“Forgive others not because they deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve peace.” ~Jonathan Lockwood Huie As a child, I faced constant physical and mental abuse. Several classmates would beat me up in the schoolyard, hitting and kicking me. They also chased me down the streets to my home when school was done for the day. I had to cycle at my fastest to avoid another beating. It felt like I had to go through a war zone every day. Besides the physical abuse, these children also constantly criticized and ridiculed every single thing I did. This made me feel incredibly insecure about a lot of things, including the way I walked and talked. In short, they did everything in their power to make my life as miserable as possible. They succeeded: I became an incredibly unhappy and anxious child. I came back home crying countless times. Despite efforts by teachers and my parents to help, all of this lasted for five long years. It only ended because we all went to different high schools and classes after finishing primary school, not because they ever showed remorse. Still, I managed to let go of what happened and even forgive them. In fact, I have flourished and live a happy and fulfilling life nowadays. Here’s how I achieved this. First, Forgive YourselfWe are often our own worst enemy. Instead of showing empathy and compassion to ourselves, we tend to be overly critical. When I was being bullied, I blamed myself. I thought if they were targeting me, there must have been something wrong with me, which meant I had to change myself to prevent further bullying. Now, I know that isn’t true, and there is simply no excuse to bully anyone. The responsibility for their actions lies with the kids who hurt me, not with me. At that time, I was simply being my authentic self, and that’s a great thing, not a reason to bully myself. You’re likely being harder on yourself than on others. So, to counter this, imagine one of your friends faced the exact same thing you’re facing. How would you respond to that friend? You’d probably show support and be kind to them. Now say those kind words to yourself. You deserve empathy and compassion just as much as your friends do. “Nothing can harm you as much as your own thoughts unguarded.” ~The Buddha Realize That Those Who Did It Are GoneOne of my favorite stories about the Buddha is about a man who spat on his face and insulted him. After the Buddha did not lash out at the man, but instead remained calm and kind, the man returned home confused. The next day, he returned to the Buddha. He hadn’t slept all night, haunted by his own behavior and the unexpected reaction from the Buddha. He begged the Buddha for forgiveness. Instead, the Buddha explained to him that there was nothing to forgive. The person the Buddha was talking to was not the same person who spat on his face the day before; the man had changed during the night because of his repentance, and the man who spat was no more. In the same vein, I believe that after all that time, the people who made me suffer as a child have changed. They were children at the time, but have now grown up to be adults. I have changed so much between then and now, and so have they. Those children who did this to me are no longer here. So is there really someone to forgive anymore? I imagine this mindset is harder to adopt if you feel the person who hurt you hasn’t changed. In that case, it might help to remember that people who bully or abuse are often in great pain themselves (which is often why they bully or abuse). This doesn’t condone their mistreatment in any way, but it might make it easier to release your anger toward them. Take Back ControlAnother way that I let go and forgave is by taking back control. If you let bad experiences in the past guide your present and future, then you give control to those experiences and the people who caused them. I’d highly recommend switching your perspective: Yes, those terrible experiences happened, but if you let them define who you are now and who you will be, then don’t you suffer twice? Once in the past, and again in the present. Instead, you could take back control of your present and future by letting who you are right now guide your actions. I find it empowering to take control of my life and create my own path. One way to do this is by crafting your own identity. Instead of identifying myself as a victim, I view myself as a victor. Someone who endured hardship and only got stronger through that suffering. By creating my own helpful identity, I take back control. Appreciate the GainsAnother shift of perspective is by looking at how the experiences have positively shaped you instead of focusing on the suffering. Of course, there are situations where nothing has been gained, but in my case, there were certainly gains. For example, the abuse made me tough. Nowadays, I’m not easily impressed by problems, knowing I have faced much worse and came out on top. It has also made me more empathic, having lived through a lot of suffering myself. And my suffering brought me to Buddhism, where I learned about the nature of suffering and the path to end it. What have you gained from your hardships? Focus on the PresentThe past is dead. It can’t be changed, and it’s no longer there. So why keep thinking about the past when there is the present where you can actually do something and change your life for the better? After all, it’s only in the present that you can act. A healthier approach toward the past is to look for lessons you can learn. If you approach the past that way, it can have a positive impact on your present and future. For example, I learned that it’s of great importance to stand up for yourself. That’s a lesson I take to heart and apply almost daily. Another way you can focus more on the present is by practicing mindfulness and meditation. “Anxiety, the illness of our time, comes primarily from our inability to dwell in the present moment.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh Let It All OutIt’s completely normal to have intense emotions about bad experiences in the past. So don’t hide from those emotions but let them out instead. There are many ways to do this, like writing in a journal or drawing or making music. Pick the method that suits you best. By letting your emotions out, you better understand what you’re feeling and why you have those emotions. This creates an opportunity to find peace within yourself. Find SupportSometimes you can’t let go and forgive on your own. In that case, it can be of great value to find someone you trust and who can support you. This can be a friend, family member, counselor, or anyone willing to help you get through your hardship. In my case, I found a lot of support from my mother and best friend. They helped me process my feelings and gave me a new perspective when I was struggling. “Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything—anger, anxiety, or possessions—we cannot be free.” ~Thich Nhat Hanh These are the steps that helped me let go and forgive. Remember that this is often a lengthy process, so don’t give up when you don’t see results immediately. If I can do it, so can you. The best of luck! About Steven MareelsSteven Mareels is the founder of Personal Power-Ups, a personal development site where you can upgrade your life. He’s passionate about giving you actionable information so you can live your life to the fullest. Some of his most-read posts are about positive self-talk exercises and how to never run out of things to say. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Today I want you to think about all that you are instead of all that you are not.” ~Unknown When I was nineteen, something happened to me that felt like a death. I had spent a lot of my teenage years feeling lonely and invisible, desperate for someone to break through to me and convince me of my own value. And then finally, I developed a crush on someone that was reciprocated. He liked me back! I walked around all day beaming and giggling, consumed by thoughts of him and how he made me feel beautiful. Every time he sent me a text message, inquiring about me, initiating hanging out, merely displaying some interest in me, I felt like I had won the lottery. You probably already know the latter half of this story—not only was my euphoria short-lived, but it also ended in tragedy. By the third time we hung out, he had convinced me to “come over,” took swift advantage of me, and that was that. He made it obvious that he was interested in other women, and I was simply an addition to his count. He had no reason to invest in me further; he didn’t care about me as a person, and he never had. I left his bedroom feeling numb and like a piece of trash. I was angry at him, but more so at myself, for foolishly believing that the superficial attention he gave me rendered me loveable, that it could reverse years of my feeling worthless. It was all so pathetic. I deeply believed, and still believe, that my anger, shame, and sadness over this experience were more than warranted and deserved ample space to unfold. However, the trauma haunted me for years, even as I moved on to other noteworthy life experiences. I couldn’t soften the weight and impact of how it felt to be used by him, and as a result, the whole incident played an unintentionally large role in how I viewed myself and how I engaged with other people. I thought about the incident, and thought about it and thought about it, in some capacity, every single day, and despite all this thinking, nothing about it ever changed. There was just this painful voice that replayed the scene with added commentary, taunting me, “Remember how you thought he liked you? Remember how stupid you acted? Remember… remember… remember…. how it all felt?” I knew that by allowing my brain to dwell so much in this difficult space, I was giving the trauma way more of my life than it deserved. But I would have argued this was involuntary; I couldn’t control my brain from returning, over and over again, to how badly he had treated me and how bad it felt. It wasn’t until many years later, when I discovered Buddhist philosophy and started incorporating teachings and practice into my daily life, that I realized, maybe I could be in control. Through my personal study, I was able to bring about some powerful shifts in perspective that helped me wake up to who I really was—the complex, nuanced, interesting person who could not be reduced to one unfortunate incident. The first shift I had: my terrible experience is one part of me, and I needed to shrink it to exactly that--one part. I am many things apart from a naïve college girl desperate for love: an accomplished student, a good friend, an athlete, a writer—I can really be anything that I want to expend effort on and draw attention to. That girl leaving the bedroom was shocked, embarrassed, and sad. She needed a lot of care, so I had been busy protecting her. But I needed to resize her to a more accurate scale of my life. Because, in fiercely protecting her, I was neglecting the innumerable other aspects of my identity. Now was the time to gently retreat my attention from her and take tangible action to let the other parts of me flourish. For example, I could devote more headspace to my writing practice and work on becoming a better writer. I could check in on a loved one, listen to them carefully and compassionately, and become a better friend. With such actions, these aspects of my identity would grow more prominent in the story of my life. With such actions, the incident could remain an incident and not speak for my whole existence. There were so many potential versions of me, and these did not all have to be at the mercy of my trauma. It was time to get excited about future me and who I wanted her to be. Which brought me to another big shift: if I can be whoever I want, including someone who isn’t controlled by my trauma, maybe there isn’t even one “reality.” I was clinging obsessively to my narrative of this incident and how bad it made me feel. I kept going over the injustice, over and over, as if I were trying to crack a code. The more I summoned the hard feelings, the more I convinced myself that they were true. But what if the truth was that I’m not the summation of the terrible feelings I had? That he didn’t have so much sway in my life? If I made the conscious choice to believe these more liberating statements into existence, maybe they could become my new truth. Believing him and believing my low self-esteem made my reality ugly. Believing that this incident was simply an incident in the grand scheme of the cosmos made my reality limitless. All that being said, I wasn’t going to ignore the naïve nineteen-year-old me or pretend she didn’t exist. She was here to stay, and she was here for a reason. I could look at her with tenderness and passion and make sure that I didn’t get taken advantage of like that again. I could always give her compassion. But rather than let her infiltrate my whole existence, I was going to designate a clear space for her, and always remember where she was. She would always have somewhere to live, but I wasn’t stuck there with her. There were other places where I could go, other realities I could inhabit. **Image generated by AI About Mallika IyerMallika Iyer is a teacher, researcher, and mental health advocate in Boston. She is passionate about making learning and healing accessible for youth of all abilities. A recipient of the Fulbright fellowship, Mallika is currently a student in the Nalanda Institute’s Contemplative Psychotherapy program and enjoys traveling, writing, and getting outside in her free time. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us.” ~Paul Millsap The personal growth journey is easy when everything is going to plan. But when you’re presented with a difficult situation, that’s when the real test begins. In 2018, I embarked on a nomadic journey to do some soul-searching. I faced my fair share of challenges during this trip, but for the most part, life was good. I led a good life and coached people to do the same. But then I was given a reality check. Suddenly, I was back in Australia living with my mum. I had no money, no car, no job, and it felt like my life had come crashing down. This is where the true test began, as I was forced to confront a fear I had dedicated my life to avoiding: the fear of regressing. Revisiting Home: Unresolved Tensions and TurmoilAfter five years on the road, it was great seeing my family and old friends again. But once the initial romanticism of being back home wore off, that joy was short-lived. That’s when I began reverting into old patterns. I picked up a job working in a restaurant and felt more out of place than ever. My self-worth took a heavy beating, and all these dense feelings from my childhood began to resurface. But the icing on the cake was my relationship with my mother. We had some pretty deep issues that were never resolved. Those issues never had to be addressed, but now we could no longer avoid them. Returning into this situation as a grown man was not ideal for either of us. There was an endless loop of turmoil that neither of us wanted, but neither of us could break. I felt like I was constantly under attack and that she treated me like a child who had to live under a strict set of rules; otherwise, all hell would break loose. She felt like her space was being intruded. In her eyes, I didn’t respect how she wanted to live and took advantage of her hospitality. And around in circles we went, unable to see eye-to-eye, getting triggered by one another over stupid things. No matter how much wisdom I had gained, nor how much healing I had done, this seemed like an uphill battle that I couldn’t overcome. Separating Egoic Decisions from Higher PerspectivesAfter a particularly painful argument, I had a moment of clarity. I saw myself quitting my job, packing my bags, and catching the next flight out of the country. I saw my mother resenting herself for pushing me away. For a moment, my ego rejoiced. “I sure showed her! Now she will finally see the errors of her way and the consequences they have! And I’ll be free, just the way I like.” But then there was regret. A higher part of me kicked in. “This isn’t a solution. You’re just escaping again and hurting everyone in the process, including yourself. Nothing has been healed. This is your chance to repair this relationship. Don’t take the coward’s way out.” It’s easy to run away. Believe me, I’ve crafted an entire life around it. But the higher self weeps when the ego succeeds, and I recognized that this was an ego-driven decision: to escape a painful situation rather than heal the root cause. As if I was catapulted out of my ego, suddenly I felt compassion rather than pain. A part of me that genuinely wanted to heal this wound for both of us shined through. Because I was now in my heart space, the energy changed. I saw that my mother had given me a place to stay and a bed to sleep in. I was overcome with gratitude and compassion, and I saw the situation for what it is. When you’re at a crossroads, ask yourself: What is the path of the egoic self, and what is the path of the higher self? The path of the higher self is always the route to take, and that’s the one that will provide genuine joy rather than momentary satisfaction. Identifying Your Higher SelfImagine your higher self as the best possible version of yourself: the beacon of light that you strive to become. When I visualize my higher self, I see a healed man who only wants the best for everyone. He is completely in his heart space, and he doesn’t act from a place of ego. He wouldn’t feel victimized. He wouldn’t argue back, knowing that ill-fitted behavior is a manifestation of a wound. Therefore, he would only demonstrate compassion because he genuinely feels it. This version of myself knows that there is no better joy than feelings of compassion, gratitude, and love. So he’s the embodiment of these emotions, regardless of what the situation entails. My higher self sees the situation from the higher perspective and responds to that. It helps to visualize your higher self when you’re at a crossroads. Try to understand what they are thinking. How do they see the situation? What do they feel? When you’ve created this vivid image, don’t just model after them. Think like them, see like them, feel like them, embody them. Modeling After Someone You RespectIf you’re struggling to see your higher self in these situations, try modeling after someone that you highly respect. When I was living in Ecuador, I worked closely with an Ayahuasca Shaman for half a year and saw this man as a mentor of sorts. To me, he’s a symbol of wisdom, compassion, and understanding. During some of my most challenging moments, I would ask myself what he would do. Would he argue back when he feels he is being attacked? Would he drag his feet and play the victim? Somehow, I couldn’t see it. I imagine that if he was in my situation, he would milk every moment of being back home. He would work on the wounds with his mother and cherish their time together, knowing that it’s limited. When you’re not sure what your higher self would do in any given situation, imagine a role model in your situation, and take after them. Can’t think of someone you would want to model after? What about influential figures? Historic figures? Religious icons? Visualize this person in your shoes and press play. Now, do the same thing. Separating Intuition from Impulse for Higher DecisionsMost of the time, we instinctively know what decision is the right one. But our egos coerce us into taking a course of action that really isn’t in anyone’s best interest. One thing I’ve learned is that your intuition won’t lead you astray. But first you need to separate intuition from impulse. Impulse is an emotion-based, momentary decision. Your intuition is a deeper wisdom that shines through when you tap into your higher self. You know what to do; you just need to trust in it. Either you don’t want to accept the course of action because it’s difficult, or you haven’t really listened. Learn to lean on the wisdom of your heart, not your mind. What makes your heart feel heavy when you think about it? Avoid that course of action. What makes your heart feel light when you think about it? Follow that course of action. Always follow what makes your heart feel lighter, because it knows better than your mind. View the Situation from a Higher PerspectiveIt was easy to feel like I was doing well when I could avoid my family wounds. I never had to confront those wounds when I was living overseas, so I was under the impression that they were healed. Sure, things were fine on the surface level, but that doesn’t mean the deeper underlying issues weren’t still there. Without moving back to Australia and getting into a situation where I had to confront those wounds, I would have never created the incentive to heal them. Looking back, I’m thankful that the universe gave me this opportunity, because in the five months I’ve been back, a whole lot of progress has been made for a healthier, happier relationship with my mother. Instead of getting triggered, I’ve learned to look at the wound. Rather than being caught in my ego, I’ve learned to look at the situation through her perspective. I am happy to be able to look back at this time in Australia and smile, knowing that I’m now running toward my dreams, and not away from my wounds. *Image generated by AI About Daniel HannahDaniel is a nomadic traveler from Australia. He guides people with a holistic, spirituality-focused approach, blending counseling and coaching to help you navigate challenges within your personal growth journey. You deserve to create a wonderful life for yourself, and he’s here to make sure it happens. Visit him at symbosity.com. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Joy is the simplest form of gratitude.” ~Karl Barth I had no way of knowing when I went to visit my brother’s family that summer in 2019 that my three-year-old niece would say seven words that would forever change my relationship with joy. It was July and predictably steamy in Georgia where his family lives. I was visiting to meet my newborn nephew, and the stifling heat kept us all inside for most of my stay. The second morning after I arrived, I was spending time with my younger niece and keeping her entertained. My older niece was at a playdate, my sister-in-law was with the baby, and my brother was running an errand, so she and I had some bonding time to ourselves. We sat in the living room playing her new favorite make-believe game, Girl’s Club. The game of Girl’s Club was simple: speaking out loud, describe Girl’s Club, the idyllic imaginary place where the girls who were in could come hang out, and it was now my turn. “Hmmmm, let’s see.” I started. “Well, there’s a fountain outside with mermaids swimming in it.” My niece’s round blue eyes became enormous. “I knew it would be like this!” she said. I laughed; it was so cute, and her glee was contagious. I continued my turn. “And inside, there is a ceiling painted to look like a rainbow.” Again, a deep inhalation and, “I knew it would be like this!” This time she clapped her hands. I couldn’t stop smiling as I went on describing. Girl’s Club was clearly being channeled from my own inner four-year old, so my niece and I were on the same page. “And there is an enormous golden chandelier…and pink velvet couches!” My tiny three-year-old niece jumped up and down and flung her entire body onto the couch, rocking back and forth, unable to contain her excitement. “I KNEW it would be like this!” It was the biggest exclamation yet. Our back and forth continued just like this, with me sharing more details, and my niece affirming that not only was this fabulous, but it was exactly what she expected—and now it was here. I was struck by her response. Her joy was palpable, literally bursting from her small body in motion and energy. And she never got tired of exclaiming over and over, “I knew it would be like this!” I noticed several things about my niece on this particular morning: 1. She is aware of what she loves, of what feels fun and good to her. 2. She expects that things will be good and delightful to her. Of COURSE the couches are pink velvet, exactly like she imagined. 3. Her recognition that the goodness she anticipated and knew would be coming was now here and should be celebrated. 4. Her complete embodied joy. When was the last time I had embodied joy like this? I couldn’t say for sure, but here was my niece, easily accessing it on a Thursday morning in the living room of her house simply by having a conversation about imaginary things. I had a meditation practice and did yoga, and I was pretty good at tapping into calm. But I realized that calm is very different from joy, and while I often allowed myself this muted sense of peace, could I let myself really let go into the full-bodied exuberance of joy? As adults, we can protect ourselves by expecting the worst. “I don’t want to get my hopes up,” or “If I think it’s going to turn out well that might mean something bad will happen,” or having the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop when things are really good. Having something good is vulnerable, because then we have something to lose. Embodied joy is one of the gifts of childhood. We haven’t yet learned to be too cautious, to temper expectations, to feel the weight of responsibility creeping in to tense our shoulders. Of course, in some childhoods, responsibility or hardship comes early, with the loss of such exuberance a heartbreaking addition to whatever difficult circumstances have arrived. Ideally in a happy, healthy childhood where you are cared for and your needs are met, all you have to do is receive. Receive the meals made for you with love, receive play time with a sibling or friend, receive the vivid magic of your imagination, receive the tuck-in and goodnight kiss from a parent. Receiving the goodness here in this moment was exactly what my niece was showing me. Completely charmed, I shared the story with my brother and sister-in-law, and we laughed. I shared it again with my husband, with my parents, with friends. Each person I shared it with had the same reaction: laughter, genuine delight, and the recognition of an obvious catchphrase that could maximize the impact of a joyful moment immediately. What happened next unfolded like clockwork: everyone who heard the story wanted to use the phrase too. At home on a Friday night with my husband making homemade pizza: “I knew it would be like this!” At the beach with friends watching the sunset from the deck and laughing: “I knew it would be like this!” Hugs between siblings reuniting after a long time apart: “I knew it would be like this!” Sitting alone, snuggling on the couch with a blanket and some tea, the dog lying companionably next to me with her silly snore: “I knew it would be like this!” The trick is to notice the moment in the first place and really receive it by saying the magic words. Saying the words feels like a way of savoring, of giving permission for the goodness of life to fully arrive. Using this phrase works wonders when alone, and when used with others, it becomes a celebration. You can try it when you snag a parking spot in a crowded lot, when toasting a friend at happy hour, gazing up at the moon and stars, hearing your favorite song come on the radio. Just remember, the first step is noticing that these moments are already present in small or big ways. Be curious about the little things already in your life that could be welcomed even more, establishing a more joyful and familiar relationship with goodness. Your happiness gets a boost when you consciously let it in, savor, and even celebrate. Grant yourself permission to receive, to know that good things are for YOU and that they’re already here, to celebrate little moments of happiness and in doing so amplify the joy in your life. Using this phrase is so easy—even a child can do it. I knew it would be like this! About Elizabeth ScottElizabeth is a licensed psychotherapist, writer and reiki master practitioner. She uses Internal Family Systems therapy, nervous system support and right-brained experiences to empower your inner wisdom and promote whole-brain healing so that you can live the life of value you deserve. To receive her free Five Day Nature Wellness Reset or to subscribe to her newsletter, visit www.heartsighthealing.com. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “There are only four kinds of people in the world—those who have been caregivers, those who are currently caregivers, those who will be caregivers, and those who will need caregivers.” ~Rosalynn Carter, Former First Lady of the United States The call reminded me of an old TV commercial for a medical alert device. Only this was real. “Mom fell down and broke her hip,” my sister said. “She’s in the hospital waiting for surgery. I’m freaking out about Dad. He shouldn’t be living alone!” Wait. What? What’s up with Dad? After more conversation, and once the initial shock subsided, I had to face the truth. The thing that no one ever wants to talk about had finally happened. Our parents, who had until then been independent and self-sufficient, needed help. I would have to put my life on hold and travel the 2,800 miles to their home. Fortunately, one of my brothers only lives about four hours away and was able to get there the next day. During our frequent phone conversations, Mom and Dad downplayed their day-to-day challenges. When I asked how they were doing, they made light of things and insisted they didn’t need help. So, when I arrived, I was blindsided by the decline in Dad’s cognitive function. Also, Mom developed a frightening post-operative delirium that lingered for two weeks. As a result, she remained hospitalized for an entire month. At the same time, Dad announced that he had decided he should give up driving. He also asked us to help them find and move into an assisted living apartment as soon as possible. That’s how I ended up staying with them for six weeks. For the first month, my brother rearranged his life so he could spend three and a half days with us every week. I was so grateful for that. And together, we accomplished a lot for our parents in a relatively short time. But it wasn’t easy. In many ways, the experience reminded me of the demands of parenting. Selflessness, on-the-spot problem-solving, patience, and resilience—all constant requirements. As in parenting, there’s no instruction manual for when your parents need care. You’re just making everything up at the worst possible time: when you are overwhelmed, and somebody else’s life depends on you. So, I put these five coping ideas before you, not as an expert, but as an uninitiated caregiver. One who took on the care of her parents because they suddenly needed her to. Accept What IsAccepting what is puts you in a state of inner non-resistance. Of course, you can still want to improve things. But you have a calmer attitude, and any action you take to help the situation is more effective. It was hard to witness the changes in my parents. Their confusion and grief over losing much of their independence were heartbreaking. But, to avoid being overtaken by my emotions, I kept reminding myself, “This is how it is now; what would Love do?” One powerful example of this happened years ago when my husband was first having chemotherapy treatments for his chronic leukemia. One day, he was lying in bed after coming home from an infusion, freezing cold and shivering. I felt anxious as I kept piling extra blankets on him, but his teeth kept chattering. I remember thinking, “Why isn’t this working? He should be warm by now! What is happening?” Instead of being fully present, I got caught up in my fearful, resisting thoughts. When I finally remembered to ask, “What would Love do?” I got in bed and wrapped myself around him. No “thinking” was involved; it felt like something other than my mind took over at that moment. As soon as I did it, I became present enough to realize that my poor husband wasn’t just cold but also afraid. And, of course, my warm, loving hug made all the difference. The shivering soon stopped, his body and mind relaxed, and he fell asleep. Accepting the present moment as it is doesn’t mean giving up in resignation. In fact, you are more likely to come up with practical solutions for problems that initially seem insurmountable. Identify and Mobilize Trustworthy HelpersCaregiving can be lonely. But you don’t have to go it alone. No matter how self-sufficient you are, give yourself permission to ask for help from trusted others. Back to my experience with my parents: My brother immediately found local services that made our situation more manageable. Home Again Senior Transitions, a downsizing and move management company, was a godsend. Jill and her staff helped us plan, organize, sort, downsize, and move. With their guidance, we felt better about the decisions we had to make on our parents’ behalf. Consider asking family, friends, neighbors, and/or local service organizations for help. It could make all the difference in providing the best care for your loved ones. Also, it’s crucial to obtain an Enduring Power of Attorney, if necessary. This type of POA will continue even if your loved one loses mental or physical capacity, allowing you to legally make financial and business decisions on their behalf. Make Healthy Choices for Your Well-beingAmidst the countless demands of caring for your loved ones, you must remember that your health matters, too. I confess that I didn’t do well with two important choices—nutrition and exercise. I know for sure this added to the depletion I felt after six weeks. Be mindful of your nutrition. Opting for nutrient-rich foods will give you the sustained energy you need. Exercise releases endorphins, reducing stress and promoting a positive mindset. It may feel like there’s no time for exercise, but even short bursts of movement can make a difference. One way I did care for myself was to attend to my bedtime routine. I retired early every night to enjoy my book and wind down before sleep. As a result, I generally slept well, which helped to restore my energy. Find moments of respite, even if it’s just a few minutes of deep breathing or a short walk in nature. Grant Yourself Some GraceYou’re giving your all, pouring your heart and soul into caring for your loved ones. But we’re all human, and mistakes happen. There were a couple of times when I wished I could have been more patient, generous, or understanding on this journey. When Mom was anxious, she could be impatient with Dad. This happened regularly during their challenging transition. One day, she spoke to him disrespectfully, and instead of minding my own business, I blurted out, “Mom, stop! You’re berating him for something he can’t do anymore! Can’t you see he’s doing the best he can?!” Ouch. Not my finest moment. It was awkward for all three of us. But I’ve learned it’s better to forgive yourself and move on from these slip-ups as soon as possible. Dwelling on them will only weigh you down and drain your energy. Accept your imperfections, let go of self-criticism, and grant yourself the grace you deserve. Look for Things to Be Grateful ForBesides enhancing your everyday life, finding things to be grateful for helps you cope during tough times. It broadens your perspective and enables you to maintain a positive outlook. Despite the difficulties, I cherished heartfelt conversations with my brother and my dad. Sharing meals together and moments of laughter brought some much-needed lightheartedness. I was thankful for my mom’s excellent care during her month-long hospital stay. And I was grateful my parents could afford a lovely apartment in a modern assisted living facility. There were also many tender moments I will never forget. Like how my self-sufficient, undemonstrative dad allowed me to take his hand when walking across busy parking lots. And how he said to me one day out of the blue, “I love the way you protect me.” Another sweet moment was Mom’s childlike delight and gratitude when I finally took her for a flattering, long-overdue haircut. -- In the blink of an eye, life can take an unexpected turn. One such curveball is the sudden responsibility of caregiving for a loved one. It’s a challenging journey that will test your strength and resilience. But amid the intense emotions and the weight of this new role, there are ways to cope and find solace. By embracing these coping strategies, you can successfully navigate this uncharted territory with love and compassion for everyone involved. **You can find a helpful list of free resources for caregivers here. About Linda WattierLinda Wattier helps women over forty embrace wholehearted living for a more authentic, fulfilling experience of midlife and beyond. She’s a women’s bold wellbeing coach and founder of How She Thrives, a free weekly newsletter on how to keep growing brave, strong, and free in the second half of life. Join us here to get handpicked advice on thriving from the inside out. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in.” ~Haruki Marukami Last year was both the hardest year of my life and the most transformative. My partner and I had started in vitro fertilization after years of infertility. The daily hormone injections and invasive procedures were tough, but when we saw two blue lines on the pregnancy test, we fell utterly in love with our growing baby. Around the same time, my mother, a warm and practical person, had an unexplained manic episode that lasted for months. Unable to sleep, she became tormented by her own mind. On one occasion she went missing late at night. On another she destroyed treasured household objects. Far away from family, I was alone in helping to care for my elderly parents in crisis. Not long after, I started to lose the baby. I bled for three weeks. A week later, I rushed to the emergency room late one night, and seriously ill, to discover I was at risk of sepsis. The experience was was harder than I could have imagined. It was as though I had lost the love of my life, but with no funeral or public acknowledgment. Around this time, I fell ill with Covid and never quite recovered. The following months were a blur of insomnia, leg pain, racing heart, ringing ears, and pressure in my head, throat, and chest. My symptoms were worse at night, when my heart raced at the slightest noise and adrenalin surged through my body. Small activities, like doing the dishes, showering, or walking up a flight of stairs, wore me out. Even socializing became exhausting. When I was at my lowest, my sister was also in crisis. Growing up, we had been inseparable. She was fiercely affectionate, funny, and brilliant, but struggled with her mental health and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in her twenties. Last year, she experienced a prolonged psychotic episode that manifested as extreme rage. She wrote countless emails to the family saying she was going to kill herself and it was our fault. Then she disappeared completely. Months later, when I was starting to recover from long Covid, I got pregnant and miscarried again. This time, the doctors said the embryo had likely implanted outside the uterus and could cause a rupture if it grew too big. For weeks I went for blood tests and internal scans nearly every other day. At night I lay awake in panic. Since that time, my long Covid has worsened. I struggle to make it through each day while holding down a job. After multiple attempts to reconcile with my sister, I think about her every day, worried for her well-being and devastated for the loss of our relationship. But when I find myself swept away by despair, insights keep arriving like small gifts on my doorstep. After a lifetime of people-pleasing and perfectionism, my hardships taught me to advocate unapologetically for my needs and live more in the moment. My grief gave birth to a profound sense of self-compassion. I saw for the first time that my intrinsic value as a human being was not dependent on accomplishing things or pleasing others. Losing my health taught to me to appreciate the gifts I do have: a partner who loved me through my darkest hours, caring family and friends, a stable job and home. And perhaps most importantly, I learned to treasure my own sense of possibility. I know these hardships are not unusual. Many people have experienced chronic illness, infertility, miscarriage, or family mental illness. I hope these reflections might offer some solace to others who are also suffering. 1. Your suffering is not your fault.Your profound loss cannot be reframed or therapized away. All you can do is listen and love yourself when the pain hits like a wave,and know that the wave will pass over. Try not to blame yourself for these terrible feelings. They are a healthy response to real tragedies. There is nothing you could have done to prevent this and you don’t need to improve. 2. There is no shame in being unwell.Yes, you have been hurt, but you are not broken. You are whole and complete. You don’t need to work hard at healing—it will happen in its own time. You are allowed to ask for help. This is part of the journey of recovering autonomy. You will not feel powerless forever. Remember how much you have healed already and how strong you have become. 3. It’s okay to find sources of distraction.You are allowed to feel happy—it does not mean you have forgotten what you lost. It is okay to prioritize yourself and tend to your smallest desires and needs. You have worked so hard to take care of others, prepare for the future, and do the right thing. If there is ever a time to let go of obligation, that time is now. 4. You do not have to be brave.You are allowed to be weak and afraid, angry and resentful, or petty and indulgent. You are allowed to be whatever it is you are at this moment. It is enough to simply make it through the day, to feed yourself or ask for time off work (please ask for time off work!) It is okay to be contradictory and complicated, and to embrace your shadow aspects. 5. There is nothing wrong with being alone.Pretending to be okay in front of others is exhausting, but so is mustering up the courage to share your struggles. Some people may disappoint you. Most don’t know how to respond to suffering, but everyone has a gift they can offer. Some will distract you, others will hold your hand, or remind you that you are not alone. You can discover these gifts in your own time. 6. You don’t need to be rational, and you don’t need to have faith either.But you can gently move in the direction of all sources of comfort, from a cup of hot chocolate or an afternoon nap, to the intangible solace of dreams. You can imagine spirits caring for you in your time of need or loved ones holding you in their arms. Envision a trip to a beautiful place. Remain open to mysterious and everyday sources of joy. 7. You will discover gifts that you never knew existed.Your ability to self-advocate can turn exhaustion and overwhelm into rest and relaxation. Your capacity for gratitude can remind you of all that is well within your body and your life. Your sense of humor can reveal absurdity in even the darkest moments. By tapping into these resources, you will be better prepared for hardship in the future. 8. Every end is a new beginning.New hopes will emerge where old ones have ended. Lean into the kind of hope that is not attached to an outcome but that fosters excited anticipation. The script of your life is unwritten and filled with potential. The unknown can be scary, but it is also where magic and mystery dwell. Remain open to new ways of being, and to the possibility for a beautiful future. About Jessie SpeerJessie Speer teaches geography at a London university and researches the politics of housing and homelessness in the US. In her free time, she makes whimsical collages. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “For the person that needs to see this today: Your heart will heal, your tears will dry, your season will change. Rest tonight, knowing the storm will end.” ~Unknown Like many people, I didn’t have the easiest time growing up. Between having a toxic family upbringing and being bullied, I learned to trust nobody and keep to myself. Being naturally bold and self-sufficient enabled me to move through the world independently, relying on as few people as possible. Living this way was the closest experience to safety I could reference. Over the years, my lifestyle of hyper-independence increased, and I drifted further away from others. This coincided with a new career field I’d moved into that required much travel. As I threw myself into making money, I cut ties with many of the remaining relationships in my life, wanting to rid myself of anything that felt interdependent. “I don’t need anybody now,” I justified to myself. “As long as I have money, I can buy support.” This wasn’t a dig at the people in my life as much as it indicated a deep feeling of unease that had always followed me in relationships. Connection was challenging for me, and I hated being faced with my perceived failures. As much as I wanted to disappear into the busyness of work, as time passed, I couldn’t escape how painful it was to be alone. I would often wake up in a new hotel room unsure of what city I was in, and feeling so lonely, I thought at times that I might literally die from the pain of it. The self-imposed isolation started to feel like a prison that I didn’t know how to break out of. The more I tried to distract myself, the more suffocating the isolation became. It was as if the walls of the hotel rooms were closing in on me, mocking my attempts to fill the void. Each morning, I would force a smile onto my face, pretending to be content with my solitary existence. Still, inside, my soul ached for connection. During this time, I desperately craved human touch. Sometimes, I felt as though my body was withering like a flower while sensing the absence of a loved one to cuddle with or hug. I wanted physical contact that felt gentle and nurturing. Touch that allowed me to feel a sense of home. Yet, deep down, fear gnawed at me. Fear that if I allowed myself to let others in, to depend on them, I would be vulnerable to the same pain and rejection that had haunted me in the past. I had constructed a thick fortress around my heart to shield it from potential pain. I wish I could say that one day I woke up and decided to make a change, but it took time. As the magnitude of my trauma started to come into focus, I developed a newfound appreciation for the parts of myself I had judged because of their unhealthy coping mechanisms. Harsh criticism was replaced by tenderness and even admiration for all I’d been managing to hold up. For the fact that I had still managed to strive and dream and hope in the face of so much pain. But it wasn’t until somatic practices were introduced into my life that I was able to heal some of the more profound wounding that had been following me around. Somatic means “of the body” and is a growing area of study in the mental health and wellness space. Research studies reveal how trauma isn’t located strictly in the brain but is held in our nervous system and physiological responses. For example, our body kicks into action when we encounter a stressful situation. Our psychology cannot tell the difference between physical or emotional pain, so its first instinct when encountering either is to move into a flight-or-fight stress response. This shows up in the body as a spike in cortisol levels and blood rushing to our legs so that we can run faster. Our digestive system slows to conserve energy, and our breath becomes shallow. If the trauma isn’t properly processed, these physiological responses can stay “turned on,” so to speak, leaving us in a state of dysregulation. As I explored somatic practice, I began to experience trauma leaving my body in visceral ways. Sometimes, my legs would shake, or my jaw would chatter uncontrollably. I began to take comfort in these releases, as my nervous system was always remarkably calmer at the end of one. I was hooked and wanted to learn more. I started to read everything I could on trauma and somatic tools as a way to heal. One day, I stumbled across a practitioner who used autonomous sensory meridian response (ASMR) as a form of touch therapy. I had only been familiar with ASMR as YouTube videos in which the creator would whisper into the camera while performing reiki or tapping on a microphone. I didn’t know that it could be performed one-on-one, in person. I also didn’t know that ASMR can be deeply calming, relaxing, and healing, and that this could be the key to letting my guard down and letting people in. When I arrived for my session, I entered a quiet room where my ASMR therapist greeted me. She explained what I should expect from our hour together, and after my questions were addressed, I settled face down on the massage bed. Ambient music drifted from a nearby speaker, and I was instructed to relax. What happened over the next hour was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I drifted into one of the deepest relaxations of my life, where every sense was stimulated. Various types of head massages and tools were used on my back to draw circles and shapes. There was a gentle tapping on my legs and a soft brush on my neck. There was also an instrument that sounded like rushing water played over top of me periodically. I felt myself sighing deeply repeatedly as decades of emotional tension released from my body. By the end of the session, I was on cloud nine, and I slept like a baby that night. For the next week, I felt like I was inhabiting my body in an entirely new way. A light breeze brushing against my cheek would leave me speechless. The fabric of my cashmere sweater felt like a hug. It was as if all my senses were returning online after years of numbness. I credit ASMR as a critical practice on my healing journey. In fact, I finally opened my own practice to help others. This tool is still widely misunderstood and underrepresented in therapy modalities, and the benefits need to be shared on a wider platform. As I healed, I started to challenge my fear of intimacy and began taking small steps toward building meaningful relationships. I finally addressed the deep-rooted issues that had contributed to my aversion to connection. I gradually learned to let others into my heart. It is said that we are not meant to navigate this world alone, and indeed, I have come to realize the truth in this sentiment. As my heart opened to the beauty of human connection, I discovered the transformative power of shared experiences and the profoundly positive impact others can have on our lives. No longer bound by self-imposed isolation, I now embrace a life surrounded by a network of kindred spirits. I have learned that strength can be found not only in independence but also in the willingness to forge deep and meaningful connections. And through this journey, I have come to understand that true safety lies not in solitude but in the embrace of genuine human connection. About Rebecca Benvieebecca Benvie is the founder of an ASMR wellness service called WhisperWave. Having worked one-on-one with hundreds of people in her private practice, she learned a lot about the nature of touch and who is not getting enough of it. Over and over again, she has seen clients with anxiety or mood disorders leave a session feeling reborn, all thanks to the power of gentle, focused touch. Her passion and mission is to educate others on the importance of physical contact. Visit her at www.whisperwavenyc.com. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.” ~Robert F. Kennedy How do you define failure? When something doesn’t go as planned? When someone tells you they don’t like what you’ve made? When an outcome doesn’t match your expectations? I find it increasingly important to define failure. Which seems like a weird thing to do because we’re all trying to avoid it. Even talking about failure feels like it has the power to bring about failure. No one wants to be labelled a failure. And it’s because of that underlying fear that we end up stuck, miserable, and afraid of the very actions that will release us from that doubt. Here’s a glimpse into a story I often find myself repeating. I come up with an idea, I get feedback, and I start building. I’m acting from a place of creative excitement where my juices are flowing. I’m swept away by the belief that this idea could change the trajectory of my life. And then… the outcome doesn’t match my expectations. It doesn’t reach as many people as I thought it would. Or it isn’t as profitable as I thought it might be. It bloody guts me. I grasp what I think is the issue. I ruminate on what should have been. I get pissed off because it feels like I’m back at ground zero. Am I doomed for failure? That depends on the choice I make next. Do I give up? Then you best believe I’m a failure. Because the life we want reveals itself by taking another step forward. As Winston Churchill said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” You’ve heard of the Fortune 500, right? It’s a term that gets thrown around a lot, especially in business circles. The Fortune 500, an annual leaderboard published by Fortune magazine, ranks the 500 most revenue-generating companies in the United States. It’s a snapshot of business success. Yet, a glance from 1955 to 2019 reveals only 10.4% of companies remained on the list. This stark turnover underscores a crucial lesson: Success is fleeting without continual adaptation. And therein lies peace of mind. The point isn’t to climb the peak and stay there. These places that feel like destinations are nothing more than sandcastles, eventually washing away with the tide. The point is to use what you’ve learned and apply it to your next adventure. So how do we decide which direction to take after a “failure”? How can we know which choice will lead us to the best possible version of our lives? Failure = feedback. We can only tell where something is in relation to something else. Putting in the effort means we have something to compare and contrast it to. There’s a tendency to focus on what the tiny sliver of companies did to succeed, but far more can be gleaned from what the majority didn’t do and why they disappeared. What did they stop doing? What did they foolishly ignore because they wanted to be right? Why did they stop asking questions? Why couldn’t they see their blind spots? Whether it’s a failing business, someone who has plateaued with their health goals, or a parent who can’t connect with their teenager, they all share one commonality that led to their failure: They stopped seeking feedback. Meaning they no longer put in effort. The one and only action that gives us clarity. I remind myself of this when I’m hyper-focused on the outcome. I feel like a helpless failure because I’m ignoring the actions that will change the outcome: the inputs. Thomas J. Watson, a former chairman and CEO of IBM, identified fear of failure as the reason we don’t experience momentum in our lives: “Would you like me to give you a formula for success? It’s quite simple, really. Double your rate of failure. You are thinking of failure as the enemy of success. But it isn’t at all. You can be discouraged by failure, or you can learn from it, so go ahead and make mistakes. Make all you can. Because remember that’s where you will find success.” Don’t like the taste of your spaghetti bolognese sauce (the outcome)? Change the ingredients (the inputs). Here’s the lesson I’m still learning: This takes time. The most effective way to change the outcome is by changing one input at a time. If I switch out all the ingredients at once, I’m back to playing a guessing game. But if I try San Marzano tomatoes instead of diced tomatoes? Oh, hot damn. We’re cooking up something delicious, and now I understand what brings me one step closer to the outcome I want. In the context of my creative pursuits, instead of discarding a project, I engage in more discussions to understand what isn’t working. I ask: Have I offered a valuable solution to a widespread problem? Have I demonstrated how my solution works? Then, did I adjust the project and clearly convey the changes to those who provided feedback? This keeps me on track without guesswork, acknowledging that the first iteration, untested, often fails. It feels a hell of a lot less daunting to approach failure like an experiment. Transform failure into a laboratory. Each misstep is an experiment, a finding. Adjust one input at a time, observe the change, and inch closer to your desired outcome. This week, change one ingredient in your strategy, whether at work, in relationships, or in personal goals. Observe, learn, iterate. Life is a constant iteration, a series of experiments where failure morphs into feedback, driving us closer to the life we envision. Remember that every step forward, no matter how small, is a step boldly taken toward your dreams. About Chris WilsonJoin Chris Wilson in 'Simplify Sundays,' a newsletter journey blending productivity insights, minimalism, and personal growth. Overcoming depression and bipolar disorder, Chris shares profound lessons for a balanced, fulfilling life. Discover the power of simplicity and mindfulness to transform challenges into growth opportunities. Embrace a life of less stress, more joy, and meaningful living. [Click here to access Chris's Free Course] on mindful simplicity, and start your journey towards a happier, more productive life. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Be more afraid of losing yourself than losing the approval of others.” ~Unknown Sometimes, when I feel restless, I listen to angsty music that I used to listen to as a teenager, such as Taking Back Sunday, My Chemical Romance, Paramore, and Bullet for My Valentine. I can still belt out every lyric to Misery Business with precision, without missing a beat, and with perfect intonation (okay, so maybe not the last one). As I was listening to music from my past, I tried to make sense of this inner restlessness. Why has this been coming up for me so much and what is it trying to tell me? Finally, it dawned on me—my inner teenager wanted out, and she wasn’t going to stop until she got the last word. She wanted to display her creativity, put herself out there, and express herself authentically. She wanted a way to make sense of her experiences, and I wasn’t allowing her to be seen or providing her with a vehicle to do so. I had been thinking about sharing my writing online, but my fear of facing potential rejection and disapproval from friends and family was stronger than my desire for self-expression. When I was younger, I loved to express myself online. I loved parodying my favorite YouTube videos with friends, such as Shoes (2007) and Candy Mountain, Charlie (2007). I would go to school, come back from volleyball practice, and work on my AIM away messages and Myspace profile for funsies. I would go outside on a Saturday afternoon and take ~eDgY* and arTsy* photos of myself in an outfit and hairstyle that perfectly matched my mood, with a facial expression that conveyed the most precise emotion I was feeling at the time. I wasn’t just sad, I was melancholic; I wasn’t just happy, I was jubilant. After about 500 poses and 1,000 pics later (I wish I were exaggerating), I would select a photo, change my Myspace song, and update my layout. I loved how a picture, song, and overall aesthetic told a story. I was posting visual diary entries for all to see. My desire to express myself was so strong that, like many now early thirty-somethings, I taught myself basic HTML code to ensure my Myspace background fit my profile perfectly. I would change my profile as often as the color of a mood ring changes. I was very in touch with my vision and had an eye for beauty and art. I loved that I could listen to Pop Bottles by Birdman featuring Lil Wayne one moment, and Have You Ever Seen The Rain? by Credence Clearwater Revival the next. I used to love filling out those Myspace surveys in which you would answer basic questions about yourself and your opinions and post it publicly for your friends to see. I would craft answers that I thought cleverly displayed my personality and interests, and I took great pride in what I wrote and how I wrote it. I would even go so far as to purposely misspell words to break free from the rigid structure that was being imposed on me in seventh grade English class (and because some words look better when spelled incorrectly like liek). I truly did not care if one person or a million people saw my responses and liked what I had to say; I was going to post them anyway. Somewhere in early high school, I stopped taking quirky photos, stopped posting cringy surveys, and stopped changing my page layout. My thinking shifted from “I don’t care if one person sees this or likes what I have to say” to “If even one person sees this and doesn’t like what I have to say, then I’m not posting it.” It happened so insidiously that I can’t even pinpoint it to a cyberbullying incident, nasty comment, or slight roll of the eye. When I entered high school, I became a strict parent to my teenage self. When she wanted to post how she actually felt, I would tell her to go to her room and not come out until she’d calmed down and was “thinking more clearly.” I grounded myself, which is ironic, considering I now use the word grounding to talk about bringing oneself back down to earth and being real. Looking back, I was never more real than when I was sharing how I felt in a way that felt true to me. The fear of being ourselves is something we pick up on as impressionable teenagers, whether this is directly experiencing bullying or ridicule or witnessing it happen to others. It causes us to go into full chameleon mode and shove the most real parts of ourselves so far down that we struggle to access our genuine feelings and opinions. If we do this over and over, we become strangers to ourselves. When we do not have a creative outlet, the internal restlessness builds and builds, and the internal voice becomes louder and louder. At first, it sounds like a gentle drying cycle, but eventually, it sounds like putting a pair of cleats in the dryer: distracting and likely to cause some dents. Self-expression is an important part of the human experience and, if left unfed, will starve your creativity. It’s kind of like learning a new language—if you don’t use it, you lose it. It will eventually come back with practice, but it might sound like Spanglish for a while. But what happens when you use Spanglish in Spain? You’re embraced by the natives for at least trying. The same is true for any new skill: writing, painting, dancing—there will always be haters, but there will be ten times the number of supporters. We all love an underdog story. I’m realizing that if fourteen-year-old me can cultivate joy and patience with the process of learning how to code HTML for a rinky-dink Myspace profile with some hearts on it, then thirty-two-year-old me can learn how to relax and write a blog post to share what I’ve learned in life and love, even if my writing is a bit rusty, and with poor grammar and punctuation and run on sentences such as this very sentence. Your inner teenager is gunning for you whether you like it or not. They promise not to rack up the monthly Verizon bill or install LimeWire on your computer. You can either be the parent who listens and encourages self-exploration, or you can restrict access and take away the keys, pushing your teenager to rebel. My guess is, if you’re still reading this, that you resonate on some level with the need for a creative outlet for them; or perhaps you’ve already figured this out and needed a reminder. “So, darken your clothes, or strike a violent pose, maybe they’ll leave you alone, but not me.” ~My Chemical Romance **Image generated by AI About Ally UngerAlly Unger lives and works out of her home office in Scottsdale, AZ. She is an online Relationship Coach for women who are anxious in love. Follow Ally on Instagram or TikTok: @allyunger_ Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place to go where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” ~Maya Angelou In 2019, I found myself in a psychiatric institution sitting across from a psychologist who was grilling me about why I was there. She seemed angry. I told her how heartbroken I was that no one “believed” the physical symptoms I was dealing with, caused by chronic illness and benzodiazepine withdrawal. I told her how my nervous system had been hijacked, and I could not control the terror I felt daily. I told her how everyone just assumed I was crazy and making it all up, and that even with a doctor’s diagnosis, I found myself in this terror alone each day. She wore glasses and a blue suit, and I rambled, overexplaining to her the debilitating effects of withdrawal, derealization, extreme sensitivities, and depersonalization. I talked about the emotional issues I had from trauma, and how I knew that what had occurred in the last ten years was more than that. I was getting sicker and sicker, and doctors could not explain it until very recently when they found that I had chronic inflammatory reactions from an overreactive immune system and was also in withdrawal from benzodiazepines. I only took one pill a day and began having symptoms each day at around the same time. I told her how completely invalidated I felt and alone in my search for what was hurting my brain and body. She looked down and said, “That is really hard to believe.” Clearly, the “danger” that brought me there did not cease while sitting across from her; it intensified. I knew gaslighting well, and the shame that went with it. “I want to call my doctor, and I want you to speak with him,” I said, and then decided to stop talking. It became clear that this was not a place to be helped or heard, just a place to try to tolerate for a bit. That night I lay in my bed, envisioning somewhere warm, where people sat by the beach strumming guitars, drinking fruit juices, talking, listening, and connecting with each other. The sun shone, the blue ocean waves crashed on the shore, and the birds sang. I wore a beach dress and flowers in my hair, and everyone around me in this community loved me. The emotions I felt with this visualization were love, joy, and a feeling of being home with people who acknowledged me, wanted me around, and believed me. It helped to calm my highly activated body. The home found in these visuals was what I sobbed for each day and used to soothe my nervous system. I remember sobbing on my mother’s floor, begging her to take me “to the beach” when in a wave of withdrawal. Helpless, she grabbed me, helping me up, and said she didn’t understand nor know how to help. It was true that I was already dysregulated before withdrawal. Disconnected since childhood from a stable home inside, I searched on the outside for this anchor. I suffered anxiety and bouts of depression along with other trauma-related dysregulation. The ache for home began long before taking my first benzodiazepine, and safety was a feeling I could not always access alone. It is also true that benzodiazepines exacerbated this tenfold and, together with the dysregulation, caused a whole host of chronic issues as well as perpetuated them. Unfortunately, my new doctor wearing blue did not believe me, nor did she believe the doctor I was working with on the outside who had called her. The next morning in my cold, sterile, blue and white room, I woke up to find a girl sleeping in the bed next to me. There was a guard sitting in our room. I showered and went to breakfast. There was a table of “regulars” who had been there for some time. They joked and talked loudly. I knew I was not welcome at this table. So I found a spot at a table where heads were down, and the energy was of middle schoolers on their first day of class, thinking of the right words to say, and the right “kids” to say it to. I turned to a girl next to me and introduced myself. She was short and thin with delicate features and black tight curls. Just like that, her story came gushing out. She didn’t feel heard by her ultra-religious parents as they got ready to move to a town she didn’t want to go, sending her to a school she didn’t want to attend. She sat next to another young woman, who often got up and danced around the room, fluttering about and sharing memories and a picture of her beautiful mother, who had passed when she was young. She was highly successful working in tech. She told me how much she “liked me already” and that when we got out, we should go dancing together. Across from me was a social worker, mid-thirties, who laughed about the irony of his job. He said he “freaked out” after being robbed during a one-night stand and was taken in. And he worried about his employer finding out. Another older man told us about how he was in and out of these hospitals intentionally. He came from a wealthy family and was not in contact with them any longer, and it was here that he felt safe. He didn’t know how to function on the outside, and each time he was released he found a way to return. He told us which hospitals had the best food, and which were the kindest. After some time, my roommate showed up. Her guard sat her at a desk alone and hovered over her. At my table, we talked, laughed, shared extra juices, and rested in the knowledge that we all understood each other—immediately. In my hospital gown, I felt the warmth of the sun, heard the ocean waves crash, and sipped my fruit juice as we shared stories, talking, listening, and connecting. For the first time in a very long time, I felt connected and acknowledged. In the next couple of days, we consulted with each other before signing up for groups to be together, ate each meal at the same table, graduated to being able to wear tights under our gowns, shared socks, had an “intervention” for our older friend who couldn’t stay on the outside more than a few weeks, finally got to talk to my roommate who told us the reason she was monitored, and watched her expression evolve from pain and anger to peace and lightness. After dinner, there was free time. We spent it all together in the lounge, and an older woman talked of the days when she danced salsa and showed us some steps. We took turns making phone calls and seeing our doctors. We all had negative feelings toward the therapist in blue (as well as much of the staff, who were unnecessarily harsh), and I requested someone else. It was denied. We learned how to act in front of the nurses, who were all too happy to write down anything they perceived as “problem behavior” and held these “behaviors” as reason to keep us longer. At night, Katie (my roommate) and I whispered about how we expected a much gentler place, and how fortunate we were to have each other to go through our time here. Each day we spent our free time together, acted on our best behavior in groups so that we would all get out, and planned a reunion. We laughed and relished in how quickly we had bonded, how much we had in common and to share with each other, and how this could not be a coincidence. We all agreed that, somehow, we were placed here together for a reason, as it was exactly what each one of us needed—to be heard and to be seen. One by one, we were released, exchanged numbers, and promised to reunite. Of course I looked forward to going home, but I knew that I had spent the last week with the home I had been searching for, one of unconditional acceptance. I left resting in the knowledge that a group of people had acknowledged me, accepted me, and believed me. This was the beginning of my healing. It was in these moments that my body and brain could rest, and clarity began. I found in this unlikely place the home I had been searching for, amongst strangers who quickly became family. I also found a feeling of safety I could not find within myself, and soon after it began to grow inside of me. I think that’s the goal for all of us. Sometimes it just takes a while to find people who will see, hear, and accept us, but they’re out there. And they’re probably waiting to feel seen and heard too—by people just like us. *Image generated by AI About Maria StefanieMaria spent years looking for relief from the suffering she experienced due to the toxic "stories" she received as a child. These stories, and the medications prescribed to ease them, led to dis-ease physically and mentally. Eventually she reconnected with her authentic self and broke through to a lighter side of life. She works each day to be a better version of herself and learn different modalities to help others. You can find more of her story here. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. |