hospital was one of the most difficult experiences of my life. I felt so alone and trapped there. I didn’t feel a connection with the other patients and just wanted to go home.

I’d spend most of my time crying or trying to sleep, hoping that when I woke up, I’d be back in my room, with its bright pink walls and Twilight posters, and in my own comfy bed. When I was finally released, I went on to an outpatient program.

In the outpatient program, I met kind and compassionate people. We were all going through our own mental health struggles, and I began to feel less alone. I started opening up, and after about a month, I was ready to go back to school.

Going back was challenging. I felt anxious that people would ask where I’d been for the last month. No one did, though. For the most part, I was left alone, which was good, but at the same time, incredibly lonely.

I got through high school the best I could and then went on to college, where things started to get better. I began to thrive academically and got a job as a children’s library assistant in a public library. I met a good friend through work and decided to pursue a master’s in library science to become a children’s librarian. Eventually, I landed a full-time job as a youth services librarian. I then met my current boyfriend and fell in love.

I still deal with episodes of depression, usually triggered by feelings of loneliness and isolation. There are times when I wish I had more friends, more people to turn to when things aren’t going right in my life. But I’ve learned to recognize when depression symptoms crop up—decreased energy, feelings of hopelessness, and a loss of interest in things I usually enjoy—and start addressing them immediately. I get outside in nature, spend time with my dog, and lean on the people I do have in my life.

I also still struggle with anxiety at times. Some mornings, I wake up and don’t want to go to work because the anxiety is so consuming. I worry about what will go wrong that day. I worry about how I will handle it if something goes wrong. It’s hard for me to stay present, to focus on the here and now.

Thanks to therapy, though, and the tools I’ve learned in it, I’m able to push myself to go to work on those anxiety-filled days, and it’s never that bad.

Sometimes things do go wrong, like I forget to cut out enough craft supplies for a program, or a patron is unhappy about something, but I always handle it. I try to remember those moments when anxiety lands her claws in me, to remind myself that even though I feel like I can’t handle the day, I can.

I’ve come a long way from that fifteen-year-old girl. I still struggle with depression and anxiety, but I know how to handle it. I practice yoga and deep breathing to stay calm. I tune into my five senses when I’m caught up in my head and struggling to stay mindful. I go to therapy once a week and take medication. I do what I have to do to feel the best I can. That’s all any of us can do.

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About Marianne Brennan

Marianne Brennan is a writer and children’s librarian. She has a master’s in Library Science from St. John’s University, and a BA in Literature from Ramapo College. Besides writing, Marianne enjoys yoga, hiking, art, and spending time with her family, friends, boyfriend, and dogs Abby and Paula. You can find more of her writing on her blog at https://www.mariannebrennanwrites.com/

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was just the interaction I needed at that time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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About Vanessa Fawver

Vanessa Fawver works professionally as a flight attendant for a major US-based airline. She enjoys exploring life experiences through writing and emotions through acting and improvisation. She has a strong humanitarian side, servicing others through her volunteer work with the dying as well as with “Best Friends” animal sanctuary in Utah. Feel free to follow her work on Elephant Journal and Medium.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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About Aleena Haider

Aleena serves as the Editor-in-Chief of Dreamer By Night Magazine, and as a lifelong writer, she is grateful that her work and passion intersect. Aleena is an avid reader and loves trying new things, including painting badly and losing at chess to her husband. She also thanks you for taking the time to check out Dreamer By Night, and hopes you enjoyed it! IG: aleeenzy aleenahaider784@gmail.com – image below if she doesn’t have a gravatar  

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

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

We are all works in progress.

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

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

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

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

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

Breakdown or Breakthrough? Personal Challenges and Scars of Battle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happened?

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

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

Dealing with Pressure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coming Out the Other Side

Where am I now?

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

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

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

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

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

In short, I feel like me again.

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

I was lucky. Others are not so fortunate.

Making Our Way in Life

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

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

So what can we do?

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

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

We can celebrate our successes, large and small.

We can be grateful for all we have.

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

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

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

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

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

We can get to know ourselves on a deeper level.

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

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

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

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About Carl Phillips

Carl writes short books full of big ideas. He is also the proud owner of Frictionless Living which is focused on helping readers find and live their own version of a simpler, good, life.

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Rediscover Your True Self with “Are You on the Right Track?”

Do you ever feel like you’re just going through the motions in life, unsure of what your true purpose is? I know I’ve been there before, back in my twenties when I felt lost in the world, desperate to do something that mattered, and afraid I was wasting time.

I think these feelings are fairly common, but the good news is that you have the power within you to create a meaningful life. And Tiny Buddha contributor Antasha Durbin Solomon has just the tool to help you get there!

Introducing Are You on the Right Track?—a 101-day guided journal designed to help you rediscover your true self, release limiting beliefs, and live an authentic, purpose-filled life. With daily letters from the Universe, inspirational quotes, and prompts, this journal gently guides you toward personal rediscovery and empowerment.

Whether you’re looking to find your true passion or simply live a more fulfilling life, Are You on the Right Track? can help you get there.

The journal encourages you to release past programming and push past personal confinements so you can live an extraordinary, empowered life. It’s designed to help you face your biggest fears—because only then can you overcome them and realize you are capable of achieving anything you envision.

Filled with cool, calming watercolor illustrations, Are You on the Right Track? is the perfect tool to help you approach life one day at a time, with patience and complete trust in yourself and the Universe. It can help you unlock your full potential and live the life you were meant to live.

If you’re ready to rediscover your true self and live a more purpose-filled life, pick up a copy of Are You on the Right Track? today. It could be the start of a life-changing journey.

I hope it’s helpful to you!

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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 Tiny Buddha's Inner Strength Journal 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 Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

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How Yoga Helped Heal My Anxiety and Quiet My Overactive Mind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How Yoga Can Help with Anxiety

Yoga helps you recognize your emotions and triggers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoga regulates your nervous system.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoga teaches you new coping mechanisms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoga helps you be more present.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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About Kira Barham

Kira Barham is a yoga instructor, mindfulness teacher and wellness blogger. After struggling with her mental health for many years and coming out the other side, Kira is on a mission to help others find their inner peace and start living the life they dream of. Read more on her blog www.themindfulway.co.uk or find her on Instagram.

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8 Ways You Can Help Fight the Loneliness Epidemic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8 Ways to Combat the Loneliness Epidemic

1. Honestly assess your needs.

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

2. Reach out (and reach back).

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

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

3. Set and respect boundaries.

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

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

4. Practice ‘holding space.’

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

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

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

5. Resist the pressure to lean on small talk.

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

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

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

6. Gossip doesn’t count as connection.

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

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

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

7. Reflect on and articulate your feels.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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About Meg Hartley

Meg Hartley is a neurodivergent writer with bylines at The Progressive, Huffington Post, Ravishly, MindBodyGreen, Leafly, SheKnows and others (including this wonderful publication). Check out more at HeyMegHartley.com and @heymeghartley or @thrivingautist on the socials.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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About Eleni Stephanides

A freelance writer and Spanish interpreter, Eleni was raised and currently resides in the California Bay Area. Her work has been published in Them, LGBTQ Nation Tiny Buddha, The Mighty, Elephant Journal, The Gay and Lesbian Review, and Introvert, Dear among others. She currently writes the monthly column "Queer Girl Q&A" for Out Front Magazine. You can follow her on IG @eleni_steph_writer and on Medium.

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I Wanted Peace and Freedom After Prison, and Forgiveness Was the Way

“In every walk with Nature one receives far more than he seeks.” ~John Muir

The sign comes into view.

I make the left-hand turn, driving slowly through the rusty gated entrance. The sound of gravel beneath the tires makes me smile. I flashback to driving my go-kart on our gravel driveway.

I park my rental Mini and walk to the kiosk.

The Mianus River Gorge trail map is laid out in front of me. Where is the trail I’m looking for? Which one will bring me to the waterfall? This is why I came here today—to find the waterfall. I see the path I came in search of, and my hike begins.

Tributaries flow down the hillside, carving their way to the river in the valley. The elevation is no higher than 500 feet. It would be a stretch to call it a hike, more like a nice walk in the woods.

Alone on the trail, the sound and pace of life in the city is a distant memory. Instead, I hear the orchestra of Mother Nature—water flowing over rocks, the birds emerging from their winter solstice. The treetops sway in the gentle breeze.

I ignore the “Trail Closed” sign and walk around the barrier. I hear the waterfall before I see it, my heart skipping a beat in anticipation. Walking up and around the bend, I find myself directly at the top of the falls—a sense of satisfaction in reaching my destination.

I enjoy this perspective for a moment before looking to the bottom. I see where I want to go. Nature has generously provided a seat to take in her glory, a branch, the height of a short stool running parallel to the ground. I watch as the once-raging water transforms into a mirror of calm.

I look at my cell phone, no signal. I smile, a moment of solitude. I feel gratitude for being here and for enjoying a part of nature. I’m grateful I have the money to rent a car, the freedom to experience this adventure, an impossibility not that long ago.

It was just under a year ago that I was in federal prison, my freedom but a memory.

The sensation of gratitude fades.

As it wanes, I feel a sadness filling the void. Then, like a dam bursting, it washes over me. I’m drowning in it. I know it was always there, running in the background. It was patiently waiting for a moment of silence to be heard. A fist closed around my heart the day I was arrested, and now its grip is tightening.

I’m helpless.

The experience is too powerful. Fighting it would be pointless. I hand myself over to it. Closing my eyes, I invite the sadness in, allowing it to course through my body.

It’s the sadness of the past.

I’m consumed by regrets and judgments of things that cannot be changed. I never fully processed any of it. Memories run silently in the background of my mind, dictating my life without my conscious knowledge.

Intuition takes over, telling me what I need to do.

Forgive.

I forgive myself silently, a gentle whisper in my mind. I forgave the seven-year-old me for being scared of the dark. I forgave the twelve-year-old me for not punching the bullies who tormented me that hot summer afternoon.

I forgave myself for the lies I’ve told when the truth would have set me free. I forgave myself for the dreams not pursued and the projects not finished. I forgave myself for believing that I’m not enough.

I forgave myself for not having courage.

I forgave myself for choosing to defraud one of the largest tech companies in the world and for the thousands of choices I made to keep the fraud going for just under a year.

The same choices, in their roundabout way, that led me to the waterfall today.

I forgave myself for not loving myself. I forgave myself for not listening to my heart. I forgave myself for the pain I caused my ex-wife and my family.

Forgiveness flowed like the waterfall in front of me. As it flowed, it transformed.

Forgiveness for myself morphed into forgiving others. I forgave those bullies. I forgave the girl who called me a loser in front of the seventh-grade class. I forgave people who rejected me. I forgave the prosecutor, the lead investigator, the judge.

Eventually, the forgiveness peters out.

I sit quietly for a moment, taking in what just happened. Trying to reconcile how memories I haven’t thought of in over thirty years bubbled to the surface with ease.

Experiences I would have sworn I had let go.

Once again, intuition took over. I breathed in six deep belly breaths. With every inhale, the smell of nature, a radiant light, the water from the falls. With every exhale, whatever was trapped inside me.

Let go of…
Hatred.
Fear.
Insecurity.
Jealousy.
Shame.

Exhaling the sixth and final breath, I open my eyes slowly. The forest is transformed: colors are brighter; sounds are sharper; the smells are cleaner.

It’s euphoric.

In this magical moment, a dull yet powerful pain emanates from the center of my chest. It scares the hell out of me. I wonder if my moment of enlightenment is being cut short by a heart attack.

I think about the miles between me and my car. I remember that I have no cell reception. The irony doesn’t escape me that only moments ago, I was celebrating the peace of being alone. My fear grows with the mounting pain.

I close my eyes, I let the pain in. I don’t know what else to do other than embrace it. This pain is nothing to fear. Finger by finger, knuckle by knuckle, the fist clenched around my heart is slowly releasing its grip.

My heart has room to breathe, for the first time in a long time. It’s adapting to its newfound freedom; my heart is stretching its legs.

Opening my eyes, I stare at the waterfall, taking it all in. My body comes alive. Energy is flowing through my veins. The shame running silently in the background has been replaced with a sense of peace and comfort in my skin.

I decide it’s time to explore the rest of this beautiful place. I stand up, practically launching myself from my seat. I’m as light as a feather. I’ve been carrying the seven-year-old me, the twelve-year-old me, all the past versions of myself for all these years.

I’ve been carrying the pain that exists only as a memory. Nothing is ever forgotten. All of it was stored in my subconscious mind, running silently in the background. Haunting the present moment with the ghosts of the past.

Just because I don’t think about the past doesn’t mean it’s not there. I don’t think about the air I breathe.

This doesn’t make it any less real.

Forgiveness is a journey—one of acceptance, of loving myself, of knowing I am enough and worthy. When the memories of the past arise, and they do, the memory of this day reminds me of what I can do.

It’s a forgiveness practice that I’m ever so grateful for.

I sit at my desk peacefully, inhaling and exhaling six deep breaths (a connection to that beautiful day). I think of any burden I’ve been carrying.

I think of anything that brings a sensation of shame, and I write it down. Oftentimes it stings to write it, and I’ve learned this is a good sign––the more it stings, the more of a burden it is.

Once I get it all on paper (which is its own form of release), I’ll repeat the following out loud,

“I forgive myself, fully and deeply, for…”

I’ll repeat the statement over and over until I feel something inside me shift, and it always shifts. It’s a letting go of what cannot be changed.

It’s acceptance.

I then mindfully tear that piece of paper up into the smallest pieces I can and throw it away.

Every single time I’ve done this practice, I feel the weight I’ve been carrying dissolve. I feel myself become lighter.

Forgiving ourselves is perhaps one of the most extraordinary acts of love and compassion we can extend to ourselves.

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About Craig Stanland

Forgiveness is freedom, and freedom to me is everything. Craig Stanland is a Reinvention Architect, TEDx & Keynote Speaker, and Author of "Blank Canvas, How I Reinvented My Life After Prison." He specializes in working with clients who've chased success, money, and status in their 1st half, only to find a success-sized hole in their lives. He helps them tap into their full potential and connect with their calling to create their extraordinary 2nd half with purpose, meaning, and fulfillment. Connect with him here.

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