“No one is more influential in your life than you are because no one talks to you more than you do.” ~Dr. Paul David Tripp Living with chronic illness can seem like an insurmountable challenge. I felt completely broken and helpless. Amidst my tumultuous journey, I found that mindset is critical to restore vitality. For years I dealt with debilitating fatigue, severe joint pain, vertigo, loss of balance, and sleepless nights. I pleaded for help over and over, usually in tears. Oftentimes, people blamed my physical symptoms on my mental health. “You need to get more sleep.” “You are probably depressed.” “You are too anxious.” Ironically, I was in the prime of my life, feeling on top of the world. I had a great career, a wonderful husband, and three beautiful little girls. I couldn’t (and didn’t) ask for anything else. Eventually, each symptom intensified. Over the course of eight years, I was referred to specialist after specialist. My long list of diagnoses was growing rapidly. Raynaud’s syndrome, lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, neurological Lyme, and hypoactive thyroid. A short while later, there I was, with MS in a wheelchair, unable to care for myself let alone my family. I was missing the milestones in my children’s lives. After countless steroids and immunosuppressants, I gained forty pounds of fluid and lost vision in one eye. I developed kidney disease so severe that I was expected to be put on the kidney transplant list within six months. I developed an aggressive tumor leading to complex regional pain syndrome. I nearly died. Having a chronic illness changes you. Almost losing your life changes you. At first, I had a new outlook. I was more grateful for the little things. I reprioritized my life without even realizing it. Suddenly, the dishes being put away didn’t matter as much as it used to. At the same time, I became angry and resentful. Angry with the practitioners. Why couldn’t they help me? Infuriated with the medical system. Hurt by the lack of actions and phone calls from friends and family. Devastated by others’ judgments while I was secretly aching for their understanding and compassion. Ultimately, I healed my body. I stopped taking what I read at face value. I began to explore the research presented on the internet, podcasts, and influencer platforms. I found that my body was severely depleted in nutrients and that I needed to detoxify the low-grade pathogens and environmental toxins I had been exposed to. I got out of the wheelchair and even avoided the kidney transplant list, but my soul was still shattered. I hadn’t yet worked on healing my mind. This inadvertently left the door open for a reoccurrence of disease. Initially, life went back to normal. I felt renewed and grateful to be alive. But I still felt profound anger and resentment, and I still hadn’t learned how to navigate overwhelm. Then it happened. Another tumor popped up, and my MS symptoms started to return. Choosing to focus on my mindset and my thoughts ultimately played a profound role in my healing and recovery. In our fast-paced world, I don’t think we generally appreciate how significant a role this plays in our well-being. Your Life Is Always Moving in the Direction of Your Strongest ThoughtsI often read in scientific literature that humans have a negativity bias, and that negative events imprint on our brains more quickly. Like a well-walked path, once you think a negative thought it’s easier to think that thought again. When someone is dealing with chronic illness resulting in a significantly decreased quality of life, the negative events are easy to attach to. Especially when you were never taught to think about what you are thinking. In hindsight, I see that I internalized my illness. I let it define me as who I was as a person, which led me into a continuous negative loop. The ongoing self-talk, the thoughts I said to myself over and over, created negative neural pathways and, very literally for me, negativity became a habit. This isn’t fair. I hate my body. My body is attacking itself. I am so lonely. I have no friends. I must be a terrible person. What an awful wife I am. My kids deserve a better mom. I am so ugly now. I cost us our home. I am no fun to be around now. I should have eaten better, acted better, known better, did something better… This became my constant inner dialogue. If there is one concept I wish I was taught before I became ill, it’s this: What you think impacts what you believe, which impacts how you feel, which impacts what you do and the results you get. This one truth was the final piece of healing. Learning to be a witness and inquire about my own thinking took conscious effort. I had to learn to think on purpose, questioning my thoughts to see things differently. With big emotions comes big work. It takes time, space, and commitment to work through and identify the (sometimes subconscious) thoughts behind an emotion. But this is the work that broke my overwhelm and need to control. This is the work that disarmed my negativity and has brought me peace. I believe it has helped me remain disease-free for over four years now. While the following realizations helped me navigate my beliefs around my chronic illness, they have now become foundational in all areas of my life. 1. Everyone else’s opinions and actions have everything to do with them and nothing to do with me. If their opinions and actions were based on me, then everyone’s response would be the exact same.Realizing this was liberating. The time I spent thinking about and trying to work around a stranger’s possible judgment of me took me away from being present in the moment with my husband and children. Rather than trying to figure how Iong I could walk through a store using a shopping cart instead of my wheelchair, trying on a dozen different pants to cover the swelling in my legs or the eight-inch scar on my knee, and trying to conceal the rashes on my face and hide my thinning hair, I could have been playing with my kids. I used up all that time I will never get back on the chance that one person might make a judgement of me that really had nothing to do with me at all. 2. Our deep-seated belief systems are subjective, but we get so convinced on the rightness of how we feel that we don’t realize that we see things as WE are and not as THEY are.I believed that my family and friends should have checked in more often than they did. I felt lonely and isolated not being able to leave the house. This loneliness hurt deeply. In my mind, I thought that if someone I loved was sick, I would visit often. I would call weekly. But that was my standard. My subjective metric that I placed upon them. It was a belief system I didn’t realize that I had. I felt so deeply hurt and lonely that I was convinced I must have been right. I saw everything as I was, not as reality was. In reality, I had no idea why there were less visitors than I expected. Their standard was fulfilled for them according to their beliefs. My standard may have been too high compared to another’s. It could have been too low. Struggles behind closed doors could have been occurring that I was unaware of. My negativity could have been too much for another to bear. Being around someone ill could have been uncomfortable. The possibilities are endless. 3. Arguing with reality is pointless. It just brings suffering. Learning to accept what is brings peace.You might say that learning to accept a chronic illness or, in my case, a terminal illness, is unthinkable. I never made it to the point of having to do the thought work to accept that. With each diagnosis and every morbid prognosis given, I recognized it as the doctor’s limiting belief. At the time I was in the mindset of my diagnosis being a barrier that had to be overcome. My suffering stemmed from all the other realities around chronic illness. I recognized this every time I said the word “should.” Doctors should be more open minded. I shouldn’t be sick. The health care system should bring in more holistic treatments. My body shouldn’t be compartmentalized when addressing disease. Each time I used the word “should,” I sat down and did the thought work to create a new belief that brought me a feeling a comfort instead of dis-ease. I conceded that I had no control over an entire health care system or the way someone thinks. But I could find a practitioner who was open to alternative treatments, and I could review the literature myself and make a decision about my care. I could accept what is because hopelessly trying to change the world according to my “shoulds” wouldn’t solve my problem. 4. Freeing your mind is not about never having a negative thought. It’s about opening up to what else could be true.One of the most damaging experiences I had was being told to think, feel, and be positive. This toxic or false positivity dismissed the profound turmoil I was going through emotionally and physically. I ended up feeling more alone. I wondered, why can’t I be positive? I added this lacking skill to the list of things of what was wrong with me. The physical pain of my diseases put it in the forefront of my mind. How could I not have a negative thought about pain? How on earth was I supposed to be positive about being in pain? This consumed me until I realized what else is true about physical pain. When we feel pain, it’s supposed to be there! It’s our body’s way of communicating that something is wrong and needs our attention. Recognizing that there was another truth brought peace because I could let go of that fight to be positive and believe something I wasn’t ready to. It was a stepping stone to get me out of the negative loop and into a neutral state of mind. 5. We cannot judge our way into healing. It’s all about compassion.As human beings we judge. It helps keep us safe as we assess a potentially dangerous situation; it helps us decide who to keep around us, how we navigate our careers, what medical treatments we’ll undergo, and even what vehicle we drive. Unfortunately, we are usually our own worst inner critic. When that inner critic is not driven by an open mind and curiosity, it can derail our healing both emotionally and physically. Having compassion allows a sense of grace to guide our thoughts and decisions. Instead of forcing, it implies allowing things to unfold naturally and responding with patience and kindness. I like to say, “Pave your path with grace.” First, identify what your judgment is. Can you absolutely know that it is 100% true? Next, ask: Is it helpful? Is it kind? Would you believe this if it were about someone else? Restored and RevitalizedEverything we take in becomes us on a cellular level. Our food, our products, our environment, and even our thoughts impact the chemical reactions in our cells. To recover from chronic illness, I had to put out the fire with nutrition and lifestyle first. Only then could I do the work to deconstruct my fundamental beliefs. Once accomplished, my thoughts about the events and people involved in my diseases lost their power over me. Suddenly, I felt freer than I have in my entire life. I felt empowered and I regained the energy of my twenty-five-year-old self. In the beginning I looked to the outside world to make me better. I tried to control everything around me, and it brought me a false sense of joy. Now I look to the inside. As a result, I went from a woman riddled with despair and chronic illness to a woman that became filled with love and appreciation. I’m not suggesting that changing our mindset can keep our bodies disease-free, or that all people who are sick are focused on the negative. But shifting the way we think can change the choices we make. And sometimes the smallest choices can make the biggest difference for our health and well-being. **Image generated by AI About Kim EallonardoAfter almost losing her life twice, Kim Eallonardo was able to avoid a kidney transplant, rid herself of the MS wheelchair, and become a certified holistic integrative nutrition health coach. She now helps women with autoimmune and kidney disease optimize their immune system and kidney function so they can actively enjoy their lives. She has been featured in Forks Over Knives and PB with J. Visit revivetothrivewithkim.com for free resources and to learn more. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I change.” ~Carl Rogers My heart races as I raise my hand, eager to contribute yet terrified of the attention it brings. When the teacher picks me, the entire classroom turns toward me, putting me in the spotlight. I feel exposed. Shame floods over me like hot lava, twisting my stomach into knots and flushing my face with heat. I try desperately to stop it, but the throbbing intensity only grows. I mutter words I can barely comprehend, feeling like a stranger in my own skin. In that moment of shame, I was an embarrassment to myself and all I wanted to do was vanish. This forty-year-old memory is as fresh as if it happened yesterday. Growing up in a status-oriented, conflicted home where love and connection were both unpredictable and scarce, I learned early on that I wasn’t safe to be myself in this world. I learned that to get my needs met, I had to change myself. That love and connection were unpredictable, and that I couldn’t just relax and be myself; I had to hustle for it. So, when the eyes of the classroom turned toward me, I couldn’t just be myself and answer the question. My programming told me that being myself equals abandonment and leads to rejection and pain. So I hustled to do things “right” to control the situation and avoid the pain of being exposed. But here’s the thing: When we’re disconnected from our authentic selves, we’re like a house on a shaky foundation—insecure, weak, and ready to fall into a mess at any moment. And we feel that instability deep within. It’s precisely because of this disconnection that we’re overwhelmed with fear and anxiety, stumbling like fools through unfamiliar territory. These moments of shame were a regular part of my childhood. And it wasn’t limited to the classroom. When my piano teacher made eye contact, I instinctively looked away, wanting to vanish into the bench. When police cars passed me on the street, I’d quickly hide behind parked cars, fearing arrest for finding change under a school vending machine. I couldn’t explain these feelings; all I knew was the desperate need to escape that painful exposure. The constant anticipation of shame, never knowing when I would be engulfed in excruciating humiliation and loneliness, consumed me. It felt like a full-time job, and I fought against it with everything I had, desperate to regain control over the unpredictable. At school, I excelled, earning straight-A grades; at home, I became the perfect peacemaker, striving to manage the chaos of conflict. Eventually, I turned inward, seeking solace in a world consumed by counting calories, restricting food intake, and obsessing over numbers on the scale—a world where I exerted absolute control. Anorexia, perfectionism, and peacekeeping became my shields against shame for years. Despite the hospitalizations and brushes with death, they seemed like a safer refuge compared to confronting the raw agony of shame head-on, even if it wasn’t a conscious choice. There came a turning point in my journey. After years of battling anorexia, perfectionism, and the relentless pursuit of control, I hit a moment of truth. I realized the shields I’d built to protect myself were suffocating me, trapping me in a cycle of self-destruction. I then faced my inner turmoil head-on. With my boyfriend’s (now husband’s) support, I dove deep into studying everything I could about shame, healing, and self-discovery, eventually finding the most success with my own mix of radical acceptance, mindfulness, and somatic emotional release. Slowly, I started tearing down the walls I’d built, opting for vulnerability and authenticity instead. It wasn’t easy, and was full of setbacks, but it was a journey that enabled me to reclaim my true self from shame’s grip. Looking back, I wish I had known that shame is a fundamental part of the human experience—a challenging emotion that is especially prevalent among shame-sensitive individuals and those of us who’ve endured childhood trauma. Perhaps then, I wouldn’t have overlaid my shame with harsh self-judgment, letting those moments of shame carve themselves so deeply into my self-image. Instead, I might have understood that shame, while incredibly tough, is a universal emotion, particularly prevalent among those of us who’ve faced childhood traumas. As a culture, we need to grow in our collective understanding of shame. It’s high time we engage in open conversations about shame, fostering empathy and support for those struggling with it. That’s why I reached out to my newsletter subscribers and asked those who are living with shame to describe how it feels for them. Nine people shared their experiences. I hope through reading their quotes, it will help you deepen your own understanding of shame, and perhaps help you feel less alone. Here’s what they shared. 1. I’m constantly trying to hide how messed up I am.“Shame feels like a constant pressure to not just do well but to go all out, trying to hide how messed up I am. I’m always worried that if someone sticks around or sees the cracks in my armor, they’ll never really love the true me. It’s like climbing this impossible mountain, always striving for perfection just to deserve love.” —Shelly P., 36
2. I feel like I don’t belong with “normal” people.
“I feel like I don’t belong with others. I cringe when I hear myself talking. I read too much into facial expressions and the look in people’s eyes, and it’s a constant reminder that I’m different from everybody else. It’s as if I’m from another species and I don’t belong with ‘normal’ people. I get this overwhelming feeling of being an alien, of being wrong, of being off, of having no right and place to belong. I have the urge to disappear. I want to curl into a ball, be smaller, and evaporate.” —Jen R., 24 3. It’s discrediting any success I have.“I discredit any success I have as being expected. I view it more as‘ Great! You did what a normal person should be able to do’ or ‘Wow, am I that far gone in life that I’m celebrating bottom of the barrel normal behavior??’” --Kalisha C., 49 4. It feels like every setback is deserved, even expected.“It’s a never-ending feeling of unworthiness, being unwanted, and an overall feeling that I’m utterly disgusting in every conceivable way. It’s feeling like I don’t deserve happiness; that every setback is deserved, even expected, because I’m so terrible. It’s not being able to look in the mirror without cringing, and every photo I see of myself is a reminder of my disappointment and failure.” --Angela H., 52 5. It’s like I’m at war with myself.“There’s always something that needs to be changed, improved. If I’m shy, something is wrong with my shyness. If I speak up, I sound stupid. If my opinion isn’t popular, my opinion must be wrong. Everything about me is invalidated. It feels like I live in a self-imposed prison of self-hatred.” --Michele L., 50 6. I’m always curating myself.“It feels like wanting to hide, to be unseen, unheard, and nonexistent to others. I’m always very cautious about what bit of information about myself I share, and with whom. When people get to know me, they’re often surprised by what I’m really like and they tell me how they had a different image of me in their minds. It’s like how I show up doesn’t match who I really am.” --Tina R., 28 7. I can’t make eye contact.“It’s very physical for me: My skin feels hot and tingly, especially on my chest, my face, upper back, and the backs of my upper arms. I hunch forward, my head and eyes lower, and I feel frozen. I can’t make eye contact. My mind goes blank, and I struggle to think properly. And I often get angry and start blaming others. I get resentful and bitter. I hate everyone and I hate myself. It’s awful.” --John T., 32 8. I’m always anticipating more shame.“Shame feels like being sucked into a black hole. It feels like everyone’s looking at me and judging me because I’m so pathetic. It’s so painful that I’ll do anything to avoid it. Anticipating shame and trying to avoid it causes me a huge amount of anxiety.” --Brianna F., 47 9. And it feels like it will never go away.“I’ve done so much work on myself, had so many years of therapy, but it still feels like shame is untouchable, like nothing will ever make it go away People tell me it’s possible to overcome chronic shame, but I’m not so sure. No matter how hard I try, every day still feels like a struggle. I feel like I’m broken, and nothing can fix me.” --Julia G., 32 Can You Relate?If you’re nodding along with those quotes, rest assured you’re not alone in your journey to heal from shame. It’s entirely possible to heal, though it takes time and dedicated effort. Surround yourself with people, books, or therapists who understand shame from a positive perspective—those who can guide you with empathy and insight. It’s crucial to work with professionals who are at peace with their own relationship with shame. Therapists or friends who approach it with fear or condemnation may unintentionally perpetuate the cycle of self-loathing and judgment you’re striving to overcome. Seek out those who offer a non-judgmental space for exploration and healing. By engaging with shame compassionately and curiously, you open the door to profound transformation. Embracing shame as a teacher rather than an enemy reveals its hidden wisdom and leads to genuine self-acceptance and empowerment. After years of battling shame, I found my way out of the suffocating darkness not by burying or suppressing it, but by turning toward it. Educating myself about shame, I learned that it isn’t merely a byproduct of trauma; it’s a misunderstood yet inherently normal emotion with its own intrinsic value. This new understanding shifted my perspective from fighting against shame to approaching it with curiosity. I discovered that, despite its weight, shame holds invaluable power because it can teach us how to love ourselves—even in the darkest of times. When we experience ourselves as inherently flawed, it’s the perfect training ground for cultivating compassion and true self-love. And by caring for ourselves during the hardest moments, we’re reminded that even in our most vulnerable states, we are deserving of love and acceptance. Just as we cannot understand light without darkness, we learn to love ourselves through moments of feeling utterly inadequate. These moments, though excruciating, serve as catalysts for profound personal growth and transformation. Today, when I raise my hand to speak up in a public forum, I expect to feel a bit awkward and shy, and my face may even blush a little. But it doesn’t stop me from speaking up because I am no longer at war with shame. I know it’s just part of being the exquisitely sensitive human that I am. And I’m okay with that. *These quotes have been edited and condensed for length and clarity. Image generated by AI. About Jenn LawlorJenn Lawlor is a scientist, shame expert, and certified healing coach with more than thirty-three years of experience in personal growth and transformation. Learn how she takes her clients through a process of deep transformation in her free training How to Find Inner Freedom & Authentic Joy. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others!” ~Marianne Williamson Have you ever felt trapped by fear, unable to break free from the shackles of insecurity and doubt? It’s a shared experience that often holds us back from living authentically and pursuing our true passions. Fear comes in many forms—fear of failure, fear of success, fear of the unknown. Yet, at its core, fear is a prison of our own making, constructed from limiting beliefs and negative self-talk. But what if I told you that confronting your fears could lead to liberation? What if facing your deepest insecurities was the key to unlocking your true potential? Consider the metaphor of caged dogs accustomed to electric shocks. Despite the opportunity to escape, they remain imprisoned by familiarity, opting for discomfort over the unfamiliarity of freedom. This phenomenon is mirrored in our lives, where we cling to dissatisfaction for the illusion of security. Reflecting on my own journey, I recall a time when I grappled with chronic illness. Despite yearning for healing, I realized I harbored a deep-seated fear of what lay beyond the confines of my suffering. I had an epiphany (post-existential crisis): Did I fear failure? Or did I fear success? Did I actually fear what success and healing meant and what they came with? What would healing mean for me? It would mean relinquishing the safety net of my pain and stepping into a reality where I was called to fulfill my purpose and potential. The prospect was daunting, especially after being confined to the shadows and the comfort of my sofa for so long. As I embarked on the journey toward healing, I found myself grappling with a profound fear—one that extended beyond the confines of my illness. I yearned for recovery, yet I couldn’t shake the apprehension of what lay beyond the familiar territory of my suffering. Would I lose the identity I had forged amidst my struggles? Would I be able to navigate a world without the crutch of my suffering? These questions loomed large, casting shadows of doubt and hesitation on my path to recovery. It became evident that my fear wasn’t merely rooted in the prospect of being sick or well but rather in the unknown territory ahead. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, a glimmer of hope emerged—a reminder that growth often requires us to confront our deepest fears head-on. I realized that true healing transcends physical recovery; it demands a willingness to embrace change and step into the unknown. As I grappled with these uncertainties, I came to understand that the journey toward healing is not just about overcoming illness but about rediscovering ourselves and embracing the fullness of life that awaits on the other side of fear. We fear that the life we truly want would be too scary to bring into manifestation. But to live in such a way is doing ourselves a massive disservice. You can feel it in your soul when you abandon your desires in this way. Yet, as I confronted my fears head-on, I discovered a newfound sense of empowerment and freedom. I realized that true liberation comes from within, from the courage to embrace change and step into the unknown. Marianne Williamson poignantly remarked, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” Embracing our innate power liberates us and those around us, igniting a ripple effect of inspiration and transformation. So, how do we break free from the chains of fear? Here are some actionable steps to help you overcome anxiety and step into your authentic self. 1. Identify your fears.Take time to reflect on the fears holding you back. Write them down and acknowledge their presence in your life. 2. Challenge your beliefs.Question the validity of your fears. Are they based on facts or assumptions? Challenge the negative self-talk that reinforces these fears. When I did this exercise, I realized I believed I wasn’t good enough and assumed it would be too much work to pursue the life I wanted. 3. Learn and practice nervous system regulation.Fear is programmed into our bodies from a young age. If we don’t deal with it, then it can become trapped inside us and cause things like anxiety, depression. and chronic illness. Teaching my body how to feel fear and stay regulated was vital to my healing journey. One way I do this is through breathwork, focusing on longer exhales to activate the parasympathetic nervous system. I also discovered that movement really is medicine when it comes to the nervous system. And I underwent somatic trauma therapy and somatic experiencing, which was game-changing in my healing journey and recovering from chronic anxiety. 4. Visualize success.Imagine yourself overcoming your fears and achieving your goals. Visualize the empowerment and fulfillment that come with stepping into your authentic self. 5. Take small steps.Break down your goals into manageable steps and take action toward overcoming your fears. Celebrate each small victory along the way. When I knew I wanted to travel the world and work online but was housebound due to my health and anxiety, I started with going to the shops. Then months later, I went back to work one day a week. I built myself up, and three years later, I just came back from three months travelling in Bali! 6. Seek support.Surround yourself with a supportive network of friends, family, or a therapist who can offer encouragement and guidance as you confront your fears. You do not have to do this alone! It takes a village! 7. Cultivate compassion for the part of you that is scared of thriving.Be kind to yourself throughout this process. Recognize that facing your fears takes courage, and it’s okay to experience setbacks along the way. Feeling scared or hesitant about the prospect of thriving and healing is natural. After all, change can be daunting, and the unknown can evoke feelings of vulnerability. However, it’s essential to approach these fears with compassion and love, recognizing that they stem from a place of self-protection and past experiences. Start by acknowledging the validity of your fears and the emotions they evoke. Instead of dismissing or suppressing them, offer yourself empathy and understanding. Remember that feeling scared is okay, your emotions are valid, and you’re doing your best to navigate this journey. Offer yourself the same compassion you would extend to a loved one facing similar challenges. 8. Practice self-care.Engage in self-care practices that nurture your emotional well-being and cultivate inner peace. This could include mindfulness meditation, journaling, time in nature, or engaging in activities that bring you joy and comfort. By prioritizing self-care, you create a supportive foundation for addressing your fears with compassion and love. 9. Be patient with yourself.Finally, remind yourself that healing and thriving are gradual processes that require patience and perseverance. Support yourself through each step of your journey, knowing you deserve to live a life filled with growth, joy, and fulfilment. Ultimately, the path to liberation lies in embracing change, confronting our fears, and stepping into our authentic selves. It’s a journey of self-discovery and empowerment that promises freedom, fulfilment, and the realization of our true potential. Are you ready to embrace the unknown and liberate yourself from fear? The choice is yours. 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. “The little things? They’re not little.” ~Jon Kabat-Zinn Remember Halloween, 2018? No? We wouldn’t, either, except that it happens to be the day our mindfulness journey—and our lives—changed forever. First, some background. We (Deborah and Willow) met when our boys played on the same fifth-grade soccer team. We connected quickly through our shared love of books, writing, dogs, hiking, and strong coffee. Something else we had in common: We were both failed meditators. To be honest, we were a bit embarrassed that we couldn’t make a mindfulness practice stick. Thank Goodness We WEREN’T Paying AttentionNow, back to the story. In 2018, October 31st landed on a Wednesday (an important detail, as you’ll soon discover). That morning, we drove to San Francisco to see a new exhibit at an art gallery. Parking spot secured, coffee in hand, we were first in line as we waited for the museum doors to open. We waited. And waited. And then it dawned on us. Was the museum closed on Wednesdays? Yep. Had we paid attention to the schedule beforehand? Nope. As usual, we’d been too distracted and busy—and now our plans were ruined. Before heading home, we decided to walk around and explore downtown San Francisco. As we set off, we decided to try an experiment: We would slow down and tune in to, well, anything and everything. We’d notice what was happening around us. We’d notice what was happening inside us. And we’d notice what happened when we intentionally paid attention. Oh, the things we noticed! Little pink flowers poking out through a crack in the sidewalk. A tiny dog in a pale blue sequined jacket. A sweet older couple holding hands as they shuffled across the street together, which instantly warmed our hearts. Two hours later, we realized that intentional noticing was making us feel present and grounded. Nourished and aware. We were totally engaged with our lives—and we loved it. A Three-Word Invitation to Slow Down and Be PresentWe decided—on the spot—to each start a daily journal based on the prompt “Today I noticed.” We’d write a sentence and draw something (anything!) about an observation. Nothing would be too small or mundane to be worth noticing. A few weeks later, we shared what we’d been recording. As we paged through our journals, we found ourselves saying things like, “I noticed that!” and “I feel the same way!” As we laughed and talked, we realized how much of everyday life we’d been missing out on because we were too distracted to notice. Here are just a few precious moments we might have missed if it wasn’t for our “Today I Noticed” mindfulness practice: Today I noticed that just two stalks of freesias make the whole room smell divine. Today I noticed how easy it is to practice “lovingkindness” on my dog. Today I noticed how happy it makes me to hear my husband unloading the dishes. Today I noticed I love coffee so much that I imagine my second cup while still drinking my first cup. Our day-to-day lives were becoming richer and brighter simply because we were paying more attention. 2000+ Days of Mindfulness—and Still CountingNow, five-and-a-half years later, we’re still observing, writing, and drawing about some of the funny, surprising, sweet, and ordinary moments that we all see but rarely take the time to notice. This daily practice leaves us feeling tuned in, present, and connected—just like any other mindfulness practice. Unlike meditation, for us, this approach to mindfulness has stuck. Noticing and recording has become a way of life—and we don’t plan on ever stopping. Here are five reasons why we’re convinced that “Today I noticed” is the secret to lasting mindfulness. 1. It’s 100% natural.We’re all noticing things, all the time. The key is noticing yourself noticing. Paying attention doesn’t require a meditation pillow, a yoga mat, or a mantra. It just takes a simple prompt—”Today I noticed”—to shift your mindset. 2. It makes us feel present.As Jon Kabat-Zinn so wisely stated in the quote above, the little moments aren’t little because they’re what make up our lives. When we move too fast or feel too overwhelmed to notice them, we miss out on an essential part of daily life. Intentional noticing is a way to instantly feel grounded in the here and now. 3. It sparks gratitude.When we slow down and pay attention, even for an instant, we stop taking things for granted. Today I Noticed reminds us how easy it is to find things to appreciate if we just slow down and look for them. 4. It boosts compassion.As we discovered during our very first session of showing each other our observations, the little moments are evidence of our shared humanity. Whether we’re seeing a new bud blossom into a beautiful flower, hearing a beloved dog snoring, or appreciating a smile from a stranger, such “ordinary” experiences feel downright extraordinary when we realize they’re part of a bigger collective experience. 5. It’s a creative outlet.If you’d like to have a creative practice but can’t find the time, “Today I Noticed” mindfulness is for you. You can spend as much or as little time as you’d like writing and drawing about an observation. This bite-sized break is an easy way to tap into a delicious right-brain experience and feel both completely focused and completely relaxed. And wonderfully creative! Here are some tips and ideas to keep in mind. 6 Tips to Start a Noticing Practice Today1. Start paying attention to little things—thoughts, feelings, observations—as you go through your day. Nothing is too “small” to notice and appreciate. 2. On a piece of paper, starting with the words “Today I noticed,” write about your observation with a sentence or two. 3. Create a sketch or some kind of visual to accompany or illustrate what you wrote. Remember, everyone is an artist in their own unique way. 4. Find a buddy to share your observations with. Start a “Today I Noticed” club and host monthly sharing sessions. Or hold a weekly noticing session with your team at work. 5. Instead of asking your kids, “How was school today?” (“BORING.”), ask them what they’ve noticed. It’s a guaranteed conversation starter! 6. As you notice more and more things (and you will, we promise), keep track of your observations in your phone or a notebook. Then, when you’re ready for a creative break, you can dive right in and start writing and drawing. Go Forth and Notice!Have we convinced you to try noticing your way to mindfulness? We hope so! When you simply let three words, “Today I noticed,” inspire you to pay attention to the little things that usually slip away unnoticed, you feel present, grounded, and nourished. Small things become more interesting and memorable when we simply take the time to notice them. We’ll end with what may be the most powerful discovery of all: The more you notice, the more you notice. And that, friends, is where the real mindfulness magic happens. About Willow Older and Deborah HuberWillow Older and Deborah Huber are the founders of the Today I Noticed mindfulness practice and authors of Today I Noticed: A Little Book of Mindfulness that Will Change the Way You See the World (Blue Star Press, 2023). They also run Today I Noticed workshops for conferences, retreats, and corporations. They post their observations on Instagram: @today.i.noticed. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “If it’s out of your hands, it deserves freedom from your mind too.” ~ Ivan Nuru “Honey, we’re gonna call you an ambulance.” The woman on the other end of the phone at the hospital call center sounded stern as I lay on my bathroom floor in my robe, writhing in pain, barely able to speak. I never knew you could hyperventilate from pain, I remember thinking. It was December, and I’d just returned home from a stressful international work trip with jet lag and exhaustion as my souvenirs. The sensitive, introverted parts of myself I normally shoved under the veneer of Ms. Capable Can-Do-It-All were overstimulated by the constant activity and overwhelmed by interacting with so many coworkers in a city I didn’t know. During the trip, my cousin called me. They never call me. “Grandpa died,” they said. In my grief, I did my best to find last-minute flights back to see family in the US, but I missed my third connection and slept on the airport floor. I’d been pushing myself for months; by the time I finally walked through my apartment door, I was more than fried. I was burnt out. Then I came down with the worst flu of my life. And now, sudden stomach pains pulsed through my entire body, so intense I had to crawl to my phone to dial the hospital. As the EMTs arrived at my door, ready to whisk me away in an ambulance like an unglamorous Cinderella, I started being able to breathe again. Suddenly, I was much more aware of my surroundings. The awkwardness of two men in unfamiliar uniforms strapping me onto a stretcher and carrying me down the narrow stairwell like a cumbersome, delicate piece of furniture, into the back of the ambulance going only a few blocks away when I could usually walk there, was surreal. I felt detached from my life somehow, as if I was witnessing it from the outside. Right then, the whole situation struck me as, for lack of a better word, funny. I can’t wait to see what’ll go wrong next! I thought, almost laughing. As I sat quietly in my hospital bed with an IV in my arm and my pain finally eased, I realized something. In this moment, there was nothing I could do about my health. Whatever diagnosis the doctor was going to walk in and give me, I couldn’t change it. All I could do was be present. And I found that incredibly…freeing. I’d spent the better part of three years burnt out, mostly miserable, and continuing to push through, no matter how exhausted I was, or how much everything in my body and the back of my mind was telling me to STOP. However, I didn’t listen. I was too focused on succeeding in my dream job, the job I’d worked myself to the bone for years to land. I was damned if I’d let something as silly as my body get in the way of my dreams. But right then, in my blue-and-white-striped hospital gown, I had a gut thud of knowing that things had to change. I needed to let go. Of the dream that wasn’t really mine anymore. Of holding on so tight to what I knew that I wasn’t letting myself breathe or acknowledge what was true for me. I needed to let go of the idea that I could force myself into happiness by achieving more. It wasn’t working. I just felt empty. I needed to start trusting myself more. Not the loud inner dictator part of me who constantly scolded me for not working hard enough—I’d been trusting that part too much already. No, I needed to start trusting that gentle voice inside that whispered, “Hey, take a break…it’s okay to rest. It’s okay to just let yourself be.” I also realized I needed to start taking up more space in my life instead of giving it all away to work and other people. I wanted to live in a way that brought out my softer, more compassionate, more authentic self, not just the tough, competent leader part of me who fulfilled everyone else’s expectations first. I wanted to figure out how to be who I actually was, not just who I thought I should be. Because that part was so, so tired. Frankly, she needed to lie down and take a nap. And figure out who she was when she wasn’t performing. So ultimately, that’s what I did. (Yes, the nap. But also the figuring out.) Maybe you know what I mean. Maybe you’re at a crossroads where you don’t know where to go next, you just know it’s not where you are. Maybe you feel torn between your ambitious side and the part of you that knows that how you feel on the inside is more important than how your life looks on the outside. If so, here are a few things that helped me, and might help you, too. 1. Embrace the pause.When you spend your whole life being rewarded for ignoring your body’s signals and pushing through for work, it can feel like sacrilege to give yourself a moment to rest. Do it anyway. Lie on your bed, breathe, and stare at the ceiling for five minutes. Commit to doing absolutely nothing, no matter how strong your urge is to be productive. And then do it again. Work can wait—your well-being is worth it. And ultimately, the more you include yourself and your needs in what you do, the more successful and productive you’ll be, even if it takes a little longer to get there. 2. Listen to your inner nurturer.See what happens when you tune in to your inner world, and if you can hear the gentle voice inside that whispers, “Take a break; it’s okay to rest.” It might not be there right away; that’s okay. Being kind to ourselves is a practice, and it can take time to develop. How can you tell the difference between your inner dictator and your inner nurturer? The dictator, when you listen long enough from the place of mindful observation, usually starts to sound like your parent or teacher or middle-school volleyball coach. Your inner nurturer sounds like you, or if you grew up in the eighties, maybe like the Empress from The Neverending Story. You’ll know the difference because when you hear the first one, your body will tense up; when you hear the second one, your body will relax. 3. Get curious about your self-worth.Sometimes as kids, we learn that we have to earn love and approval by working really hard, being responsible, or being good. When we grow up, this can translate beautifully to the working world, because there’s always a new way to improve, something else to do, or someone else to impress. But what if your sense of confidence didn’t depend on being the best, the most responsible, or the hardest worker? Take a moment and sit with the question: Who could I be if I felt loved and accepted just as I am, even when I’m relaxing and doing nothing? Even when I’m mediocre at something? Even when I’m just being? Bring some curiosity, with as little judgment as you can muster, to when you feel most “worthy.” If it’s usually when you’re doing something for someone else, or in achieving mode, I invite you to see if you can expand your sense of worthiness to when you’re not doing anything at all. Or even, gasp, when you make a mistake. It can be a long road to finding peace and feeling worthy of love and connection just as you are, but in my experience, it’s worth it. 4. Redefine success on your terms.Challenge the conventional definitions of success that may have guided your life so far. You can even journal about it: what does success actually look like for you based on your values, passions, and commitment to personal growth? True fulfillment comes not from meeting external expectations but from aligning your achievements with your authentic self. It doesn’t matter how fast you’re going if you’re headed in the wrong direction. We often get caught up in the pursuit of success, attached to goals that might have lost their relevance along the way. Just like I did. It’s easy to ignore the signs when our bodies are screaming for a pause, a moment of relief. But, as cliché as it might sound, life is pretty short, and it’s not worth it to sacrifice our well-being on the altar of ambition. So allow yourself the freedom to reassess your dreams when you need to, and adjust how you’re spending your time and energy at this stage in your life. See what it might be like to let go just a little bit; to trust that it’s okay to change, to evolve, and to prioritize your health and happiness over what others expect of you, or even what you used to expect from yourself. See if, in moments of overwhelm or uncertainty, you can take a breath, tune in to your body, and listen to your deepest knowing, trusting that the path you walk in every moment can be fulfilling in and of itself. Because isn’t that what life is all about? About Catilin ClarkeCaitlin Clarke is a mindfulness-based somatic life and career coach for highly sensitive, ambitious women who want to trust themselves more and take up space in their own lives. Sign up for her free newsletter with tips for saying buh-bye to burnout and staying true to you at her website, www.caitlinclarke.com. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “No darkness lasts forever. And even there, there are stars.” ~Ursula K. Le Guin (the Farthest Shore) Everyone with a close relationship with their mother has felt it at some time or other or expects to feel it in the future. That dreaded moment when you will have to say goodbye to them. For some of us, it happens early in life, through illness, a parting of the ways, or other transitions; for me, it began in my mid-fifties, and even though I had plenty of time to ponder it, I wasn’t prepared. I was always very close to my mother, so we’d had many conversations about her aging, discussing everything from living wills to her end-of-life wishes, but I still wasn’t prepared to handle the series of strokes and resulting dementia that started some two years ago. Within the first year of her first stroke, we visited emergency rooms some ten times to manage the small hemorrhagic strokes she had and the residual falls, seizures, and infections that resulted. One day, we were “normal,” talking on the phone almost every day and taking walks around our neighborhood on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, and the next, our lives were totally different. We Prepared for Aging, But Not for GrievingI realize in hindsight that no amount of reasoned discussion about healthcare proxies and funeral preparations prepares you to take on the reality of a parent’s (or other loved one’s) health crisis. In fact, when I think about the rational way we discussed all these details, I’m struck by the fact that we never (not once) talked about how we would feel. How would I deal with her illness or death emotionally? We didn’t talk about how my life would change. We left out so much of “life” in these practical discussions. Of course, I know why we didn’t; we didn’t want to face it, and talking about my emotional turmoil during her end-of-life journey would have felt too real and been too difficult. So I went through those emotions without her. Her dementia changed her memory, her perspective, and her understanding, so she now has limited capacity to know or sense how each stroke might be affecting me. Before she transitioned into middle-stage dementia, there would be periods of focus and brightness where my mom would be aware of her condition and its effect on me. As was her kind, loving nature, she pushed through and comforted me in much the same way she had always done. It amazed me when these periods of connection came through. Even while dealing with such a pervasive rush of cognitive deterioration, she still “mothered” me. She showed the depth of her love and understanding. It was remarkable to experience. The Zig-Zag Pattern of GriefBut then this on-again, off-again awareness had its effect on my emotions too. There were so many emotions all at once, and the zig-zag nature of these feelings was exhausting. Good days, bad days, numb days, brighter days. Who knew what was coming next as I managed the day-to-day logistics of dealing with her health decline: hospitalizations, rehab stays, home care, equipment requests, financial issues and, finally, new living arrangements? For the first time, I journeyed through a pervasive struggle without my best friend to lean on and with the heavy emotional burden of facing life without her. I’d come home from the hospital in those early days and just cry my eyes out. My husband and daughter were ready to console me, but they didn’t know how to deal with my intense emotional state, and they were grieving too. I cried until I was numb, then cried some more until I was all cried out. But I Made It ThroughThere were so many emotions all at once: sadness, fear, frustration, anger, denial. No neat Kubler Ross sequence for me; I felt all the emotions simultaneously and throughout the day. The disorienting zig-zag pattern of grief meant that some days, I felt like I was on top of things and handling my emotions, and other days I was an emotional wreck. Through it all, I learned how to “Adult” with a capital “A.” I call it “super adulting.” And it all came on so suddenly. It was like a raging firestorm swept me up, burnt through me, and then left me by the side of the road as a charcoal shell of my former self. Still breathing but burning with rage and sadness. But I made it through. I was also exhausted from the caregiving. Already a caregiver to my partner (who has a disability) and my college-age daughter, who was just entering college when my mom’s health crisis began, the lack of sleep, trips to the hospital, and then taking care of my mom at home (after a full day’s work in the office) was unbearable at times. But I made it through. Through almost two years of this super adulting, I found an assisted living facility that could handle my mom’s medical needs (and provide some socialization), but it came at a hefty price. Seeing the monthly bills causes its own stress. But it was the best place for her, a place that takes loving care of her during the day when I can’t and coordinates her healthcare. It helps with the logistics, but I still have anxiety about her advancing dementia. But I’m making it through. Now that I have the time and space to regroup and journey through my own transition, I see that making it through every hurdle, while excruciating at times, was a journey I had to take. It was a journey that only I could take, and alone because it was a journey to a new stage of adulthood. I learned without a doubt that I could step into leadership, and I offer these insights to those of you who are going through a similar grieving journey with a loved one. May it comfort you to know that some or all of these benefits might await you on the other side of your grief journey. You Will LeadSituations will push you to grow and own your voice because you must do it for your loved one. You will have to move through indecision to take action to move toward progress. You will become a leader. Once you have made these decisions, you will feel a sense of empowerment because you took action and moved through the world with agency. You can lead. You Will Feel GratefulYou will encounter incredibly loving, helpful people along your grief journey. They will hold your hand (literally or figuratively), they will make things a bit easier, and they will feel sad, angry, or fearful alongside you. Even when you feel alone, you will not be alone. You will feel gratitude as new people come into your life and offer loving kindness to you along the way. You Will Know Yourself BetterYou will learn that even though you can’t control what is happening, you determine how you will respond to it. You will figure out how you feel and what you want (and don’t want). You will make choices and be faced with consequences and learn from those scenarios. You will know yourself better, and you better believe that your loved one would be proud of your new insight. You Will Learn to Connect on Your Own TermsSometimes you will seek out community and connection, and other times you will want solace and singular mindfulness to facilitate healing. Sometimes you will alternate between the two, taking from community what you need and being silent when needed. You will learn to set boundaries to protect your time and emotional resources. You will connect on your own terms. There are still days when I feel very alone, when I miss hearing my mom’s voice, and the fear rises up as I think about losing her completely. On those days, I try to sit with those feelings, build a tolerance for them, and not judge myself as I stumble around the day living in my emotionally fragile state. Then there are days when I feel my mom as a living part of me, like an energized golden thread woven into my life’s fabric. And when I breathe in and out, we breathe together. Some days my mom feels intertwined with my very essence and forever present in the warm, inviting heart she helped to create. Those are my best days. May you also know them as you zig and zag through your grief journey. If you are grieving over a loved one’s struggle or passing, I hope you feel a kinship to the ideas and sense of hope I have laid out here today. My wish for you: Allow yourself the freedom to feel however you feel but try to hold space for the idea that you will make it through. Make space for the possibility of a positive transition. I hope that over time you will come to some peace about these changes. Perhaps you will feel as I do, that your loved one now resides inside you. That they have a new home. And when you breathe in and out, they breathe with you, forever present in your warm and inviting heart. About Jill HodgeJill Hodge is the writer and host of the inspirational personal growth podcast Let the Verse Flow. She created the podcast in response to the grief she felt during her mother’s transition through dementia. Through storytelling, spoken word poetry, affirmation meditations, and music, Jill hopes to inspire creativity and self-care, especially for caregivers. Explore the podcast, blog articles, and her companion newsletter, the Me-Time Mixtape, to get tips and resources for your creative self-care. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ~Albert Einstein In my cancer journey, miracles showed themselves every step of the way. Large and small, some of more significance than others. But all amazing, leading me to heartfelt gratitude for each and every one. In my most trying times, I held on to the focus of what was going right. I was putting into practice my learnings from positive psychology. That’s not to say I wasn’t terrified of my cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment, but I tried to be my own good student and apply some of my learnings. What went well today? What did I consider to be a miracle? After spending a pretty lousy all-night stay in the emergency room waiting for admission into the hospital, I was surprisingly rewarded with my own private room with a purple wall and window, with a view looking out to the Hudson River. How did they know I was a purple lover my whole life, and a lover of scenic water views? I got really spoiled with that good-feeling room, in a newly designed wing, created with healing and beauty in mind. I got it by chance, it being the one that was available at the time of my admission. Subsequently, the couple of times I had to be in a hospital room, I was put in the regular cancer unit, in a double room, hearing all the unpleasant noises and family visits of a roommate. But at least I had that room for my longest stay in the hospital! A purple win! Miraculous! One of my first concerns, embarrassingly expressed to my oncologist, was: “I’m terrified of nausea and vomiting throughout treatment. I’ve seen too many movies where the cancer patient has his head in the toilet all too often.” To which she replied, “If you stay ahead of the game and take the anti-nausea pill prophylactically, you should be okay.” And I was! Only barely vomited once. Miraculous! I am not a medicine person. I have to be really sick to take even a Tylenol. I don’t do well on most antibiotics. They upset my stomach, and to some I get outright allergic reactions of hives and joint pain, and once even got C. diff. I had to go on a regimen of numerous types of antibiotics for the duration of my treatment—anti-fungal, anti-viral, anti-bacterial—along with other medications. I suddenly had a pill cocktail of about five pills at a time. And lo and behold, my stomach handled them well—no bad tummy effects. Miraculous! Oh, and I didn’t say the real biggie, the most important one: My initially suspected horrific diagnosis, as seen by an ER radiologist, to which I said, “Just put me in hospice,” was upgraded to a new and better one: non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma—known to have a good outcome rate, and considered “one of the better cancers” (as long as I could get through the treatment). As a family member and initial consulting doctor said, “If you have to have a cancer, this is the one to get.” Hospice sentence averted! Not sure if this warrants a statement of miraculous, as a cancer diagnosis is an oxymoron with the word miraculous, but it was definitely a relief from the initial finding. There were many more miracles along the way of my treatment journey, but I don’t want to belabor the cancer part here. This is about opening ourselves up to seeing the miracles in our lives in general. In my case, looking for them and focusing on them helped me cope. Seeing what’s going well and finding the good points us in the direction of gratitude. And gratitude is a huge factor in living well and in our own well-being. It is also an important coping tool. It doesn’t take away the bad, but it makes it bearable. How do we build our ‘miracle’ muscle, our gratitude muscle, our muscle that can flex toward the things that are going well? Be present; focus on the here and now.We can’t see a miracle now if we’re worrying about the future, or the what-ifs. The flower is opening now to its full beauty; take that in and hold it. We miss out on the full now if we’re in the tomorrows. When we’re in the shower and focusing on the hot water feeling so good as it’s streaming down on us, we appreciate having it. Do a gratitude exercise of writing down a few things you’re grateful for to train your mind to bend toward a more positive bias.It can be the seemingly smallest and most ordinary things: a mug of deliciously aromatic coffee or a conversation with a good friend. When seeing a rose, do you home in on the beautiful flower or the prickly thorns around it? They’re both real, but where do you find yourself focusing? Tune into your senses.Focus on each one. Take a different route and notice what you see. Listen to a song and see if you can identify the instruments. Take in the smells of the market—the spices, the incense, the flowers. Try new foods for taste. Feel that velvety couch. Have a sensory party and create different things to try. Creative juices can flow here. Open up to the ordinary.It sounds counterintuitive, but this helps us realize more of the extraordinary. Seeing the expanse of the ocean and its horizon can bring out an awe of nature, as can listening to the sounds of the early morning birds upon arising. Feeling and hearing our own breath when sitting quietly or meditating can evoke an appreciation for our life. Dancing or exercising can connect us to the workings, flow, and beauty of our body. We work to build our muscles during the easier times so that we have them built up for those more trying times in our lives. Then you will be very grateful for your miracles—the ordinary and extraordinary ones—that you might have otherwise missed. **Image generated through AI About Harriet CabellyHarriet Cabelly, LCSW is a therapist specializing in grief, loss. and critical life situations. She's also a speaker, author, and group leader. Harriet works from the lens of positive psychology and existentialism. She has a private practice seeing clients both in-person and virtually. She is passionate about helping people cope and grow through critical life-changing circumstances. Harriet is the author of Living Well Despite Adversity: Inspiration for Finding Renewed Meaning and Joy in Your Life. Visit her at rebuildlifenow.com. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” ~Carl Jung “Should I move back?” was the question I asked myself. It was 2018, and I had moved to Berlin eight months prior. And everything had gone wrong. So wrong. I moved here for a relationship, but that relationship ended. I also moved for different work but found myself in a toxic environment. I had very little support from the community after my relationship ended. And I found myself horribly ill and in a hospital. The easy thing to do would have been to move back to London. It was still a huge move, but I would be back with my friends and support network. But something stopped me. Something was going on inside me that told me I would not be any happier if I moved back. That moving back would be a massive distraction from what was happening inside me. It would allow me to ignore that—to push it aside. And then, hopefully, in London, I would be too distracted to need to deal with it. I had no idea how transformative that decision would be. What was going on inside me? I had come to the realization that I had moved to Berlin to try to escape from who I was. That I was trying to choose only part of myself rather than all of myself, and I was doing this by trying to have a relationship with someone. But, in actual fact, I was bored. Bored in my life. Bored in a successful career as an international executive—a career I had no interest or passion for anymore. I decided it was time to figure out who I was. Not just part of me, not just some of me. But all of me. But I had no idea how to do this. I was drifting about in the dark. Then I realized that was part of the problem—I was trying to break through this veil of darkness to understand who I wanted to be. Imagine a Strange WorldI want you to imagine you are in a strange new world full of mountains, valleys, deserts, seas, and oceans. And this world is completely dark other than a light you hold in your hand. No matter what you do, no matter how far you try to raise the light, you still cannot see into the darkness. Instead, all you can see is within the circle of light. This World Is YouThis strange new world is actually you, the lands and oceans making up all your joys, passions, grief, sadness, and much more. But for many of us, our identity, who we are, and what gives us joy are unknown lands in the darkness. When it comes to wanting to understand who we are, we realize that, although we inhabit our body, many of its thoughts and emotions are a strange new world to be explored. And this is uncomfortable. If we are not distracting ourselves from the darkness, we’re spending all our efforts trying to pierce the veil of darkness. But trying to look further does not work. So what can we do? Look at what is within that circle of light. There is so much to learn, explore, and understand within this circle, even though so many of us discount it. Do we see a lump of rock and walk over to see how interesting it is? We then see something else and walk toward that, and then another and another thing. Without realizing it, we are walking through the darkness step by step, focusing on what we can see. And in doing so, we are exploring our hidden world. What does this mean in practice? 1. Be mindful of the now, no matter how bad it seems.In Berlin, when I was choosing to leave or stay, I was working for a toxic company with everyone constantly angry or bursting into tears in front of me and one person trying to set me up for failure. It was a horrible time. But within that horror, there was some gold. As I became more mindful, I realized there was one thing I enjoyed during the workday: speaking with someone one-on-one. I loved helping and supporting people in private chats, especially those who wanted to grow and improve. I was amazed by this revelation. How could I be feeling joy within all this toxicity? But now I know that a fundamental part of me loves connecting with and serving people, which is why I am on this planet. This was the first signal or seed of my purpose. Ignoring what we hate is easy, but gold can often be hidden there. Be mindful of those times as well as the good. The thing you really need might be hidden in those awful periods. Outside of work, I realized I could use my beautiful balcony, but I was not using it, as I was too distracted by everything going wrong (and did not have any chairs). Berlin is so beautiful in the summer, and even though this year had brought non-stop rain, it was temperate enough to sit outside, sheltered from the rain, and enjoy the humid, rich smell of the garden air. One night, I was treated to a drunk neighbor so happy they were singing in the rain. And it was so joyful to hear them do that. But I was not doing it. I was too distracted. So I bought myself a chair and found myself meditating and thinking while sitting out in the summer rain of Berlin. Years later, I realized that many of the seeds of my current life were planted on that balcony. During this time, I stopped and allowed myself just to be. Providing myself with this time allowed me to start understanding myself. And when I was bored on the balcony, I meditated or watched TED videos that inspired me. 2. Reconnect to joy from the past.We live in societies where we are pressured to focus only on our career, taking on more responsibility and making more money so we can use that money to buy the latest thing, be it the newest iPhone or some new fad on Instagram or TikTok. But this is not joy. Joy is such a short-lived emotion. We only feel it when carrying out an activity that gives us joy; if we are too distracted, we can miss it. When we start to focus on a career or material possessions, we can end up disconnected from joy. So we must find that joy again. Part of this can happen in step one—being mindful of the now and noticing when we feel that joy. But we can also mine for joy. The first way of doing this is to think back to when you were a child and teenager. What did you enjoy then? Do you do any of this now? Or did you give it up because you felt too busy or ashamed? I used to love Legos and Star Trek but was often shamed by family and friends for liking them. Then, as an adult, I thought only children play with Legos, so I gave it up. Now, I buy myself Lego sets and enjoy putting them together. But we can also reframe what we like in childhood into adult traits and actions. I used to love writing stories when I was young. Knowing I loved writing then, I realized I could decide to write now, but differently. Now I write for joy, but rather than stories, I often write articles explaining concepts and helping people. Reconnecting to joy from the past also helps us to rediscover parts of ourselves that were always there. Many people believe they are not creative, but when they rediscover their joy from when they were young, they discover they were hugely creative. 3. Throw things at the wall.The final thing is to try random things. To do random things. To see how much you enjoy it or where it leads you. I discovered that a center around the corner from me was holding a workshop for a spirit journey. I had never done anything like that before. I thought it was something that happens in the rainforests of the Amazon, not around the corner from where I live in Berlin. But I thought: Why not try it? I had a fantastic time doing it, and it led me to more mainstream events at the center, from potluck dinners to events for finding your purpose. It also helped me create my own social network here in Berlin. So try random things you’ve always wanted to try and note which things you hate and love; they will help you discover what you want and who you are. What Did I End Up Doing?The year 2017 was really hard for me. I felt pushed to my limits. But making that decision to stay and work toward understanding who I was—understanding that dark, hidden world—is one of the best decisions I ever made. It led me to discovering my passions and the sort of life I wanted to live. I have given up a six-figure salary to focus on various passions. I just returned from a “workcation” in the sun (avoiding the bleak Berlin winter), and I no longer have that sense of dread I had each day. There is still much for me to do. Making these changes has led me to find even more parts of myself. Although these new parts of my world are still to be explored, I have found impressive mountains to rest upon and amazing oceans to sail on within me, and my life is so much more fulfilling because of it. How about you? Do you want to start exploring who you are, your hidden world? If so, start now! About Phil PooleDiscover how to lead a meaningful life and career with Phil at coachingforadifferentlife.com, where you'll find a free download of six transformative questions to help you find fulfilment. A former international executive in UK broadcasting and Berlin startups, Phil now excels as a coach, writer, and entrepreneur, guiding individuals towards personal and professional fulfilment. His mission is to empower others to find and live their purpose. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. “You can ignore reality, but you can’t ignore the consequences of ignoring reality.” ~Ayn Rand The first person who introduced me to personal development was my ex. He once said, “It’s like you’re already doing some of these things.” What a compliment, right? Being a high-level person on the path of constant evolution, self-revolution, always changing and growing. Who wouldn’t want to be that? Beyond the compliments, I also felt a kinship with many personal growth concepts because they reminded me of some aspects of psychology and philosophy. If I could watch Seligman’s TED talk about positive psychology, why couldn’t I listen to a Tony Robbins lecture? It didn’t seem like a huge gap. The books filled my thoughts with wisdom and magic. The audios filled my grocery store trips and bus journeys with fiery motivation. In so many personal development gurus, I felt I had real friends who truly understood me. Self-help, and my ex for that matter, caught me at a sensitive time in my life. I had recently hit rock bottom and decided to change my life. I quit drugs, clubs, and smoking. I stopped pathologically lying and hurting myself for attention. I wanted to be alert and lucid. I wanted to explore and reach my potential. One thing that empowered me about personal development was getting rid of the victim mentality and shedding my traumatic stories. I didn’t have to carry the past around the way I did. What was the point? It just made me miserable and regretful and vengeful, never leading to anything productive. At first, the idea of taking responsibility for my destiny felt like a tough pill to swallow. I was supposed to take responsibility for the abuse I’d endured in various family and romantic relationships? But when I examined the situations closer, I could see that I had a side in co-creating those dynamics. I wasn’t simply a victim of what people were doing to me. I was constantly triggering their actions and reacting to them. I was part of a cycle. What was at first difficult evolved over time into a new approach to life. All I had to do was find a way to hold myself responsible for my emotions, for my life, for my behaviors. No matter how other people acted, I always had a choice. I carried this empowerment with me day to day; it helped in many ways. It helped me quit a day job I disliked. It helped me take charge of my career. It helped me let go of being annoyed and held back by the toxic actions of grouchy cashiers and judgmental family members. But taking responsibility for my part in everything started harming my life long before I recognized what was happening. I carried my victimless self-empowerment to the street corner where my ex drunkenly yelled at me in public, calling me all kinds of names, as I escorted him into a cab. I carried it to his house where he threw coat hooks at my face and cussed at me before passing out in the bed. I carried it the night I woke up to him vomiting all over the bed after another blackout-drunk night. I carried it through the years I lent him thousands of dollars to gamble away on affiliate marketing while paying my bills and our bills, cooking, cleaning, and providing him with unlimited emotional support, day in and day out. Back then, I had a blog. I wrote about finding self-love through obstacles in my work, reaching self-understanding in difficult encounters with yoga teachers and friends, learning from negative reviews, and so on. I didn’t blog about my ex’s alcoholism or verbal abuse. It felt like I was being respectful. If I was going through a hard time—which is how he framed it every time I told him I wanted out—I’d want the same thing. He kept me addicted to promises of a future where he’d get better. Sunk-cost bias is a real thing. He would cite Elon Musk’s first wife and how she was there for all the awful things and never got to enjoy his success. He wouldn’t want that to happen to me: to see him at his worst, support him through it, and then not get to enjoy his best. At the time, these justifications made perfect sense. Personal development taught me to lose myself in the service of others. It felt right to give to him as unconditionally as possible. Most of the time, I honestly felt like a good person. When he was spewing insults in my face as I remained nonreactive, I felt like I was holding space. That’s what holding space is, right? The trouble is that when someone yells and screams while drunk, they’re not safe, no matter what kind of space you create for them. By the next morning, all progress is lost. This is something I could see happening, but I denied it. I learned to find tiny shreds of growth and hold onto those as proof that I should stay. Taking responsibility for my part wasn’t the only thing keeping me there. It was also the stories about how I’d drawn this situation upon myself. Sometimes, I’d bring up that he was a completely different person when I first met him: patient, kind, loving, and curious about exploring my personality, my body, my views. He’d claim the way he was at the beginning was unsustainable. How could I have expected anything else? When we met, I was in the middle of healing sexual assault trauma. When he and I would get close to being intimate, I would sometimes freeze up and turn away. He once said this rejection was difficult for him and unsustainable. The first time we had sex felt like a violation. The moment I realized what happened, I felt like running away, but I didn’t. After all, I’d had a few drinks and wasn’t on my guard. Besides, I already had triggers about this kind of thing. How could I blame him without also blaming myself? The first time he yelled at me, I sat in front of my mirror, crying, looked myself in the eyes, and said, “If he did it once, he’ll do it again. You know that. Run. Go. Now.” But I didn’t. After all, I’d hurt people I cared about when I was at my worst. I changed. How could I deny him the opportunity to do the same? I filled up private journals with angry words. Then, I burned them. I thought: Isn’t this what any evolved person would do? Holding onto past traumas and breeding rageful narratives seemed like unhelpful patterns. I reframed my bypassing as patience and kindness and, worst of all, unconditional love. Anger, it turned out too many years later, was a useful signal I kept ignoring. This felt strange to discover. How could I have missed it? After all, personal development is crawling with ideas about decoding your emotions, honoring yourself, and respecting boundaries. For a few years after I got the courage to leave, I kept asking myself: How could I have been so intent on practicing self-awareness while ignoring the most blatant issues in my life? Ah, but I hadn’t been ignoring them. I was experiencing excruciating chronic pain symptoms and explaining them away with physical causes. Too long after leaving my ex, I began to understand how these unaddressed issues had begun as dissociative symptoms in response to violation. I also realized how much worse these symptoms became from living for seven years with a person whose presence felt like a violation. How could I have stayed in that environment daily while also daily practicing (and, embarrassingly, also teaching people about) the art of self-love? It took me years of soul-searching and decluttering and truth-speaking and running around in circles trying to heal the physical and emotional symptoms of feeling chronically unsafe to even begin to understand the answer. It’s simple: There’s a lot of wisdom out there, and there are many contradictory wise messages. We hear what we want to hear. I do believe that personal development can be used to truly improve a life, to help people reach their highest potential. I have also experienced first-hand how we can use it to keep ourselves in toxic situations. It’s not like self-help is to blame for me staying with him, but it didn’t help me escape either. It’s not information that helps us at the end of the day. It’s courage. It’s honesty. It’s community. Unfortunately, community is something I didn’t have when I began realizing all these things. I thought I did. I thought I had many friends who were deeply into self-healing and self-love and emotional authenticity. But when I started to get real about the things that were affecting me, like sexual assault and repressed rage and the war back home and my indigenous roots and the predators inside the “conscious community,” I felt more and more alone. After years of supposedly inspired living, I had no real friends to turn to when things got rough. With all the advice columns and how-to articles and 10-step lists, somehow personal development had left out the most important part: humanity. Learning to be ourselves alone and with each other. Again, it’s one of those things that we only see when we want to see them. As Lao Tzu said, “The greatest wisdom seems childish.” I read so many books and listened to so many audiobooks searching for answers about how to become the best version of myself, but the opportunities, the lessons, and most importantly, the answers had been there in front of my face all along. I just had to be brave enough and honest enough with myself to see what was already there. About Vironika TugalevaVironika Tugaleva (also known as Vironika Wilde) is a poet, spoken word artist, activist, and award-winning author. Vironika believes in the medicinal power of honest words and tough truths. When Vironika isn't writing, she loves stargazing, singing, and eating pickles (sometimes, all at once). You’re welcome to follow her on Instagram (@vironikawilde), check out her latest book, Love & Gaslight, or get a free preview of The Art of Talking to Yourself. Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site. |