“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” ~John Lennon. For as long as I can remember, I have been living in a never-ending to-do list. I was constantly thinking about what needed to get done, how I could multitask, or how I could be even more productive. Even on the weekends, I loved planning out my entire day, usually focusing on chores and other not-so-exciting things. To be honest, I thought this was a perfectly normal way of operating. I would pride myself on my productivity and my ability to stay on top of everything. Never mind the fact that I was always tired and stressed out—at least things were getting done! Well, that’s what I told myself, anyway. Being in that mode every day just became a habit. I would think of what my next meal was while eating the current one. I would plan out my Saturday and fill it with errands and chores before even getting to the end of the week. To me, that felt like an enjoyable weekend because I could stay in my planning comfort zone and not have to stray from my habits. When I was in this “planning mode,” it was very hard to snap me out of it. It’s like I am wired that way, and doing anything different would feel uncomfortable. Even while my body was screaming for rest, I persisted. I never even questioned why I was like this until I met my husband. He caught on very quickly to my planning ways and one day asked, “Do you ever plan fun into your day?” That question took me aback because my first reaction was: Of course I plan fun! This is fun! And then he asked me the same question about planning rest as well, to which I had no answer. My husband was the first one to make me question my ways and take a hard look in the mirror. While I loved feeling accomplished, my body was having a hard time keeping up. At that point, I fully realized that the to-do lists never stopped, and if I didn’t slow down to enjoy my life, it would be over before I knew it. Memories buried under errands and chores. Once I had awareness of my habits, I wanted to investigate why I was this way. Why was my brain constantly planning? Why was I always trying to multitask and rush through things? Why did I never allow myself to take breaks and rest? What was I running from? I never took the time to ask myself these questions, and maybe you can relate to this. It seems that most humans have a “busy” problem. Too busy to see friends, too busy to exercise, too busy to vacation, and the list goes on. But what is underneath all this busyness? Well, to change my ways, I knew I needed a full reset. I had to get to the deeper meaning of why I operated this way. I didn’t want life to keep passing me by as I checked items off to-do lists and felt productive. I wanted to truly savor the small moments because right now is all that exists. To make these changes, I used my favorite self-reflection tool, journaling! Writing out my thoughts and just letting the words out of me always allows me to go deep within myself. It’s what allows me to discover the things that I am trying to avoid. When I asked myself why I preferred to be distracted and busy, I realized that it wasn’t to feel more productive . It was because I didn’t want to face some very hard truths. Truths such as:
When I looked back and saw these words on the page, I was speechless. All my deepest fears and worries were right there in front of me. These were realities I was running from because, truthfully, they are not easy to accept. All my efforts to distract myself were a way for me to freeze the moment and time forever. To stay this age forever so that the people around me didn’t age either. And that’s the beauty and pain of being alive. None of this is forever, yet the time we do have is nothing short of a miracle. So, while facing the truth is painful, not running from it is the best superpower you can possess. Because once you don’t fear anything, life will truly feel like magic. In the same journaling process I asked myself what beauty I could find in these truths that I was running from. How could I reframe them to support me and make me feel even more alive while I still get this one chance on Earth? Here’s what I discovered:
Just by doing this one reframing exercise, everything changed for me. I saw that there was nothing to run from. That being busy was doing more harm than good. And if I only concerned myself with daily tasks, I’d miss the beauty of the moment I was in. I love the life I’ve created and the people in it. The only thing that matters to me is my relationships, with myself and others. People are what make life special. So instead of always planning, I can sometimes leave the tasks for another time, because I’ll never get this moment back. I also learned that rest is an active practice on its own. Taking a day to do nothing is a practice. Sitting down for an hour to give your body a break is crucial. Incorporating more time for presence, reflection, and inner connection is the best gift I can give myself. Instead of making new lists and finding tasks to do, I now allow myself to get lost in a new book. Instead of cleaning the kitchen right now, I can go on a long walk with my dogs, who bring me so much joy. Errands can be put on hold right now; I’d rather sit and talk to someone I love. This year, I am giving myself the permission to rest and be an active participant in my life. To make new memories and look forward to new adventures. Nothing is more important than experiencing life in all its glory. If you can relate to what I shared, I promise you that when you slow down, it’s not at all scary. You just might uncover some beautiful lessons that can change your life. About Annie DasAnnie Das is a writer focusing on self-growth, happiness, and finding purpose. She shares practical ways that everyday people can infuse more spirituality into their lives. Come and join the journey at wordsbyannie.com. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “If your path demands you to walk through hell, walk as though you own the place.” ~Unknown Trigger warning: This content contains references to self-harm and suicide. It was in the spring semester during graduate school. I was living alone in a one-bedroom apartment and working nearly full-time hours at night. The anti-depressants weren’t working so well. I was keeping up with my therapist, but I suppose it was too much. I felt too much. It hurt so much and couldn’t handle it. You could list out the symptoms of depression, and I had them all. Unable to deal with the stress of college, broken relationships, or other life events, any added stressor seemed unbearable. I cried a lot, had terrible neck pain, and even failed one of my classes. I’d hurt myself more with wild hope that the physical pain would outweigh the emotional. It was a low point at the bottom of the pendulum swing. When I began to feel like eternal sleep was the only peace in sight, I turned myself in by telling my therapist exactly what I was planning to do. They wasted no time and had me in safe hands quickly. That was the second time I went to the mental hospital within a year. I stayed in my room mostly and cried a lot, but the staff were kind and helpful. My psychiatrist was concerned about the underlying cause. He eventually landed on clinical depression and general anxiety disorder. After a three-day stay and medication adjustment, I was released. Over the next while, I did well enough. Eventually finishing my graduate degree had a positive effect on my chronic migraines. I’d had multiple treatments to ease the headaches. Once a migraine attack lasted for two weeks. When they suddenly eased, my doctor basically shrugged and attributed them to stress. About a year later, I had a new therapist and psychiatrist. Finally, I was diagnosed with treatment-resistant depression, general anxiety disorder, and borderline personality disorder. It explained why I had been through so many medication adjustments, the bouts of insomnia, and the frequent mood swings. I believe that simply having some answers helped. My medication was adjusted again, and I began to feel much better. There was no more self-harming, and I grew my support group. I am with the same therapist and on the same medication several years later. During all of this, I changed jobs twice, lost a mentor to COVID, and moved to a new house. There were also things going on in my family that were out of my control. What was obvious was that I was able to cope with life events much better than before. I learned to adopt a lot of tools to help combat old habits. For example, instead of freaking out over a situation, I could take a moment and meditate if able. I was able to considerably lower my stress and anxiety this way. Instead of isolating after a rejection, I could seek out a close friend to talk to or go out with. To help me stop thinking negative thoughts about myself, I’d write positive things on sticky notes and place them around the house. Like: “You have a good work ethic.” “You are a loyal friend.” “You have a beautiful smile.” Yes, they felt like lies after listening to self-hatred for so long, but perseverance made the difference. At some point, I had a moment. A realization. Sometimes we go through things and feel like we don’t have the strength to make it through. “This is how I go out,” was often a phrase I’ve uttered to myself in defeat. It’s easy to focus on the negative and let ourselves be overwhelmed. That’s why reflection is so important. The beauty of it is that if we can push through, the current struggle will shrink behind us like a bend in the road. Everything we endure serves to make us stronger and much more fit to face the next challenge. Currently, I’m experiencing some things that would have crushed the old me. Obstacles I’ve never faced before. People have repeatedly asked if I am all right. “I will be,” is a favorite response of mine. It signifies faith and the belief that things are not static. Things always change. Sure, I get sad sometimes, but giving up is out of the question. I’m constantly reminded of the saying: “I didn’t come this far to only come this far.” ~Matthew Reilly Hope is a beacon I keep burning in my soul. I feed it daily, and it illuminates an otherwise deep darkness. I had to go through all of that to be strong enough for right now. All of this—the waiting, the sleepless nights, the hard work—it’s all going to be another bend in the road. A story to share. It’s muscle to climb the next hill. I guess you could say I’m owning this struggle. Walking through ‘hell’ like I own the place. When new stressors and worries come up, I put them in the pile of things I can’t do anything about. If so-called obligations arise, I am at liberty to decline for my peace of mind. When good news comes around, it’s a glimmer of light. Daylight piercing through the other end of my dark tunnel. It combines with the light of hope inside and urges me onward and upward. I’m expectantly moving toward it and looking for the next stage in my journey. As a final thought, those tough experiences made it possible for me to help and encourage people today. There were times that I thought no good could possibly come from the pain. Looking back though, I feel only gratitude. I’m grateful for myself for persevering, for the professionals that helped me, and for my support people that listened. If you are facing something difficult, own it in the knowledge that you will get through it. One day you will look back on it and smile. Live it. Feel it. Own it. Overcome it. About Star DavisStar Davis has a background of 10+ years in the medical field and a deep love for writing. In community college, she started writing short pieces and documenting her mental health journey. Several years later, she feels she’s in a place where she can share what she’s been through. She launched a blog in December of 2023 where she posts weekly sourced articles. She also writes inspirational poetry and positively themed short stories. You can find her at starpdavis.com. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us.” ~Steven Pressfield I was born a decade too late in 1975 in a small Pennsylvania town. By the time I was old enough to buy a record, the legendary rock and roll culture of the 1960s and 70s was a distant memory. To some, it might have even seemed uncool by then. But to me, a teen in the late 80s, the era of sex, drugs, and rock and roll was everything. I spent hours writing song lyrics in my flowered journal, watching MTV, and poring over Circus and Rolling Stonemagazines, trying to catch glimpses of the personal lives of my favorite rock stars. I strummed my guitar and pretended I was Janis Joplin. I was a dreamer, obsessed with poetry and music and the romantic notion of traveling across the country to see my favorite bands. At twelve years old, I took a bus from my small town to Philadelphia to see the band Heart. At fourteen, my parents drove me hours away to see Stevie Nicks. Then, in my late teens, I drove all the way to Ohio and Las Vegas, Nevada to see her again. No distance ever seemed too far to travel for my favorite music. Back then, I envisioned myself following bands and living a carefree, hippie lifestyle where my only concern was getting to my favorite artist’s next show. And most of all, I dreamed about a concert at Red Rocks Amphitheater in Colorado. But somehow, by my early twenties, that dream felt out of reach. I met a man, got married, and had a daughter. Our life was filled with routines that were so different from the vagabond life I’d envisioned for myself. I traded spontaneity for discipline and gave up my dreams of traveling for the security of a stable life and a house in a good neighborhood. Eventually, the responsibilities of marriage, career, and never-ending to-do lists made my dream of going to Red Rocks feel more and more like only that—a dream. And it went on like that for seventeen years. Then, after years of doing what I thought I was supposed to do, my husband and I decided to separate. I embarked on life as a single mom. And as I did, I reflected on the last two decades. We’d married young and, in retrospect, I realized we probably weren’t a good match. He was a real estate attorney with a strong personality and even stronger opinions. I gave our marriage the best of me that I could, but it felt like I was always being who he wanted me to be. I had lost myself. I’d lost sight of my own hopes and ambitions. I’d never even made it to Red Rocks. In 2016, newly single, I felt eager to date again, so I downloaded Bumble and set up a profile. Not long after, I matched with Jerry. He lived on the West Coast but was in my hometown of Philadelphia for a Dead and Co. concert—the same one I had tickets to. Jerry had told me he’d followed the band as a teenager, but he hadn’t stopped going to concerts like I had. He’d held onto his dream and seen them at least 500 times. It was almost like he’d lived the life I’d imagined for myself way back when. We seemed to be kindred spirits. But I had a type, and that was someone who was within a fifteen-mile radius, so I decided not to meet up with Jerry at the concert, despite being intrigued. Jerry and I kept in touch over the next four years, although I never held out any hope for anything more. He was a divorced man with children, on a dating app; I assumed he’d meet somebody close to home, and I’d eventually stop hearing from him. But to my surprise, he reached out periodically, often to talk about what was happening in the world of Grateful Dead concerts. It seemed he wanted to stay on my radar. He was always polite and respectful, never creepy or pushy. Jerry was ten years older than me, but somehow reminded me of my younger self. He had a refreshingly youthful spirit, which was completely different than any man I ever dated. Like me, he had a corporate job, but he didn’t let that stop him from following his band across the country. Music was a huge part of his life, like mine. We kept in touch, and by the summer of 2021, the pandemic restrictions had started to loosen. Outdoor events resumed. I’d been itching to go to an outdoor concert, and that’s when Jerry told me he had an extra ticket for Dead and Co. Honestly, when I accepted the ticket, it wasn’t to finally meet Jerry in person. I was just tired of being stuck at home. I didn’t have any expectations. But the first time I saw Jerry smile in person, I had this feeling my life was about to get a lot more adventurous. And I realized I liked him. He was intelligent, polite, and handsome, and he loved all the same music that I had loved for years. After that first concert, Jerry told me he was falling for me and that he wanted to see me again on his travels with the band. When I reminded him that I was a single mom with a full-time job and couldn’t follow a band, he offered to take me to Red Rocks for my birthday. I couldn’t say no. Jerry was handing me my childhood dream on a silver platter, and I wanted to eat until I was full. He pursued me relentlessly, and it was exhilarating and romantic. Nothing like that had happened in my adult life before him. We spoke daily, and our adventures over the next two years were amazing. But about two years into our relationship, I began to realize that Jerry and I might not be forever. We led such different lives. His was wild and interesting; mine was more predictable. And as much as I loved his spontaneity, I began to see how chaotic his personal life was. I started to wonder: Was I in love with Jerry, or was I in love with the way he had stayed connected to his childhood dreams as an adult? After two years of seeing each other periodically and talking daily, the facade started to fade. The rose-colored glasses were off, and I was seeing things more clearly. While professionally successful, Jerry jumped from job to job. He lived in constant drama with his family, and all his traveling took a toll on his health and his relationships. I also started to wonder if there were other women like me in his life. I never doubted that Jerry cared deeply for me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he had women like me in several states. I never asked him. I wanted to stay in my bliss, living out my childhood dream of music and love—to stay in the bubble of contentment and happiness with what we had, with one exception. I wanted to see more of him. And, ultimately, I wanted to know that I was important to him. Jerry couldn’t do that. He had a hard time committing to anybody or anything other than the band. I understood. It was that lifestyle that drew me to him in the first place, but I couldn’t continue a relationship like that. The last time I saw Jerry, as I was dropping him off at the airport to fly home, I started to cry uncontrollably. I realized that the free-spiritedness of dating Jerry had a dark side: uncertainty. Every time he left, I never knew if or when I would see him again. Like the bands I had loved to follow, everything was on his terms. He decided when, where, and how, while I just showed up. It was incredible, but I wanted—needed—more. When I told Jerry that I wanted more commitment, I thought for sure that he would choose me. It’s what I would have done. But he didn’t. And it broke my heart. At least for a while. Once my relationship with Jerry ended, I had time to reflect. I realized that in our pragmatic world it’s all too easy to exist on autopilot. Still, we shouldn’t abandon our childhood dreams because they connect us to our inner truth and reveal the magic that surrounds us—and not only in iconic destinations like Red Rocks or in grand gestures like love-bombing and being swept off my feet. Magic also exists in the beauty of a cotton candy sunset while driving home after a long day at work. It exists in the time I spend with the people I love, like my ninety-year-old mother, whose short-term memory no longer exists, but when we sit hand-in-hand and play Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York,” we smile and sing every word and feel joyful in the moment, even if we’re off-key. Magic surrounds me when my ex-husband, who I consider a friend now, and I watch our magnificent eighteen-year-old daughter live her life, and beam with pride at the amazing young woman she’s become. Most days, though, I find that when I listen to music, attend concerts, and spend time writing, those are the moments I know who I am, and my childhood dreams come to life. And, of course, falling in love with Jerry taught me a valuable lesson: Relationships don’t have to be long-lasting to be impactful. Sometimes, a short-lived experience, like those concerts I chased all my life, could contain years-worth of depth, love, and meaning. And, I learned, dating doesn’t have to lead to a ring. Sometimes it leads to living a childhood dream and falling in love under a clear Colorado sky. Sometimes, that’s enough. About Shelly GillShelly is a sales professional and occasional writer based in the Philadelphia suburbs. She’s passionate about storytelling, good music (especially sixties rock and roll), and having fun to the beat of her own soundtrack. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart … Who looks outside dreams; who looks inside awakens.” ~Carl Jung There is nothing quite like an unwanted breakup to rip your heart open and bring you face to face with your deepest shadows. At least, that’s how it was for me. Nearly six years ago, on a typically warm and sunny Saturday October afternoon in Los Angeles, I was lying on the floor of my apartment, wallowing to my then-boyfriend on the phone about how everything in my life seemed to just be hitting walls: My career was hitting a ceiling, our relationship felt stagnant, the direction of my life itself was hazy and vague. It wasn’t the first time we’d had a conversation like this, but this time was different. On this day, for reasons I can only ascribe to the greatest mysteries of life, the center bearing the weight of it all began to unravel at the seams—with a long, deep sigh after at least an hour of getting nowhere, he spoke, “I think we should break up.” My mind couldn’t have fathomed hearing these words. Our relationship, no matter how bad it was, did not have an end in my mind. We were connected, we had found something within one another—something special and unique—and he had rekindled a feeling of aliveness in me that I did not want to let go of. It was simply unthinkable to me that what I had found with him would ever come to an end. But—as will eventually happen to us all at one point in life or another, whether it be a breakup, loss of a loved one, or something else—the unthinkable happened. I wish I could say that part of me found relief in the moment; that the part of me that knew things weren’t totally right came to surface to tell me, yes, this is a good thing. Instead, I entered complete denial. I listened to his words, and after grappling my way through the remainder of that conversation, I hung up, went to bed, and cried myself to sleep. In my head, because I was still so enraptured by a fantasy of “this can’t possibly ever end,” this was just a hurdle. It was a part of our path that would see us separating for a moment, but ultimately coming back together again. My mind simply didn’t want to let go. In fact, it couldn’t, because that is what happens when the unthinkable occurs. A mind attached to a specific outcome cannot comprehend any other outcome, as anything other than what it has imagined feels like a threat to your survival. That relationship, no matter how many red flags persisted throughout our two and a half years together—never having said “I love you” to one another, always feeling like I was just trying to prove myself, consistently being told “can’t you just be more of this or less of that,” to name just a few—was a matter of survival for me. Without it, my mind thought I would literally die. In retrospect, I can clearly see I was a woman attached. The relationship had been a lifeline for me when we first met. Fresh on the heels of losing my dad, that man came into my life and made me feel something when life had all but lost feeling. Without him, I thought I would lose it all (the irony being, of course, that a relationship born in attachment will lose it all anyway). Our relationship had been built on a shaky foundation of codependency and fleeting physical chemistry, and having never experienced a truly healthy relationship before, I couldn’t make sense of how a connection that had once felt so alive couldn’t be somehow fixed or saved. Breaking up was simply not a scenario that existed in my worldview. Beyond the UnthinkableI would like to say that you do not, in fact, die when the unthinkable happens. But the truth is, you kind of do. That is, at least a part of you does. Perhaps more accurately stated, a version of who you’ve known yourself to be up until that point starts to wither and asks to be let go. It’s the part of you that thinks you need to stay in a relationship that isn’t empowering you, or the part of you that thinks you need to stay in a dead-end job that’s out of alignment with your heart’s desires, or it may even be the part of you that thinks you cannot say no to friends who ultimately don’t bring out your best. Whatever scenario is most relevant to your current situation, the attachment to staying somewhere that is not empowering for your heart and soul is ultimately a reflection of how you once learned things needed to be in order for you to survive. It is no coincidence or surprise, then, that when the thing you are attached to is ripped away, what’s left is a gaping hole into the depth of your shadow. If you’ve never faced your shadow before, it can feel terrifying to do so. That is why, as was my experience, we often find ourselves in a state of denial about what has happened. Denial allows us to hang on to what was instead of facing what is. And what is, is this—a doorway into your very own path of soul initiation; a moment in which you are given a choice to either stay how you’ve been or face what has been swept into darkness so that you can begin to be free. The Threshold of a Soul EncounterFor me, that doorway came one week later when I woke up the following Saturday morning and found myself facing a hard truth I had not yet seen or known: On my own for the first time, I actually had no idea what to do with myself or how to spend my time. It hit me like a ton of bricks. There, standing in the bathroom that morning and staring at myself in the mirror, I reached the threshold of all great soul encounters: I realized I simply could not keep living this way any longer. I could no longer bear the weight; the center had officially broken. Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed my journal, sat on my couch, and began to write about the experience of the breakup and all the thoughts and feelings I had encountered over the past week. And that’s when it happened. It came like a flash of lightning. As I was recounting a scene from a few days prior when I’d run into my newly ex-boyfriend and felt my mood drop from feeling somewhat okay to feeling excruciating pain and despair, I noticed that my response to seeing him was to retreat inward. I realized in that moment something that I had never been able to see before: When you retreat, you can’t feel the pain anymore. The sensation of retreating to ultimately being withdrawn was something I’d felt many times in my life before, but it wasn’t until that moment that I realized the withdrawal was a form of self-protection: In order to stop feeling any pain that a part of me thought I wouldn’t be able to survive, I simply removed myself from it. As I continued to journal, I began to see how for much of my adult life, I had made choices to avoid feeling pain. Like staying in a relationship that wasn’t good for my heart for far too long, I often opted for the perceived safety of what was familiar instead of being true to myself by making choices that honored my heart. When I really got to the bottom of it, I realized that the pain I had experienced that I had so diligently been avoiding over the years stemmed from believing that there was something outside of myself that could deem me worthy of love and acceptance. I had long been living as a woman terrified of being rejected and unloved to the point where I might literally die, and it showed. Ultimately, it was in those pages that I began connecting the dots of my life and how I’d come to be someone who stayed in a relationship out of fear rather than real love. Perhaps more directly put, I was meeting my shadow. The Encounter is Just the BeginningThe insights I gained that day did not, unfortunately, make everything in my life immediately fall into place and feel better again. What they did do, however, was jump start my journey into real healing and inner growth on a level I had never been able to access before. That day, on my living room sofa, standing in front of life’s metaphorical wide open plain, I was given the gift of meeting my soul. The path hasn’t been easy, but facing your shadows and getting acquainted with your soul isn’t meant to be. It is meant to shake you to your core, to make you face the parts of yourself you’ve been too afraid to look at and learn to befriend them so that you can uncover the strength, wisdom, and heart you didn’t even know you had. Following the call of my soul to honor my heart took time, patience, gentleness, support, curiosity, and a whole lot of practice and faith to see myself through the darkness, but the rewards have been sweet: No longer automatically shutting down at the first sign of pain, I now know that the love I had been so afraid of not getting was within me the whole time, just waiting to be known. It’s been just over six years since the breakup, and I can say with the utmost confidence, it’s been worth every word journaled, every tear shed, and every painful moment encountered on the way down and back. In the end, you may not willingly choose the hard things that happen in your life (I certainly would not have chosen to be broken up with at the time), but when you find the fabric of your reality starting to rip at the seams, and you are standing on the precipice of the very depths of your soul, you are being given one of life’s greatest gifts: to meet yourself as you are and, ultimately, to know yourself as you came here to be. About Cristina Michaela StutzCristina Michaela Stutz is a writer, mentor, and artist specializing in personal transformation and soul growth as a deeply sensitive human. She believes in the power of self-reflection and creative expression as vehicles to uncovering your own path to fulfillment. To connect with Cristina, visit her at cristinamichaelastutz.com and on Instagram. You can also download her free guide to transformative journaling here. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Your heart knows the way. Run in that direction.” ~Rumi Have you ever found yourself questioning the health of your relationship, unsure if what you’re experiencing is normal or if it’s veering into toxic territory? It’s a common dilemma that many of us face at some point in our lives. But how do we know when it’s time to walk away? Toxic relationships can be insidious, often starting out innocently enough before gradually morphing into something destructive and harmful. The warning signs may be subtle at first, but they can become impossible to ignore over time. Flashback to 2016, I was traveling the world with my best friend. I was having so much fun at only twenty-one, and the whole trip felt like a dream. One night on my twenty-first birthday, I met a beautiful local boy playing drums in a bar. We had a magnetic and electrifying connection, and it really felt like we were soul mates. He was kind, sensitive, and understanding. He looked after me, too, buying me food and coconuts when I said I was hungry. I fell madly in love. But time passed, and the relationship came to a heartbreaking end when I realized I couldn’t live there forever. I had to go to university and go back to see my family. Seven years passed, and we both had fleeting lovers but kept in contact. Neither of us ever found a connection with another like ours. He was my reference point. The one I compared everyone to. “But they don’t love me like he did!” I was frequently in tears, at least once a month, even seven years on, to my parents. Crying my little heart out, petrified that I would never find a love like him again. Fast-forward to this past year, and I had the opportunity to go back. We said we were going to be best friends… but obviously, that didn’t happen. We immediately fell straight back into our deep love for one another. It was wild to think that after seven years, we were back here again, still tangled up together and wanting this to work. The first few weeks were perfect. Full of so much love, joy, and laughter. Until we went out one night, and we were both very drunk. I saw a side to him I never had seen before. He got so angry with me for no reason, blaming my culture for ruining their culture, and was so fuming mad that I started to become really scared. Who is this person? Why is he so angry? Have I triggered this? What did I do wrong? I went to bed feeling pretty gobsmacked and terrified about what I had just witnessed and prayed that it was a one-time, drunken mistake. But as much as I tried to tell myself that, the gut-sinking feeling in my stomach had already begun. I wish I had a happier story to tell, but frankly, I do not. We carried on full of love and magic but also with these drunk outbursts of anger and deep, deep resentment, clearly caused by a lot of unresolved relationships and cultural trauma. I found myself constantly trying to mediate the situation and calm him down. That was draining. On top of that, I was trying to navigate how someone who claimed they loved me more than anything in the world could use such violent words toward me and belittle my character as much as he was doing. I felt confused and heartbroken. What is this? Who is this? Is it me? Am I to blame? Is this the man I have loved all these years? Do I even know this man at all? These are some of the heart-wrenching questions you might ask yourself if you start to suspect that your relationship is turning toxic or you are starting to see surprising acts of violence from your partner. There is no feeling in the world more intense than that of shock, disappointment, guilt, fear, and heartbreak rolled into one. And the longer you stay, the harder it gets to leave, more often than not. So, what are the warning signs you should look out for? Lack of Respect and BoundariesThis is one of the earliest red flags. In a healthy relationship, both partners should, at the very least, feel valued, heard, and respected. If you find yourself constantly feeling belittled, criticized, or invalidated by your partner, it may be a sign that the relationship has become toxic. Manipulation and ControlAnother common warning sign is manipulation and control. Toxic partners may use guilt, coercion, or emotional blackmail to get their way, leaving you feeling powerless and trapped. They may also isolate you from friends, family, and social situations, making it difficult for you to seek support or perspective outside of the relationship. Erosion of Self-Esteem and Self-WorthPerhaps one of the most insidious aspects of toxic relationships is the gradual erosion of self-esteem and self-worth. Over time, you may find yourself doubting your own judgment, questioning your reality, and feeling unworthy of love and respect. This can make it incredibly difficult to leave, even when you know deep down that the relationship is unhealthy. So how do you know when it’s time to leave? While the decision to end a relationship is deeply personal and nuanced, there are some clear signs that it may be time to walk away. Trust your InstinctsFirst and foremost, trust your instincts. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. Listen to that inner voice telling you that you deserve better and that you’re worthy of love and respect. Pay Attention to Your EmotionsPay attention to how you feel in the relationship. Are you happy and fulfilled, or do you constantly feel drained, anxious, and unhappy? Your emotional well-being should always be a top priority. Look for their PatternsLook for patterns of behavior that are unlikely to change. While people can and do change, it’s important to recognize when your partner’s actions are consistently harmful and toxic. Suppose you’ve tried to address the relationship issues, but nothing has improved. In that case, it may be time to consider walking away. Realizing this is what compelled me to finally walk away from my relationship. Desperately wanting someone to change is just fear, trying to hold onto hope. Above all, remember that you deserve to be in a relationship that brings out the best in you, not one that diminishes your worth and undermines your happiness. It takes tremendous courage to leave a toxic relationship, but the freedom and peace that come with reclaiming your life are worth it. Recognizing a toxic relationship and finding the courage to leave is a profoundly personal journey. Trust yourself, prioritize your well-being, and know that you deserve love and respect. The path to healing and happiness may be challenging, but it’s always within reach. **Image generated by AI About Charlotte BurkeCharlotte is a passionate advocate for mental health and well-being who believes in the power of self-love and self-compassion. Through her own journey of healing and growth, she hopes to inspire others to prioritize their emotional well-being and cultivate healthy, fulfilling relationships. She writes about her spiritual travels from here on. (Sacredfootprints.com) Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Sometimes you get what you want. Other times, you get a lesson in patience, timing, alignment, empathy, compassion, faith, perseverance, resilience, humility, trust, meaning, awareness, resistance, purpose, clarity, grief, beauty, and life. Either way, you win.” ~Brianna Wiest Last month, I was feeling super fragile. I was deep in the woes of another round of covid type symptoms, along with an onslaught of chronic health conditions that were flaring up left, right, and center. I was one month into a new job, and after the initial excitement, I was starting to feel wildly overwhelmed. I spent two weeks waking up with what felt like an axe through my forehead, a body of muscles that were continually twisting and contorting, along with a heavy mind and a tired heart. My mind was fuzzy and my balance completely off kilter; no matter how hard I tried to pull my body out of bed, my bones wanted to collapse into a pile of rubble. It was time to be broken down and rebuilt. The Beauty of Fragile ThingsDecember came and went, and I spent the majority of it at home alone, downing vitamin drinks. I wobbled my way through my second month at work, but missed out on all the fun; gatherings with friends, a once-in a-lifetime retreat experience with work, and all the things that usually make me feel good fell to the side. It was a matter of eat, sleep, repeat. On the day of the retreat, I woke up feeling super low. My head was still banging, and my mind began to spiral. I had hit my upper limit. My tolerance for pain is super high, having experienced chronic health conditions for the past decade of my life, but the addition of a flu had tipped me over the edge. I so desperately wanted to be at the retreat and to connect with my new colleagues. I wanted to see my family and friends. I wanted to go back to the gym and feel good again. However, my only mission for that day was to make it to the shops to get some food. I wobbled out of the house and into my van, starting the engine with a sigh. The rain hammered down and the wind picked up—a storm was brewing. Halfway down the lane, I took my foot off the pedal and stopped dead in my tracks. Was I dreaming? Or perhaps hallucinating? Before my eyes was the most beautiful blue bird I had ever seen; turquoise feathers ruffled amongst a burnt orange chest, rainbows glinting from a technicolor body—plucked from a tropical rainforest and dropped into my existence. My heart gulped as I witnessed it float down a small stream, struggling to survive with a bent wing and wonky legs, its beady eyes and long black beak begging me for help. I burst into tears. Here was the most beautiful little creature I had ever seen; why was life so cruel? The flood gates opened, and this little guy made me feel everything that I had been holding back: a lifetime of dealing with chronic health conditions, holding my broken body together and becoming infinitely resilient to my own detriment. Becoming chronically positive to deal with the negative. But here was such a beautiful thing. The fragility of this little bird hit me hard. I felt simultaneously touched and heartbroken, giving thanks for our chance meeting while cursing at life and its bittersweet narrative. This bird said it all. Out of the Depths and Into the LightSuddenly, I snapped out of my bittersweet story and put my own experiences to the side. This little guy needed help, and he needed it now. Despite my dizzy head, I gently crouched down and scooped him up into a box, his beak squeaking as I told him everything was going to be okay. He was out of the storm and in the warmth of my van. We drove down the bumpy lane together. He was flapping and squawking, and I was bawling. Fifteen minutes later, we were at the vets. I handed over his tiny little body, as the receptionists cooed over his beauty and fragility and told me he was, in fact, a kingfisher. I gave thanks to this creature for reminding me that broken is beautiful; for it is in the broken that we find the depths of our feelings and the truth of our hearts. I’m sad to share that this little guy didn’t make it, but he experienced his final moments with love and warmth. There was no way I could have left him alone and cold in a wild, windswept storm. But this little guy moved me greatly. He reminded me that life is filled with beautiful moments and shimmers of light, even when it feels we are passing through dark, stormy skies. And so, I awoke from my spiral; weeks’ worth of self-pity and sadness lifted from my chest. My body may be broken, but I was doing my best. The Beating of a Fragile HeartDecember passed, and I lifted from the storm. Life wasn’t perfect, but my perspective had shifted. While I was still waking up with a plethora of weird aches and pains, I felt hopeful. I was back at work and back at the gym, and spring was on the horizon; I looked forward to the sunlight streaming in through my window and found peace in watching the moonlight shine through my skylight. But little did I know, the lesson wasn’t complete. I was to experience yet another round of beauty laced with fragility; grief was about to hit. In the second of week of January, I had another visit to the vets. This time with my gorgeous Persian cat, Basil. I adopted Basil two years ago, and he lovingly joined me on this happy-go-lucky, topsy-turvy journey called life. Basil is my source of light; he is a creature of comfort and character, and the source of much laughter. He has traveled with me in times of great change, through one of the most difficult heartbreaks of my life, and always makes me smile. Basil had been acting a bit strange for a few weeks, and after many tests it was suggested that he needed a scan of his heart. And so, we rocked up, Basil meowing and me feeling confident that he was fine. It was just a cold; surely he would be alright? Wrong. After his beautiful locks had been shaved, the vet returned with the results with a concerned look upon his face. My heart sank into my chest, and I prepared myself for the worst. Basil had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy; he was only two-and-a-half years old, but the disease had progressed rapidly. I was told he didn’t have long left to live. My body started shaking, and I lost it completely. I broke down in front of the vet and everything fell out. “He can’t have a heart condition this bad. I have a heart condition, and I knew he had a heart condition but not this bad. We’ve been through so much together. I get him, and he gets me. I can’t lose him. Please tell me it’s not true. I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him.” The vet said nothing, and I watched his eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “But there’s nothing we can do.” The bombshell dropped, and I walked out into the car park, struggling to breathe. The Complexity of Loving Fragile ThingsI spent the rest of that day wailing harder than I had wailed in years. My heart imploded and exploded; a supernova of anger at stupid f**king life and a tidal wave of grief. I didn’t understand why Basil had come into my life if he was just going to be taken away, so early and so brutally. I got home, looked at my housemate, and said, “What is the point? What is the point of loving something that is just going to be taken away? What is the point of this life and all this f**king pain?” She looked at me with holes in her heart, feeling the depths of my love, having just recently lost a precious pet herself. For a moment, she said nothing and then the wisdom hit. “If you hadn’t loved him, who would have? Who would have taken care of him like you did? You got to experience all that love with him, and he got to experience all that love with you. You have given him the best life possible, and that’s such a beautiful thing.” And she was right. Adopting Basil was one of the best decisions I had ever made. Even though it hurt like hell, I had experienced more love, more laughter, and more presence with this little furball than I had have experienced before. So many moments, with so many housemates. This bundle of joy had brightened up more than just my life—he had brightened up my world. Celebrating Our Fragile WorldIt is not just my life that is fragile, not the kingfisher’s, or my baby Basil’s. It is yours and mine and the world’s at large. This month has continued to bathe me in the lesson of fragility and acceptance; humility hits me as I listen to stories of young bodies battling life-threatening conditions, walk past park benches feeling the emotions laced through memorial flowers, and witness the cyclic life of bittersweet endings. We live in a delicate world, one that is uncomprehendingly fragile. Sometimes, we don’t get dealt the hand we desire, nor do those we love. But it is up to us to take these lessons and shift our perspective from what was lost to what was; to remember the love, the joy, and moments of simple pleasures; to rejoice in the light that so lovingly blessed us, even if just for a short while. For these fragile moments may take the breath from our lungs and puncture our hearts, but in doing so we are cracked wide open and taught how to love. There is beauty in the broken, and this is how we celebrate the fragility of life. Whether brutal or breathtaking, it somehow serves our lives. **Image generated by AI About Jadine LydiaJadine Lydia is a spiritual writer, poet, and inspirational content creator. She lives on the Cornish coast in South West England. Her writing shares her happy-go-lucky, holistic approach to love, laughter, and life, inspiring others to deepen their connection to the divine. She empowers others to take 'intuitive action' toward manifesting their deepest dreams and desires, through her self-love, mindset & manifestation mailing list, poetry books, and self-development journals. www.jadinelydia.com Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Our food should be our medicine, and our medicine should be our food.” ~Hippocrates There I was—it was 3 p.m. on my first day at my new job, the job I was so desperate for, and I was falling asleep. Right there, in a conference room filled with over twenty people, and I was nodding off. I couldn’t believe it. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and seriously questioning if I was ready or capable of this whole “adult” thing. How was it that I could barely keep my eyes open on my first day? I was supposed to be a young, vibrant, twenty-three-year-old woman taking on the world. And I fell asleep. I had heard about burnout. Surely, I felt some of the symptoms, like fatigue (clearly), procrastination, and an inability to get small tasks done. But at twenty-three, was I really burnt-out? Or was it something else? Today’s hustle culture is demanding, and more people are experiencing stress, fatigue, and burnout. But stopping at just blaming hustle culture is doing a disservice to your health. Adrenal fatigue and burnout are fueled by a very common and controllable factor: Nourishment. Your Fuel is Your PowerNutrition is the science of providing your body the energy and fuel that it needs to sustain life. Your body’s sole desire is to keep you alive, thriving, and well. Yet, years of conscious and subconscious diet culture messaging has skewed the perception of what nutrition really is! Think about it, when you Google “nutrition” or “best diet,” you will be bombarded with messaging like “low carb for fat loss,” “avoid FODMAPS,” and “avoid these foods to kick bloat.” Do you see a common messaging theme? All are tied to restriction and deprivation as ways to improve health. Start stacking all of this advice and trends, and what are you left with? A lot of anxiety around what to eat, uncertainty on how much to eat, and unintentional habits that lead to under-eating. As a clinical nutritionist, I even found that I was undereating. Which led to disruption in my hormones and stress response, which exacerbated my burnout (hence the nodding off). One simple mindset shift unlocked uncapped energy and potential that changed the course of my life. The “Famine” ResponseFood is the fuel necessary to sustain life, to keep you moving, to ensure proper hormone production, to keep the lights on. When you chronically undereat, this is extremely stressful on the body. Not having enough fuel triggers and increases your stress response. While it might be extreme, your body views this as “famine.” Your adrenal glands then produce more cortisol to help ensure that you survive the stressor. This is your “fight or flight” response. Cortisol is designed to be a short-lived hormone to provide immediate energy to survive the temporary stressor. In a simple overview it works in the following way:
Think about it. If every single day you are accidentally undereating, then this response is on 24/7. Every single day you are on this insane blood sugar rollercoaster. When you fuel your body with the right nutrients, you can shut off this stress response, increasing your energy, improving your focus, and making you feel good all day long. It’s as simple as that—eat more and thrive. Here’s how you break free from burnout by nourishing your body. Fuel to THRIVEHere is how you increase your energy, crush your to-do list, and feel empowered to take on your day confidently by nourishing your body’s unique needs . 1. Start the day with a protein-forward breakfast.How you start your day sets the tone for your day. When you wake up, your cortisol is at its highest. In fact, it’s that natural spike of cortisol that helps you get up and out of bed. You want to fuel your day with the energy you need to take on anything that comes your way and ensure that it is going to help regulate your blood sugar. Protein is the single best nutrient for the job. Eating a protein-forward breakfast first thing in the morning will stabilize blood sugar and slow the release of sugar into the bloodstream. In fact, after a protein-forward breakfast, your blood sugar can remain regulated for up to four hours. This gives you the energy and stamina to take on your day fiercely. These are some of my favorite go-to protein-packed breakfasts:
2. Eat every three hours.As simple as it sounds, eating every three hours ensures that you get enough energy in your day to thrive and ensure you avoid any blood sugar crashes (which is exactly how I ended up asleep on my first day). Now, if you are chronically undereating, this can be challenging because you might not “feel hungry.” When you undereat (even if it is unintentional), you cannot trust your hunger cues to tell you when it is time to eat. Your hunger cues are regulated by leptin and ghrelin. Chronic stress disrupts these two hormones. My pro tip for mastering this strategy is to set alarm reminders on your phone. Have them go off every three hours. Even if you are not hungry, just introduce the food. This process ensures you get something into your system, and it helps you build a habit around pausing and taking time to nourish your needs in the day. I recommend starting with a protein snack that is quick and easy, especially if you have a jam-packed day. Think:
If you are following the three-hour rule, you will find that over the next few weeks your hunger cues will increase. You will not need the phone alarms anymore, because your body will be reminding you and it will be in your routine to nourish your needs. 3. Repeat, repeat, repeat!The power of this process is repetition. Your health is not something that you start and stop. It is not a trend. Ensuring that you have what you need to thrive is something that you have to commit to, day in and day out. The beautiful thing that happens is when you love and support your body by giving it what it needs, it shows you love in return. The key here is you have to stay consistent with this. You cannot do it for just one day and expect everything in your life to change. When you make this a lifestyle, you will find that everything in your life changes because you feel good. Focus on taking these habits and integrating them into your routine. Remember, it has taken you a lifetime to develop the habits and mindsets around nutrition that you have. So it will take more than a few weeks to fully master these principles. Don’t beat yourself up if you miss a day, if you accidentally forget breakfast, or you end up snacking on chips at the end of the night. Rather, think of these “misses” as opportunities. Do a self-reflection of what happened in your day that impacted your ability to stick with it. Take note of how you felt, the stressors you had, and come up with ideas on how you intend to stay connected next time. And the biggest secret to long-term success: CELEBRATE! Celebrate the small victories. Celebrate when you complete the habit. Reward yourself for staying committed on days where it was hard. It seems small, but this is how you shift from a “habit” to a lifestyle. The Nourished MovementFueling your body with food is your superpower. There is not much in life that you can control. But you can control how you choose to love, support, and nourish your body. And I promise you that when you show up for yourself in this space and way, your body will show its appreciation. You’ll go from the burnt out person falling asleep in meetings, feeling overwhelmed by the laundry, or waking up exhausted and feeling doubtful, to… …feeling inspired, creative, and motivated. You will have the energy to show up for your day and goals with confidence. And not only will you show up with confidence, but you will also find joy in the day to day, because you will no longer be struggling to get through. This is the power of nutrition. About Tasha StevensTasha received her degree in Clinical Nutrition and Human Development, B.S. from UC Davis. She is a NASM CPT, STOTT Pilates Trained, and is Founder of Happy Hormone Health. She has coached 2000 women in reclaiming their energy, living symptom-free, and transforming their health through hormone balanced nutrition and strength training. Start your hormone balance journey with her free hormone assessment to get tailored strategies. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “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. |