3 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Trying Something New

“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” ~Lao Tzu

During the Great Recession I lost my business. And I was devastated.

My business partner and I built the company from an idea we were kicking around over wine into a thriving brand strategy agency. We had twenty employees. We had a cool studio office. We were winning creative awards competing against agencies many, many times our size. And then—slowly at first and then so, so fast—it was over.

I remember when I called time of death. We had yet another client come in and say they couldn’t pay us anymore. Not because they were going to a competitor, but because they were in financial trouble themselves.

We had already laid off all our employees except for our office manager. We had already reduced our own paychecks. We had one or two clients left, but it just wasn’t fun anymore. I couldn’t see the way forward. And I was exhausted.

I told my business partner that I needed to stop, and that we needed to shut it down. I was beyond sad. I was numb.

I would have looked for a job, but it was the Great Recession. No one was hiring. Luckily, my husband still had a job, so we were in better shape than many.

I tried to focus on my health by taking up tennis and playing golf. But I wasn’t motivated.

I tried getting more involved in the kid’s school. But I didn’t feel fulfilled.

I felt like I had no identity. I was embarrassed and ashamed even though every other agency I knew about had either closed or was struggling. 

I graduated from Duke University. I had an MBA. I was supposed to do great things. And yet, here I was with nothing to say when someone asked, “What do you do?”.

We spent a few weeks in California with my in-laws. The change of scenery helped a little. (My mother-in-law did not.)

I finally got around to taking the Meditation for Stress Relief program. That helped a little too.

Finally, about nine long months later I was playing golf with a friend who was an executive-in-residence at a nearby university, and her phone rang. It was her department chair wanting to know if she knew anyone who could teach entrepreneurship. She handed the phone to me, and a few meetings later, the job was mine—if I wanted it.

Now, I knew I knew lots about entrepreneurship. But teaching? Nada. Nothing.

And that wasn’t the career I had planned.

And, because it was an adjunct position, the pay wasn’t nearly enough to make it interesting.

I went round and round. Do I do it? Do I not do it? It’s not in the right direction. It doesn’t pay enough. That doesn’t move me forward. What if I don’t like it…… 

I was making my family and friends nuts with the indecision, and I had to work quickly because the new semester was only a month away.

What should I do. What should I do.

But the universe (and my golf buddy) had opened a door for me. So I took a deep breath, gathered all my courage, put my money concerns aside, and walked through.

Today I consider myself an educator first. Walking through that door connected me with my life’s purpose. I am a teacher.

But before this all happened, the thought had never crossed my mind.

Becoming a professor (they brought me on full time after one semester) and figuring out how to TEACH entrepreneurship completely reframed the way I think about business. I couldn’t just tell my students “that’s how it works because I did it and it worked for me.” I had to be able to explain WHY. And find examples of each step working for other people.

Taking advantage of an opportunity I had never even considered opened up door after door and shaped the business I have today. Even though it initially looked like it was a complete detour from my career goals and the money in no way justified the decision.

If you find yourself at a crossroads—a career crossroads, a relationship crossroads, a financial crossroads— look around and see if there are any doors that might be open that you’re ignoring. Laser focus on a singular outcome can be a powerful motivator, but it also drastically reduces your options and can obscure other routes to success. It can be useful to remember that career/relationship/financial growth is almost never a straight line.

How will you know a door when you see one?

Someone asking you if you know someone who can do X. Maybe that person is you?

Maybe an organization you belong to is looking for workshop facilitators or volunteers? Maybe that person is you?

Maybe you hear about an opportunity to do something that scares you a little bit—an open mic night, a writer’s retreat, a community gathering on a local initiative. Maybe you go and say hello to the person sitting next to you?

And once you find that open door, here are a few things you might consider before you walk through:

Does the opportunity appeal to you other than it’s not in line with your stated goals?

In my case, I was absolutely intrigued about the opportunity to teach. It was scary because I wasn’t sure I’d be good at it. It was challenging because I hadn’t done it before. But I felt like it might be really fun. And fun counts.

Will you learn something and connect with new people?

As a lecturer in entrepreneurship, I would be developing an entirely new skill set. Additionally, I would have a chance to work with a large group of colleagues that would significantly expand my network.

What is the next best alternative?

For me, it was continuing to mope around and send resumes into the ether at a time when no one was hiring. Engaging in something, even if it wasn’t financially rewarding, gave me new energy and a much more positive perspective. And it led to the next opportunity to join the faculty full time and be compensated accordingly.

Sometimes the most transformative opportunities come disguised as detours or distractions. But when there’s a door that’s sitting open, consider walking through it and seeing what’s on the other side. It’s rarely irreversible, you will always learn something, and it might be EXACTLY what you were looking for all along.

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About Laura Zavelson

Laura Zavelson, MBA, is a corporate escapee turned serial entrepreneur, former professor of entrepreneurship and business strategist. She helps GenXers who are laid off, pissed off, pushed out or burned out by corporate life, capitalize on what they already know to build businesses that lead to more meaning, flexibility and financial success. She is the creator of The GenX Escape Plan - A 3 step guide to your new career as a coach, consultant or independent expert.

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Grief Has No Rules: Love, Loss, and Letting Go

“Grief never ends … But it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith. It is the price of love.” ~Unknown

“Thank you for letting me know.” The moment I hung up the phone, the tears came. I was confused and caught off guard. Why was I crying over the death of my ex-husband?

We’d separated six years ago. I had a new partner and hadn’t thought much about him in over three years. So why did his death hit me so hard?

Big Girls Don’t Cry

Growing up in Ireland, emotions weren’t something we talked about. Tears were for small children, not grown women. When I was upset, I’d hear the same phrase, “Big girls don’t cry.” It wasn’t meant to hurt me, but it stayed with me.

I learned to swallow my feelings. Anger, sadness, fear—those were things you kept private. I thought strength meant holding it all in. But as I grew older, that kind of strength felt heavy.

When my ex-husband died, all of it came rushing back. The sadness, the confusion, the guilt. And then the shame. Why couldn’t I just be stronger? Why couldn’t I pull myself together like I was supposed to?

Grief and Guilt Collide

I felt like I was failing. Crying didn’t just feel wrong—it felt like a betrayal. A betrayal of my upbringing, of the image I had of myself, and even of my current relationship. I couldn’t stop thinking: What if my partner saw me like this? Would he understand? Would he think I still loved my ex?

The guilt weighed on me. But so did the fear. I wanted to go to the funeral, but I was terrified. What would his family think if I showed up? Would they see my tears and think I didn’t deserve to grieve? Would they think I was pretending?

I wanted to hide. I wanted to run away from the emotions I wasn’t supposed to have. But this time, something inside me told me to stay.

Reaching Out for Support

I couldn’t carry it alone anymore. The grief, the guilt, the fear—it was all too much. For the first time in my life, I did something I’d always avoided. I reached out.

I called my mum.

At first, I hesitated. My instinct was to keep it together, to pretend I was fine. But the moment she picked up, the words spilled out. I told her everything. How lost I felt. How ashamed I was for crying. How afraid I was of what people would think if they saw me like this.

She didn’t say much at first. She just listened.

The Power of One Simple Truth

Then, when I finally stopped talking, she said something simple. “It’s okay to feel this, you know. You loved him once. That doesn’t just go away.”

Her words broke something open in me. I cried harder than I had in years, but for the first time, I didn’t feel alone in it. She stayed on the phone while I let it all out. She didn’t try to fix it or tell me to stop. She just stayed.

That moment was a turning point. I started to see that grief wasn’t something to fight against or hide from. It was something I had to let myself feel. And asking for support didn’t make me weak. If anything, it gave me strength.

Leaning on my mum helped me find my footing. I wasn’t over the loss—not even close—but I felt less trapped by it. For the first time, I could breathe again.

Facing My Fears at The Funeral

I arrived early at the church with my friend, my stomach in knots. The air felt heavy, like it knew I didn’t belong here—or at least, that’s what my mind kept telling me.

A car pulled in beside us, and my heart sank. It was his sister. Without thinking, I slumped down in the seat, silently pleading for the ground to swallow me whole. What am I doing here? I wasn’t sure I could face their grief. I wasn’t sure I could face my own.

But I’d come this far, and I couldn’t back out now.

Finding Unexpected Comfort

Dragging my feet, I walked toward the church door. Each step felt heavier than the last. I caught a glimpse of his brother standing near the entrance, and panic bubbled up in my chest. I almost turned and ran.

My friend, sensing my hesitation, gently squeezed my elbow. It was a small gesture, but it steadied me. I kept walking.

Then I saw her—his sister—standing at the church door. Her eyes locked with mine. There was no way out now. I braced myself, expecting a cold stare, a sharp word, maybe even outright anger.

Instead, she stepped forward. And then, before I could react, she wrapped her arms around me. The hug was warm and full of love. It broke down every wall I’d built up in my mind.

Finding Solace in Shared Memories

Inside, the service was simple and poignant. The priest spoke softly, and memories of our life together floated through my mind—some good, some hard, all real. As the coffin was carried out of the church, I felt the tears welling up again.

My friend placed an arm around my waist and gave me a little squeeze. For a moment, I considered pulling away, trying to summon that old stiff upper lip. Pretending I was fine. But I didn’t. I let the tears fall.

After the service, the family invited me for a drink. It was an Irish funeral, after all. I hesitated, unsure if I belonged in their circle of mourning, but their warmth melted my fear. As we shared stories about him—some that made us laugh, others that brought tears to our eyes—I realized something profound. We had all loved this man in our own ways, and in that moment, our shared grief united us.

Carrying the Sadness, Embracing the Joy

Leaving the funeral, I felt a strange mix of emotions. The heaviness of loss was still there, but so was something else—a sense of lightness, even relief.

The family’s kindness had reminded me of something I’d forgotten in my guilt and fear. I wasn’t just grieving a person; I was grieving a chapter of my life. My ex and I had shared 18 years together. Those years mattered. They shaped me into who I am today.

A Beautiful Realization About Love

At first, I struggled to reconcile those feelings with the love I have for my current partner. I worried that my grief might hurt him or make him feel less important. But over time, I realized something beautiful: love isn’t a competition. There’s space for both past and present love in my heart.

I still feel sad when I think about my ex. Some days, it sneaks up on me—a song he used to love, a random memory, or even a quiet moment when the world feels still. But I’ve learned that sadness doesn’t mean I’m stuck or broken. It’s just a part of healing, a reminder of the love we shared and the lessons we learned together.

Lessons Learned Through Grief

• Grief Has No Rules: It’s okay to mourn someone even if your relationship wasn’t perfect or ended long ago. Grief is deeply personal and unpredictable.
• Emotions Are Strength, Not Weakness: Feeling your emotions doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human. Suppressing them only makes the weight heavier.
• Ask for Support: You don’t have to carry grief alone. Lean on those who care for you and let them help lighten your burden.
• Grief and Growth Can Coexist: Mourning someone is also an opportunity to reflect on what that relationship taught you and how it shaped you.
• Healing Takes Time: There’s no timeline for healing. Be patient and gentle with yourself as you navigate the journey.

Grief isn’t something we “get over.” It’s something we carry with us, but over time, it becomes lighter. We make space for it, and in doing so, we make space for love, connection, and joy again.

If you’ve experienced grief, know that you’re not alone. Share your story in the comments below or reach out to someone who can support you. Sometimes, simply being heard can be the first step toward healing.

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About Samantha Carolan

Sam Carolan is a personal development blogger and EFT coach passionate about helping women embrace the beauty and challenges of midlife. Through her work at Loving Midlife, she offers insights, tools, and inspiration to navigate life’s transitions with grace and resilience. When she’s not writing or coaching, Sam enjoys reading, horse riding, and yoga.

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How to Finally Believe That You Are Enough

“We often block our own blessings because we don’t feel inherently good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, or worthy enough. But you’re worthy because you are born and because you are here. Your being alive makes worthiness your birthright. You alone are enough.” ~Oprah Winfrey

When I was a little girl, I loved making cute drawings at school and gifting them to friends and family. I’d pour my heart into them, and at the end of the day, I’d rush home, all excited to give my treasured creations. I was such a happy kid! Always running and jumping up and down the street, noticing quirky details on the road and picking flowers to bring home.

This one, I made my mom a drawing. When I got home, I stood beside her, my eyes sparkling with anticipation, only to see her looking at it with disdain. She harshly criticized what she thought was badly drawn on paper and then tossed it in the trash. I looked at her, shocked and hurt, as she said: “What do you want me to say, that this drawing is beautiful? It isn’t.”

I wish I could say it was the first time I had an interaction like that, but the reality is that it happened again and again. So much so that I gave it a name: “not enough notes to the self.”

These are the moments when something happens that makes you start questioning your worth, and you begin internalizing that somehow, your being and whatever you do is not and will never be enough. If you have a few moments like these in your life, it may not leave so deep of a scar, but when the notes pile up, you start feeling differently about who you are.

You go from being purely and authentically you to shrinking into a mold of what’s expected of you, even if the mold keeps changing and becoming more demanding each time. You realize you’re damned if you do but also damned if you don’t, and without the right tools to escape the conundrum, you feel like you have no other option but to keep going in the hopes of someone seeing you and telling you that you are enough.

That’s what happened to me.

Too many events, people, and circumstances told me I wasn’t enough. And I believed it. So, I spent most of my life trying to prove I was.

I attempted to be the best at everything, with no room for error, because maybe if I were perfect, I would finally be enough. But no matter how hard I tried, the goalpost just kept moving.

Then, after years of healing from past traumas, I heard a voice inside me that said, “To the eyes of the Universe, you are enough.” And it clicked! It does not matter what the world says, I am enough, so there is no need to prove it! I always was.

I wish I could tell you I instantly embraced that thought. But by then, I had spent my whole life trying to prove myself, hiding behind a perfectionist facade, weighed down by anxiety and the need to please others, so it wasn’t easy to suddenly believe I was enough without all the trying and the masking.

I had to reflect deeply and ‘do the work’ to get my mind, body, and soul to align with this newfound truth. It was such a beautiful journey of self-love and acceptance, and I cannot wait to share it with you today so you too can realize the undeniable truth that you are enough, and always were, and free yourself to bask in the happiness of knowing. And achieve your goals and wildest dreams along the way without having ‘not-enough notes to the self’ blocking you from the life you’re meant to live.

Ready?

The first step I took was to dig deep into my mind to find all the ‘not enough notes to the self’ I had on repeat all these years. I looked back into my past and screened for the moments that made me believe I was not enough. I had many, and from time to time, new ones pop up in my head, but I softly smile at them, like when you encounter an old friend you still care about, but the friendship is over. No hate, only love from a distance.

Reflecting on these moments, I started to grasp why I felt so worthless. While you may know why you’re haunted by feelings of not being enough, seeing these moments reflected on paper or flying through your mind during meditation makes something click inside you. You just get it.

And I did. But getting it is one thing, and deprogramming years, decades of not-enoughness is another. That’s where step number two enters the chat: changing the belief that you are not enough.

Convincing myself I am enough was all about lovingly and repeatedly reminding myself of my enoughness as a birthright and showing it through actions as if parenting my inner child and undoing the parenting I received as a little girl. For that, I used daily affirmations and meditations where I would sit in the present moment and just be.

That allowed me to constantly get back to myself and the truth of who I am: a loving and lovable individual, no perfection needed.

I started asking powerful questions and practicing self-love. Notice I didn’t say, “I started loving myself.” Back then, I had no idea how to do that, so I just started practicing. I’d ask myself what I’d do if I loved myself. If I knew at my core that I was enough, who would I be? How would I behave?

This shift was life-changing, and it naturally led me to the next and sort of final step of the journey: to look at my surroundings and reevaluate my relationships. As I began to treat myself with more love and respect, I inevitably started noticing how other people treated me through a different lens.

As one should expect, when you believe that you are not enough, you tolerate certain situations and behaviors that are detrimental to your health and well-being. Embracing your enoughness leaves little room for that.

So, I went through a painful period of reevaluating, transforming, and even ending some unhealthy relationships. But in the process, I ended up creating space for true, loving, and respectful relationships that make me feel safe, worthy, and enough.

My list of ‘not enough notes to the self’ grew smaller. And as it did, my life expanded in ways I could’ve never imagined. But let’s get real: This is a lifelong journey, which is why there’s no definitive last step, just a powerful sort-of-last step.

The beauty of this process is that you can revisit it time and time again to reconnect with the undeniable truth that you are enough and create the beautiful life you deserve. One thing I can tell you for sure: It gets easier and more natural every time.

Remember, you are enough because you always were. Time to start walking and talking like it!

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About Erika Sardinha

Erika Sardinha is an empowerment coach for survivors based in the Canary Islands. She helps survivors reclaim their right to be gentle and achieve success in an aligned way, honoring themselves and their journey. She offers private and group coaching for people who've been through trauma while providing various free resources to her community. Check Erika's Free Community of badass thriving survivors: Happy Survivors Tribe, and grab her Guilt-free Self-care Guide for Trauma and Abuse Survivors (also free)!

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The Secret to Changing Your Relationship with Food

Anyone who knows me well knows that I battled with food and my body for years.

I struggled with bulimia for over a decade, starting when I was twelve. My eating disorder was in many ways a coping mechanism in response to trauma, but early programming around food didn’t help.

I ate to soothe myself. I ate to stuff down my feelings. And as a bulimic, I ate to feel the control I felt when I was able to reverse the process of consumption.

Though I technically recovered in my early twenties, I spent many years after that sticking to only “good” foods—which, ironically, included foods that were highly processed and/or loaded with sugar because “good,” to me, meant low- or no-fat.

I found it hard to enjoy food until my mid-thirties because my diet was so restrictive and my fear around eating “bad” foods was so intense.

Now that I have a much healthier relationship with eating—and I see how profoundly this has affected my self-esteem and quality of life—I have a deep appreciation for those who help people find peace with food and their bodies.

That’s why I’m thrilled to introduce you to Jules Clancy’s work today (if you’re not already familiar).

She was one of the site’s earliest contributors close to fourteen years ago now, which makes it extra exciting to have her as a site sponsor this month.

She’s also a former food scientist turned health coach who has struggled with binge eating herself—so she not only understands what our bodies need to thrive; she gets the emotional struggle that compels so many of us to overeat.

If you’ve struggled with bingeing and restricting—and gaining and losing weight—I have a feeling you’ll appreciate her free webinar, The Secret to Changing Your Relationship with Food.

Or in full: The Secret to Changing Your Relationship with Food so you feel peace around food and weight and your clothes fit again for the long term (even if your self-belief is low after trying and failing so many times).

It’s short—just under a half-hour—but it’s also highly actionable. Though Jules also offers a paid program, the webinar itself could be the perfect jumpstart to healthier, more enjoyable eating.

I was pleased to recognize that I already do a lot of what she recommends (and, in fact, I credit this approach to eating with saving my sanity and quite possibly my life). But I noticed some areas for improvement and appreciated the opportunity to reflect on the changes I might want to make to bring even more intention and pleasure to my diet.

If you love food but don’t love your current habits or your body, I highly recommend you sign up for this free training.

Jules’ authenticity, relatability, and expertise make her the perfect guide for anyone who wants to boost their health and feel good in their skin without sacrificing the pleasure of eating.

If you’d like to get instant access to the free training, you can sign up here.

I hope it’s helpful to you!

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About Lori Deschene

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

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Escaping Escapism: From Drinking to Scrolling to Being Present

“Sit with it. Instead of drinking it away, smoking it away, sleeping it away, eating it away, or running from it. Just sit with it. Healing happens by feeling.” ~Unknown

I had no idea I had so many feelings until four years ago. I became sober and immediately started overflowing with emotions—emotions I never knew I had.

I stopped drinking just over a month after my twenty-fifth birthday, in January of 2021. I drank a lot in college, often going out Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights every week. Once I graduated, though, my drinking mellowed. I was still going out, but paying for my own drinks (as opposed to the free flow of alcohol at a college party) forced me to drink less to save more.

Early in 2020, my drinking increased again due to being stuck inside while in an unpleasant living situation. By the end of 2020, though, I again wasn’t drinking much—maybe a glass of wine or two during the weekend. I was, however, smoking weed daily.

Cannabis, a substance used by many to calm their anxiety, did the opposite for me. Every day after work, I would sit on the front porch and smoke a joint—through rain, snow, anything. I loved the heady feeling of being high.

When I was high, I felt motivated to become a better person (that motivation, however, lacked follow-up action). I felt like a child again, seeing everything with wonder in my (droopy red) eyes.

While I enjoyed the effects of weed, I also felt my anxiety, an ever-present being in my psyche, slowly become more intense. One harrowing night, after being up for hours having panic attacks caused by both alcohol and weed, I made the decision to try sobriety.

I went into sobriety with no expectations. It was an experiment for me, although I had a hunch I was on the right path. Would not smoking help my mental health? Would quitting drinking lower my anxiety? I was about to find out.

I realized that something changes when you stop engaging with harmful substances, almost like a switch slowly flips the less mind-altering drugs are in your body. Things become clear, like taking off glasses you didn’t know you were wearing. You realize things and remember things, especially things you didn’t expect. Thoughts you had forgotten, memories you thought you blocked, trauma you thought you had released.

There’s something about the absence of anything mind-altering in the body that makes things abundantly transparent. In early sobriety, I discovered that the anxiety I thought I was healed from was only lying dormant.

I’ve had anxiety my entire life; some of my earliest memories are of being anxious. I remember starting kindergarten nervous that my peers would make fun of me for the way I chewed.

By January 2021, I thought I had my anxiety under control. I was on the same medication I had started nine years prior. I was going to therapy regularly. I was familiar with the feeling of butterflies taking over my stomach, the wash of heat or cold that would overtake me during a really anxious moment.

I did not, however, know how to manage my anxiety without any substances. The second I stopped smoking daily, it felt like all the suppressed anxiety came to haunt me. My legs were constantly bouncing. My stomach was constantly upset. My heart was constantly pounding. I couldn’t go a day without at least an hour of panic attacks.

I was terrified and confused, thinking to myself, Shouldn’t I be feeling better? I thought I moved past these intense feelings ages ago.

With time, my panic attacks became fewer and farther between. I learned to allow the feelings to flow through my body—my legs would eventually stop bouncing, my stomach would eventually feel normal, my heart would eventually return to its natural rhythm.

But I still unconsciously tried to find distractions. I drank caffeine, and I scrolled on social media. I read a pile of self-help books without taking any action. Just reading the book is enough to feel successful in self-improvement, right? But really, I was in the same place as I was pre-sobriety. The only difference was I was suppressing my feelings with social media instead of the bottle or a joint.

Then I woke up one day and recognized that social media was serving the same purpose as substances did. I would get up on the weekends feeling hungover, even though I hadn’t drank the night before. I had, however, scrolled TikTok for an hour.

Getting out of bed after bingeing social media feels like getting out of bed after bingeing alcohol. I had stopped using substances, but I hadn’t stopped doing everything I could to get away from experiencing everything happening inside me.

Once I had this realization, I tried, desperately, to process my emotions, to feel my feelings, but the lure of TikTok was so strong. I’d tell myself only five minutes but would be in the same position an hour later with a stiff neck, berating myself for bingeing TikTok yet again.

Escapism was screaming in my ear, and it was so, so easy to give in. Reaching for a phone takes a second; processing an emotion takes minutes. Which one is easier? Which one is more beneficial? Which one will make me feel better?

I was stuck in this cycle of wanting to be in touch with my feelings, of wanting to embrace life, but continually falling into the trap of one addiction or another because it’s Just. So. Easy.

Our phones were designed to suck us in and rewire our brains to use them to escape our lives. And no matter how much I recognize that and how much I want to be fully present every day, I can’t seem to stop trying to ignore my feelings.

Every day when I get home from work, I ‘decompress,’ using my thirty minutes of allotted TikTok time curled up on the couch. I do feel refreshed after, but I can’t help but think, how close are we to living in the spaceship from Wall-E? How soon will we all be so glued to technology we’ll be physically allergic to human emotion?

When there were talks of TikTok getting banned in the US, people were freaking out. Influencers who make their income on the app were posting videos on where else they could be found. People were revealing secrets—some influencers even admitted to building their platforms on lies.

When did we become so dependent on an app? How have we gone from dial-up internet to tiny computers in our pockets that we can use anytime, anywhere in the course of my lifetime? And why are social media apps designed like casinos—to give us little dopamine hits here and there to keep us engaged and addicted?

When I phrase it like that, social media can be easily seen as evil. However, social media has also done a lot of good.

I’ve used TikTok to find tips on managing anxiety, on curing migraines, and workouts.

People have donated the money they’ve made to good causes—to rebuilding Asheville after Hurricane Helene, to Planned Parenthood, and to buy school lunches for children.

Unknown authors, singers, and comedians have gained fans and recognition.

How can something that’s done so much good be so bad at the same time? How do we, as humans with pleasure-seeking brains, reconcile this dichotomy? I regularly have this conversation with my therapist, as I recognize how far I’ve come.

It took two years of sobriety for me to WANT to acknowledge my feelings. Although I had been in therapy on and off since I was a child, my therapy became much more effective post-sobriety.

I felt like I was on the fast track to healing, like before I had been dragging my feet with my therapist, and now we were running together like athletes. It still took a while, however, to turn away from escapism and embrace my inner world.

It’s taken another two years to start becoming aware of every time I turn to one of my vices. Life is so busy that it’s easy for me to go a week drinking caffeine every day, or extending my TikTok screen time for fifteen more minutes four times in a row.

It’s taken years of building knowledge of what makes me feel good (for real) and what makes me feel like substances used to—good for a moment, bad for a while.

I love reading, and I always feel refreshed after taking some time out of my day to read. Listening to music can always put me in a good mood. How long is it going to take for me to fully let go of technology, of dampening my emotions to avoid unpleasantness? Will I ever find peace?

Had someone told me four years ago I would be writing about the similarities between substances and social media, I would’ve laughed and said, “They’re both so fun; they make my life better!” But that’s addiction, isn’t it? Even if you don’t have “a problem,” looking to external sources for your happiness will always end in suffering.

Although sobriety hasn’t solved my desire to escape, I do feel a lot better than before, and I continue improving every day. Over time, I’ve learned to accept and sit with my emotions. I know that everything will pass, even the most unpleasant feelings.

Four years in, I finally understand that vices are a way to run away from feelings. I may never totally escape escapism, but as long as I continue trying to choose presence and awareness, that will have to be enough.

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About Melissa Moxey

Melissa Moxey is a special education teacher from the East Coast. She enjoys exploring the connection between ancient teachings and current society and writing about how anxiety has impacted her life. She currently lives in The Bahamas with her cat, Margaux.

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The Value of Doing Nothing in a Hyperproductive World

“Allow yourself to be bored a little. In our world full of distractions, create some space for nothingness.” ~Unknown

My roommate sat in the kitchen, eating his late home-cooked dinner, and commented with a half-mocking smile, “Ah, you’re still living.”

The words hung in the air, awkwardly playful but sharp enough to sting. They echoed something larger: the subtle judgment that creeps into our culture of relentless productivity.

Confusion bubbled up inside me, followed quickly by shame. My cheeks turned red. I had spent most of this sunny Saturday alone in my room—reading books, listening to music, writing a little, and, to be honest, staring out the window, feeling restless.

“What do you do all day?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Yes, what I felt was definitely shame. In a world that glorifies busyness, I often feel like a criminal for spending an entire day at home, or for strolling through the city without real plans. The implicit expectation to do something, to make the day “count,” feels suffocating.

“Reading and writing,” I replied, suppressing the urge to explain myself.

He looked puzzled. “You can’t fill a whole day with writing, can you? Isn’t that boring?”

Here it was: the quintessential clash between introversion and extroversion. He didn’t understand me, though, in fairness, I think he wanted to. I was tempted to agree, to downplay my day and say, “Yes, it’s boring sometimes.” But I stopped myself.

Because recently, I’ve realized something important: I need that stillness.

The Shame of “Doing Nothing”

His confusion wasn’t just personal; it felt like a question society constantly asks people like me: What are you doing with your time? In a culture that glorifies constant productivity, the idea of having unstructured time is almost heretical. If you’re not ticking off items on a to-do list or working toward a measurable goal, then what exactly are you contributing?

This shame runs deeper than personal insecurity—it’s rooted in a culture that values productivity above all else. The industrial revolution reinforced the belief that time is money, a resource to be maximized. Today, even our leisure activities are judged: hobbies are monetized, vacations become opportunities for curated Instagram posts, and relaxation feels like something we must earn.

For me, this shame shows up in subtle ways. If I spend an afternoon reading or writing without a clear goal, I catch myself justifying it: It’s practice for my craft. When a friend asks how my weekend went, I feel compelled to list the “productive” things I did—chores, errands, something quantifiable—before admitting that I spent hours simply being. It’s as though I need permission to slow down, even from myself.

But this obsession with busyness comes at a cost. It fuels burnout, anxiety, and a relentless sense of inadequacy. It leaves us disconnected from ourselves and the quiet, unstructured moments that bring clarity and peace. What happens when we’re always striving to prove our worth through what we achieve? We lose the ability to simply be.

Stillness as a Portal to Creativity

What I’ve come to understand is that restlessness isn’t the enemy. It’s the hum beneath the surface where creativity brews. When I sit still or let myself feel bored, something unexpected arises: a fleeting thought, a fresh perspective, or a spark of an idea. Those unhurried moments, I’ve learned, are where the magic happens.

Our culture teaches us to fear downtime, to see it as wasted hours. However, it’s often in those “empty” moments that our most meaningful insights emerge. I’ve had some of my best ideas while folding laundry or lying on the couch doing nothing in particular.

As Julia Cameron writes in The Artist’s Way, creativity requires spaciousness. She even prescribes a full week of media deprivation—no social media, no podcasts, no books—to help artists reconnect with their inner world. By removing distractions, she argues, we create the room to truly sit with our feelings and thoughts.

In my own life, I’ve noticed this truth. Some of my favorite moments are not grand or planned—they’re the small, unexpected joys that arise during quiet days. When I’m doing dishes, I’ll start humming, then singing, and maybe even dancing. What felt like a mundane chore transforms into a moment of aliveness.

Why We Need Unstructured Days

The irony is that the days I spend without clear plans often end up being the most productive—not in a traditional sense, but in the way they nurture my inner world. These are the days when my thoughts settle, untangle, and expand. They’re not lazy days; they’re spacious ones.

In fact, I’ve started to see quiet time as a quiet rebellion against a world that demands constant output. When I allow myself to slow down, to let go of the need to perform or produce, I’m pushing back against a culture that equates worth with busyness.

But this isn’t easy. Society tells us to fear idleness, to run from it with endless distractions: a scroll through Instagram, a new TV series, a side hustle. Slowing down feels countercultural, even indulgent. But I believe it’s necessary.

The next time someone questions how you spend your time—or when you catch yourself feeling guilty for slowing down—try reframing the question. What if restlessness isn’t wasted time, but the soil where creativity and self-discovery take root?

A New Definition of Productivity

So, was my roommate right? Is it boring? Sure, sometimes. But that quietness isn’t a problem; it’s a gift. It’s the pause between notes in a symphony, the blank page before a story. It’s not laziness; it’s space where something always stirs.

What if we saw stillness differently—not as something to avoid, but as a doorway to clarity, creativity, and reflection?

Maybe it’s time for your own experiment. Turn off the noise, let yourself stare out the window, and see what stirs in the quiet. You might be surprised at what emerges.

What about you? How do you feel about unstructured time? Is it something you avoid, or have you discovered its unexpected value? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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About Maria Kleine

Maria Kleine is a psychologist (M.Sc.) with a deep curiosity for personal development, creativity, and interpersonal relationships. On her blog, mariakleine.com, she blends psychological insights with a holistic approach to self-growth. Through practical advice on creativity and well-being, Maria encourages self-reflection and transformation, offering readers a space to grow alongside her. Her unique perspective bridges professional expertise and personal experience, making her blog an inspiring journey of self-discovery.

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When Love Isn’t Enough: The Lessons I Learned from my Breakup

“This is not where your story ends. It’s simply where it takes a turn you didn’t expect.” ~Cheryl Strayed

He had the courage to say what I couldn’t.

“It’s not working anymore.”

It didn’t make any sense that we were breaking up. We loved each other so much. We had been talking about getting engaged. Our couples therapy was moving in a positive direction, even when it was really challenging.

When he said those words, I knew I wasn’t going to argue with him. As much as we loved each other, we had taken the relationship as far as it could go.

But this isn’t a story about lost love. It’s about all the love you can find when it leaves.

I knew our relationship had felt off for a while.

Earlier in the day before the breakup, when he went to the bar to watch the football game, I got down on my knees and prayed for clarity. I felt lost about whether I should stay and fight for the relationship or if it was time for it to end.

Our relationship felt like a back-and-forth struggle for months. We even took a long weekend trip to New Orleans to reignite our spark. But when we got back home, it seemed like one minute he was my one-man cheering section at my half marathon, and the next we were yelling at each other sitting in our parked car.

The minute I prayed for help, I knew that the relationship needed to end. But I wasn’t willing to be honest and admit that to myself. I wasn’t really ready to say those words out loud. I didn’t want them to be true, even though I knew deep down that they were true.

A few hours later, he walked in the door and said the words no one wants to hear, “We need to talk.”

And then began a two-hour-long conversation about ending our relationship and honoring what we had shared together. We had dated off and on for almost five years, living together for two. And it was over.

While we had fun together and had undeniable chemistry, our compatibility never fit together. He had plenty of trauma from his past, and he questioned me when I encouraged him to have a life of his own outside of the relationship. He feared that if he was fully himself, I would yell and try to control him.

And I had my own issues where I tried for so long to twist myself into being the perfect girlfriend. Eventually I got tired of pretending to be someone I wasn’t, but he didn’t seem to like who I really was. So, I made myself as small as possible, trying to be pleasing and acceptable but struggling to also be myself.

It seemed that we loved each other, and we managed to bring out the worst in each other, despite all our best efforts.

Loving someone isn’t always enough for a successful relationship. In our situation, we really were each other’s biggest cheerleader. And we wanted success and happiness so much for the other person that we masked our true selves. 

I can’t speak for him, but I was afraid if I stepped into my full, powerful self that I would be rejected and told I was too much. I feared being abandoned once he saw me for who I really was.

I learned too late into the relationship to let myself be vulnerable and real. By the time I did, our dynamic patterns had already been established, and the change was too much. He reacted in ways that reinforced my worst fears—that I was unlovable, that I was asking too much, that my real self wasn’t worthy of love.

I deeply regret not being myself from day one in the relationship. But the pain of regret is a powerful teacher.

I don’t know if our relationship would have gone differently if I had been real from the beginning. Maybe it would have never started. Or maybe it would have gone the distance. There’s no way to know.

But that’s not a lingering question I’m willing to have in the future. I knew this relationship was teaching me that I DO matter, and I needed to learn how to be myself without the masks.

It took me a lot of deep inner work to rebuild my confidence after that relationship ended. I needed to believe that I would be okay no matter what happened if I revealed who I am at the beginning of a relationship. 

I practiced picking myself up after rejection and letting myself feel those really icky feelings that I had been trying to avoid—feelings like despair, disappointment, embarrassment, and shame.

One of the hardest parts of mourning the breakup was that no one had done anything wrong. I had to learn to live in the paradox that we love each other and breaking up was the right thing. I learned that it’s enough that I don’t want to be in that relationship dynamic anymore.

Pain is here as our teacher. It shows up to let us know what not to do.

Most people want to rush through the pain as fast as possible. It’s not comfortable to allow the pain to be there without trying to make it all better.

But when you learn how to sit with the pain and befriend it, there is so much wisdom to learn.

My pain showed me all the ways I avoid being with myself and all the ways I had already abandoned myself—before any boyfriend could even have a chance. I was so quick to blame my problems on everyone else and then complain to my friends over glasses of rosé. I numbed my pain with wine, partying, hookups, nights out with friends, and Netflix.

I see now that when I do that repeatedly, I end up not receiving pain’s wisdom. And instead, my life keeps giving me the same lesson over and over until I’m ready to learn it.

I signed up with a therapist, a coach, and a women’s embodiment group. Each one brought a different way of guiding me to the lesson I was really avoiding:

No one can abandon me if I don’t abandon myself first.

I had to learn to love all of me. Even the parts that I think aren’t worthy. And I’m not writing this because I’m done learning, and I figured it all out. But I’m willing to learn, and I’m trying to be a bit more loving every day. 

I remember being on a retreat in Mexico with my women’s group in the final moments of our time together. I raised my hand for coaching in front of everyone for the first time. I brought my messiest self and braced myself for shame.

Instead, I let myself look in the eyes of the women around me as I shared my messiest self, and I saw nothing but love being reflected to me.

My messiest self was lovable. I can bring her with me. I don’t have to be perfect, and I don’t have to show up how I think other people need me to be. I can just be me.

I still struggle with this, honestly. I still try to be perfect and have it all figured out. But I remember back to the version of me in that relationship, and she seems so different from the woman I am today. I look at her with so much compassion because she’s trying so hard to be lovable.

She hasn’t accepted the truth that she’s already lovable as she is. And that kind of love is always going to be enough for me. There is peace and power in loving myself.

If my ex hadn’t broken up with me, I don’t think I would have let myself be totally broken open and vulnerable. And as painful as it was, I am forever grateful he was brave enough to break my heart.

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About Sarah Curnoles

Sarah Curnoles is a life coach and speaker who is passionate about helping women reclaim their power. Using a combination of compassion and tough love, she guides women to heal their heartbreak and turn their breakup into the best thing to ever happen. Download her free Breakup Care Kit here and check out her podcast Breakup Pep Talks.

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How I Found Confidence and a New Path When I Felt Inadequate

“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.” ~Arthur Ashe

It was a quiet evening at Boat Quay. The sun was setting, casting warm golden hues over the water, and the air smelled faintly of salt and street food. I was sitting on the riverbank with a close friend, my head heavy with thoughts that refused to settle.

“I’m thirty,” I said, breaking the silence. My voice quivered with frustration. “I haven’t achieved anything. Look at Joseph Schooling—he’s younger than me and a gold medalist! My other friend started his own business. And me? I’m just… here.”

The words tumbled out of me, raw and unfiltered. My friend looked at me with a mixture of concern and helplessness. I knew I was being hard on myself, but the feeling of inadequacy clung to me like a second skin.

Deep down, I believed that being hard on myself was necessary, a way to spur myself into action. “If I don’t push myself, who will?” I thought. But no matter how much I pushed, nothing seemed to click. I felt like I was flailing, desperate for traction but stuck in the same spot.

Biting the Elephant

For a long time, I obsessed over big achievements. I wanted to make a splash, to prove that I was capable and worthy. But every time I set my sights on something monumental, I froze. The sheer size of my goals overwhelmed me.

One day, I stumbled across an old adage: How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.

It hit me like a lightning bolt. Maybe I didn’t need to tackle enormous goals all at once. Maybe I could start small—just one bite at a time.

I decided to test this theory. My first “bite” was a simple commitment: wake up thirty minutes earlier each day and spend that time reading a book on personal development. It wasn’t groundbreaking, but it was manageable.

To my surprise, this small step gave me a tiny boost of confidence. I was keeping a promise to myself, however small. That feeling of accomplishment, no matter how minor, was something I could build on.

From there, I started layering on more small commitments. I took on one short online course, then another. I applied what I learned in small ways at work. Slowly but surely, these small actions began to stack up.

Fixing Everything and Going Nowhere

For years, I believed that the key to success lay in fixing my weaknesses. I spent countless hours analyzing my flaws and trying to “fix” them. I wasn’t assertive enough, so I took assertiveness training. I wasn’t organized enough, so I read books on productivity.

But no matter how much I tried to improve, I felt like I was running in place. The more I focused on my shortcomings, the more they seemed to define me.

Then, one day, a mentor said something that shifted my perspective: “What if you leaned into your strengths instead?”

It was such a simple idea, yet it felt revolutionary. I realized I’d been so focused on what I lacked that I hadn’t stopped to consider what I already had

I started asking myself: What am I good at? What comes naturally to me?

One of the answers that surfaced was communication. I’ve always been good at connecting with people, whether through conversation or storytelling. So, I decided to lean into that. I volunteered to give presentations at work and started reaching out to potential mentors for advice.

As I leaned into my strengths, something incredible happened: momentum. The more I focused on what I was good at, the more opportunities seemed to appear. I wasn’t just fixing flaws anymore; I was building something meaningful.

Walking the Unbeaten Path

As I began to gain momentum, I realized that part of my frustration stemmed from comparing myself to others. I was measuring my progress against the paths others had taken, but those paths didn’t belong to me.

I was forging my own path, one that was unfamiliar and full of uncertainty. There were no roadmaps or guarantees—just a lot of trial and error.

Walking this path required me to confront self-doubt daily. “What if I fail? What if I’m not good enough?” Those thoughts still visited me, but I learned to greet them like old acquaintances. “Ah, there you are again,” I’d say to my doubts. “Thanks for your input, but I’m moving forward anyway.”

Each step forward brought new challenges, but it also brought growth. The unknown, which once terrified me, became a space for discovery and creativity.

The Overarching Theme: Seeking Validation

When I look back on those years of self-doubt and striving, I see a common thread: I was chasing validation.

I wanted to prove my worth—to myself, to my family, to society. I thought that achieving something big would finally make me feel whole. But the truth is, no external achievement could fill that void.

The turning point came when I began to let go of the need for validation. I realized that my worth wasn’t tied to what I achieved or how others saw me. It was inherent, unchanging.

This wasn’t a switch I flipped overnight. It was a slow process, one small step at a time—just like eating an elephant. But as I released the need for external approval, I felt freer and more grounded than ever before.

Becoming a Teacher

Today, I’m a teacher. It’s not the flashiest career, but it’s one that feels deeply aligned with who I am. Teaching allows me to use my strengths—communication, empathy, and a knack for seeing the big picture—to help others navigate their own paths.

I didn’t get here by chasing big, flashy goals. I got here by starting small, focusing on my strengths, and trusting the process.

Lessons Learned

If you’re feeling stuck or overwhelmed, here are a few things I’ve learned that might help.

1. Start small: Big changes don’t happen overnight. Focus on small, manageable steps that you can build on.

2. Lean into your strengths: Instead of fixating on your weaknesses, identify what you’re naturally good at and find ways to use those strengths.

3. Let go of comparisons: Your path is your own. It doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s.

4. Trust the process: Growth isn’t always linear, and that’s okay. Have faith that each step forward, no matter how small, is bringing you closer to where you want to be.

5. Release the need for validation: Your worth isn’t tied to your achievements or how others see you. It’s inherent, just as you are.

Closing Thoughts

As I sit here reflecting on my journey, I realize that I’m still a work in progress. And that’s okay. Life isn’t about reaching some final destination; it’s about learning, growing, and finding joy in the process.

If you’re feeling stuck or overwhelmed, know that you’re not alone. Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can. One small step at a time, you’ll get there.

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About Kai

Kai is a coach and strategist who helps people uncover blind spots and recognize the deeper patterns shaping their lives. With a background in Go strategy, Zen philosophy, and Gestalt coaching, he blends deep insight with practical wisdom. When he’s not coaching, he explores mastery, personal growth, and how to navigate life with clarity and purpose. Connect with him on https://kaipoh.com.

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When You’re Ready for More: How to Access Your Inner Wanderer

“Not all who wander are lost.” ~J.R.R. Tolkien

Sometimes as humans we lose sight of our profound inner resourcefulness—the wellspring of creativity and strength that has kept humanity reinventing itself over and over again.

It happens to everyone. We get lost in comfortable routines, become discouraged from trying new things, and forget how to play.

When life feels disappointingly status quo, it’s easy to keep floating downcurrent as you tell yourself, “Welp, I guess this is as good as it gets.”

I don’t know about you, but I’ve definitely caught myself in a trap of wondering if the best is behind me.

Thankfully, one of our instinctual superpowers is knowing how and when to start over or ask for more.

Found deep in your psyche, you have an archetype known as the Wanderer who carries a wisdom on how to help you let go of misaligned, limiting, or outright unhealthy situations in pursuit of something better—whether it’s a job, relationship, or lifestyle.

Archetypes are universal personality types and instinctual behavior patterns that we inherit from our ancestors that cut across all cultures. They’re inherent structures found deep in our psyches that offer us gifts and strengths that make us whole and well-rounded.

Archetypes are especially useful as inner allies that help us grow through different phases or challenges in our lives. Becoming a parent, solving a unique problem in your industry, or rediscovering yourself in mid-life are all occasions where a certain archetype may emerge.

The Wanderer is about leaving behind the familiar and entering the unknown. We see the Wanderer making an entrance when someone undergoes big transitions, such as getting a divorce, changing careers, or initiating a spiritual journey.

The Wanderer is one of my favorite archetypes because it’s helped me stay in touch with my heart, mind, and body during tumultuous periods of my life. In particular, there’s one leap of faith that I couldn’t have taken without the aid of this powerful archetype.

A few years ago, I was working a nine-to-five job in international education for university students, where I would send students across the world for a semester or summer. It was a deeply fulfilling and enormously fun job, but eight years into the field, I started struggling with the lack of flexibility of a forty-hour office job, and my body rebelled against the sedentary nature of desk work.

I ended up on partial disability due to computer-driven repetitive stress injuries in both arms. For eight months I suffered from severe inflammation. It gradually got better, but my doctor told me I would likely never fully return to normal.

No longer physically able to work at a desk full-time, I had to reimagine my future.

As a highly sensitive person with a history of chronic pain, I was determined to find a new line of work that wouldn’t require me to sacrifice myself. With a plan in mind of building my own business, I decided to leave my desk job permanently.

I didn’t need anyone’s permission.

I wasn’t waiting for a sign.

I just made up my mind with the hard-headed tenacity that’s typical of the Wanderer—it was time to go.

I had a vision for how I wanted to shape my future. It felt like an uncontrollable itch I needed to scratch. Even though I loved the security of a salaried job with benefits, I couldn’t ignore the flashing warning lights coming from my body. Admittedly, my gut had also been nudging me to go work for myself long before I ended up on disability.

I considered the next couple of steps to leave my career, but I didn’t have a detailed long-term plan. I felt a sense of inner trust and authority that I would land on my feet. I was ready and willing to make a humble living in the service industry as I built my business in my spare time. So, with a lot of courage and plenty of unknowns, I started over.

I thank my inner Wanderer for making it possible.

I can point to several other occasions in my life where I made a sudden change following a period of feeling lost or unmotivated. One of the hallmarks of the Wanderer is that it often becomes “activated” after you’ve endured a period of misalignment in your life that becomes intolerable.

It often feels like a courageous awakening when you realize what you must do for yourself. Everyone needs a fire under their ass from time to time, and the Wanderer is precisely good for it.

The hallmark quality of the Wanderer is that it takes responsibility for creating change.

It doesn’t blame other people or circumstances for their predicament.

It doesn’t mope or complain.

It doesn’t flounder needlessly.

The Wanderer is about taking risks.

Whether you’re considering leaving an unhealthy relationship, a toxic job, or a lifestyle you’ve outgrown, you have to take risks. It might be an emotional risk, a financial risk, or a risk of vulnerability.

I like to think that the Wanderer is here to remind me of who I’m becoming. When I start to think to myself, “I made it!” I’m always amazed to discover that I still have far to go. But I know I can count on my ingenious Wanderer to support me in taking the next necessary risk.

If you’re teetering on the fence in a certain aspect of life, here are some tips on how to partner with your Wanderer to rediscover what’s possible.

Tips for Partnering with Your Wanderer

Start small and move slowly.

I am not a proponent of rapid, overnight growth and change. Most people crash and burn when they rush into new experiences.

The truth is that you can only move as fast as your body will allow you—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. There are no shortcuts. Start where you are. Use the skills and resources you have. Grow your capacity to do big, extraordinary things little by little.

The easiest way to do this is by identifying the next smallest step one at a time. You don’t need to worry about what step ten is or how you’ll manage step twenty when you haven’t even taken the first step. Just focus on what you can do right now.

Choose your mindset wisely.

The Wanderer’s perspective is that there are no failures in life, only feedback and learning. Embodying this mindset will save you countless hours wasted on self-sabotage, pointless self-blame, and stewing in a victim cycle.

The key is staying curious. When you try something new that feels risky and it doesn’t go the way you want, get curious. Self-loathing is cheap and easy, but practicing curiosity and self-kindness is the admirable, high road.

If you feel yourself spiraling into thoughts and emotions that are abusive or critical, you won’t find a shred of useful wisdom that will help you pivot and move forward. Negative thoughts are neural pathways that become stronger the more you reinforce them. But you don’t have to forcibly plaster shiny, positive thoughts on top of them.

Instead, focus on regulating your nervous system.

A triggered nervous system sees the world through a lens of danger, disappointment, and hopelessness. If you arm yourself with a few tools to self-regulate, you’ll find it easier to return to the curiosity and kindness of the Wanderer mindset.

The best self-regulating tools are simple and quick. Here is a favorite go-to of mine. Start by gently tapping around your collarbone with your fingertips. Then, bring in breath. Take in an inhale for a count of four and exhale out twice as long. Repeat at least twice more, or continue for as long as it feels good.

When you’re done, take a break from what has triggered you and do something that feels kind and nurturing. Revisit the situation at hand when you’re feeling resourced and have access to a completely different perspective. The best insight and creativity come when you’re grounded and regulated.

Nothing can guarantee you a soft landing into the next chapter of your life—which is to say, the road can get pretty bumpy and uncomfortable.

In fact, you can pretty much count on it.

But the mishaps and curveballs will make you sharper and lighter on your toes. You don’t need to nail every risk you take. Let yourself fall apart so you can put the pieces back together better next time.

The Wanderer is ultimately about self-discovery. What do you find out about yourself when you re-enter the dating world after twenty years of marriage or when you pitch your creative writing to ten different publishers?

You can’t possibly know what you want in life or what you’re capable of if you keep floating downstream passively.

Life is an adventure, so keep asking yourself: What would the Wanderer do?

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About Krissy Loveman

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

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Web of Lies: Breaking Free from Manipulative Behavior

“The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable.” ~James A. Garfield

When the email finally came, it felt like a trap snapping shut. Its words were carefully spun—half-truths and veiled accusations twisted together to shift blame and obscure the real issue.

For years, I had brushed off these moments as quirks or misunderstandings. But now, the patterns were clear. I was entangled in something far more calculated. Recognizing the manipulation for what it was marked the first step toward cutting myself free, though it was anything but easy.

Understanding Manipulative Behavior

Manipulation often hides in plain sight, disguised as charm, persuasion, or emotional appeals. It can leave you questioning your instincts and doubting your own perceptions, all while draining your emotional energy. At its core, manipulation is a form of control—distorting reality to gain power over someone else.

These are some common tactics:

• Deflection: Shifting focus away from the issue to avoid responsibility.
• Gaslighting: Making you question your memories, perceptions, or sanity.
• Guilt-Tripping: Exploiting your empathy to create a sense of obligation or remorse.
  Stonewalling: Refusing to engage in meaningful discussion, leaving you frustrated and

Have you ever questioned your instincts because someone made you feel unreasonable for raising concerns? Many of us are taught to avoid conflict or “give people the benefit of the doubt,” leaving us vulnerable to manipulation. Cultural stereotypes—like the assumption of innocence or naivety—can make it even harder to recognize harmful behavior.

I often rationalized actions I now recognize as deliberate, telling myself they were misunderstandings or even my own fault.

Recognizing the Patterns

In hindsight, the signs were everywhere—small moments that didn’t sit right but seemed too minor to address. There were ever-changing stories, where one version of events would morph into another. Agreements that seemed clear would later be reframed, leaving me questioning my memory.

Conversations often shifted focus just as I raised concerns, leaving me unbalanced and apologizing for things I hadn’t done. These incidents weren’t isolated. Together, they created a fog of confusion, a quiet tension that weighed on me and wouldn’t let go.

When I finally stepped back and saw the full arc of my former partner’s behavior—the blurred boundaries, the constant push and pull—it was devastating. What seemed like misunderstandings was actually a deliberate pattern to keep me doubting myself.

I ran through all five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance. It felt as though something had died, though it wasn’t a person but the trust I had once placed in them, and perhaps in myself. Each stage brought its own weight: denial softened the blow, anger lit a fire, and depression hollowed me out. But acceptance, when it came, marked the beginning of my freedom.

Have you ever realized that small, disconnected moments were part of something much larger?

Recognizing these threads is often the first step toward clarity and freedom.

Red Flags to Watch For

• Inconsistent Stories: When facts or agreements seem to change depending on the context.
• Unwarranted Defensiveness: Overreacting to reasonable questions or concerns.
• Playing the Victim: Consistently shifting blame to others while portraying themselves as wronged.

Rebuilding trust in my perceptions became essential. Documenting agreements, keeping records, and reflecting on patterns gave me clarity when emotions tried to cloud the truth.

Responding to Manipulation

Recognizing manipulation is one thing. Responding to it is another. These strategies helped me regain control and protect my peace:

1. Set Firm Boundaries: Manipulators thrive on blurred lines. Be clear about your limits and enforce them consistently.

2. Stay Grounded in Facts: Keep a record of agreements and revisit them when narratives begin to shift.

3. Avoid Emotional Engagement: Manipulators often provoke reactions. Staying calm and focused can neutralize their tactics.

4. Seek Support: External help—whether from a trusted friend, therapist, or legal advisor—can be invaluable.

The first time I clearly set boundaries and stuck to them, I was accused of overreacting and being unreasonable. But I understood this deflection for what it was: an attempt to reassert control. Holding firm wasn’t easy, but it allowed me to protect my well-being and begin moving forward.

Reclaiming Yourself

Breaking free from manipulation isn’t just about ending a toxic dynamic—it’s about rediscovering your own strength. For years, I internalized blame that wasn’t mine to carry, wondering if I was too sensitive or too demanding. Stepping back allowed me to see the truth: I had been manipulated, and it wasn’t my fault.

That realization changed everything. I began prioritizing respect and mutual care in my relationships, setting boundaries that reflected my values and needs. Slowly, I rebuilt my confidence and learned to trust my instincts again.

Lessons Learned

• Trust Your Instincts: If something feels off, it probably is.
• Prioritize Your Well-Being: Manipulation thrives in environments of low self-worth. Rebuilding confidence is key.
• Recognize the Limits of Change: You can’t control or fix a manipulator’s behavior—you can only change your response to it.

If you’ve experienced a similar dynamic, take a moment to reflect on your own patterns. Begin by identifying recurring moments of unease—write them down, reflect on them, and discuss them with someone you trust. These small steps can help you see the larger patterns and take back control.

This journey has been as much about healing as it has been about setting boundaries. By reclaiming my voice, I found the strength to build relationships rooted in mutual respect and genuine care.

Conclusion: Breaking Free from the Fog

Manipulative behavior can leave you doubting everything—your perceptions, your decisions, even your worth. But recognizing the fog of lies is the first step toward freedom. Each boundary you set is a strand you cut; each truth you claim is another thread unraveled.

Imagine yourself standing before that tangled web, scissors in hand. Each snip releases you from confusion, self-doubt, and control. Soon, what once felt suffocating lies in pieces at your feet, and you step forward into clarity, strength, and freedom.

Reclaiming yourself from their hold isn’t just a victory—it’s the foundation of a life where your instincts guide you, your boundaries protect you, and your sense of self remains unshakable.

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About Robert M. Ford

Robert M. Ford is a writer of fiction, essays, and poetry, exploring family, memory, and the connections that shape us. His work has appeared in anthologies, literary journals, and online platforms. Originally from the UK, he now lives in St. Petersburg, Florida, where he shares his thoughts on family, writing, and everyday resilience through his Substack, Brittle Views, and his blog. His debut novel, Holding On, will be out later this year.

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Healing Through Reparenting: The Greatest Act of Self-Love

“I learned that even though I have a very different personality from my parents, the way I treat my inner child is no different than how my parents treated me. I have unconsciously adopted some beliefs and habits from my parents. It’s as though they continue to live within me.” ~Yong Kan Chan

Reparenting is not for the faint of heart, but the journey can surely be described as the greatest act of self-love. It’s a gift—a chance to redo some of the painful aspects of childhood and adolescence, but with the awareness of an adult mind. It is also an opportunity to connect much more deeply with ourselves and those we wish to connect with in a more authentic way.

What is reparenting?

Reparenting is the process of unpacking childhood wounds and conditioning and getting in touch with our deepest needs, using them as a guide to create a life that’s intentional and aligned with our essence.

Unfortunately, many of us are born into families, or systems, laden with pre-existing programming, rules, and norms. On top of this, our parents often carry their own wounds, some unaddressed, which can inadvertently pass to us.

As impressionable children, what we need most is to be seen, nurtured, and loved, to receive guidance and attunement. Without these, conformity begins, shaping us into programmed versions of ourselves that align more with the expectations from our environment rather than our true selves.

This disconnection breeds inner conflict, leading us to adopt survival strategies to keep safe from perceived dangers like unmet parental desires or wounds. This process is entirely on a subconscious level, which is why it is so destructive.

When parents choose to bring a child into this world, the expectation is for them to nurture and guide this life in line with what the child needs, but that requires attunement and egos to be left at the door. Unfortunately, many parents live vicariously through their children or remain unaware of their nature, focused solely on their own survival. Worse than that, a lot of parents are emotionally immature and cannot embody true compassion or hold space for views that are different from theirs.

Curiosity and learning are not values at the forefront. This results in a child losing their essence over time in order to conform and stay safe and accepted in the system. With that comes the erosion of self and the birth of survival mode as we know it. The child loses some of their curiosity and zest for life, which in some cases is replaced with hard rules and expectations. In worse cases, it is replaced with abuse.

Reparenting is about rebuilding.

As my therapist vividly described, reparenting is akin to being a contractor, architect, and designer of my existence—deciding what parts of my past to keep, renovate, or dismantle entirely. This metaphor of remaking a house resonated deeply with me after years of suffering from patterns misaligned with my essence.

In the rebuilding process, I kept aspects of the “home” that I loved. I started to discern what did not fit, what was dated, and what needed a fresh coat of paint. In some instances, I took the proverbial sledgehammer to many walls and started again.

I started this journey after years of suffering—attracting people and circumstances that weren’t in alignment with my deepest self. I kept reliving childhood wounds because, as they say, “our wounding does the picking until we choose to heal.”

This doesn’t mean our parents didn’t love us or that they did not do their best. It simply means that we will all be called to dive deeply and, at some point in our journey, ask: Who am I? Who am I without the labels, the roles, the expectations?

Trauma is not always obvious. It can be as simple as a harsh tone or an unmet expectation. That moment in time is frozen, and the young mind that has not fully developed may create a story that “I am not loveable.”

In the words of Gabor Maté, “Trauma is not the event; it’s what happens inside of you as a result.”

This quote captures the journey from trauma as a disconnection from self, toward healing as a return to self.

Academic pressures in my own life equated grades with worthiness, manifesting in the “good girl” persona. I carried that persona into adulthood, and it manifested in my codependent, people-pleasing ways. I learned to be agreeable and reasonable. That persona kept me ‘safe’—until it didn’t.

I shrank myself, silenced my voice, and accepted less than I desired. This caused deep unfulfillment and a lot of internal discord. Do not rock the boat was the theme of my life. Be likable and avoid conflict. Fall in line and make sure that what you do and say is seen as “acceptable.” I am exhausted from reading that. That was me for a very long time.

Tired of my compromises and yearning for authenticity, I wanted to bring my true self to life—no more diluted versions.

Reparenting begins with one powerful question: Who am I?

From there, we ask: What do I want to create? What are my values, needs, and deepest desires? These are not light questions and may take a while to answer, but we have to start somewhere. These questions guided me to explore my triggers—those disproportionate reactions rooted in the past. They serve as guides pointing us to our wounds.

As my therapist taught me, “If it’s hysterical, it’s historical.”

Triggers are “normal” responses to unresolved trauma, but they often cause us to react or shut down in ways that don’t serve us. We may never completely eliminate triggers, but we can reduce their charge and effect in our lives.

By observing my reactions and stories in my everyday life, I was guided to reconnect with younger parts of myself—the parts that had been rejected, buried, or disowned. “What do you need?” is what I asked over and over again.

I began to act like a loving and present parent with no shame, guilt, or judgment. I just started to listen. I learned about all the ways I needed to love myself more, where in my life I needed to rest, where I needed to speak, where I needed to play, and what I deeply wanted to experience in this life.

There were many tears and deep pain and shame. I allowed myself to feel it all. I had conversations with many versions of myself, and I vowed to gift the young me with a life built on truth—our truth.

I also had to get very comfortable with being uncomfortable. I knew that living in truth meant tearing down many delusions and speaking up. This would undoubtedly create chaos in places and circumstances where delusion is the preferred way to live. This meant that I would lose connections. which is a huge hit to our inner child, who will do anything to stay connected to others because it’s familiar, even if it means self-betrayal.

Inner child work involves acknowledging all of our parts with love and compassion while giving them what they need. This process brings us closer to wholeness and self-understanding. I now have a picture of a young me, who I connect with often. I promised her that I would keep creating a life in line with our core and desires.

To this day, one of my biggest triggers is anything that represents inequality and unfairness. This stems from many layers of my own wounding, which created a story that “what happens to me is unfair, and I am not worthy.”

I have learned that there are some battles that are not mine to fight. There are battles that belong to other people. When something affects me personally, I have learned to set boundaries and to express my displeasure in a mature way. I do not need to project my past onto my present or onto others.

I had to learn about boundaries—a hot topic these days.

Without boundaries, we cannot be real, nor can we create our best life because our energy is indeed finite. Our time and energy are precious, and we have the right to manage them in line with our values.

The inquiry begins with: What do I need in this moment given my current capacity? And how can I express that as gently as possible? In some cases, gentleness will not be possible, and in other cases, especially with intimate relationships, you may be called to explain why you are setting a particular boundary.

This is a highly nuanced process. It takes time and trial and error, and it is ongoing forever! It may feel uncomfortable at first as we get to reconnect with ourselves. Boundaries change over time as we dive deeper into our inner world and we make adjustments along the way. There are no hard and fast rules. But I will note that, to me, boundaries are not passes to act crass and reckless. They are not to be used as electric fences. That will cause more damage and isolation.

In some situations, a harsh boundary is appropriate when someone clearly does not respect you or what you are expressing. But on the extreme side of the spectrum, I see a lot of people just cutting off others and burning bridges in the name of “self-love.”

To truly love, one has to take another person into account and try to work with that person’s edges to come to a place of acceptance. This, of course, does not apply to abusive situations. I am referring to personal relationships. We also have to remember that our truth is not the only truth.

Loving authentically means balancing our needs with others’, recognizing that we all deserve grace, and offering compassion in delivering our truth if the goal is true connection.

The goal of reparenting is a more authentic life.

It’s about forgiving our parents—not to erase the past, but to free ourselves from its hold. Forgiveness means releasing resentment, whether we maintain relationships with them or not, and choosing to focus on the life we are building. And where appropriate, we can extract the good that was passed on and capitalize on the lessons learned. Even if the lessons lead to the discovery of who you do not want to be. That has value too.

Reparenting involves loss—shedding old identities and relationships built on personas rather than authenticity. But it also involves immense gain—the freedom to align with our true desires and essence. In the words of Gabor Maté, “Healing is a return to self.”

This journey requires radical honesty and accountability. It means asking hard questions, releasing blame, and embracing connection with ourselves and others. On the other side of the pain lies authenticity, fulfillment, and a life that reflects who we truly are.

I can confidently say that because of this work I am gentler with myself, I use my voice where appropriate, and I am more authentic. In other words, I live in truth.

Where in your life can you begin to parent yourself? Start with the question: What do I need to feel seen, safe, and nurtured?

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About Christine Rodriguez

Christine Rodriguez is a spiritual life coach dedicated to helping others transform beliefs, thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that no longer serve them so they can create a life that’s aligned with their true desires and capabilities. To work with her, please visit miraculousshifts.com. You can find her on Instagram @miraculousshifts_christy.

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