The Truth Behind Imposter Syndrome: What It’s Really About

“We are who we believe we are.” ~C.S. Lewis

Have you ever caught yourself hiding behind the term “imposter syndrome”? I know I have—more times than I’d like to admit.

We hear the phrase so often now, and it’s almost become a catch-all for our fears, doubts, and insecurities. But what if I told you that imposter syndrome isn’t what you think it is? What if it’s something deeper that has been with you far longer than your career or the roles you play in your life?

Let me take you on a journey that may mirror your own. It starts in a place many of us know well: childhood.

My first taste of feeling “less than” came early, in the first grade, at a Catholic elementary school in Lawrence, Kansas.

I remember sitting on the gray carpet in a circle with my classmates, already feeling small and unsure. A boy named AJ, whose words still echo in my mind, said, “Take off your mask.” I was too young to understand what he meant, but my insecure little heart decided it was a comment on my appearance. Was my face not good enough? Did I need a mask to hide behind?

I was already feeling uncertain about myself when my teacher called on me to spell the word “bowl.” Such a simple word, but in that moment, it felt like an impossible challenge.

My heart raced as I struggled to find the letters, and as the giggles of my peers filled the air, I turned fire-engine red, shrinking into myself.

The harder I tried to hide, the redder and more embarrassed I became. I don’t remember how long it took for the teacher to move to another student, but I do remember hearing a deep message from within. The message was clear: I was “dumb…and maybe ugly.” This moment became a cornerstone in the foundation of my self-belief.

Years later, as a junior in high school, I moved from Kansas to Cleveland. Moving across the country in the middle of high school rocked my world.

The new school was enormous, so vast that I felt like a speck, unseen and invisible. My insecurities, which had been nurtured since that day in first grade, came flooding back.

Wearing cut-off jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and sandals—a perfectly acceptable Kansas high school outfit—I found myself just trying to survive in this new world, where the girls dressed like they were straight out of a scene from the nineties film Clueless. I felt like I didn’t belong.

One day in math class, the teacher, Mr. Dillon, called on me. The question was simple, but I froze. My mind went blank, overwhelmed by the pressure to fit in, to be seen by the kids in the class, and to make friends. I couldn’t speak.

As I sat there looking at him, his words stung: “Did you even pass the third grade?”

I wanted to disappear, to escape the burning embarrassment that filled my cheeks and the tears that welled up in my eyes.

The classroom fell silent as his words hung in the air, and I could feel every pair of eyes on me. In that moment, all I could feel was judgment. I wanted to be noticed, but not in this way. Once again, I was “dumb,” and once again, I shrank.

These moments, though small in the grand narrative of life, became monumental in shaping who I believed I was. I withdrew, rarely raising my hand, counting the kids in front of me, then the paragraphs in novels so I could rehearse my lines and avoid any chance of being caught off guard.

I wouldn’t listen to the world around me; I only practiced my own words, desperately clinging to the hope that I wouldn’t expose my perceived inadequacies.

I learned that if I raised my hand for the thing I knew, then maybe I could stay quiet for the things I didn’t. I adapted. I stayed small, blending into the background, fearful of being noticed, fearful of being labeled “dumb” once again.

But life has a funny way of unfolding. Despite this deeply ingrained belief that I wasn’t smart enough, I found proof that I was, in fact, not dumb.

I ended up finding success when I least expected it. Fresh out of college, I landed a sales job and, without even realizing it, became the top sales account rep in the nation. I didn’t even know there was a ranking system!

Then, in my next role, I was named “Rookie of the Year,” again, to my surprise. It wasn’t because I had set out with grand ambitions—far from it. I was simply doing my best, without the burden of expectations or the fear of failure weighing me down.

If I had known about these accolades ahead of time, I’m certain I would have sabotaged myself, convinced that someone like me could never achieve such success. The labels I had adopted as a child were still there, lurking in the background, ready to pull me down.

But what I didn’t realize then is that those labels, those beliefs, were never truly mine. They were the words of others, handed to me and accepted without question. They became part of my internal belief system, shaping how I saw myself at my core.

Recently, I had lunch with a dear friend, a woman who has built an incredible business and dedicated her life to empowering young girls. She’s someone I deeply admire. When I asked her, “What’s next for you?” she paused and said, “I know where I want to go, but imposter syndrome is holding me back.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Here was a woman who had created a thriving business and positively impacted thousands of lives, yet she was still questioning herself. I had to dig deeper. When I asked her what she felt underneath, she paused again and said, “I’m a loser.”

There it was—the truth. It wasn’t imposter syndrome at all. It was an old belief, planted in her childhood, that had never fully healed.

She shared how she had struggled in school, how she had been held back in third grade, and how she had defied her parents’ expectations. Despite all her success, she still believed she was a “loser.”

And isn’t that the case for so many of us? We use the term “imposter syndrome” to describe the fear of being exposed, but we hide behind old, unhealed wounds. We’re looking for ways to stay safe and avoid stepping into our true power because, deep down, we still believe the lies we were told as children.

It’s taken nearly a decade of healing to finally understand that the labels we place on ourselves are often the very things holding us back. It’s not the opinions of others, our circumstances, or our environment—it’s our own internal belief system. This belief system, which shapes how we see ourselves at our core, is often clouded by the layers of hurt, fear, and insecurity that we’ve accumulated over the years.

Peeling back these layers is hard work. It requires a willingness to confront the parts of ourselves that we’ve hidden away and to question the narratives we’ve accepted as truth. But beneath those layers lies our truest self—the self that is brave, smart, strong, and so much more.

So, I ask you: Who would you be if the world hadn’t told you who they think you are? What would you do if you let go of the labels and embraced the truth of who you are at your core?

I’ve come to forgive those who labeled me as “dumb”—for I know now that it wasn’t their truest selves speaking. It was their own layers of pain, their own insecurities, projecting onto me. And I forgive myself for believing them and for carrying their words with me for so long.

This is a loving call to action, a call to get curious about your true self. Your soul has a purpose, and your truest self has so much to offer the world. I know it may seem like another motivational blog, but it’s so much more than that. This is me urging you to look deeper, find your truth, and don’t believe everything you think!

Somewhere within you are beliefs that are not true, and if you release them, you can feel lighter, more open, and see the abundance waiting for you. Don’t let the labels and layers hold you back any longer. Peel them away, one by one, and step into the fullness of who you are meant to be.

You are not the beliefs that others have placed upon you. You are so much more. It’s time to stop believing your beliefs and start believing in yourself.

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About Molly Rubesh

Molly Rubesh is a life coach and writer who helps women embrace their true power and live heart-led lives. After navigating divorce, grief, and a career change, she now guides others to let go of fear and follow their hearts. Grab her free guide, 5 Ways to Survive Without a Safety Net, to begin your journey to a braver, more fulfilling life.

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How to Ease Pain and Anxiety Through Meditation

“If nothing changes, nothing changes. If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’re going to keep getting what you’re getting. You want change, make some.” ~Courtney C. Stevens

If someone looked at my life when I was younger, they would think that I had it all together. I went to college to obtain my bachelor’s in psychology and social work, followed by my master’s in social work. I have always had good friendships and family relationships. I traveled regularly. I was and still am young and living my life. Little would they know that so much was brewing inside…

The perfect storm of overachieving, perfectionism, stress, and anxiety was brewing until I developed chronic pelvic pain in college.

As an overachiever, I had all of my homework and essays done a week before they were due because if I waited until the last minute, my anxiety would be higher than it already was. I always wrote more pages for my assignments than I needed to. I studied more than I needed to. I always did the most.

As a perfectionist, I bawled my eyes out when I got my first 88% in my child development class. I bawled my eyes out when I got a 20 on my ACT, thinking that I wouldn’t even get into college with that score.

Anxiety. I was a tight ball of anxiety. Always worrying, anxious, and catastrophizing, with whole-body muscle tension, trouble sleeping, and intense restlessness.

A perfect storm.

After graduating from my master’s program, I started working in community mental health in order to obtain my 3,000 clinical hours for my clinical social worker license.

This whole time I was going from doctor to doctor, trying to figure out what was going on with my body. I was looking for every solution under the sun. I finally found one after working at my first job for about a year. I was so burned out, anxious, and in pain that I took a sabbatical and went to California.

There was a clinic in California that specialized in chronic pelvic pain and anxiety. I thought, “Finally, a place that can help me.”

This is how my meditation journey started. A journey that I now can say changed my life. I do not know where I would be without this powerful practice.

Let me paint the picture of what the clinic looked like for you. I was in a room of about eight to ten fellow anxiety and chronic pelvic pain sufferers lying down in what looked like sleeping bags, tucked in like caterpillars in cocoons.

The psychologist at the clinic started to teach us how to meditate.

He started doing a guided meditation without a script and told us to focus on the feeling of “sinking” when we exhaled, the “ahhhh” feeling. Can you imagine how hard that would be if your anxiety and pain were off the charts?

After what felt like thirty seconds of this exercise, my first thought was, “WE ARE DONE, RIGHT??? That’s all for today. Time to go!!” Being someone who was a tight ball of anxiety, with a million thoughts running through my mind, and lying there in excruciating pain, it felt like torture. I thought I was going to explode.

The worst part was that he kept going. I do not remember how long the meditation lasted. It felt like it lasted for twelve hours when in reality we may have done ten to twenty minutes. Throughout the rest of the clinic, we kept repeating this guided meditation, and it honestly kept feeling awful.

Through dedication and practice, it took me a year and a half, twice a day every day, to be able to do that guided meditation for forty-five minutes. I can say now that the practice of meditation saved my life and dramatically calmed down my nervous system and anxiety.

Here are the lessons that I learned throughout my meditation journey.

1. Start small.

When you want to start something new or create a new habit, start small. Starting big is overwhelming; starting small feels more manageable.

When I first started to meditate, I began with a couple of minutes and worked my way up. After a couple of months, I was able to do ten minutes, then fifteen minutes, then twenty minutes, and so on, until I could meditate for forty-five minutes and it felt like only fifteen minutes went by.

Be compassionate with yourself if it takes a while to be able to master those first couple of minutes. Meditation is difficult when you are first starting out, as is anything you are trying in the beginning. Give yourself the grace to be a beginner, knowing that you are engaging in a powerful practice, and that already is enough.

After putting in the work for over a year and a half, I felt calmer and more present, more able to notice my thoughts without holding onto them, and better able to sit with the sensations in my body with ease.

2. Long-lasting consistency is key for any change you want to make in life.

Trust me, I struggled with consistency for a very long time. I would try out something new for three to four days, and after that time, I would say, “Oh, well, this doesn’t work” and stop doing the thing. I didn’t give the technique time for it to work.

I realized that was the part of me that was impatient and wanted instant gratification and results. I would always tell clients that I worked with, “Trust me, if I had a magic pill that would take away all of your problems, I would give you one and then myself one. Then I would live on a private island and have my own personal dolphin to play with.” Wouldn’t that be cool if life worked that way?

This was a cycle for me that lasted a very long time. It takes a little over two months to create a habit. Once I started to see the effects of meditation, I made sure to make it a daily lifestyle habit, something that I do for my physical and mental health.

3. Change is uncomfortable. Meditation was and still is comfortable.

Change sucks. Learning something new sucks. I also learned that in that moment, I could do something that was going to be hard and in the end be helpful, or I could stay stuck. I had a choice, and I knew that I could not stay stuck in super high levels of anxiety and chronic pain. I knew something needed to change despite feeling uncomfortable.

“Life is the difference between what hurts and what hurts more.” ~Nicole Sachs, LCSW.

Meditation was SO uncomfortable in the beginning. My brain felt like a game of ping pong with so many thoughts and sensations going on in my body. I had a really hard time focusing on the sinking feeling of my body during meditation because I became distracted with anxious thoughts and pain. Over time, it became easier until I was able to just focus on the sinking sensation or my breath. As with anything in life, practice makes progress.

I do not meditate for forty-five minutes anymore. I use the Calm app and do the daily meditation for ten minutes. There are days that focusing on my breath is still challenging because of anxiety, pain, or the thoughts running through my mind.

As with life, there are moments where days are harder and easier. What has helped me is to accept whatever is happening in the moment, which also takes practice. I have created compassion for myself when meditation feels harder for me. No judgment. I am human.

4. You cannot run away from your mind and body.

What I learned from my meditation practice is that you cannot run away from what is happening inside your mind and body. Your mind and body will keep giving you a thought or sensation until you are fully able to sit with it and accept it in the moment rather than sweeping it under the rug because it feels uncomfortable or scary.

It is uncomfortable and scary. By running away from it, it’s also reinforcing the pattern and showing your brain and nervous system that the thought or sensation in your body is a threat.

During my meditation practice, I had to sit with whatever was happening in my body: intense pain, tightness in my chest, queasiness in my stomach, “what if” thoughts in my mind, tightness in areas of my body—you name it. I had to feel all of it.

At first, I hated it and it was terrible, but then it became easier. I had to learn to accept my body and its protection, because that is what it was doing. That acceptance turned into compassion, which turned into reduced symptoms.

Your body and brain will keep giving you symptoms until you have processed them, accepted them, and turned off the danger signals.

As with anything that you do, it will get easier with time and practice!

I want to add a caveat that if you are having chronic pain, please consult a medical professional to rule out anything structurally happening with your body. I had every test and scan done under the sun, and my body was and still is normal, physically. Also, with anxiety, if you need support, there are many wonderful places to receive it, whether through therapy or online forums.

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About Gabby Wnek

Gabby Wnek is a licensed clinical social worker and a burnout and anxiety coach. Through her coaching services, Gabby supports highly anxious, burnout women to increase awareness of burnout, how to create change to decrease burnout, and how to build your own “formula” of skills and techniques for anxiety and stress. Grab her FREE guide: 5 Tips you need to know to Overcome Burnout, Anxiety, and Stress at gabbywnekcoaching.com.

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Free Download, Living Without Hurry: It’s Time to End the Rush

Do you ever feel like you’re living your life racing toward someday when everything feels better or easier? Like you’re constantly chasing something—maybe a dream, money, the perfect body, or love and, at the core of it all, happiness?

I chased all these things for years, filling most of my time with activities to attain them, all the while neglecting my deepest needs and ultimately feeling stressed and overwhelmed.

It’s one of life’s greatest ironies—we  push ourselves so hard to find peace and fulfillment in the future without realizing both are available right now if we could only create space to access them.

And when we finally allow ourselves a little downtime, we often fill it with screens and sensory overload, so it rarely feels truly restful.

If you’re tired of living in a state of rush and anxiety, like you simply can’t switch off, I have a feeling you’ll appreciate today’s free download, Living Without Hurry, from Tiny Buddha contributor (and this week’s site sponsor) Cristina Bonnet-Acosta.

In this short PDF, Cristina presents seven days of easy steps to take to help you slow down and reinforce to yourself that your well-being matters.

The activities suggested might seem simple, especially since most take five to ten minutes. But when you’re used to constantly pushing and distracting yourself, it can be challenging to take even a little time to simply be.

Once you surrender, however, it can be incredibly nourishing and healing. Because slowing down our bodies often calms down our minds.

As someone who already incorporates many of the practices Cristina recommends, I realized while reading Living Without Hurry that I sometimes let them slip when I need them the most—during the busier times when I convince myself I don’t have time to relax.

While I already practice many of the activities Cristina recommends, I realized when reading Living Without Hurry that I sometimes let them slip when I need them the most—when life feels busier than usual and I convince myself that I simply don’t have time to relax.

But rest is often most beneficial when we feel we don’t have time for it. And sometimes it’s the quiet moments of stillness within periods of chaos that remind us we don’t want to be so busy. That we might have responsibilities and people depending on us, but we can also choose to do less. Say no. Set boundaries. Ask for help. And ultimately protect our peace.

In a world that constantly pushes us to go faster, achieve more, and fill every moment with productivity, we’ve forgotten how to live at our own pace—and how to thrive within it.

That’s why I’m excited to share Living without Hurry with you. It’s not just another guide to slowing down—it’s a pathway to restoring the natural balance and harmony that your nervous system craves.

And this guide is crafted by someone who truly understands the deeper layers of this struggle. With degrees in Buddhism and psychotherapy, Cristina is an insightful and compassionate coach who has spent years exploring how our fast-paced, overstimulated world impacts our nervous systems and well-being.

In her work, she recognized that the epidemic of hurrying, rushing, and multi-tasking is one of the greatest harms of our industrialized and information-heavy times. Now, as an emotional wellness and Organic Intelligence® Coach, she has lovingly created this resource to help you break free from that pressure.

We are wired to thrive in rhythm with the world around us. Nature moves in cycles—there’s no rush, no forcing. There are seasons for action, but there are also seasons for stillness, reflection, and rest.

Living without Hurry can help you find your own rhythm, trust the intelligence of your own body and mind, and find calm in a world that constantly demands more of you.

If you’re ready to break free from busyness and enjoy the peace and ease of simply being, download Living without Hurry here and watch your stress slowly turn into peace.

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About Lori Deschene

Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She started the site after struggling with depression, bulimia, c-PTSD, and toxic shame so she could recycle her former pain into something useful and inspire others do the same. She recently created the Breaking Barriers to Self-Care eCourse to help people overcome internal blocks to meeting their needs—so they can feel their best, be their best, and live their best possible life. If you’re ready to start thriving instead of merely surviving, you can learn more and get instant access here.

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Let Your Tears Flow: The Proven Benefits of Crying

“Crying is not a sign of weakness, it’s a courageous expression of emotions that leads to strength.” ~Unknown

When was the last time you cried? Tears are often seen as a sign of weakness, but for me, they are a powerful guide that helps me recognize and understand my feelings. In a society that frequently suppresses emotions, I want to share my journey with tears and encourage you to reflect on your own experiences.

The Change in My Relationship with Tears

Sometimes, I like to cry. During my studies, I hardly ever cried sober and was proud of it. I attributed the nighttime tears to alcohol and suppressed them.

The cause of my sadness was a stressful on-off situation with a man who emotionally drained me. This relationship was a constant up and down, and I didn’t know how to handle it. Rather than allowing my emotions, I often ignored them and hid behind my studies and social life. Looking back, I realize that this suppression was more harmful than helpful in the long run.

Allowing Emotions

Today, I cry much more often, and usually sober. In recent weeks, I have shed some tears and then wondered how other people deal with theirs. Have you also had such a strange relationship with your tears? It amazes me that a few years ago I was ashamed of them—and that sometimes I still am. However, in recent months I have clearly felt how powerful tears can be and how much they help me recognize and regulate my own feelings.

Tears are not just a sign of grief or pain; they are an important part of our emotional lives and help us cope with difficult situations. Today, I see tears as a valuable tool to better understand and heal myself.

Societal Expectations and Pressure

In our fast-paced world, it is often difficult to recognize how you really feel. When you are angry or sad at work, for example, it seems easier to suppress these emotions in the stressful office environment than to allow them and possibly break down in tears in front of colleagues or the boss. After all, no one wants to be labeled as hysterical or not to be taken seriously. Can’t she control her feelings? Get a grip!

And, of course, it’s not just your image that suffers: Many colleagues or supervisors likely don’t know how to deal with tears and would be completely overwhelmed. What do they do then? An awkward pat on the shoulder or an “It will be alright” while they glance at the clock, wondering how long this emotional interlude will last—can you just leave the crying person sitting there?

I know this article may sound a bit harsh. But that was my view of tears in adulthood: They shouldn’t be there. But who says we always have to function perfectly?

Suppressing emotions can be harmful in the long run. It can lead to increased stress, anxiety, and even depression. People who constantly suppress their feelings can also develop physical symptoms like headaches, stomach problems, and sleep disorders. Ignoring your emotional needs can significantly impair your mental health and overall well-being over time.

Experiences of Other People

Out of curiosity, in recent months, I have asked various people: When was the last time you cried? The responses I received included:

• Fifteen years ago.
• I can’t remember.
• Last month.
• Yesterday
• Last week.
• This morning.

The first three answers came from men, and the last three from women. This supports what studies have been saying for years: Women cry more often than men.

According to research by Vingerhoets and Scheirs, women cry on average five times more frequently than men. It is interesting to speculate whether the more frequent association of tears with femininity is the reason why they are often seen as weak and negative. Typically patriarchal: Everything associated with femininity and emotionality is initially considered weaker and less desirable. This may sound like a bold thesis, but forgive me—sometimes you just have to speak plainly.

I still feel frustration and anger that I suppressed my tears for so long and didn’t take them seriously. Tears have their place and significance in our emotional lives—it’s about time we acknowledge that.

Tears as Signs and Guides

Today, my tears show me the way. When I feel the urge to cry for no apparent reason, I’ve learned to pause and reflect. I have found that there is always something behind my tears, and that they don’t just come for no reason.

I wish I had known that as a young student because the man who caused my tears back then eventually cheated on me, leading to even more heartache. This experience taught me two important lessons: No more on-off relationships for me, and that I should simply be more honest with my feelings.

Recognizing the Need for Action

In situations where I am completely overwhelmed, my body sometimes reacts with tears. Recently, a disrespectful and humiliating encounter brought spontaneous tears to my eyes. This reaction surprised me because, at twenty-eight years old and with diverse experiences, I didn’t expect a condescending comment to trigger such strong emotions.

The context was crucial: Other people were present, which added to my humiliation, and the comment came totally unexpectedly. This strong discrepancy between my perception and the harsh treatment by the other person threw me completely off balance. My body reacted with tears to compensate for the shock.

I managed to escape to a quiet room in time to avoid breaking down in front of the whole group. The tears were short-lived but signaled unmistakably: This is the limit, and I am definitely over it!

This experience also showed me that there are still unresolved issues within me that I need to address. A few months ago, I would probably have reacted differently and suppressed my emotions. Perhaps I would have stayed in a harmful situation—like my nearly year-long on-off relationship with said ex, who was apparently just as good at apologizing as I was at suppressing.

Tears help me recognize that something is wrong, and that action is needed. Fortunately, I now listen to them, try to change situations, and if that’s not possible, I leave them.

Regulating Emotions Through Crying

Tears also help with emotion regulation. After I cry, I feel better: freer and relieved. Admittedly, I also look significantly worse with my red, swollen eyes. But I feel like tears help me tidy up. They wash away everything I no longer need. And for that, I gladly accept a bit of smeared mascara.

Scientific studies have shown that crying can actually reduce stress hormones. Tears contain, among other things, cortisol, a stress hormone, whose excretion through crying can contribute to stress reduction. Additionally, crying can activate the parasympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for relaxation and recovery.

Crying in Front of Others

When was the last time you cried in front of others?

Honestly, I still find it difficult to do this, but I am learning. It’s uncomfortable when others cannot handle the tears, but tears are not bad. They are part of our shared human experience and often lead to deeper understanding and connection. A sense of security probably needs to exist for this. I haven’t often cried in front of others and found it truly liberating.

Last year in the summer, however, I had an emotional rollercoaster ride. First, I was at my grandmother’s funeral. Immediately afterward, I went to a very cool but exhausting four-day festival, where I received a painful rejection from someone I really liked. Additionally, I returned to Germany from a seven-month solo trip and was jobless and somewhat aimless. On the day of my return, I met with my closest friends in the evening and completely broke down.

Those tears, dear people, were the most healing thing that could have happened to me at that moment. All my friends also had tears in their eyes, held me tight, and gave me the space and time I needed. From that point on, things started to improve, and I felt a new sense of security that, no matter how difficult things get or how deeply I fall, I am not alone.

The Strength and Meaning of Tears

That’s why I don’t want anyone to be ashamed of their tears. Tears have a reason, whether we are sad, overwhelmed, angry, or incredibly happy. It is unfortunate that tears are often viewed negatively. I believe it takes true strength to allow them and to find out what message they want to convey to us.

Tears are like little messengers of our soul. Look closer. What might they want to tell you? What are they drawing your attention to? And what might it mean if you haven’t cried for a very long time? What is your relationship with your tears? I invite you to explore this with me—share your thoughts in the comments. I would love to hear your reflections and stories.

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About Maria Kleine

Maria Kleine is a psychologist (M.Sc.) with an unshakable curiosity about personal development, creativity, and the wild world of interpersonal relationships. She recently started a blog, mariakleine.com, where she blends her professional expertise with a holistic approach to self-growth. What makes her blog unique is its integration of psychological insights with practical advice on creativity and well-being. It’s a space where she encourages self-reflection and personal transformation, offering readers a chance to grow alongside her on this journey.

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5 Lessons About Change I Learned from Moving to a New City

“You may not be able to control every situation and its outcome, but you can control how you deal with it.” ~Unknown

I recently moved to Florida, a decision thirty years in the making.

Growing up in Haiti, I always longed to return to a warm climate. I remember being on our layover in Miami when we first moved to the States and thinking, “Why don’t we just stay here?” Moving to Boston at ten, the cold rain was a shock, and I’ve been dreaming of Florida ever since.

Here’s the thing about dreams—they take time, and life sometimes gets in the way. I stayed in Boston for college, built a career, and raised my daughter, and every time I thought about making the move south, something else needed my attention.

When my daughter graduated from high school, I felt the time was right. So I handed in my resignation, let our landlord know that we would be moving out, and started planning our move to Florida.

You might be wondering, “Did you really move just for the sunshine and palm trees?” Well, yes and no. Those are wonderful (especially after decades of Boston winters!), but the truth is, it goes much deeper. It’s about finding a sense of belonging and reclaiming a piece of myself that I felt I lost along the way, reconnecting with the warmth that reminds me of my childhood in Haiti.

Leaving Boston wasn’t easy. The friends, the routines, the community—I had built a life there. It was a terrifying decision. There were nights I lay awake wrestling with doubt, but deep down, I felt it was right.

Reflecting on the move, here are five lessons it taught me, which I hope you can relate to.

Lesson 1: Embrace the unknown.

The fear of the unknown is usually one of the most daunting parts of any major life transition. And for me, moving to Florida was no different. I had to leave behind everything familiar to enter a world of uncertainty.

I spent thirty years building a comfortable life in Boston. But comfort can be a double-edged sword—it can keep you from exploring and from finding new parts of yourself.

During one of my first morning walks in Florida, I noticed how different everything felt—the air was warmer, the pace rather slow, and the faces were all unfamiliar. It hit me then: I was truly starting over.

But it also reminded me of when I first moved to Boston from Haiti as a child and how different everything felt back then. Just as I adapted then, I knew I could do it again.

Yes, the unknown can be scary, but growth happens when you embrace it—when you open yourself up to new experiences, people, and places.

You have to be willing to explore, to try new things, to make mistakes and learn from them.

Lesson 2: Plans don’t always work out.

I’m a big-time planner. I love having everything mapped out, knowing exactly what’s going to happen and when. So, before our move, we knew where we were going to live, what college our daughter would attend, and how we would adjust to the new city.

But life had other plans.

We faced unexpected challenges—delays, changes in schedules, and problems we didn’t see coming.

For example, right before our move, the moving company that had agreed to transport our belongings, cancelled at the last minute. I remember standing in the middle of our packed-up living room, filled with hundreds of packed boxes, and feeling utterly overwhelmed. How could something so important go so wrong at the last minute?

In the end, we scrambled to find an alternative. When we finally did, the new company was delayed by several days, leaving us in limbo with everything packed but nowhere to go.

So here is the thing—no matter how perfectly you plan, life has a way of throwing you curveballs. I had to accept that plans don’t always work out and that being adaptable is what really gets you through when things don’t go as expected.

Lesson 3: People handle change differently.

One thing I have learned about change is that everyone experiences it differently. We each have our own perspectives and our own ways of processing and reacting to what’s happening around us.

My daughter was a bundle of nerves and excitement, stepping tentatively into adulthood, balancing her part-time job with college orientations and a whole new social scene. My husband, usually the rock, struggled to adapt to our new surroundings and missed his after-work routines and his usual grocery store.

As for me, I was managing the logistics and emotional toll of the move, trying to keep everything on track—all while running a business still in its foundational stages.

What worked for us? Regularly checking in with each other.

It was powerful to ask—and really listen—about each other’s well-being and how each of us was dealing with this move. Taking the time to understand and connect with each other made all the difference.

Lesson 4: Find your anchors.

Amidst all the uncertainty and chaos that comes with a big life transition, finding things that ground you (I call these anchors) becomes your lifeline. These can be routines, habits, or places that give you a sense of stability when everything else is in flux.

For me, journaling has become that sacred anchor. It’s my time to slow down, be present, and listen to myself. Every morning, I grab my journal and simply ask:

“What am I feeling right now?”

This one question opens up so much for me. It’s not just writing things down—it’s about connecting deeply with myself. It helps me embrace all the newness here in Florida, from the excitement of fresh starts to the occasional twinge of missing what I’ve left behind.

Lesson 5: Don’t forget to laugh.

Mistakes happen, especially during a big move.

Like the time we realized we had packed essential items in the wrong boxes. We tore through boxes at midnight, finding only kitchen utensils and winter coats. We ended up using towels as makeshift pillows.

We were stressed, tired, and frustrated beyond belief. But then we laughed about it.

In moments of frustration, finding something to laugh about can shift your perspective and remind you that even in the most chaotic times, there are moments of joy and connection.

Take a moment to think about these points.

• How do you handle change? Do you find yourself trying to control every aspect, getting frustrated, or using humor to cope?
• What unexpected changes have you faced recently? How did you adapt, and what did you learn about yourself in the process?
• How do you support the people around you at times of change? Remember, you’re not the only one experiencing change; those around you are, too.

Change is inevitable, but how we handle it defines our journey. Embrace the unknown, support each other, and don’t forget to laugh along the way.

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About Madjeen Lorthe

Madjeen Lorthe, M.Ed., ACC, is a Certified Life & Career Transition Coach and the founder of Transitions Well Done. With over two decades of experience in nonprofit and mental health counseling, she creates a supportive environment that encourages women to embark on journeys of self-discovery and resilience-building. Madjeen guides her clients to balance their professional ambitions and personal goals while prioritizing well-being during major life transitions.

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How to Turn Shame into Self-Love and Emotional Resilience

“The less we talk about shame, the more control it has over our lives.” ~Brené Brown

The pain and suffering I experienced as a child, which I kept hidden for over a decade, was the very seed that gave me the strength, resilience, empathy, authenticity, and courage that I possess today—but only because I surrendered the old story to embrace a new one. I alchemized my pain into my fuel, my traumas as contributions to my triumphs, and my curses into my greatest blessings.

But all of this came with a very hefty price.

Growing up with a single mother who worked two jobs to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table and with an estranged, abusive father who robbed me of my innocence and self-worth taught me that life’s odds were against me. This shaped my identity.

I believed I couldn’t rely on or be safe around men and that a scarce number of resources were available for me. The abuse plunged me into a world where I felt I wasn’t good enough to be loved, heard, or seen, or to have the shiny life that the “Jones’s” had.

Over the next decade, this led me down a long, windy path of reckless rebellion. It wasn’t safe to be home, and it wasn’t safe to be in my own body, so I found outlets to continually check out from reality because, back then, reality sucked most of the time.

I had no concept or actual experience of life having consequences besides being grounded occasionally. While my mother was doing her best to keep the lights on, and without a healthy masculine role model at home, nothing was slowing my self-sabotage down, or so I thought…

Then one spring day, life came crashing down, and sheer chaos unfolded, all in a flash. A careless moment brought unspeakable chaos. It shattered families, a community, and life as I knew it—my friends, my identity, my safety, my privacy, and what little dignity I had left.

This was the first time I faced real-life consequences, not from my parents but now from a judge. I was forced to be sober and sit with all my demons. For countless reasons, this was one of my life’s scariest moments. It was a time when I was constantly living in flight-or-fight, hating myself and fearing my own existence.

Little did I know this hell would be my chrysalis of transformation.

It was the first time I had no choice but to face what I had been running from. I was forced to stop pretending and face the truth.

To my surprise, it was only when I had to dig deep into the dark, sticky, monstrous shadow within myself and sit in the excruciating truths that I found what I unknowingly wanted all along—to be accepted and feel worthy. But not the outside acceptance of validation and popularity. I’m talking about the internal acceptance of what I had been through. Realizing that I am still lovable, worthy, bright, and beautiful, even with the shameful experience of being abused and all the hurt I had caused thereafter.

As this process of healing and transformation unfolded over many years, I learned this: shame cannot live where there is truth.

When we either hit rock bottom or make the courageous choice to turn inward and face the parts of ourselves that we have denied, abandoned, sabotaged, ignored, or hidden, it is, in fact, the same place where we find inner peace and power.

This is the most profound paradox of life. The darkness we avoid is precisely where the miracles and healing wait for us.

So, although I was, as some may say, dealt a crappy hand with a traumatic start to life, it was the fertile soil I needed to grow.

Here, I found my voice and learned the wild lesson of how hiding is much more painful than being seen. OMG, if I could scream that from every rooftop for everyone to hear, I would! So this is me shouting and sharing, not as a concept but as a lived experience.

When we lean into making our hardest trials into our greatest attributes, it creates deep internal strength and emotional resilience. It allows us to have a new perspective on what actually matters, enabling us to let trivial things roll off our backs.

Life is going to have its challenges, and it’s inevitably going to give us uncomfortable experiences. So, the question is, which discomfort do you want to live with? The discomfort of hiding your truth, staying in self-sabotage, and being a victim of your past, or the one of growth, courage, authenticity, and rewriting your new story?

If you’re ready for the latter, here is my advice within four practices to ultimately create unshakeable self-love, emotional resilience, and the fearlessness to be seen for who you truly are.

1. Share your shame.

It is critical to find a trusted person (or people) to share your shame with.

When I began sharing, it was first with my brother, my best friend, and then my therapist.

When you hold on to the shame, it festers. This often leads to chronic feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness, which can turn into self-sabotage and destructive behaviors of self-harm and addiction.

Shame also creates barriers in relationships because it often comes with a fear of vulnerability and being seen with flaws, which often leads to blaming others and being defensive, and in extreme cases, turns into abusive and toxic behaviors.

Another way shame shows up is in a professional setting, contributing to imposter syndrome, lack of confidence, and feeling unworthy of success or accomplishment. Overall, holding onto shame can significantly reduce our quality of life, both personally and professionally.

As I shared earlier, shame cannot live where there is truth because when you shed the light of truth onto the pain, it no longer carries its power over you; it dissolves. It turns from something to hide into a wish for something better.

When you share with a trusted person, you get to experience being seen, heard, and accepted and feeling that you are still worthy of love.

2. Seek discomfort.

Yes, seek it. You’ve got to get out of your comfort zone.

I first began to do this by sharing my shame, as I mentioned above. I know how excruciatingly uncomfortable it is to share a deep, dark, shameful secret for the first time. It nearly brings me to tears as I write this, because I still remember what it was like. But, speaking from experience, the thought of it is way more terrifying than doing it. I promise that when you do it with that trusted person, you will feel so relieved.

I also sought out discomfort through embodiment practices like yoga. In the beginning, this was very foreign to me because I was so used to being disconnected from my body, but as time went on, I became obsessed with yoga and got certified as a teacher!

Lastly, when I was sober from all substances for five years, this was the first time I truly felt the sadness, guilt, confusion, and shame that I carried for over a decade because of the abuse from my father. Talk about discomfort!

Resiliency and inner strength are not created in your comfort bubble. When you step into new experiences that stretch what you already know about yourself, it not only expands your capacity to be vulnerable, but it also empowers you in new and profound ways.

3. Be authentic.

There’s nothing more diminishing to the soul than not being who you truly are, whatever that means for you at this stage in your life. Authenticity breeds authenticity. It is contagious. When people feel you are authentic, it takes the pressure off them to pretend and invites them to let their guard down and be authentic, too. It’s a win/win!

If you have a hard time being authentic because you fear rejection or judgment, then keep reading because what I’m about to tell you is a hard truth and requires a dose of tough love.

If your family, friends, co-workers, partner, followers, or whomever rejects you for being truly, authentically you, then they are not meant for you! The world needs your authentic expression. This life is too short and too precious to waste not being your most brave, wild authentic self!

And as far as judgment goes, another truth bomb here: People are going to judge you no matter what! Literally screaming this in my head as I type. Seriously though, whichever path you pick, people will judge—so you might as well be judged for being you.

Practice being authentic in a small, low-risk situation first. For example, say no to something that doesn’t align with your values, even if it’s something minor, or wear an outfit that feels more “you,” even if it’s outside your usual style.

4. Let yourself be seen.

As I mentioned earlier, hiding is much more painful than being seen. Being seen goes hand in hand with self-acceptance. The more you accept yourself, flaws and all, the more willing you are to be seen. And the more willing you are to be seen, the more you will accept yourself! It is a mirror that shows you how you feel internally. When you allow yourself to be seen for who you are, you disarm other people’s judgments because you have created confidence and embraced yourself.

—

If you’re going through hardship now, or the next time life gives you a disguised blessing, come back to these steps. They were not only my saving light in the darkness, but they are also proven tools for creating resilience and living empowered.

I could have stayed in my destructive behavior, but I chose to lean in when I was at the scariest point of my life because I knew deep down there was something better for me on the other side.

Remember, we all have crappy hands dealt to us at times, but in the end, it’s how we play our hand that matters most.

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About Naga Rising

Naga Rising is an author, coach, and motivational speaker specializing in self-love and confidence. She wrote Naga Rising: Wildly Untamed and has been featured in Mantra Wellness, Canvas Rebel, & LA Yoga. Naga is dedicated to helping women reignite their feminine power, break free from self doubt, and unleash radiance to live authentically. Download her free self-care blueprint and start your self love journey today. See what she's up to lately on her Instagram.

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Creating Massive Change: How to Get Out of Our Own Way

Has it ever occurred to you that maybe your life isn’t changing because you’re holding yourself back but don’t know it?

Like maybe there’s something in your conditioning or a subconscious belief that’s preventing you from doing something that could bring you the change you seek?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot since I took Nadia Colburn’s five-day mindful writing challenge because one of the prompts elicited a profound insight about why I’ve struggled to create the change I want most in life.

Part of the prompt was “Don’t go off somewhere else,” and after a brief meditation at the start of the challenge that gave me a deep sense of calm and clarity, the following insight came to me: 

Roots and wings—that’s what I’ve always wanted. And I always thought roots meant my home, my family of origin. Life away from them was wings. But I’ve spent my whole adult life feeling like I’ve had one foot out the door because I haven’t allowed myself to have roots and wings at the same time. And that’s what I really want. To allow myself to be fully where I am. To believe it’s safe to be where I am. It’s not wrong to be where I am. I’m not wrong, wherever I am.

This was a big aha moment for me because it gave me further insight into something I’ve been reflecting on lately: that in all my moves—fifteen of them within twenty years—I never allowed myself to really settle in. To commit to things. To become part of a community.

This isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy my varied chapters or that I regret a single one of them. I did and I don’t. I just never allowed myself to do anything that might make me feel hemmed in.

For a long time, I thought it was insecurity and self-protection—my conditioning from abuse and bullying telling me that no one would truly love me, and that it wasn’t safe to be part of the group. To some extent, it was.

But I know now that I was also trapped by the invisible fence of a limiting belief—that it’s wrong to live far from my family. Both of my siblings still live not just in my home state but in my parents’ home, mere minutes from extended family. And I’ve always felt like the black sheep while desperately wanting to be part of the flock.

So I’ve lived in many places like a traveler, not a resident, to avoid digging my heels in too deep to ever go home, or to visit home whenever I wanted.

That’s all changing now that I have kids because I want them to feel at home. To make real friends. To have commitments and routines. So I’m putting down roots, a second set, and working through the fear that this might mean losing my family.

I have more responsibility and ties than I’ve ever had as an adult, and I always assumed this would mean clipping my wings, yet I feel free. Because the thing I’ve feared the most is also the thing I want the most. And I’m finally overcoming the biggest barriers to experiencing it—the limitations of my own mind.

It’s hard to get past our own internal blocks because they’re often hidden. They’re the stories we’ve told ourselves over and over for years, the lies we tell ourselves so regularly they feel like truth.

But they’re not truth. They’re misinterpretations of past events that have hardened into worldviews. They’re assumptions based on (often painful) experiences that we’ve backed up with so much ‘evidence’ they now seem like facts.

They’re essentially circus mirror glasses, distorting what we see and limiting our options—unless we decide to start the work of taking them off.

It starts with asking ourselves some questions to discover how and why we’re holding ourselves back, including:

What’s the story I’m telling myself about why I can’t do what I want to do? What do I gain from holding onto this narrative? And what might I gain if I let it go?

Which beliefs have I inherited or absorbed from others? Why don’t these beliefs serve my highest good? And what would I do differently if I considered that they’re not actually true?

How might my inner critic be lying to me, attempting to keep me safe? How is this ‘safety’ actually a prison? And what’s the truth that would set me free?

It’s taken me over two decades to get past my internal block to settling in, and only in recent years did I even recognize it was there.

This makes sense, given that I also spent decades cementing the paralyzing beliefs that family should be close but distance = safety.

That’s often the case for a lot of us: Our beliefs were engrained over many years, which means it can take time to unearth and challenge them—and even longer to find the courage to consistently act in spite of them so that we can slowly build up evidence that it’s safe and beneficial to do so.

But it all starts with internal inquiry. It starts with looking within. It starts in silence and stillness and a willingness to question what we think we know.

If you do this, perhaps, like me, you’ll find that sometimes the most important piece of knowledge is the one you’re willing to let go.

If you’re interested in taking the mindful writing challenge I mentioned at the beginning (from Tiny Buddha contributor Nadia Colburn, who’s one of this month’s site sponsors), you can access it for free here.

Each day for five days, you’ll receive a fifteen-minute recording including a short meditation, an evocative poem, and a writing exercise inspired by that piece.

I hope you find the practice as illuminating and empowering as I did!

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About Lori Deschene

Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She started the site after struggling with depression, bulimia, c-PTSD, and toxic shame so she could recycle her former pain into something useful and inspire others do the same. She recently created the Breaking Barriers to Self-Care eCourse to help people overcome internal blocks to meeting their needs—so they can feel their best, be their best, and live their best possible life. If you’re ready to start thriving instead of merely surviving, you can learn more and get instant access here.

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How I Turned My Pain and Anxiety into Personal Growth

“The only way out is through.” ~Robert Frost

When I reflect on the past fifteen years of my life, I sometimes joke about my struggles to lighten the weight of what I’ve endured. “What struggle don’t I have?” I’d say, laughing, but beneath that humor is a real story of pain, burnout, and learning to rebuild myself, piece by piece.

I faced chronic pain, anxiety, emotional abuse, two burnouts, long COVID, and emotional eating—all before I hit my thirties. It’s been a long journey, and while I still have days where I’m not as happy as I want to be, I’m getting better every day.

I was born and raised in the Netherlands, quite literally in the home where I was born. I’m now twenty-seven and have spent most of my life in this same place.

Growing up, I had what you’d call a “normal” childhood until I turned twelve and began experiencing chronic pain—a constant burning sensation in my abdomen that no doctor could initially explain. For years, I pushed through it, unwilling to be the person people pitied or labeled as “sick.”

This pain was eventually diagnosed as ACNES (Anterior Cutaneous Nerve Entrapment Syndrome), a condition where a nerve in my stomach was trapped, causing me constant pain. For years, it was a mystery, and it wasn’t until I was seventeen that an injection finally brought me relief, almost like a miracle. But while this should have been a breakthrough, the universe had other plans.

Around the same time, I developed severe anxiety and panic attacks, triggered by an emotionally unhealthy relationship I’d been in since I was fourteen. The boy who had once been my best friend slowly became someone who contributed to my anxiety, often leaving me stranded when I needed support most.

By the time I was nineteen, I had burned out completely. My anxiety was overwhelming. I was juggling a full-time internship and school while trying to please a boyfriend who didn’t understand or care about my emotional needs. My body gave in. I had to quit my internship, forcing me to repeat a year of school. This felt like an enormous failure, especially since all my friends had moved on without me.

At my lowest, I often wondered if I could keep going. I cried endlessly, I felt isolated, and I was consumed by anxiety. My parents were my lifeline, but even they couldn’t fully pull me out of the depths of what I was feeling.

For years, I stayed in that relationship, convinced that my unhappiness was somehow my fault. But eventually, I became numb to the chaos. When we finally broke up, I felt a wave of relief I hadn’t known was possible.

Yet, the struggle didn’t end there. I managed to graduate with my HR degree and even found a job I enjoyed. Then ACNES returned with a vengeance.

I spent two years practically bedridden, unable to work, exercise, or socialize. I turned to food for comfort, which led to weight gain, further chipping away at my self-esteem. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I caught COVID at the end of 2020. Long COVID added brain fog, exhaustion, and concentration problems to my list of challenges.

But in the midst of all this, there was a turning point. About two years ago, during a particularly rough throat infection, I broke down. I couldn’t take the suffering anymore. As I cried, a realization hit me: I couldn’t control what was happening to me, but I could control how I responded.

That moment sparked a change in me. I began taking small steps to regain control over my life, starting with my mindset.

I began reading more about mindset and habit change. Books like Atomic Habits by James Clear and Good Vibes, Good Life by Vex King helped me see that I had the power to shape my own reality through my thoughts and actions.

I sought out therapy and started working with a therapist who reinforced that I was the only one responsible for my happiness.

I began making conscious decisions to take care of myself, even in small ways.

I also started implementing routines that helped anchor me. Each morning, I wake up at the same time, make my bed, do some light skincare, and journal. It sounds simple, but these small habits have helped me feel more in control, even when my health is unpredictable.

That said, I’m not here to advocate for any one-size-fits-all solution. I tried antidepressants when my anxiety was at its worst, and it was a good decision for me at the time. But what works for one person may not work for another. The key is to stay open to your options and trust your instincts.

Long COVID, ACNES, and anxiety are still part of my life, and I’m still working on losing the weight I gained during those difficult years. But I’m learning to be kinder to myself and take things one step at a time. I’ve learned that there’s no quick fix for deep-seated pain—physical or emotional—but there are ways to make life more manageable.

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is the value of self-worth. For years, I didn’t believe I deserved better than what I had, whether that was in relationships, my career, or how I treated myself. I had to remind myself daily that I was worthy of love, respect, and happiness. I used affirmations on sticky notes, mood boards, and even as my phone background—anything that would remind me of my worth when I felt down.

I also learned to prioritize rest and recognize when I needed a break. Especially with long COVID, I’ve had to listen to my body and respect its limits. I created a list of small, manageable tasks I could do when my energy was low, like organizing a drawer or dusting a room. These small actions helped me feel productive, even on days when I couldn’t do much.

It’s also worth mentioning that having a solid support system can make all the difference. I’m fortunate to have incredibly supportive parents and two close friends who I can open up to without fear of judgment. Sharing my struggles with them has been healing in itself, even though I still hesitate to be vulnerable with others.

If I could leave you with one piece of advice, it would be this: You are your greatest advocate. You are responsible for your well-being, and that means setting boundaries, prioritizing your mental and physical health, and not settling for less than you deserve. You’re worth the effort it takes to care for yourself properly.

As I continue to rebuild my life, I’ve started to share more of my experiences online through my personal growth site. I was once hesitant to be so open, but now I see the value in sharing my story. If my journey can help even one person feel less alone or inspire them to take action in their own life, then it’s worth it.

Ultimately, life will always throw challenges our way. We can’t control everything, but we can control how we respond. And sometimes, that’s enough.

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About Simone de Vlaming

Simone is a beauty lover and personal growth enthusiast from the Netherlands. When she’s not working on her personal growth site, We Mind Growth, she’s spending time with her beloved Shih-Tzu, Bailey, or enjoying a cozy night in with a good book. Follow her journey on Instagram @wemindgrowth.

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How to Honor Our Grief While Rebuilding Our Lives

“Grief is not something that ever goes away. You just learn to accommodate it so you can move forward in your life and over time it gets less intense, at least most of the time.” ~David Baxter

Grief is a natural response to loss. Loss can mean the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, the loss of a job or home, or a response to trauma, abuse, or betrayal. Grief shows itself differently in different people. But the common denominator is that grief goes deep, and grieving is painful.

Around six years ago, my life was turned upside down and would never be the same again.

I was raised in a cult from the age of nine. I was a child of domestic violence and divorce. My father abandoned the family, and we subsequently suffered abuse from my mother’s partners.

By age seventeen, I met a young man, and we began dating. In line with the strict moral code I was raised with, we were married by the time I was nineteen.

We had two children, and I struggled to be the perfect wife, mother, and cult member, as I suffered from severe anxiety, coupled with feelings of self-loathing and mistrust of others.

My husband was selfish and narcissistic, which led to me carrying the weight of the family almost alone. Yet, I battled on, wanting my children to grow up with both parents, feeling safe and in a strong, supportive community.

Eventually, things came to a head, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. After twenty years of marriage, I separated from my husband and was subsequently excommunicated by the cult. This meant that I was completely cut off from my mother, my community, and childhood friends—basically everything and everyone I knew and loved.

Outside of the cult, I had no one and nothing.

Almost overnight, I had lost my whole identity and support network along with beliefs that I had held on to for the whole of my life.

A few months after the excommunication, a close family member who was only twenty-seven took his own life. I was devastated and still reeling from the other losses that were still so raw.

Despite all of this, I was determined to rebuild a life for myself and my children. I educated myself, got a better job, made new friends, had relationships, and eventually met a good man who would go on to support and love me with all my struggles.

I was all about ‘moving on’ and building the life I wanted! But every now and then, I would get so very sad.

I was receiving counseling specific to my situation, which was helping, I had a good life, and those things that hurt me were in the past. I was doing all the ‘right’ things, so why was I getting so sad to the point that I wanted to push everything and everyone away and be alone?

I would feel like I had accomplished nothing and would be plagued with guilt and shame and regret. It would make me feel vulnerable and unsafe, and I couldn’t understand why.

Then, after another tearful and anxious weekend, I decided to try to focus on myself, meditate, journal, and do some yoga—all the things that usually helped at least ease the symptoms.

It was during my meditation session that it occurred to me: I am still grieving. I am grieving the loss of a childhood, the loss of my community, of my beliefs, of my family and friends. I am grieving the loss of my parents and of my beautiful nephew. I am grieving what I imagined my life would be and what I imagined my children’s lives would be.

I realized that grief doesn’t have a time limit; it doesn’t get ‘done.’ It’s not something we get through and tick off at the end.

My grief wasn’t just going to go away over time or with lots of positive thinking.

When we suffer loss, it hits us throughout our lives. And that’s okay. It’s uncomfortable and it’s sad, but it’s okay. It’s sometimes so painful that it is overwhelming or debilitating. We can allow ourselves to feel that sadness. We can grieve. We can allow ourselves a little space to honor that loss.

I write this because so many of us have suffered loss in our lives, and we so want to move on, do better, be better, and heal, and we can. But we also have to remember that the loss we felt was real, that grief is not a linear process, and that it’s okay if years later, we are still sad and grieving the loss. We have not gone back to the beginning. We’re not starting again or getting nowhere.

We cannot force ourselves to ‘get over it.’ We can, however, make room for that grief and still live a rewarding life. By honoring our grief, we can allow place for the loss but see that we can have a future and continue to work toward that.

I know I will never ‘get over’ the effects that abuse, abandonment, betrayal, and loss have had on me. I know I will always miss and feel sad about the loss of my nephew. I know I will always return to the grief because those things cannot be erased from my memory and because those things were my life and mattered to me.

But I can allow myself to grieve those losses without guilt or shame. I can soothe myself and take care of myself during those times when I am feeling fragile instead of beating myself up and berating myself for feeling that way and for not ‘being strong.’

When I do this, I come back feeling comforted and validated, and I can move on for a while to crafting the life I want to live. I can appreciate the friendships and relationships I have formed. I can explore new beliefs. I can entertain hope.

When I honor my grief, I honor the people I have loved and lost; I honor the beliefs I held and the hopes I had; I honor my hurt; and I honor that they were part of me and my journey and, in some ways, always will be. But I also allow myself to accept that I can honor my grief and still have a good life. I can rebuild. I can be happy.

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About Suzie Headley

Suzie Headley is a SEND Lecturer working with young people with a range of additional needs. She believes that each day of life is a gift and aims to live with mindful appreciation. She recently qualified as a yoga teacher and works alongside a charity making yoga accessible to SEND children and young people. Suzie loves the simple life and believes that it’s the little things that make life beautiful and fulfilling. 

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