“When we experience our lives through this lens of personal insufficiency, we are imprisoned in what I call the trance of unworthiness. Trapped in this trance, we are unable to perceive the truth of who we really are.” ~Tara Brach Breaking free from the trance of unworthiness is a key part of our evolution process, both at an individual and collective level. Let me explain why. What I observe with clients and what resonates with my own experiences is that most (if not all) triggers, limitations we impose on ourselves, and fears of failure or success stem from a deep and profound trance we all find ourselves in at various points in our lives: the trance of feeling “not good enough.” Once we’re enmeshed in this trance, where we truly feel that low vibration of unworthiness, and the shame that comes with it, we want to hide. We want to ensure that no one discovers our perceived worthlessness, because that would mean rejection. And rejection is oh so painful. Because we still feel it as being abandoned from the tribe in our emotional body, emotion that’s imprinted during our formative years when our samskaras (impressions or patterns of thinking/feeling/reacting) are being created. Therefore, humans naturally want to avoid rejection as much as possible. From then on, we mask. We hide. We reject our true selves and put on a façade that we believe is valuable to the tribe, thinking that we’ll be loved for it. There are different types of masks we can opt for depending on our “culturescape” and family patterns of beliefs. Your mask might resemble being an achiever. Constantly doing, constantly setting yourself up for success in whatever way your tribe defines it (a university degree, money in your bank account, the size of your house…). Or your mask might be that of a “good girl” or “good boy,” a people pleaser. Staying nice, acting nice, not too ambitious, not too lazy, making sure you do not make mistakes or get in trouble because getting in trouble would be bad. Or it could be a mask of service. You serve others, forgetting yourself in the process because thinking of yourself might be seen as selfish. But all masks have limits. There comes a time when your mask does not serve you, or them. It serves no one because it is not you. So you end up fooling yourself and others into believing that the mask is you. And this misalignment feels awkward, tight, rigid, and stressful because it is stressful not to be yourself. It takes effort to constantly put on an act. It is tiring. So there comes a time when you get really tired of it. Maybe you call this the mid-life crisis or the dark night of the soul. It’s just that your soul is tired of the constant acting. But your mask is really holding on, fearing that if it were to fall off, everyone would discover how worthless you are. So it works hard to stay and punishes you with harsh self-criticism each time you go off track and maybe show a bit more vulnerability, a bit more of yourself. So how do you remove your mask? Well, it’s not easy. It takes effort and dedication. It’s a long, non-linear journey, more like a spiraling up and down movement. But it’s oh so worth it. I too had a big mask on for a long time, and figuring out who I was without it was uncomfortable. So much resistance. So much fear. So many limiting beliefs. I wore a perfectionist mask to keep myself safe for years. I had a perfect body (according to the standards that were imposed on me at the time through magazines, society’s comments, women’s comments on their bodies), a perfect level of fitness (monitoring what I ate, struggling with anorexia), a perfect job (engineering, as per my family’s expectations). I was a feminist, working woman (the strict version of feminism that was transmitted to me was to work full-time and not be at home because it was not valued) and an independent woman (able to do everything myself). On the other side of the trance of unworthiness, life is so different from what your mask was expecting you to live. Maybe the big house you live in is not what lights you up anymore, or maybe it is. But you might find more joy and love in the small moments of life. It’s so much nicer on the other side, so much more authentic; more energizing, fluid, and beautiful. Not all happy. But authenticity brings some lightness to your life even in the midst of life’s messiness. Here are a few key steps to practice to break free from the trance and rediscover your true self. 1. Check in with your readiness.First you need to be ready for it. You need to be willing. You need a strong energy of yes to change and no to staying the same, in that loop of constant self-doubt and feeling unworthy. 2. Practice radical honesty.Be radically honest with yourself that you have been wearing a mask that kept you safe for a while but was inauthentic. Feel the mask in your body. How do you feel when you wear it? What physical sensations do you experience? What’s the voice in your head like? What is your inner critic telling you? Observe all of it. Each time you are back in this sensation, with this inner voice, catch it. Thank it for all the good work and beautiful protective intention all those years but be firm: you are in charge now. 3. Allow the feeling of discomfort.Spend some time in the discomfort of removing the mask and being formless. Feel the resistance. Observe the internal battle. Feel it in your body. After the internal resistance, there will be grief. Feel the grief fully. You are letting go of a part of yourself that defined you for most of your life. You will need to feel the loss. Take your time. There is no rushing grief. 4. Ask yourself: Who do I choose to be?In your redefinition process, ask yourself who you want to be, what quality of being you want to embody. What lit you up when you were young, and what is lighting you up now? How do you want to show up in the world? How do you want to feel? You have the power to be whoever you want to be. What will you choose? 5. Remember your inherent worth.Remember that you are inherently worthy of love. You were born worthy—a little newborn, a bubble of love. And you still are. Just as worthy of love, regardless of your age and the mistakes you made along the way. You are worthy of love because you exist. 6. Embrace forgiveness.Forgive yourself for your mistakes. Forgive yourself for abandoning yourself so many times. Forgive others for anything they said or did that caused you to want to hide. 7. Decide that it’s time to shine.It’s time to wear that new skin. It will feel weird for a while, but it will settle into something beautiful and relaxing. Eventually. Like when you meet someone you can be yourself with, it feels so easy and beautiful. Same feeling. The world needs the whole of you. Your unique identity. Your unique vibration. Live authentically. Cry when you need to cry. Share how you feel with love and courage, without blaming others. Shine brightly when you feel that energy. Follow those steps that take you toward the vision of yourself you’ve set, those inspiring, energizing steps. The journey is not going to be all rosy, but acknowledge the impermanence of the ebbs and flows in life so you can move through the challenging parts with trust. 8. Do what lights you up.Do the things that make you feel awesome, whatever they are. For me, it’s yoga, walks, nature, spending time with good friends, and connecting with my kids. 9. Spend time in nature.Nature brings out our authentic nature, our worthy nature, because nature is non-judgmental. Nature is authentic. Nature is powerfully beautiful. Nature is healing. 10. Surround yourself with a supportive tribe.As you remove your masks, as you grow and heal, your relationships will shift. You might find that you cannot hang out with the same people you used to—because they might still be wearing their masks, and because they might struggle with your “new” vibration. That is okay and part of the process. Learn to let go. This will create space for new relationships to come through. Find a tribe where you feel worthy and valued! 11. Be compassionate to yourself.Because the mask will want to come back for a while, on and off, in different forms. Your inner critic will get loud. Be patient. Hold this part of yourself and the part s/he is protecting tight. You got this… until the next time where you peel another layer and release another mask. Don’t forget, the journey isn’t meant to be tackled alone. Getting support from friends, a coach, or therapist is incredibly valuable. It speeds up growth and makes it easier to have someone to guide and cheer you on along the way. About Dorothee MarosseroDorothee is a conscious, compassionate empowerment coach who is redefining what women were conditioned to believe success, beauty, and life ought to be. Dorothee supports women who are struggling with a harsh inner critic, a sense of misalignment, and lack of clarity in their life, to reconnect to their inner-powers and rediscover self-love, presence, and joy. Download her FREE booklet: "Nurturing Harmony: A Guide To Thriving As A Highly Sensitive Being." here IG: @dorotheemarossero Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Ever tried, ever failed, no matter. Try again, fail again, fail better.” ~Samuel Beckett I felt an enormous sense of relief when I discovered that he was a total mess! I’m talking about one of the most revered Buddhist monks of our time. I learned this from a short autobiography, A Mountain in Tibet: A Monk’s Journey. It was written by the current abbot of the Kagyu Samye Ling Tibetan Buddhist monastery in Scotland (UK), Yeshe Losal Riponche. Having escaped from his war-torn home country (Tibet) and after much other trauma, he found himself in the West, entirely immersed in the sex-drugs-rock’n’roll culture of the 1960s. “Selfish and full of pride,” “surly and miserable,” is how Yeshe Losal Riponche describes his younger self in the book. He didn’t part with this way of being until his late thirties despite having grown up in, and having been surrounded by, the Buddhist culture his whole life. I too have had an intense period of being “selfish and full of pride,” “surly and miserable” recently. I was overworked, stressed, snappy, judgmental, critical, disappointed with myself, and constantly blaming others. With zero daily practice to carry me through the inner and outer chaos. Why is it still happening to me? After years’ worth of pursuing a different way of being. After years’ worth of seeking a life free from craving, aversion, and the usual human insanity. Why do I have to go through this never-ending cycle of feeling more mature and more at peace, and then hitting a low point when my mind is as unruly as that of any random person who’s never been exposed to any dharma whatsoever? The autobiography was a timely gift. It reminded me that I was not in it alone. We all, every single one of us, travel the same path. With its “ups and downs.” And this whole thing is called life. Ram Dass says that aiming to stay on a spiritual “high” all the time is not just unrealistic. It is a form of spiritual materialism. I become a consumer who wants this one thing (being high and holy) and has a tantrum every time she doesn’t get the goods. The more you fight it, the worse it becomes. Ram Dass shares the most hilarious and uplifting stories of enjoying (?!) seven hours’ worth of sexual fantasies while pretending to be in deep meditation. Or spending the first nine days of his thirty-day silent retreat watching tv for twelve hours a day. While it’s fun listening to his confessions, one can feel how utterly painful it would have been for Ram Dass to observe himself engage in such behavior. His advice? Simply keep watching but do it with compassion. This too shall pass. Even if I’ve failed to learn much else on the path, I think I have managed to figure out this one thing. It is not about getting holier each day moving in a neat trajectory. I’m not sure what it’s all about. But it’s not about that. Now, when I catch myself sleep-walking through life, I no longer feel deflated, discouraged, or dismayed. I am much more at peace with it. And that weakens the power of the monkey mind. Non-resistance is a great source of strength. I could never really understand Mooji’s call to “be at peace with a chaotic mind.” I now know that it is definitely possible. You can watch yourself do mental acrobatics with self-righteous guilt and blame, and think, “There there…this too shall pass.” Once the child has exhausted itself and collapsed after the tantrum, it’ll naturally calm down. And the Buddha is waiting on the other side. There is nowhere else to go. There is no escape from our Buddha nature. This is not to say that discipline doesn’t matter, that sustained whole-hearted commitment is not necessary, or that “anything goes.” But I strongly believe that neither lack of discipline nor commitment, nor any other force under the sun, as Christians put it, “not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.” (Romans 8:38, NLT) The Buddha’s heart overflows with compassion for me; his faith in me and commitment to me is unshakeable. Nothing can ever change that. All of the above is just to say do not be discouraged. Ever. If you are reading this, rest assured, you’ve been trapped! You are secure on the path. You may get off track, do a U-turn or whatever, but you simply cannot choose another path. The path has chosen you. You are safe. What follows are a few simple tools and suggestions to create an environment and a lifestyle that continue to remind you that you are a student, a disciple, a pilgrim. Always. Even when your life is filled with anything but peace, contentment, and equanimity. The EnvironmentI like to draw living water from out of the well that is fed by the rivers of every tradition. I am quite eclectic in my spirituality and my home reflects that. Among my precious possessions are
The list goes on. The point is, my flat and my environment in general are flooded with reminders of where I’ve been, what I’ve heard, who I’ve met, and what matters most to me. Sometimes some of these reminders become like fridge magnets and I stop noticing them. Then I may introduce something new. But most of the time, these things are not wallpaper. I’ve given them a function. They are meaningful. They keep reminding me of who I am. What does my weird collection represent to me? It reminds me that my past has been filled with spirituality, and so is my present and my future. No area of my life is free from meaning and purpose, as every moment in time and every place in space are part of my practice. I am never alone. I am surrounded by fellow pilgrims even when I don’t have anyone physically present next to me. Behind the awe-inspiring diversity of beliefs and practices, there is unity and oneness underneath it all. Every one of us is part of the lineage. May we continue practicing in gratitude to those who came before us and in guarding the tradition for those who are yet to come. Does your environment reflect your path, your identity, your truth? How can you make small changes to your bedroom or workplace to introduce a few things that would remind you of who and where you belong? The PeopleLife is forever dragging me into some human drama where people and situations trigger me, and my behavior acts as a trigger for others. There’s no sense of perspective or wisdom or equanimity in my life. No one models any of that to me, and I fail to model it to others. Without spiritually significant others in my life, I’d be entirely lost, thinking that the grown-up world really is just about bills and “commitments.” In the more balanced periods of my life, I may have a more stable relationship with such people (e.g., taking part in a meditation group regularly). At other times, I still try to make sure that these people are still in my life even if I’m not in regular contact with anyone in particular. The longer you stay on the path, the more fellow pilgrims enter your life. Then there’s other people who are just naturally joyful, or naturally perceptive or compassionate. Talking to them reminds me to seek after what’s true and beautiful, and to not just stay a passive participant in the rat-race of life. It’s important that I get an occasional email or message from those people. It’s vital that they get to hear from me once in a while. This infrequent contact isn’t too heavy to maintain, yet it punctuates one’s life with tiny reminders of who one really is, or rather who one isn’t. If you are able to, just pop into any spiritually meaningful place that’s local to you. Even a five-minute chat with someone there would help you to feel like you’re on the right path again. Send a quick “hi, how are you” to someone you met on a retreat or someone that you’ve connected with in another way, watch a YouTube video with someone who has been a long-term teacher or source of inspiration for you, or attend a live talk, online or in person. Even a random one-off visit and a very occasional catch-up with someone who is after the same thing as yourself does miracles. This is especially so because you get to see how other people fluctuate between the states of being spiritually awake and asleep. They too occasionally fall asleep without falling off the path. The DoingIt’s good if you are able to do things “properly” (e.g., you meditate once a day every day; you are part of a community where people deepen and grow in their practice together, etc.) But chances are, you want to do these things, but half the time you can’t get yourself to do much or anything at all. That’s fine. Just do something. Pretty much anything goes. Watching inspirational videos, listening to thought-provoking podcasts, journaling, walking, doing mindful coloring, listening to relaxing music or sacred chanting, meditating, or sleeping. Anything that adds color to your life counts (e.g., a heart-warming film or a powerful theater performance, or enjoying a nice meal or learning the basics of self-massage). You are in a classroom, so every life experience is part of the path, part of your practice. Just try and have a brief moment of mindful appreciation for whatever it is that you are doing. Give thanks. And just relax, enjoy it, have fun. Remember also that rest is resistance in a world where we’re expected to do more, better, faster. So, be rebellious. Do nothing. The TimingYes, that is the most annoying and painful question. Just when do I get the time to stop and do anything vaguely spiritual?! I’d say this is about being creative and generous in your interpretation of what counts as spiritual practice. If your daily routine allows you to have a five-minute cup of tea or coffee first thing in the morning, that’s an awesome start to the day. That’s your practice. When I can’t do it (most days), I make myself a cup of coffee at work and try to not turn my work laptop on until I’m done with my cup of coffee. At the end of the day, when I’m too tired to meditate, pray, read, or do anything else, I just turn on the pretty fairy lights and curl up on the little sofa for ten minutes. Just staring into space. My other mindful pause is while air-drying my hands at work. It takes a little longer than doing it with a paper towel and gives me a couple more seconds of peace and quiet in the bathroom. Occasionally, I’d stand up and stare outside the window in my office. Two- to three-minute-long micro-breaks are powerful tools for grounding yourself in the moment. Naturally, some days are so full-on, I don’t even have the luxury of taking the time to dry my hands properly. I just do it when I can. When I remember. Bringing attention back to the breathing is something that I find relatively easy and very helpful as this is how I meditate anyway. Little but often is certainly best. In my books, “occasionally” and even “very occasionally” are still better than “not at all.” If you can take one mindful breath a day—even once a week—this is still a precious moment of mindfulness. It counts; it does make a difference. No matter how much or how little “spiritual stuff” you manage to do on any given day, it’s the intention that counts, as the old saying goes. It really does. While the intention is there, the flame is burning. So, just keep it burning by taking those micro-breaks and filling your life with mini reminders to ground and strengthen you. In conclusion, let me remind you of my precious mantra: Ever tried, ever failed, no matter. Try again, fail again, fail better. (Samuel Beckett) About Elena VerigoElena manages a learning support department at a busy school in central London. Her work with adults focuses on creative therapy solutions for identity issues. Visit her at soothesands.com. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “It is important for people to know that no matter what lies in their past, they can overcome the dark side and press on to a brighter world.” ~Dave Pelzer, A Child Called “It” I grew up in the shadow of my pathologically narcissistic father. From a very young age, my role in the family was that of the scapegoat, a role that poisoned my entire childhood. I lived in a constant state of fear, shame, and self-doubt, always trying to please my father and earn his love and approval. But as I grew older and began to understand the true nature of my father’s behavior, I realized that his love was never something I could earn or deserve. It was simply not within my control. And so I made the conscious decision to release myself from the burden of trying to gain his love. Letting go of this childhood trauma was not easy. It took time, and notwithstanding the fact that I am now well into middle age, there are still days when I feel the weight of my past on my shoulders. But as I began to peel away the layers of hurt and pain, I also discovered a newfound sense of freedom and self-acceptance. By acknowledging my past experiences and their impact on my life, I was able to take control and make positive changes. I learned to use my voice, set boundaries, and prioritize my own well-being. And in doing so, I found that the more I released myself from the hold of my childhood trauma, the more empowered and hopeful I became. Letting go of childhood trauma does not mean forgetting or denying what happened. It means accepting it, learning from it, and using it as fuel for growth and healing. It also means embracing vulnerability and allowing ourselves to feel and process our emotions. The Dysfunctional Dynamics of a Narcissistic FamilyIn the cast of characters within my family, each of us played a specific role in my father’s drama, almost as if we were following a script. My father, the puppet master, was the archetypal narcissist, continually seeking admiration while lacking empathy for others, making family life a perpetual performance. My mother played the part of the enabler, softening and justifying my father’s actions, her support acting as the grease that allowed the machinery of his narcissism to run smoothly. My brother, the golden child, lived in the glow of my father’s approval, unwittingly being shaped into a younger version of the man who was destroying him. And then there was me, the scapegoat, taking on all of my father’s projected anger and shame, often being punished for things I didn’t even do. Understanding these roles has been a painful yet illuminating part of my journey. This insight is a bittersweet liberation, lifting some of the burdens that I’ve carried for so long—and with each step in awareness, I’m crafting a new life narrative, built not on the foundations of trauma but on hope and self-compassion. The Importance of Letting GoFor the longest time, I clung to my past, believing that the pain I refused to shed was somehow integral to my identity. Yet, the power I gave to those memories only helped them grow roots in the present. In the end, it took a total mental breakdown to shake me out of this mindset, ironically triggered by an act of total altruism by my oldest and closest friend. She fostered a little girl, and when I met her I was catapulted back to my own childhood and all the pain and fear it entailed. It was like opening Pandora’s box, but instead of the evils of the world flying out, they pulled me in and closed the lid behind me. But it was in this dark place that I finally found the strength to let go. I couldn’t keep living a life where my past weighed so heavily on my present. I was no longer a child, bound by my father’s whims and expectations. I had the power to break free from that cycle of trauma—but this required me to release the past. The Healing Process Through Release and ForgivenessHealing from my childhood trauma was not just about shutting the door on my past experiences, but rather understanding and empathizing with the self that had to endure them. Forgiveness, I learned, isn’t about absolving others of consequence. It’s about forgiving myself for all the things that I did to cope with my pain. Through therapy and self-reflection, I slowly released the anger and hurt that had consumed me for so long. And as I did so, I was able to replace it with a sense of peace and self-acceptance. It’s an ongoing process, but one that has brought immense healing and growth into my life. Practical Techniques for Letting GoThe path to release is different for everyone, and there is no one right way to let go of childhood trauma. However, there are common threads that tie the experiences of many trauma survivors in their quest for freedom from the past. Therapy and Counseling OptionsSeeking professional help was a pivotal step in my personal growth. It took a while for me to find the right therapist – someone with whom I felt comfortable discussing my most painful memories. But when I did, it was a game-changer. Therapy gave me the tools to process my emotions and memories in a healthy way, allowing me to gradually let go of the hold they had on me. It also provided a safe space for me to explore and understand the dysfunctional dynamics within my family. I had to face the fact that some of the behaviors that I had adopted as a child as a means of survival were no longer serving me in the present. With the help of my therapist, I was able to challenge these beliefs and develop healthier coping mechanisms. For example, as a kid I learned to overachieve in an attempt to prove that I was more than the nothing my father insisted I was. Therapy helped me understand that I didn’t need to prove my worth through accomplishments. I now practice embracing my imperfection and loving myself regardless of what I achieve. Self-Care PracticesTaking care of myself physically, mentally, and emotionally has also been crucial in my healing journey. This includes regular exercise, eating well, getting enough rest, and setting healthy boundaries with others. But self-care also means allowing myself to feel and process my emotions, without judgment or shame. It means practicing self-compassion and being gentle with myself as I work through the trauma. Journaling and Creative OutletsJournaling became my confidante. The act of writing was a release valve for my emotions, allowing the chaos within me to take shape and form on the page. I also started a blog, which helped me connect with many people who had gone through similar experiences. For the first time, I did not feel alone. The Gift of GratitudeI have now come a very long way. I no longer see myself as a victim, a damaged person constantly trying to convince others, and herself, that she is worthy of love. My family of birth had not nurtured me, but somehow, along the way, I met people who were not related to me by blood but who held out their hand and helped me pull myself out of the hole I had almost been buried in. These people finally offered the validation and affection that I had always longed for, and I learned that family is more than a biological fact. It is a spiritual and emotional bond that is chosen and nurtured. I learned that healing is best not done in isolation, but within a community. Reflecting on the love and support they’ve given me, I feel a profound sense of gratitude that fills me with hope and gives strength to my journey. ConclusionIf you stand where I once stood, weighed down by the chains of your past, I offer you one simple truth: release is not the end, but a beginning. It is a step into the unknown, where the freedom to redefine yourself lies in the courage to shed the familiar, even when it’s painful. I encourage you, fellow survivor, to take that step, to release and heal, and to discover the world that waits beyond the walls of trauma. It is a world of limitless potential, a life in full color, where the past is not a prison, but a whisper, and you hold the pen to write your own story. **Image generated by AI About Carla CorelliCarla Corelli, a writer, advocate, and abuse survivor, draws from her upbringing with a narcissistic father to shed light on psychological trauma. Fueled by her personal journey, she pursued a degree in psychology, and she delves into the intricacies of narcissistic abuse, offering healing and growth through her blog, while also advocating for greater awareness and understanding of the lifelong impact of childhood trauma. She wrote more about being the narcissistic family scapegoat here and reclaiming her life here. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” ~Fyodor Dostoyevsky When I was in my last semester of college in 2016, I got my first paid job working in libraries as a children’s library assistant. I can remember the passion and sense of purpose I initially felt when taking this job. The idea that, every day, I’d be helping foster a love of reading in kids felt like a worthwhile career. Reading supports cognitive development in children. It enhances language skills and improves concentration. It encourages creativity and even fosters empathy, as it introduces children to worlds they otherwise would not know of. Suffice it to say, this seemed like the kind of career that would give me purpose, something I always looked for when selecting a career path. When I began working as a children’s assistant, I felt that sense of purpose. The library I worked at was big. There were kids constantly coming into the beautiful children’s room, with its high ceiling and numerous colorful shelves full of books. I eagerly tried to help each one find that one book that would spark excitement and, hopefully, a love of reading. I also got to run fun children’s programs, like a yoga class, a baking class, and a writing club. And I ran a story time for babies twice a week. Seeing the children enjoy these programs together, socialize, and view the library as a community place enhanced my sense of purpose. I was doing something meaningful, something that benefited the community. As time went on, I knew my end goal was to be a youth services librarian, not just an assistant. I knew in that position I could make the biggest difference. I would be the one in charge of the children’s and teen departments, and the books and programs each one offered. I started applying for these positions until finally I got offered one. Going into this job, my sense of purpose was strong. I was excited at all the possibilities open to me with these new responsibilities. I was ready for this next step. And for the first couple months, things were great. The library had no director. Instead, there were two employees acting as co-interim directors. The library was very small. We all got along, though, and helped each other out. However, a new director was eventually hired, and I quickly realized we didn’t mesh well. She was a micromanager, and I felt very limited and restricted by her. She also followed her own agenda and even censored the books I put out to meet her own beliefs. This goes against the library systems belief of intellectual freedom and was a huge red flag to me. There were many days when I came home crying, and my anxiety skyrocketed. I even passed out once at work due to the level of stress I was experiencing. I wanted to quit, but knew I needed to find a new job first. Every day, I felt sick going into work. My sense of purpose of working in libraries with children was fading. There was one day in particular that sent that sense of purpose crumbling. There was a preschool above the library, and the kids were scheduled to come down to the library for a story time. I remember feeling anxious about this, as I’d never done a story time for such a large group of kids before. However, I had always felt I did well conducting my story times in the past, so I used this to ease my anxiety. The kids came down and I gave it my all. I ended up having a great time reading to them. Yes, they were a big group, but they seemed engaged with the story, and I finished feeling certain I’d done a good job. My boss, however, felt differently. She berated my story time, telling me I didn’t engage the kids at all. She then proceeded to show me a video she took of my story time and began pointing out everything she felt I’d done poorly. I can take constructive criticism, but what she was doing was anything but constructive. She didn’t like my book choices, my song choices, my interaction with the kids. She then started putting down my personality, saying I’m too quiet and not cut out for this position. I felt destroyed. Something I’d once felt great purpose doing no longer felt that way. I suddenly felt I wasn’t cut out for this job. I started severely doubting my abilities. Eventually, I got a new job, again as a youth services librarian. I am still currently at this job, and things have improved. I have a director who is fair, and there are days when I feel a sense of joy, such as when I run a fun and successful program or help a child find a book that they are excited about reading. However, that sense of purpose I once felt regularly as an assistant is not often there. For this reason, I decided to begin looking for that sense of purpose elsewhere, such as in hobbies outside of work like writing and art. These things never fail to evoke a sense of purpose in me when I do them. I get in a state of flow when writing or painting, and I feel a sense of purpose in the creative process. My ultimate goal with writing and creating art is that, upon completion, I will have something unique and beautiful to share with the world. The idea of others reading or seeing my work and connecting with it gives me a reason to create. Life, to me, is all about connection. I’ve also found purpose in my relationships. Fostering my relationships is one of the most important things in my life. I have a wonderful circle of family and friends, and enriching my relationship with them gives me purpose. Without relationships, life is lonely. The people in my life I am closest to have helped shape who I am as a person. They challenge me to be the best version of myself. Since knowing my husband, for example, I have grown as a person in many ways, and fostering the love we have is so important to me because sharing my life with him gives it meaning. I also find purpose in being there for my loved ones and supporting them when they need me. My dog gives me purpose too. Taking care of her gives me a reason to get up in the morning. I need to feed her and walk her and, above all, love her. I don’t feel the same purpose I once felt at work. That’s not to say I’ll never feel it again. In time, hopefully it will come back. What losing my sense of purpose in work, though, has taught me is that purpose doesn’t exist solely in a job. There are other forms of purpose outside of work like hobbies, family and friends, and pets. Purpose can come from many places. You just have to be willing to open yourself up to these different possibilities. About The BlogWant more Tiny Buddha? Follow on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram, and don't forget to subscribe to Tiny Buddha to receive free daily or weekly emails! You can also grab the latest book, Tiny Buddha's Worry Journal, along with the complete Tiny Buddha book series, here. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. It’s a new week, and that can bring with it a sense of excitement and possibility or a sense of dread about your overwhelming responsibilities. Sometimes for me it’s both. And not just because I have a lot to do, but also because, like most of us, I have a lot going in my head and my heart at any given time. And it’s not always easy to be a feeling human in a busy world that won’t just slow down when it all feels like too much. Which means sometimes we need to stop instead. Stop doing. Stop pushing ourselves. Stop ignoring our needs. Stop avoiding our feelings. Stop expecting more from ourselves than we’d ever demand from anyone else we love. And start listening to the voice inside that knows what’s best for us so we can feel and be our best. Whatever you’re feeling today, whatever you’re dealing with, whatever happened this weekend, whatever’s coming in the days ahead, take a few minutes to set the intention to take good care of yourself, and let these messages be your guide. Just a reminder that today is the last day for the Breaking Barriers to Self-Care eCourse buy one, give one sale. Until midnight PST, anyone who signs up for the course will receive a coupon code to provide a loved one with free access. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, unfulfilled, and unsure why you find it hard to prioritize yourself, this course can help overcome your internal blocks so you can meet your needs and thrive. All you need to do is sign up here and forward your purchase confirmation email to email@tinybuddha.com. Also, my publisher is running an exciting giveaway until May 10th. Twenty-five lucky winners will receive a copy of Tiny Buddha’s Inner Strength Journal and a STABILO point 88, 8-color wallet set. Click here to enter to win! About Lori DescheneLori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She started the site after struggling with depression, bulimia, c-PTSD, and toxic shame so she could recycle her former pain into something useful and inspire others do the same. She recently created the Breaking Barriers to Self-Care eCourse to help people overcome internal blocks to meeting their needs—so they can feel their best, be their best, and live their best possible life. If you’re ready to start thriving instead of merely surviving, you can learn more and get instant access here. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling, ‘This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!’ And each day, it’s up to you to yank your hand back, put it on your heart, and say, ‘No. This is what’s important.’” ~Iain Thomas As someone who believes in the healing power of self-care, I absolutely love this quote. But I didn’t always believe it was true. And it didn’t feel good to do it. My heart was too tender to be touched for long. And for years, it seemed to be empty. I didn’t feel pleasure. I didn’t feel passion. I didn’t feel love or hope or joy. I just felt numb from years of suppressing my emotions. And my feelings and needs didn’t feel important to me because I didn’t believe I was important. I suspect a lot of people are living some variation of this story, even if they’re not consciously aware of it. Because none of us get through our childhoods unscathed. And many of us go into adulthood with mounds of unresolved trauma, resultant low self-worth, and an arsenal of anesthetizing coping mechanisms to keep the pain at bay. We don’t prioritize the things that we need to thrive because we’re too busy surviving. It would be easy to blame the world for dragging us by the hand, because it does—oh, how it does. There are bills to be paid, and requests to be honored, and all the million little things we feel we need to do and figure out before we can finally take a break and breathe. But we also drag ourselves all around, trying to do it all and be everything to everyone, because it’s easier than facing ourselves. It’s easier than facing our deepest pains. And it’s easier than acknowledging the truth—which would set us free if we could only admit and address it: We simply don’t value ourselves enough to prioritize ourselves. Maybe because we blame ourselves for pain from the past. Or because we don’t think we’ve accomplished enough to earn kindness and care. Or maybe because we’ve learned that good people put everyone else first, and we desperately want to be good people--loveable people. All were true for me. But I think that’s the point of the quote. That our most important work is to heal the wounds that cause us to devalue ourselves so we can then prioritize ourselves enough to figure out what we need to do to feel and be our best. For years I tried to make my life better, starting by making myself better, but nothing changed until I believed I deserved better. When you believe you deserve better, you commit to creating it, and you keep going when it’s hard because you know you’re worth it. And oh, how life expands when you do. When you start valuing and prioritizing yourself… 1. You’ll start feeling calmer, more energized, and more fulfilled because you’ll be meeting more of your needs.The hardest thing about being the kind of person who puts everyone else first is that you never feel like you’re doing enough, even when you’re giving all you have. So you not only try to do everything you can for everyone else, but you also try to make them all comfortable and happy—which is impossible, so you generally feel neither. When you make yourself a top priority, you’ll figure out what you need to feel comfortable and happy first. And you’ll give yourself permission to do those things without carrying the weight of everyone else’s feelings and problems, as if it’s your responsibility to fix them. Then, instead of trying to fill your tank with quick-burning fuel of approval, you’ll fill it with the kind of things that truly nourish you, which, for me, includes movement, creativity, and time in nature. 2. You’ll experience the joy of growing and exploring new possibilities as you invest in yourself and your potential instead of spending money on distractions that leave you feeling empty.When you decide that your top priority is to take care of yourself and your needs, you’ll feel more confident about investing in yourself—whether that means undergoing training for a more rewarding career or going to therapy to start healing from your trauma. Instead of spending your money on Band-Aids that barely cover your pain and overall life dissatisfaction, you’ll devote your time, energy, and resources to addressing those things so that you no longer feel the need to numb yourself. 3. You’ll prioritize healing and feel more at peace with yourself, your past, and others as a result.As you work on healing from pains from the past, you’ll find it easier to forgive the people who hurt you. And because you value and want to honor yourself, you’ll recognize this doesn’t have to mean allowing them back into your life. It can simply mean releasing your anger and resentment toward them—which is a lot easier to do when they no longer have access to continually hurt you. Healing will also allow you to see your past through an entirely different lens, with a deeper understanding of who and what shaped you and more empathy toward the little version of you who always did their best and has always been deserving of love and respect. 4. You’ll feel proud of yourself instead of ashamed because, through healing, you’ll be able to forgive yourself for things you could have done better and focus on doing better now.As you build that empathy for your younger self, you’ll also grow your empathy for your present self, and your relationship with yourself will transform. You’ll start to focus more on what you’re doing right than what you think you’re doing wrong, giving you more and more reasons to feel good about yourself. You’ll simultaneously find it easier to forgive yourself when you struggle, and you’ll start seeing your missteps as opportunities to learn instead of beating yourself up and stewing in regret. This means you’ll bounce back more quickly, with confidence in what you can do differently going forward, which will make it a lot easier to actually make those changes. 5. You’ll feel more connected to yourself and start to trust yourself more as you make time and space to hear your intuition.When you start allowing yourself time to just be—releasing the pressure to constantly do and achieve—you’ll find it easier to hear the voice of your intuition. Which means you’ll get clearer insight into what might be good for you, in all areas of your life. As you act on this insight and see (at least some) positive results, you’ll develop a deeper sense of trust in yourself. Trust that enables you to make big decisions you might otherwise avoid in fear of making the “wrong” choice. You’ll also spend less time worrying about what other people think because it will feel far less relevant when you’re guided by what you know. 6. Your relationships will become more of a source of pleasure than pain because you’ll set boundaries with people who hurt you and let them go if they refuse to stop.When you put your own peace, happiness, and well-being at the top of your priority list, you’ll start setting clearer boundaries about what’s acceptable in your relationships. You’ll also find the courage to speak up when someone crosses your boundaries because you’ll know that protecting your heart and your energy is worth the discomfort of confrontation. That’s not to say your relationships will always be effortless and fun. People will still stress and disappoint you, just as you’ll sometimes stress and disappoint them, because we’re all only human. But you won’t say, “No worries” when someone’s behavior fills you with fear or “It’s okay” when you know in your gut it’s not. And when someone disrespects or mistreats you for the umpteenth time, you’ll find the strength to say, “No more”—which means you’ll spend a lot less time justifying and recovering from their behavior and more time enjoying people who treat you well. 7. Your days will feel more enjoyable and exciting because you’ll be using more of your time on things that matter to you.The more time and space you allot for yourself, the more energy you’ll be able to devote to the things that matter to you. The things that make you feel excited to be alive. Your passions and interests and new possibilities—or the pursuit of discovering what brings you joy if you have no idea what that might be. Because other people also matter to you, you’ll still devote time and energy to them, but you’ll know it’s okay if it’s notjust about them. That you can suggest things to do or places to go or ask for their support at times. This isn’t just about filling time you previously didn’t have available to you. It’s also about enjoying more of your time because you’ll no longer feel guilty about doing less for everyone else, or at least you’ll feel less anxious about it because you’ll know you’re honoring one of your top priorities—yourself. 8. You’ll feel physically stronger, mentally clearer, and more emotionally balanced.When you address your needs, invest in your happiness and healing, and make choices to honor and support yourself, you’ll notice improvements in every aspect of your health—physical, mental, and emotional. Because instead of merely surviving as you deal with the varied consequences of neglecting and devaluing yourself, you’ll be thriving through the process of taking care good care of yourself. And it will become a self-perpetuating cycle—because you feel better, you’ll continually do better, and then feel even better as a result. Unlike the opposite cycle that might be more familiar—when you feel bad, continually do things you feel bad about, and then feel worse as a result. This doesn’t mean you’ll always feel great and will never struggle again. You’ll still be human, after all. But you’ll feel a lot more confident in your capacity to get through your difficult times and make the best of every hardship you face because you’ll be acting from a stable foundation of inner strength forged through self-support and care. -- Maybe you’ve already experienced some of these things. And maybe, like me, you feel like the path to prioritizing yourself has often been a journey of two steps forward and one step back—or one step forward and two steps back. Healing isn’t a linear process. We grow, we stumble, we disappoint ourselves, then hopefully forgive ourselves so we can get back up and try again, one small step at a time. The important thing is that we keep taking those steps, even if we get knocked down for a while. That we face our pains instead of numbing them. Honor our needs instead of ignoring them. Acknowledge the things that aren’t working instead of settling on them. And most importantly, continually challenge the voice within that tells us we need to do or be more to be worthy of love and care. Once upon a time I thought my heart was numb because of everything that had happened to me. Then I realized that was the past, and I was the one numbing it in the present by treating myself worse than anyone else ever had. I only came alive when I stopped telling myself I didn’t matter and started working on believing I did—which started with treating myself like I did. One loving act of self-care at a time. About Lori DescheneLori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She started the site after struggling with depression, bulimia, c-PTSD, and toxic shame so she could recycle her former pain into something useful and inspire others do the same. She recently created the Breaking Barriers to Self-Care eCourse to help people overcome internal blocks to meeting their needs—so they can feel their best, be their best, and live their best possible life. If you’re ready to start thriving instead of merely surviving, you can learn more and get instant access here. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” ~Lao Tzu Once believed to be conflict-free, our relationship disintegrated on a fateful evening in May 2007, revealing the facade of our supposed happiness. We always said, “We’ll be all right because we never fight.” Well, that belief shattered on my dad’s fifty-fourth birthday. What was supposed to be a dinner with my parents turned into a nightmare and marked the beginning of a harrowing ordeal. My then-husband, bleeding from a head wound after a visit with a friend, turned our evening into chaos. As I attempted to bandage him, unease set in, quickly escalating after we returned home. A heated argument led me to leave defiantly, only for him to react violently, breaking a chair in his rush to stop me. Our confrontation spilled onto the porch, where I suffered a head injury requiring sixteen staples after a fall caused by him. Despite my attempts to escape, he overpowered me, taking my keys and phone. The ensuing drive was a frenzied blur of speed and violence, ending with me jumping from the moving car for my safety after being punched in the face three times. The night culminated at my father-in-law’s house, who, while dismayed, reluctantly intervened. I eventually found myself in the emergency room, a grim closure to a day marked by undiagnosed sociopathy and substance abuse. The agonizing events of that evening marked a shocking departure from what I had known of our relationship, standing as the sole instance of violence in what otherwise appeared to be a peaceful union. His sudden outburst of aggression revealed the hidden depths of troubling behavior, a reality rooted in psychological complexities I was painfully unaware of until later on. Ironically, my role as a wedding coordinator for an upscale hotel chain made the situation even more surreal. Less than a year after exchanging vows of love and commitment, I found myself concealing bruises—stark, physical reminders of betrayal—while facilitating celebrations of love for others. This contrast between my work life and personal experience not only deepened my resolve to seek healing but also highlighted my resilience in facing life’s unpredictable challenges, further motivating my journey toward healing and empowerment. The Awakening: Realizing the Need for ChangeThat evening blindsided me. Until that day, violence had been absent from our life together, making the ordeal not only a physical but a psychological shock as well. It was this abrupt confrontation with violence that compelled me to reassess everything I believed about our relationship. In the immediate aftermath, the pressing need for safety and healing took precedence over everything except understanding why. Reflecting on that night, I realized it wasn’t about recognizing a pattern of escalation but understanding how profoundly this single event altered my life and perception. A Year of Transformation…and LossIn the months following that dreadful night, I began a journey toward healing and self-discovery, and just as I started to find my footing, another wave of grief hit with the passing of my mom less than a year later. This “double whammy” of loss and trauma tested my resilience to its limits! My mom’s passing not only compounded the emotional turmoil but also served as a poignant yet factual reminder of life’s fragility and the importance of healing and growth. It forced me to confront my grief head-on, integrating this pain into my journey of recovery. In contemplating the night of domestic violence and then the passing of my mom, I realized that the path to healing is not linear but a mosaic of our experiences—each piece, no matter how painful, contributes to the whole of who we are. The lessons learned in the shadow of loss and violence illuminated the strength within me, guiding me toward a deeper understanding of forgiveness and living without regret. The Path to Healing: Embracing A New BeginningMy healing journey began with the unwavering support of family and friends, whose presence became my sanctuary. Recognizing the depth of my trauma, I sought professional help, engaging in therapy sessions that offered a safe space to unravel and confront my experiences. That led me to the doors of Domestic Violence Intervention Services (DVIS), where counseling sessions became a cornerstone of my recovery, providing me with the tools and understanding needed to rebuild my sense of self. To navigate the mental distress and anxiety that clouded my days, I began taking (albeit for a short time) an antidepressant to stabilize my emotions. My quest for understanding led me to the pages of The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout, which shed light on the perplexing behaviors of my then-husband. Her book offered clarity on the nature of sociopathy and its impact on our lives. Seeking answers to deeper, existential questions, particularly the “death” of my mom at the young age of fifty-four, I dove deep into Everything Happens for a Reason by Mira Kirshenbaum. Her book offered much-needed perspectives on why things happen in my search for meaning in the face of inexplicable loss. Journaling became a tool for reflection, a way to pour out my thoughts and start seeing my experiences as the seeds of a spiritual awakening. This introspection led me to explore self-discovery systems, such as numerology, which opened new avenues of understanding and self-awareness. A pivotal moment in my healing was attending a spirit fair, where a medium conveyed a message from my mom just two months after she passed! This emotional yet enlightening encounter provided immense comfort and an intense motivation to keep moving forward, a powerful reminder of her enduring presence and guidance in my journey toward a new beginning. The Power of ForgivenessForgiving my then-husband, and perhaps more challengingly, myself, was not an act of forgetting but a conscious decision to release the hold the anger and resentment had on my heart. After discovering, through James Van Praagh, that forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves, forgiving us both became crucial to my healing journey because it allowed me to reclaim my peace and move forward without the heavy chains of past grievances. The Strength in No RegretsEmbracing a life without regret has always been my philosophy, but this ordeal deepened its meaning. It taught me to actively seek lessons in every challenge, make peace with the past, and approach the future optimistically. This mindset has empowered me to live more purposefully, reminding me of the strength of facing life with an open heart and a fearless spirit. Guidance for Growth: Steps to Heal and ThriveLearning to forgive and live without regret are transformative practices that can change your life. Here are some ways that I found useful that may help you in your journey: Cultivating Forgiveness: Take time to reflect on your situation so you can confront your feelings directly.Just as I had to face the reality of my then-husband’s undiagnosed mental health issues and the violence it led to, taking time to reflect on how deeply this affected me was my first step toward healing. Similarly, acknowledging the hurt it caused you and allowing yourself to feel it fully is crucial in your journey toward forgiveness. Try to see your situation from the other person’s perspective.Understanding the role of sociopathy in my then-husband’s actions didn’t excuse them but helped me to see the situation from a broader perspective. While it’s challenging, especially in cases of abuse or betrayal, attempting to understand the ‘why’ behind someone’s actions can be a step toward releasing anger. Write a letter to the person you’re forgiving (you don’t have to send it) expressing how their actions affected you and consciously decide to let go of the burdens that hold you back.After I wrote mine and wished him well, I burned it during a full moon ceremony. Choose yourself and recognize that holding onto anger and resentment only binds you to the past and the person who hurt you.By choosing to forgive, you’re choosing your own peace, freedom, and well-being over remaining tethered to negative emotions and those who’ve harmed you. Forgiveness is an act of self-love and self-preservation that allows you to reclaim your power and move forward with grace and strength. Living Without Regret: Recognize what’s within your control and let go of what isn’t.While I miss my mom more than I can say, I’ve come to see her passing as a pivotal influence that has molded me into the person I am today. This kind of acceptance is key to living without regret and moving forward in peace. Take responsibility for your choices and learn from your mistakes without letting them define you.I reminded myself that while I experienced violence, I was not a victim of it. Choosing to seek help after leaving the relationship was a crucial and empowering decision that led me to where I am now. Acknowledging that each decision, including reaching out to DVIS, played a role in my journey reinforces the importance of owning our choices for a regret-free life. View every experience as a learning opportunity.The day I found myself concealing bruises at work taught me about the stark realities of appearances versus truth. Every challenge offers a lesson, so ask yourself, “What can I learn from this?” to transform regrets into lessons for growth. Practice mindfulness.Both journaling and receiving an angel message from my mom taught me the importance of being present and finding peace in the NOW. Being mindful can help reduce dwelling on past mistakes or worrying about the future. Keep a gratitude journal and regularly write down things you’re thankful for to shift your focus from what’s missing or what could have been to an appreciation for what is.I know how grateful I was for the support of family and friends, professional guidance, and moments of peace that helped shift my perspective from loss to appreciation, a practice I recommend to anyone navigating their healing journey. Engage in activities that bring you joy and fulfillment, leaving little room for regret.Closing Thoughts…As you turn the pages of your own life, remember that every challenge is an opportunity for growth, every setback a chance to rise stronger. Let my experiences shared here remind you that you are not alone in your struggles and that within you lies an unbreakable spirit capable of overcoming any obstacle. Embrace each day with hope and courage, knowing that in the heart of adversity lies the seed of your greatest strength. Let it grow, let it shine, and let it guide you to your most empowered self. About Brandi LeiBrandi Lei has been on a profound healing journey since 2007, deepened by personal loss in 2008, which catalyzed her exploration into spirituality, numerology, and mandala art. With over 17 years of dedicated self-study and practice, she now seeks to inspire, educate, and empower individuals on their paths to personal growth and spiritual enlightenment. Schedule a free discovery session on her website or connect on social media to begin your transformative journey. http://www.brandilei.com / Brandi Lei, Metaphysician (@brandilei.metaphysicalminister) Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Words have the power to both destroy and heal. When words are both true and kind, they can change our world.” ~Buddha “I’m sorry for your loss” is a perfectly acceptable response…if I’ve told you I’ve lost my phone. In that instance, I can appreciate the sentiment, empathy, and authenticity of the phrase. It’s my loss and my loss alone. I know you can put yourself in my shoes and internalize what it would feel like to be without this critical device and, as such, the words carry weight. When I tell you my parents are dead, though? Maybe not so much. That’s because they’re monumental deaths that are not easily relatable for most. See, my dad passed away from ALS when I was fourteen. My mom then accelerated her unhealthy relationship with food and passed away due to complications from morbid obesity when I was twenty-seven. I’m an only child. Approach me with this filler phrase when this has been revealed, and my knee-jerk reaction will be a rushed “uh huh, thanks. Anyway…” I don’t mean to be brusque (well, I guess I do). I know you’re doing your best. You know you have to say something in response to this info. and, chances are, everything you think of in those few milliseconds after this revelation seems to fall short. So the autopilot, reflexive, out-of-office reply surfaces to the top. Here’s why it’s problematic. Only ‘My Loss,’ Really?Not to play a game of semantics, but the first issue I take with this filler phrase is that it conveys these deaths are only my loss. Yes, I know you’re speaking directly to me and not my parents’ siblings, friends, co-workers, or grandchildren. But these—either individually or collectively—are not singular losses. My grandmother lost the ability to outlive her children. My dad’s friends lost their weekly poker buddy. My mom’s co-workers lost the office’s “voice of reason.” My daughter lost the privilege to ever know her grandparents. The world lost whatever future contributions these two would have made to it. My point is, there are many people who lost something on those two separate days—and those losses have continued along with their absence. Alienation, Party of OnePlacing this loss directly on me—or on anyone, for that matter—also creates a separation between us. Yes, it might have been a loss in my life, not in yours, but you’ve now squarely bifurcated us. I am the bereaved; you are the condoler. The last thing someone mentioning a death needs (IMO) is to be constantly reminded that we’re different from the rest of you. That the black cloud is over our heads, not yours. Grief and loss and death, not to mention the sadness and depression that can go along with them, is isolating enough. Please don’t magnify that even more by placing us on opposite sides of the fence. Comfort, CamaraderieThe biggest problem I have with the loss apology is that it really doesn’t offer anything. No source of comfort. No relatability. No words of advice that you can turn to when you’re struggling. It’s a “break glass in case of emergency” phrase for those who don’t know what to say. For me, it’s words I bob and weave to get away from like a dodgeball torpedoed at my head. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, I really don’t. I know you’re doing the best you can. I simply hope to provide a little cause for pause if this is your go-to condolence. Plus, consider yourself lucky. If hearing about these sorts of losses and deaths makes you uncomfortable to the point that your brain turns to mush, it might be because you haven’t experienced this kind of grief yourself. That’s something to be happy about. And trust me when I say, I’m happy for you. I really am! Okay, now that we know why this phrase can rub the aggrieved the wrong way, what can we say instead? Rephrase the Loss ApologyTweak your sentiments slightly, and suddenly you’ve got a phrase that feels authentic and relatable, at least to me. I’m perfectly happy with: “I’m sorry you had to…
You get the point. Any iteration of this phrase works for me for two reasons. First, because it acknowledges my personal experience, versus framing the deaths as my loss and my loss alone. Second, because, although you may not be able to relate, a sense of empathy and authenticity comes through by recognizing that these palpable losses had palpable effects. Share a MemoryThe absolute best condolence I ever received came from a young man I had never met. We were at my mom’s funeral when he came up to introduce himself. He was the son of one of her co-workers, though her name wasn’t familiar. His presence was a little quizzical to me, as his eyes were red, his nose was runny, yet I had no idea who he was. He told me he’d gotten to talking to her when he’d visit his mom in the office. Apparently, they developed a rapport over time. So much so that she was the first person he decided to come out to. He told me how she received this news with love, support, and a welcomed ambivalence that let him know it was okay to be himself. That nothing was different with this added piece of information. I have tears in my eyes as I write this. To this day, that short encounter has been the best gift any single human has ever given me regarding my mom. It brought comfort. It let me know she touched others (and kept treasured things to herself). It showed the magnitude of her loss outside of myself. When you lose a parent to (food) addiction the way I did, it’s very easy to vilify them. They should’ve known better. Done better. Been better. Then I think of that story and, at least in that instance, she’s a goddamn hero in my eyes. And not for how she received the news—though she seemed to handle that well—but for being such a source of support and comfort to this young man that he chose her, of all people, to come out to. Wow. I can’t say I’ve ever left an impact like that on someone. That is admirable, and the encounter is something I’ll treasure always. I do want to add a slight caveat to sharing stories about the deceased, though. It’s all about right place, right time. Had I been going into a meeting, about to speak to a crowd, or been ready to engage in anything that involved my full attention and right mind, this would not have been the time to share something that might have made me crumble. This strategy requires you to read the room a little, but it can be the best condolence you can bestow if the timing is right. The Leading StatementAs the above example shows, your statement doesn’t even need to involve an apology. After all, you didn’t kill them, right? If you did, totally apologize. Hopefully from behind bars. Anyway, I love the leading statement strategy because it gives the aggrieved options. “That must have been so hard for you.” “I’m sure that was a difficult thing to experience so young.” These open-ended statements give us choices. We can simply acknowledge them, usher an appreciative thank you, and steer the conversation in another direction if we don’t feel like deep diving into grief. Or we can use them as a jumping off point and say, “It was really hard, I think the most difficult thing was…” Now we’re in a conversation. An exchange. Two people on the same side discussing an experience. It’s not me on one side receiving an apology about a “singular” loss and you on the other, nervously scratching at your neck and wincing, wondering what happens next. And, in case you’re wondering, yes, I am absolutely guilty of wielding this phrase myself. I’ve never appreciated hearing it or saying it, but I’ve really started to internalize how hollow these words are recently, since discussing my parents’ deaths more publicly. So let’s all strive to do better. I know we can. If we shift our thinking more toward what may benefit the aggrieved—versus allowing the first obligatory phrase we can think of to pop out of our mouths—these encounters will be a lot less uncomfortable. And, if all else fails, show us a picture of your dog. They always bring comfort, relatability, and connection. Hey, they don’t call them emotional support animals for nothing… About Courtney DeaneGet in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. I used to loathe the word “forgiveness.” What it meant to me was that someone could hurt me, lie to me, or even abuse me, say “sorry,” and I was supposed to pretend like nothing happened. If I didn’t, they would say to me, “I thought you were a forgiving person,” or “What? I already said I was sorry.” It felt awful, outside and inside. I had one relationship that I knew very well wasn’t good for me and I wanted out of, but my misunderstanding of what the word “forgiveness” meant kept me stuck there for a very long time. The person would lie repeatedly and never come clean. When things came out (as they often do), the person would claim to be sorry or that they were “getting better” and then expect me to just go on as if nothing had happened. My trust for them was eroded, and by staying there, that spilled over into my trust for other people and even myself. My self-worth also became depleted. I felt powerless because I believed that, in order to be a good, forgiving person, I had to accept as many meaningless “sorries” as this person was going to dribble out. I lost motivation and became depressed and drained. It felt like forgiving was designed to punish the person who was hurt. I had heard the phrases “forgiveness sets you free,” and “forgiveness is for you, not them,” and neither made any sense because I certainly did not feel free, and there appeared to be nothing in it for me to keep allowing their nonsense. Well, it didn’t make sense because “forgiveness” wasn’t what I believed it was at all. One day, I looked it up in the dictionary. Forgiveness definition: “to let go of anger and resentment towards a person or event from the past.” Forgiveness is that—just that. Ceasing to carry around resentment or anger inside of yourself for what happened in the past. It doesn’t say you’re supposed to pretend it never happened. It doesn’t say you’re supposed to trust the person again after they broke your trust, just because you have forgiven them. It doesn’t even say you have to speak to them again. Ever. Forgiveness IS for you. Forgiveness DOES set you free. Forgiveness means you stop carrying around the pain of the past inside of you. So that you don’t bring it into every new place you go, allowing it to bubble up and explode on people who had nothing to do with causing you injury. If you decide to forgive a person but not speak to them again because you know you can’t trust them, that’s 100% wise to do and doesn’t mean you’re unforgiving. It means your trust was broken, and they gave you no reason to think it would not be broken again, so you decided to separate. Or maybe they made promises and broke them again and again until your trust for them was entirely demolished. Forgiveness doesn’t have to mean reconciliation. Forgiveness means you accept that what happened has happened and can’t be changed. It means if a memory pops up or gets triggered, you’re not fired up by that anger and resentment and completely disempowered in that moment as if you were still living in the past. It isn’t instant, nor easy, and there is a process to it that involves acceptance, reflection, wisdom, and presence before the release. It takes time. It takes work. Memories can catch you off guard, but once you are aware of what is happening, you can use the process on them and dissolve them as they come. Knowing what forgiveness is—real actual forgiveness—and applying it to my life has been absolutely life-changing. I no longer poison present days with past pain. I can hear a song that reminds me of a painful time in the past and not get set off at all. I didn’t forget what happened, but it no longer has power over me. This is the gift of forgiveness. It’s not for them, about them, or dependent on them. It is for you, about you, takes place within you, and gives you your life back. It gives you and all those who you choose to have in your life now the best version of you, unencumbered by haunting memories. You don’t forget, you don’t erase, you heal. About Doe ZantamataDoe Zantamata is the founder of Happiness in Your Life. She wrote everything she knows in her third book, Happiness in Your Life - Book Three: Forgiveness. This book will give you the tools and insight to help you set the past down and move on. She hopes you read it and get out of it exactly what she put in it for you. Freedom. The book is available in kindle ebook, hardcover, Audible, and paperback on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2YlQ4bU. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Sometimes what you’re most afraid of doing is the very thing that will set you free.” ~Robert Tew I like to say I don’t regret much in life, because I know I’ve always done the best I could and have learned from every experience. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t considered what my life might be like now if I’d overcome certain fears sooner. For years I shut people out because I feared I might ruin relationships if I opened myself up to them. And there was a good reason for that—I’d damaged many relationships in the past by acting in response to my trauma. I’d driven people away, sometimes with unnecessary drama that stemmed from insecurity and other times with dangerous behavior, like binge drinking, that required them to take care of me. The binge drinking was particularly terrifying to me because I couldn’t seem to stop once I started, and I often blacked out, which meant I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust myself to drink responsibly. I didn’t trust myself not to humiliate myself when alcohol lowered my inhibitions and opened the floodgates to my deepest pains. But most importantly, I didn’t trust myself not to confirm what I suspected everyone thought of me: that I was a mess. Unlovable. And not worth having around. I remember a time when I was working on a marketing tour, when I was twenty-three, taking a mobile appliance showroom from state to state. My boss and I would often get drunk together at bars, along with my one female coworker, after we powered down the showroom for the night. A few shots in and I’d be all over him on the dance floor, with him all too happy to accept the attention. At one stop, my coworker, who was also my hotel roommate, met a guy who stayed in our room for several nights. This meant I moved to my boss’s room, where we finally took things to the next level. In hindsight I see it had “bad idea” written all over it—and not just because it was clearly a crossed boundary, but also because I was an emotional mess back then. But that’s exactly why I didn’t see it at the time. I convinced myself that he loved me and I’d finally found “the one.” Something I feared would never happen after my college boyfriend left me, after three years of my self-destruction. Which made it all the more devastating when he told me we had to keep things professional once we hit the next city. On the final night of the tour, in NYC, where it had originated, we met up at a bar with several people who were going to be my boss’s new coworkers. I got black-out drunk and—as I’ve been told—cried hysterically in front of all of them, screaming at him, “You used me!” I don’t think I’ve ever felt shame like I did in the days that followed, and I’ve felt some pretty deep shame in my life. It wasn’t just that I’d lost control and humiliated myself, though that obviously stung. And it wasn’t because I’d hurt someone I claimed to care about, though, once again, realizing this was brutal. It was also that I’d revealed my darkness and my damage to people who I assumed were better than me, much like I had as a bullied kid. I had publicly exposed the most fragile, broken parts of myself. This wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time “relationships” and “work” overlapped in the Venn diagram of my fears. And that terrified me. Because now I wasn’t just afraid that I’d mess up my relationships with my emotional issues but my professional life as well. We don’t always talk about these kinds of things because no one wants to broadcast the experiences and fears that make them feel most ashamed and vulnerable. But when we don’t process these kinds of experiences, they fester inside us, growing into toxic blocks that prevent us from pursuing the things that would bring us love, joy, and fulfillment. They keep us hiding, playing small, depriving ourselves of the connections and experiences we deeply want to embrace—if only we weren’t so scared. Scared of what we can’t do. Scared of what we might do. Scared of what people will see. Scared of what they might think. We barricade ourselves into a corner of our minds, somewhere down the hall from all our fantasies about the life we really want—filled with people and passion and pleasure. Because it feels safer there. Because less can hurt us if we don’t put ourselves out there. But life is out there. Love is out there. Passion and purpose and contribution—all the things that make life worth living—are out there. Beyond the fears that many of us don’t even realize we’re holding. Not sure what fears are holding you back? Maybe one of these will sound familiar. 5 Hidden Fears That May Be Secretly Sabotaging Your Life1. If I get into a good situation, I might mess it up.Maybe, like my former self, you fear ruining relationships. Or perhaps for you, this fear pertains to your work and taking on more responsibility. Maybe you’ve cracked in pressure-filled situations before and worry you will again. Or maybe you fear having kids because you’re afraid you’ll mess them up, even if you try your best to be a cycle-breaker (a fear I know all too well). I believe this a three-pronged fear, born from equal parts shame, mistrust, and perfectionism. We’re ashamed of things we feel we’ve ruined in the past, and we don’t want to relive that pain. We don’t trust that we can do better than we’ve done, or that we can handle it if the past repeats itself. But most importantly, we don’t realize that the goal isn’t to never again make mistakes but to know that we can repair and bounce back when we do. I’ve often felt I’ve messed up as a parent to young kids because I’ve had moments when I’ve failed to meet my high standards of calmness and gentleness. And maybe this is why I waited until thirty-nine to have my first son. But in those moments when I disappoint myself, I remind myself that what matters most is how I respond to my mistakes—because my sons are human and fallible too. Even if I could do everything perfectly, which I obviously can’t, it’s far more valuable for me to show them how to repair, learn, and grow when I inevitably fall short. When I look back, I recognize that every I’ve time I’ve messed something up—in parenting or other parts of life—I’ve learned something that’s helped me do better going forward. Which has enabled me to slowly become more confident in my relationships and my work. The key to overcoming this fear, I’ve realized, is diving in, accepting that the worst might happen, and knowing that getting through your worst moments is the key to getting closer to your best. 2. If I put myself out there, people might find out I’m a fraud.If, like me, you’ve struggled with low self-worth, you might find it challenging to overcome the fear of being seen as inferior, incompetent, inadequate, unworthy, or somehow less than others. And this might compel you to sabotage opportunities to make a difference in the world. It feels a lot safer in a shadow than a spotlight because people can’t criticize what they don’t see. And you don’t have to worry about being exposed as a fraud if you’re never in a position to be scrutinized. But I’ve come to believe that most of us feel like we’re really just winging it. Most of us worry that someday people will find out we have no idea what we’re doing. That despite the degrees and credentials and filters and followers, we’re all just wounded kids underneath it all, trying to outgrow the limitations that our trauma and other people have imposed on us. This is partly why authentic sharing has been so compelling to me. When I put my cards on the table, no one can question if maybe I’m bluffing. Because here you go, I’m showing you! I don’t have the best hand. But I’m playing it the best I know how. We all are. And there’s something empowering about letting that be enough. 3. If I don’t push myself, I might never prove my worth.This is the other side of the last fear, but instead of creating a sense of paralysis, it keeps us in a perpetual state of busyness—depriving ourselves of rest, connection, and fun so we can hurry up and matter. It’s the fear that tells us to keep working. Or networking. Trying to build the right thing or meet the right person so we can finally make a name for ourselves. And make the kind of difference that proves we’re valuable. It’s the ticking time bomb of pressure and productivity that eventually explodes in a breakdown or burnout, ironically pausing all our efforts to do something big and significant. When we’re driven by the fear of dying unimportant, we’re never truly able to devote ourselves to the things that are important with us. Both because we’re too busy to find the time for them and because our minds are too busy when we finally do. And what a shame that is—because the people we’re most important to don’t care what we do or what we earn. They just want us. Our presence. Our attention. But we can only offer those things if we fully accept that they’re just as valuable as anything we could accomplish or create. 4. If I’m honest and authentic, people might judge, reject, or abandon me.Maybe you’re afraid to set boundaries or speak up about your needs. Or perhaps you’re afraid of sharing your trauma because you worry that people might look down on you, or worse, doubt or blame you. When we suppress our needs and deepest truths, we not only withhold our authentic selves in our relationships but also reinforce to ourselves that we need to hide. That what we have to say is wrong or shameful. This means we simultaneously sabotage our relationships with others while fracturing our relationships with ourselves. Looking back, I now realize my binge drinking was partly my authenticity trying to survive. It was the liquid courage that enabled me to release my social anxiety and say the things I wanted to say. But the irony was that lots of people rejected me when I was a sloppy, emotional drunk. It took me years to recognize that my binge drinking wasn’t just rooted in the fear of rejection. I drank to excess in social situations because I wanted to numb the voice in my head that told me it might happen. And that maybe I deserved it because I was fundamentally flawed. So really, the key to overcoming the fear of being rejected was to stop rejecting myself. To recognize that it was okay if some people didn’t like me, and it didn’t have to mean anything about me. It didn’t have to mean there was something wrong with me—just that we were wrong for each other. 5. If I don’t settle for what’s right in front of me, I might end up with nothing.Every fear on this list stems from low confidence in ourselves and our worth, and this is a sad but common belief many of us with low self-esteem subconsciously hold—that we probably can’t get anything better than what we have right now. So we settle for unfulfilling jobs and dysfunctional relationships that leave us feeling drained and empty. We hold onto people and things that hurt us, thinking it’s better than having nothing at all. And we do it because we believe we need those people and things to feel happy and whole—without realizing they’re actually keeping us stuck in feelings of unhappiness and brokenness. They probably didn’t cause those feelings, though. Or at least they’re not the root cause. They’re just the most recent iteration of familiar dissatisfaction—a new level in a pattern we’ve been repeating for years because we don’t realize we’re playing out the past over and over, recreating the initial pain that led to our low self-worth. No one is born believing they deserve the bare minimum. We learn it when that’s when we’re given. Then many of us go through life without ever questioning why we accept so little, from others and ourselves. We hurt but don’t know why, and try to drink it away, smoke it away, eat it away, or love it away—all to avoid facing ourselves and our deepest wounds and fears. We may even convince ourselves those fears are just parts of our personality. I’m just quiet. I’m an overachiever. I’m a cautious person. But that’s not the real truth, or not the whole truth. The truth is that we’re living behind a wall of our fears, yearning for life on the other side while taking comfort in the perceived safety of not exploring it. And I get it. I really do. I want to feel safe. Safe with other people and, most importantly, safe with myself. I now know that starts with trusting myself. Trusting that I can do hard things—and bounce back if I fail. Trusting that I can put myself out there—and handle it if someone doesn’t like me. Trusting that I can face the pain that comes with a life unnumbed—and grow through every uncomfortable moment. And maybe that’s it—trust. Maybe that’s the antidote to fear. I’m not sure if it’s the result of boosting our self-worth or the path to doing it. But I know that trust is the reward for trying. Because we can never guarantee that we’ll do everything perfectly or that other people won’t judge or reject us. But we can trust that with every step we take in spite of our fear, we are growing a little further beyond it. And that the more we grow, the less our fears can limit us. About Lori DescheneLori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha. She started the site after struggling with depression, bulimia, and toxic shame so she could recycle her former pain into something useful and inspire others do the same. She recently created the Breaking Barriers to Self-Care eCourse to help people honor their needs—so they can feel their best, be their best, and live their best possible life. If you’re ready to start thriving instead of merely surviving, you can learn more and get instant access here. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. |