Pre-Order Tiny Buddha’s Worry Journal and Receive 3 Free Bonus Gifts

There was a time when worrying was like breathing to me. It’s estimated that we think between 50,000 and 70,000 thoughts per day and we breathe 23,040 breaths. It would likely be accurate for me to say I once panicked as often as I inhaled.

I worried about what people thought of me. I worried that people weren’t thinking of me at all. I worried about what could go wrong. I worried I might have done something wrong. And I worried about being wrong—just by being me.

All this worry was crippling. It’s hard to enjoy anything when you’re there but not because the deepest part of you is tied up in knots, held hostage by your perpetually panicked brain.

I eventually learned that my body and mind were primed for anxiety in my younger years—meaning I lived in a constant state of fight-or-flight mode, always on edge and on the lookout for threats—and that I’d reinforced this sense of dread through persistently negative, irrational thoughts.

I suspect many of us live like this: with a fearful, racing mind and a sense that at any time, the other shoe could drop—and it might be freakishly large enough to crush us. But we don't have to stay under this weight.

Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about relaxing my body, calming my mind, and proactively managing anxiety.

I’ve learned to recognize the thoughts that don’t serve me and to actively shift my perspective before I get swept up in a vortex of fear.

I’ve learned to embrace uncertainty and to trust that I can handle whatever comes at me.

And I’ve learned to accept that I will sometimes experience anxiety, no matter how much I heal or grow, so I don’t fight myself so much when it inevitably happens.

This is what compelled me to create Tiny Buddha’s Worry Journal.

Filled with quotes, prompts, and questions, along with coloring and doodling pages, Tiny Buddha’s Worry Journal provides a number of different activities to help you reframe your worries and minimize anxiety in your daily life. 

If you have a hard time detaching from worrisome thoughts, this could be just what you need to learn to let go and ease your troubled mind. It's amazing how just a few mindful minutes each day can help create major change.

If you pre-order before the June 26^th launch date, you’ll receive three free bonus gifts, including:

A series of four meditations on letting go (led by yours truly), each with an EFT tapping session led by Naomi Jansen and an introductory chat with Naomi and her One Mind Live co-founder Stephen Fearnley

An exclusive audio interview with me and Ehren Prudhel, host of the soon-to-be-launched podcast Next Creator Up, focusing on worries related to pursuing a new dream (more specifically, my first feature screenplay)

A series of three vibrant desktop wallpapers featuring adorable Buddhas and calming quotes

All you need to do to claim your bonuses is pre-order your copy from any online vendor and then forward your purchase confirmation email to worryjournal@tinybuddha.com.

Worry is a part of life, but it doesn’t have to control us. It’s possible to breathe a lot easier. These days, I do. I hope this journal helps you do the same.

**Many thanks to the amazingly talented Rose Hwang, who drew the coloring pages, just as she did Tiny Buddha's Gratitude Journal. Love her work!

About Lori Deschene

Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha and Recreate Your Life Story, an online course that helps you let go of the past and live a life you love. Her latest bookTiny Buddha's Gratitude Journal, which includes 15 coloring pages, is now available for purchase. For daily wisdom, follow Tiny Buddha on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram.

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No Matter What Life Takes Away, You Still Have Everything You Need

“What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?” ~Jean-Jacques Rousseau

On February 21, 2009, I received a phone call that would alter the course of my life. It was my sister, and I could barely make out what she was saying. My mom was in the hospital and had received a diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer.

My body absorbed the news before my brain did. Since I had lost my ability to reason, from someplace beyond me I found a way to keep functioning. I asked my sister to put my mom on the phone.

What could I say?

Nothing.

There was nothing to say to comfort her. She was heading into the final unknown of life and I couldn’t do a thing to help her.

As soon as we hung up, I was out the door to the airport.

I hate to fly.

Somehow, I made the trip and two remarkable friends greeted me. I hadn’t seen them in a long time.

It didn’t matter. This was a crisis. What do you do in a crisis? You show up.

They hugged me and we headed to their car. My sad, little carry-on luggage trailed behind me in a precarious zigzag. The ice of the Midwest was testing my luggage’s mettle while the end of everything tested mine.

I was a complete mess. I had to constantly reach within myself to get to the beyondness carrying me through.

This “beyondness,” as I don’t really know how else to describe it, guided me. It was directive but kind. It kept showing me the whole picture.

You need the whole picture if you are going to walk with your mom through the end of her days.

The beyondness told me to ask about my friends. It said that, though my life seemed over in this instant, nothing is permanent. Not life, not grief, not anything.

Make the most of the moments with people you don’t often see, it told me. Ask them what’s on their minds and feel the truths in their hearts. You don’t need to be perfect in how you inquire about them, but do your best, it said.

I did my best. As I sat in the back of the car with the streetlights zipping past, I asked them about their lives. I also expressed my gratitude for the ride to the hospital.

It was what I needed. Somehow the beyondness knew that I needed to turn my attention outward right then. It helped. The beyondness always knows what is in your best interest if you quiet your mind enough to hear it.

I had been to this hospital before. Years ago, my sister had given birth to both of my nieces here. They are Irish twins, so I had visited here on two separate, remarkably happy occasions.

I had never visited it with my stomach locked in a death knell of knots.

As I headed into the entrance, I still had that stupid, mind-of-its-own luggage wreaking having on my extended arm.

I have never hated luggage more.

The beyondness reminded me that hating inanimate objects doesn’t change reality. It said hating animate objects and random people you meet on this journey will only make a bad day worse.

I did not need worse. Learning my mom was dying already had that in spades.

I needed better, so I had to choose kindness again and again. Even when I wanted to scream and yell and cry and scream some more. Forgive my luggage now, throw it across the room later.

Kindness first, meltdown later.

Got it.

Even though I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, I marched with tremendous urgency through the halls of the hospital to find my mom. When I located her room I allowed one small self-pity breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped over the threshold.

I immediately became the default matriarch. I say “default” because I wasn’t even nominated! Honestly, the beyondness took over, and I knew I had to follow its lead.

First things first: Hug my mom as if life depended on it, because it did. Cry, only a little, as I processed her trying to process her imminent death.

After a while, I made sure all the visitors were acknowledged, hugged, and validated. This helped me because many of them understood the depth of the grief that blanketed the hospital room. A hug here, a tissue there, and finally, a plan for me to stay and permission for everyone else to leave.

Here’s the thing about beyondness: It allows you the strength to head straight into the center of terror when almost everyone else has to flee.

Then it was just me and my mom.

I have never talked much about what it was like to be with her on diagnosis night. Mostly because it makes me deeply sad, but also, it has felt too sacred.

Until now, the beyondness told me to get over myself.

We sat side by side and cried.

After some of the tears had subsided, we talked.

We didn’t hold back any punches. I told her that I was going to miss her. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but I wanted to be honest.

I wanted her to know that she meant the world to me.

She told me that if I ever needed her when she was gone, to still talk to her and ask her questions. I would know what the answers would be. I had spent my life up until that point learning the lessons she had taught me and learning from her example, I would know what was what.

I would be okay.

You know, that has been the one constant in my life as I navigated her loss. I do ask her questions, and I do know what she would say.

It helps.

As we curled around each other in a ball of despair, denial inevitably found its way to us. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.

Denial will help you function. It’s different than beyondness because it alters the truth. Beyondness tells it like it is; it’s still kind, but it deals with facts. Denial suspends your grief until you are better able to handle it. It lies to you like crazy. I am grateful to both.

In our little bubble of denial, we discussed ways to prolong her life. There were some palliative options that seemed reasonable. We thought we were looking at months. We weren’t. We were looking at days.

Days.

Yes, from diagnosis to death only seventeen days would pass.

Denial breaks down quickly at this high rate of speed.

All that I had to sustain me was the beyondness. Normally, in a harrowing situation like this, I would turn to my mom.

This was no longer an option for me. This was the test to prepare me for the rest of my life.

I would not fail her.

The beyondness helped me through. It helped me anticipate her needs before she said them. It kept giving me the big picture and reminded me kindness, kindness, kindness first.

Always kindness.

Do not kill the messenger. Embrace the messenger. Do not get snippy with the nurses. Embrace the nurses.

I was so good about this most of the time. There was one particularly awful day and one particularly awful nurse.

I tried kindness. I was so tired that day. So very tired, and I wanted someone, anyone, to make my mom’s pain stop. This particular nurse did not take me seriously. She did not take my mom’s pain seriously.

This was not a good day.

The beyondness forgave me for my angry meltdown. As long as I remembered kindness most of the time, I was doing my job.

The beyondness kept showing me that in time, I was going to heal. I was going to be able to walk around on the planet and actually find reasons to smile.

Nothing lasts. Not life, not grief, not anything.

Be kind.

Through this kindness I connected with some of the hospital staff. Even though my heart had cracked wide open with despair, the beyondness knew lashing out at others would get me nowhere.

Instead, I chose to be kind—both for their benefit and my own.

Despite everything—the fear, the hurt, the sadness—I knew keeping my frayed heart open would come back to me and my mom tenfold. This led to an overall better quality of care for my mother.

I wasn’t winning the day by any stretch, but sometimes I’d win an extra blanket if my mom felt cold. The blanket would arrive promptly, handed over with a smile.

To receive love, we must give love first. The more we give away, the more it comes back to us.

In our time at the hospital, my mom had to move floors and change rooms. I made an effort to get to know our roommates. I say ours because I spent every night my mom was in the hospital with her.

We slept in the same bed. Side by side.

It was the least I could do.

In getting to know our roommates, I learned that often their circumstances were more harrowing than my mother’s.

How is that possible? She at least had loved ones surrounding her. Some of the patients I met had no one.

I bought a young woman battling cervical cancer a gift for her baby. It was a teddy bear.

She slept with it clutched to her chest each night.

She needed that bear more than her baby at home did.

Kindness first. Always the kindness.

This is how you will survive the darkest moments of your life. When all power feels stripped away as life drifts from the dream you had painted in your mind, you can choose to be kind.

Life may take away what you cherish the most, but it cannot take away your power to choose how you face what is lost.

I knew I couldn’t control what was happening to my mother, but I could control how I responded to each situation, each day. This little bit of power was my shining gem of hope in the darkness.

Still, it wasn’t always easy to keep going. Family and friends helped. My husband showing up once denial was completely obliterated helped. Knowing I had two boys at home that loved me as much as I loved my mom helped.

The beyondness said tragedy strips away the unnecessary. What remains is truth. The truth shows you who has your back. Watch and learn.

The truth helped me know when I could rest my weary head, heart, and body. The truth knew who would hold my mom’s hand when I didn’t have the strength left in me to do so.

I had an inkling who my true-heart warrior people were, but like beyondness said, tragedy whittled away the unnecessary. What remained for me was a treasure trove of exceptional people. I thank each and every one of them for their calls, their visits, their kindness, and their love.

Thank you.

In addition to these astounding people, it was the beyondness that helped sustain me. It was the energy that surrounded my mom and me when all was quiet. Its buzzing became so loud I didn’t understand why I was the only one who could hear it.

Yes, I had to walk with my mom through the valley of the shadow of death. But maybe because I did, I was able to walk through the gates of heaven even if only for a little while.

Precious.

All of it precious.

Thank you, Mom.

About Diana DeVaul

Diana DeVaul is a wife, mother, and freelance blogger. She hopes by sharing this story, others facing great loss or change will be comforted knowing wisdom will arise from the ashes. You can learn more about her spiritual journey at spiritualwrites.com or follow her on Facebook at Spiritual Writes.

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The Healing Power of Compassion: I See You, I Hear You, I Feel You

“Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” ~Dalai Lama.

It wasn’t until my mother died that I was able to feel her love and have that mother-daughter relationship that I’d been craving all my life. It was not until she died that I was able to learn, and truly feel, compassion—for her and for me.

I’ve always known that compassion for others is a nice thing. We all know that. But it wasn’t until I truly felt it that I was able to create a deep sense of healing.

My mum and I always had a strange relationship. Abused as a child and never able to reclaim her power, she was a tormented soul, and she was unable to be the mother she wanted to be. I was empathetic with this; I took it on and was unable to be the daughter I could be. It was like there was a wall between us, and we were unable to connect as a regular mother and daughter.

I remembered all the times when her promises fell through. I remembered all the times when she yelled at me as a kid. I remembered all the times when she’d manipulate me in a big custody battle. I remembered some good times too, of course, but they were fleeting, and they passed all too quickly.

I remembered when she told me she only had six months to live; she’d been struggling with self-inflicted cancers from having drank and smoked all her life in order to cope with the heavy weight on her shoulders.

I remembered visiting her in palliative care and her seeming hopeful that she would be out of there soon, reunited with her dog.

I remembered seeing her two weeks later, on her final night, and wondering what she was thinking, wondering what she was feeling with that final breath, knowing that relief was finally coming her way.

The waves of grief hit me harder and harder, until, over a year later, I found myself crying for almost forty-eight hours straight.

I felt for her never being able to live the life she could have lived. I felt for her trauma. There wasn’t much sadness of my own. I didn’t miss having a mother who was never present. All my feelings were for her.

There were no words. The sadness I felt for her and what sadness I felt for myself had merged into a convoluted mess. My body was unable to process it all.

One day, as I was remembering a difficult time, I decided to tune into myself as a child. All I really wanted was to be understood and acknowledged. So, addressing the child version of me, at that point in time, I said to her: I see you. I hear you. I feel you.

And oh, the relief I felt!

I repeated that phrase to myself as a child over and over until I felt my body soften.

I see you. I hear you. I feel you.

I felt okay. I was safe. I was seen. I was heard. I was understood. I could finally let go and breathe.

But I realized, at that point in time, my mum also need to be seen, heard, and understood.

So I gave to her what I gave to myself.

I said to her: I see you. I hear you. I feel you.

I repeated it over and over and over again until I felt her soften, let go, and finally be able to breathe. We both felt lighter and freer than we’d ever felt before. The sadness, the heaviness, the darkness—it simply melted away.

I knew I was onto a good thing here, so I revisited various points in time, including my mum’s childhood when she was scared and traumatized, and including during her final days when she knew she was dying. I said to myself, and I said to my mum, this chant of compassion, which I found myself extending to the following:

I see you.
I hear you.
I feel you.
I honor you.
I love you.
Thank you.

As I said each phrase, I meant each word with every cell of my body. I truly felt it.

It was important to me to give love and to thank her and myself in those various points in time for the opportunity to expand my capacity for love and compassion.

I found that when I am in a state of ever-expanding love and compassion, I am able to truly feel free. And for that, I am truly thankful.

Extending our capacity for love and compassion toward ourselves, and those who have hurt us, also expands our capacity for love and compassion toward everyone and everything. I truly believe that if everyone were to proactively expand their capacity for love and compassion, the world would not only be a better place, but it would be the perfect place.

I have found uses for this beyond grief, beyond our own healing, and beyond healing for other people. I have even found using this chant of compassion helpful in dealing with guilt from anything and everything—for people suffering road rage, for the cruelly treated caged animals in this world, for the injustices of our governments, even for the murderers, rapists, and terrorists, for they too are suffering deep within.

I am now of the belief that the purpose of all hurt is to teach us love and compassion. For if we cannot grow from this, then there was no purpose for it. And if we can all grow from it, then humanity as a whole grows from it.

I know I am particularly fortunate in my white middle class upbringing, and I know it may seem very easy for me to say that compassion makes the world go round, but I’ve also known great mental torment and grief. I have felt it with every cell of my body. And I know that this one simple practice has helped me to soften, and to free myself from the dissonance between my heart and my mind.

If you are feeling loss, grief, hurt, or heartache, I encourage you to try this chant of compassion for yourself. Mean every word of it. Feel every word as you say it. Repeat it over and over, as often as you need, until you feel your body soften:

I see you.
I hear you.
I feel you.
I honor you.
I love you.
Thank you.

Say it to yourself as you are feeling now. Say it to yourself in a previous moment in time. Say it to people who are hurting you. Say it to people who have hurt you in a previous moment in time.

Feel yourself soften. Feel them soften. Allow yourself to expand your capacity for love and compassion. Give yourself this gift to set yourself free.

About Anna Shelley

Anna Shelley is an artist, musician, and muse based in Melbourne, Australia. She spends her time expressing her soul in weird and wonderfully creative ways. Receive her free meditation, Into The Akasha, over here: https://AnnaShelley.com/Akasha-Meditation and visit her on Instagram here.

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7 Self-Love Practices That Helped Me Heal from a Devastating Divorce

“The best way to be loved is to love yourself.” ~Adam Lambert

My husband and family were my world. Although I’d found joy in my passion of writing, my heart revolved around my marriage. I thought we were happy. Then one day, he dropped the bomb: “I don’t love you anymore.”

Two weeks later, I found out he’d fallen in love with another woman who lived across the world. He didn’t want me anymore.

Sure, I’d known for a while something was wrong—that knowing deep in your gut that you can’t put your finger on, that tackles you in the quiet hours of the night, making it hard for you to sleep. That taunts you with fear when he doesn’t act as loving toward you as he used to. But I ignored it, because he was my world.

I’d fallen in love with him at a time when my self-esteem wasn’t too good. Social rejection at school, losing a parent at a young age, and being steeped in a very strict religion had all played their parts in making me feel that I wasn’t good enough. He made me feel loved and wanted. I was codependent and I didn’t even know.

The next few months, after he took the rug out from under my world, I felt like I was dying. The pain, the rejection, and the hurt were all-encompassing, but I had a little light inside me. It was called hope. I suddenly had this hunger to heal, to become strong, and to find my truth. I began my self-love journey.

It all started when I read Choosing Me Before We, by Christine Arylo. She spoke about self-love in her amazing book. I realized that if I ever went into another relationship, I would put myself first. I wouldn’t go into something, giving and giving and giving, knowing my own needs weren’t met. I would run far away from a man who used me in any way. I would turn away from anything less than true intimacy and love.

The problem was, in the loneliness, I entered into a rebound relationship, despite what I’d decided. The deep hole left in my heart made me blind to how harmful it was. The relationship was much worse than anything I’d experienced in my sometimes dysfunctional marriage. I had to learn the hard way. I eventually turned away, eyes finally wide open. But I’ve grown. And grown.

This is how I’ve healed through self-love, because self-love is the foundation of emotional and mental well-being.

Non-Judgment

When divorce hits you right between the eyes, you get flung into the five stages of grief with no mercy. They assault your soul like a tsunami. But they also wash over you and heal you.

I learned to let myself grieve. It was painful. I had to keep coming back to the same pain and sorrow, the same anger and “why?” questions, over and over again. But I let the waves hit me again and again. After awhile, they were smaller, gentler, more manageable.

I didn’t judge myself for my pain. I grew in my self-compassion and non-judgment. I learned to love, nurture, and coddle myself. Gentleness was my motto. And that helped me heal.

Self-Respect

When you’re steeped in a judgmental, strict religion, you likely won’t grow up with self-respect. You believe you were born in sin, and that you are this weak being who is bound by it. You are hard on yourself because of the rules imposed on you.

As the scales fell away from my eyes, I began to see that I’m a beautiful being. I’m worthy of respect. I am good to the core. We all are, but sometimes the mirror is cracked.

It’s hard to always respect yourself, but once I made that decision, I grew by leaps and bounds. I also realized how my ex’s words and actions had broken me down at times—or more so, I’d allowed his perception of me to affect the way I saw myself.

Now I could accept myself no matter whether I was having a good hair day or not, and even though I wasn’t this skinny youngster anymore. I could accept myself even when I didn’t act like a saint or I didn’t feel great! Non-judgment—I’m a work in progress.

No matter what shape my body is, I respect it because it’s beautiful and does amazing things. I still have bad days when I want to pull my curls out as they don’t cooperate or I want to get rid of the rolls around my middle, but then, mindfully, I remind myself that it’s the heart that matters. And that society has lied to me on what is beautiful. Society has honored perfection, not authenticity and true beauty.

Boundaries

This is a hard one for me, but as I’ve begun to set boundaries around me, to protect myself from people taking advantage, my sense of safety has increased. I’ve chosen to be single for now, as I know I’m not ready to enter into a relationship without falling back into codependency and losing myself again. I’m relishing in my freedom and the growth of self-love.

If I entered into a relationship now, I wouldn’t keep up the right boundaries because I would jump over hoops to keep this person in my life—hoops that hurt me. I have often given parts of myself to a man before I wanted to, just to keep him interested. No more!

Boundaries comes in all shapes and sizes, and whenever we say “yes” when we want to say “no,” we are being unkind to ourselves. It’s hard because there is a spot inside of us that loves to help and please people. And it feeds something in us. So, we have to find the balance. I’m a student of self-love and I’m learning the balance every day.

Self-Nuture

I’ve learned to find ways to nuture myself, and I’ve actually had a blast. In making sure I have a daily spiritual ritual, I’ve bought myself a few special things, I’ve joined a dance group to meet people and to just have fun, and I’ve taken up a hobby to just unwind; I’m thoroughly enjoying my freedom.

I didn’t realize how much of my energy I’d put into making my husband happy. All because I was afraid he would leave me. I bent over backward for him and oftentimes, didn’t feel free to just be myself and put “me” first.

I’m loving putting me first; even with having three teens to look after and running a busy household, my downtime is my time. It’s been healing my soul. I feel like I’m just starting on this journey of self-nuture and self-love. I can’t wait to discover more. But even the little bit I’ve learned has changed my whole mindset on life.

A Spiritual Practice

I began a meditation practice around about the time my marriage broke down. It grew as my desperation grew, especially during a very difficult time after experiencing crime as a single woman. This practice has become the lifeblood of my existence. It has helped me to calm deep anxiety, find peace, grow spiritually, and learn mindfulness.

As I’ve become more mindful, I’ve grown aware of when I sabotage myself with negativity and anxiety. It’s not always easy. But I have hope and my peace is growing.

Meditation has taught me how to be me and how to connect with the divine. It’s taught me the value of silence and taking things slower, of breathing and resting. The joy of listening and tapping into higher consciousness and the higher self.

Alongside my meditation practice, I also have a self-Reiki practice every day to balance my energy, heal me, and give me peace.

I’ve been devouring spiritual books and growing in my faith in the Universe and my knowledge. I’ve opened my eyes to see truth in many faiths and practices. It’s enlightened my soul. It’s put me on the path of love and peace.

Self-Knowledge

I’ve learned to tap into my intuition. Yes, I’ve had several men take an interest in me. I’ve learned to say “no,” because my gut says “no.” It’s been hard. When you’re lonely, you’re keen to have someone in your life, but I’ve learned to listen to that voice inside and say “no” when it hasn’t felt right deep in my gut.

I’ve grown in my intuition practice by doing Reiki, reading oracle and tarot cards for myself (such a powerful mirror into the soul), practicing soul writing, and just plain going with that deep, inner voice. I’ve grown more aware of miracles and synchronicities; I’ve grown in gratefulness.

Finding tools to get in touch with my higher self / Spirit has been essential in this time of my life. I’ve had to grow up fast. When I married my husband, I was young and naïve. He was the main breadwinner and head of the home. I’ve had to learn greater responsibilities and make big decisions for my family, instead of relying on him to steer the ship.

Being able to access my higher self has led me to make more guided and calmer decisions. It’s increased my sense of peace and wholeness as I’m following my true desires and that still, gentle voice that’s deep inside. It’s enabled me to navigate difficult relationships and situations with a sound mind. Yes, I sometimes get it wrong, but it’s like a fitness routine—the more you practice it, the better you get.

Letting Go

I think the hardest part for me has been to let go and forgive. Together, hurt and resentment have been the one wave that has broken most violently upon my shore. But part of self-love is forgiveness.

We only harm ourselves when we refuse to forgive those who have hurt us. Yet, as much as we know this fact, it’s not always possible to feel forgiveness straight away. In fact, it’s taken me one and a half years since that dreadful day to start to see the light. Today, I prayed for the well-being of my ex and the woman he left me for. And I meant it! I want their highest good.

The thing that has actually helped me to forgive the most is to realize my own worthiness. As soon as I chose to believe that I wasn’t responsible for what happened or that there wasn’t something dreadfully flawed about me which made him leave me, the desire to blame disintegrated. I released and validated myself and it became easier to release him. I began to see him as a human being with his own hurt and pain—that’s why he’d hurt me.

I have to choose daily to release him and what happened back to the Universe. I choose daily to believe that what has happened is being used for my good. And it is. I can see how much I’ve grown. I can see how love has worked this whole thing out to make me feel more loved and more supported.

What I’d deeply feared happened to me, and I’m still okay. I’m more than okay! I now know that it will always be okay. That deep inside, no matter what happens to us, we’ll be okay. We are whole; we are love; we are connected. We are growing and evolving toward better beings. We are deeply, irrevocably loved!! I’m going to practice that love every day. It’s called self-love.

About Kathy Bosman

Kathy Bosman is a homeschooling mom and editor by day, and a fiction writer when she gives into her muse. She’s passionate about stories with heart and dabbles in some art. She’s also a Reiki practitioner, tarot and oracle card reader, and Christian mystic. You can find her at kathybosman.com, joyfulreiki.blogspot.com and indieeditingchick.wordpress.com and on Instagram at ray-of-light-17.

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Letting Go of the Victim Label: The Past Will Not Define Me

TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of domestic violence and sexual abuse, and may be triggering to some people.

“Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.” ~Unknown

It wasn’t long ago that I lived my life as a professional victim.

It wasn’t intentional, but somewhere along the way I had internalized the fact that my victimhood gave me an excuse to remain stuck. As long as I was a victim, I had a reason to wallow in sadness and self-pity, a reason to not move forward, and sympathy that was poured upon me like praise—because no one wants to shame the victim, right? So I put on my victim’s Badge of Honor and remained firmly planted in the past.

The thing about being a victim is that it doesn’t end there. Resentment is not far behind, and I soon found myself immersed in resentment. After all, I never asked to be born into a household filled with domestic violence, nor did I ask be molested by someone I shared the same bloodline with, but it happened, and I resented it.

In my mind, no one could understand what it was like to live in constant fear of the day that your mother would be murdered. No one could understand the hopelessness that comes with feeling unsafe day after day. But I did.

I knew what it felt like to be awakened in the middle of the night by screaming voices, dishes crashing against walls, or the volume on the TV up as high as it could go, because if he was angry, no one was getting a good night’s sleep.

I knew what it was like to wish for death, because death was better than terror.

I knew what it felt like to live in a household where everyone walked on eggshells because the alternative was an encounter with rage.

I knew what it felt like to have a dysfunctional childhood while others had what I thought to be a fairytale life, and I resented it.

I could not reconcile why some children were born into wealth and privilege and I was not. I did not understand why my family, which should have been a safe haven, was the exact opposite. Why were some children loved and adored, and I molested and used? It wasn’t fair, and I wasn’t going to let life, or anyone who would listen, forget it.

I didn’t ask for that life, I was a victim, and had earned the right to complain about it as much as I saw fit. I did not realize that I had the power to overcome everything I had experienced, and maybe there was a part of me that didn’t really want to. I knew who I was with my experiences, but what was my identity without those stories? It was time that I found out.

It took a while for me to even realize that I needed to let go of the victim label, but thankfully the day came. It became too much effort to be sad and depressed about something that happened, and was not changing.

I began to read every self-help book I could find in hopes that one of them held the key to my emotional relief. I began attending counseling sessions and put forth the necessary effort to get the most out of each session. Then, one day it happened. I woke up knowing enough was enough.

No, life wasn’t fair, but this was the only life I had, and I had better make the most of it. I knew that in order for me to move forward, I had to accept this fact. My experience was my experience, and nothing was going to change what happened to me, but I could surely change how I responded to it.

The first thing I did was remove toxic people from my life. I understood that as a child I had little control over the people I was exposed to, but as an adult, it was my responsibility to set strong boundaries, even if that meant removing some people.

This was no easy task, and I immediately felt waves of fear and guilt. I was so used to not having boundaries, and being expected to accept bad behavior just because it came from family. Still, I followed through with my plan to set boundaries or to sever ties completely.

Next, I began to follow the advice I had received from literally hundreds of self-help books. I began to retrain my mind from the mentality of a victim, to one of strength, poise, and success.

Almost immediately, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and began to feel empowered and capable. Yes, I had bad experiences growing up, and yes, those experiences affected my life, but I did not have to let them define me.

I worked diligently to change my self-talk and I was very intentional about ensuring that I would make the most of my life. I had wasted enough years existing, and I knew that it was time to start living.

Retraining my mind became my full-time focus, as I knew that all success starts in the mind. I continued with counseling and was told that I had a form of post-traumatic stress disorder, which was evident from my having nightmares about the abuse in my home, even though I was an adult and in a safe place.

I learned how witnessing domestic abuse and being molested affected my self-esteem, the way I viewed relationships, and the way I viewed the world.

I learned that none of it was my fault, and that I did not have to continue to tell myself those stories. I had new stories to tell. We all do. You too, can move past the pain and hurt you have endured in this lifetime. You can forgive, even if you never forget, and you can move forward. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.

My transformation didn’t happen overnight, and neither will yours. I spent years studying the power of the mind, and being intentional in my desire to turn my life around.

Today I am free of toxic relationships and toxic thoughts. I’ve replaced my victim badge with a crown of success, love, self-confidence, and peace. And I replaced self-pity and sadness with a fierce determination to live my best life, free of resentment.

I recently met a man who told me he has found happiness all his life by learning to “play the hand he was dealt.” I smiled, because I had come into the wisdom that this is truly the only way to live, because “Things turn out best for the people who make the best of the way things turn out.” The choice is ours to make.

About Eboni Kelly

Eboni Kelly is a Fort Worth, TX based youth educator, domestic violence advocate, and self-published author of fiction novel, Everyone Has A story to Tell, and self-help book, Love is an Inside Job (Eboni Garrett). She is also the founder and blogger of inspirational brand, Good Enerji. She seeks to empower people all over the world to move past their pain. Check out her blog at www.goodenerji.com.

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Why I’ve Upgraded to a Drama-Free Relationship

“Love is not what you say. Love is what you do.” ~Unknown

I used to think that true love should be passionate and intense. When someone broke up with me or treated me poorly, I’d imagine that he really didn’t mean it. Surely he was really a good person and truly loved me, but was just “going through something” or “needed space.” Eventually he’d be back with tears, apologies, and flowers.

I’d like to say I outgrew this tendency by the age of, well, maybe forty, but the fact is I didn’t.

Instead, I carried a torch for a recently divorced man, who couldn’t stick around for more than eight weeks at a time, for more than a year. Each time he returned, he’d tell me how much he missed me and how much I meant to him, and I loved to hear it.

Before him, I took well over a year off from dating anyone seriously because my ex-boyfriend might decide he wanted me back, and he called every month or so to check in. When he did this, I’d get thrown straight back into the drama of it all and second-guess my decision to end our relationship. After all, he said he loved me.

And the man before that, well, you get the idea.

This was all very exciting compared to my life at the office. It was very distracting as well. I’d spend hours googling self-help blogs and texting my girlfriends with the latest updates on “the guy” instead of doing my work.

Let’s face it, relationship drama can pull you right in. It demands your attention immediately. It’s so intense to get a text in the middle of the night or to navigate the ups and downs of a stormy relationship. On again, off again, always waiting for a call or text. Will he or won’t he? Will you or won’t you?

We modern humans no longer live in caves or have life and death struggles on a regular basis. Most of us live fairly routine lives in comfortable homes and have our physical needs met. Sometimes, you can get addicted to drama because it gives you a buzz of excitement that a regular old nine-to-five lifestyle just can’t.

A shot of adrenaline can help us wake up to life and get motivated. Things like climbing a mountain, signing up for a triathlon, or a tight deadline help us get fired up.

Taking on a new challenge from time to time can help us feel like we’re going somewhere in life. If we don’t do this, regular doses of relationship drama can provide a distraction. An unstable relationship may be exciting at first, but it can eventually become draining.

A turbulent relationship can sap your energy and your confidence. You never quite know where you stand with this person, and it wears down your sense of stability and security. It can bleed into the rest of your life and damage your other relationships, your career, or even your health.

If you’re involved in a troubled relationship, it can be all-encompassing. It’s also very tempting to adopt the role of the savior because you get to be the “together” person, the responsible one.

If you’ve been living on a steady diet of relationship drama, it’s time for a reality check. Ask yourself how this situation is serving you. Blaming the other person and hoping that they will change isn’t helpful, because you’re the one who’s tolerating these circumstances in your life.

Being willing to accept responsibility for the situation you’re in is the first step to a more fulfilling love life.

Ask yourself what kind of relationship you want to have. Take some time and journal about it. How do you want to feel? What is your day-to-day experience like? Is that kind of relationship possible with the person you’re with (or considering) now? Not when or if they finally change. Now.

When I asked myself these questions, I saw that I wanted to be loved and to feel safe. I wanted to know that my significant other was “all in” with me, not halfway out the door. I came to recognize that I wasn’t choosing men who were willing to have this kind of relationship with me.

I also realized that once I discovered that this was the case with a particular person, I was very reluctant to let him go. Instead, I’d hang on for far too long in the hopes that things would get better, which they never did.

Once you’ve considered these questions for yourself, consider what changes you’ll need to make in order to have the kind of relationship you want.

I came to understand that I’d have to give up the idea that drama was an indicator of true love. The kinds of relationships that I previously would have considered “boring” were, in fact, desirable. I found more healthy ways of adding excitement to my life.

The man I married is dependable and reliable. I can always count on him to keep his promises and I know he adores me. I couldn’t be happier.

From our very first conversation on, I never had any doubts or had to wait for him to change or “come around”. He made his feelings for me very clear from the get-go and I always knew where I stood with him.

I always feel safe with him and we go hiking and mountain climbing instead of breaking up every few weeks.

If you really want to have a fulfilling relationship, then it’s time to make choices that are consistent with your desire. This can be difficult, because people often consider drama an indicator of love or passion, but it doesn’t have to be that way.

You can choose to see drama for what it is, an indicator of an unstable relationship. Once you do this, commit to dating people who are capable of having a healthy relationship.

Doing these things will drastically increase your chances of having a fulfilling relationship.

About Renée Suzanne

Relationship coach Renée Suzanne helps people all over the world find love. She is the author of “Beloved – How to go from relationship-challenged to relationship-ready” and “Ten things you can do to upgrade your love life”. Sign up for her blog at reneesuzannecoaching.com and receive a free course, “Five Steps to Finding the Love of Your Life.”

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Breaking the Cycle: Why and How I Stopped Binge Drinking

“Good habits are hard to form and easy to live with. Bad habits are easy to form and hard to live with. Pay attention. Be aware. If we don't consciously form good ones, we will unconsciously form bad ones.” ~Mark Matteson

I am an extreme person. I have always done things at 100 percent. I worked my hardest in high school in order to attend the best college so that I could attend the best graduate program so that I could get the best job earning the most money. I not only went to these institutions, I did very well at them.

I was also very into powerlifting and bodybuilding—two sports that take extreme amounts of dedication, determination, discipline, and desire.

This fiend-like mentality was fueled by my desire to please my parents. I lived for my parents, always pushing myself to meet or exceed their expectations. I was a people pleaser.

My negative cycle started when I was quite young. I remember being in middle school and beginning to be concerned about my weight and body image. This was probably spurred by prior memories of being picked on as early as grade school.

In middle school, the perfect storm for pain began to emerge. I realized that I could do something about my weight, so I started to lift weights and run—a lot. What I also did a lot of was eating compulsively. This was exacerbated by a rough divorce between my parents, not to mention that late middle to early high school is a time of trial and tribulation for anyone.

Through high school, I would work out like a soldier, restrict my calories, and then binge. Sometimes I would eat until I could not move. This often happened at night, so I could not sleep either. Then I wouldn’t eat for a day or two to overcompensate.

Heading off to college marked another morphing of this cycle. I was getting serious about competitive powerlifting and bodybuilding. I became meticulous about what I ate. I would weigh every single piece of food on a scale and then track the macronutrients (amount of fats, carbs, and proteins in grams) in an excel spreadsheet. I even became the president of the weightlifting club.

I remember not having more than a sampler of beer on my twenty-first birthday because I didn’t want to go over my macros. It went on like this all through college.

During my early months at college, I was so dedicated to weightlifting that I would go to parties and not drink. I can remember people getting uncomfortable around me because of this. At this point in my life, I did not understand that this was their insecurity to deal with. So I let it make me feel awkward and eventually began drinking more and more often.

At first, I had it under control. I wouldn't drink during the week, or for two weeks before any major exams. But when I drank, I drank a lot.

My pattern continued through most of graduate school. There were a few times when I didn’t drink for a month or two, but usually, it was an every weekend thing. The binge eating and binge exercising continued through this time as well. I would either go for a very long bike ride and then eat everything in sight, or do the opposite.

I consider a time early in graduate school as the beginning of my “spiritual awakening.” I had times of intense consciousness and presence. There were also very harsh periods of loneliness and depression. The cycle of getting anxious, getting depressed, and uncorking continued until graduation.

After a short hiatus, I took a job at a startup company near where I attended graduate school. At first, the old pattern returned similarly. Once things got stressful, my cycle morphed.

There started to be times of excessive drinking during the week. After a long day of twelve to fourteen hours with a team consisting of my boss and myself, how else was I to escape?

I would also binge eat and then fast afterward since I didn’t have the time to do extended bike rides. This was just another way to eat everything in sight and then compensate to prevent weight gain.

During this time in my life, my mindfulness practice was nearly non-existent. There were long periods of anger and frustration. This all continued until I realized that this job was a dead end, got fed up, and quit.

While unemployed, I drank heavily on the weekends, which often led me to sleep most of every Monday away. I continued drinking my weekends away after I found a new job and then added a couple weeknights of drinking. Eventually, I was drinking almost every day and was still binge drinking on the weekends. Something had to give.

Reasons for the Cycle

My mind has always been fertile, with lots of thoughts, ideas, and emotions, which can be very overwhelming at times.

Additionally, I had never dealt with personal issues or traumas that I had experienced, such as my lack of self-love, low self-esteem, or the anger and resentment that I had toward others who had what I thought that I did not When those emotions came up, I would spend long periods of time not truly in the present moment.

By overusing caffeine, I limited my creativity and capacity to think. I was often out of the moment and caught up in a chaotic mental chatter. I would get a boost of productivity with the first cup or two of coffee, and then it was a downward slide after that. I would often end up at the point of paralyzing myself with anxiety about deadlines and things that I could not control.

Alcohol came in to dull this stress that had built up all week. This also suppressed any emotions that I had been feeling, including social anxiety.

Drinking created countless problems. I often slipped into a sporadic, impulsive, and undisciplined lifestyle. I noticed my short-term memory was fading. I tended toward binge eating, especially while drinking or hungover. I stayed up late, throwing off my schedule. Massive schedule swings left me tired, unproductive, and uncreative. Alcohol also limits real human connection, leaving new relationships superficial.

I genuinely feared approaching women in a social setting since I’d been rejected many times before. I feared embarrassment or the awkward moments. So instead of showing them the deep, rich, and intellectual me, they had to experience the alcohol-induced, animal side of my brain and all things that go with that. I am embarrassed to write this, but that is what alcohol does when consumed in excess.

I also justified my behavior by only drinking on the weekends. I recognized some time ago that binging every weekend was taking me until Wednesday to feel normal again and that something might be wrong with that. But it was not until recently that I became driven to do something about it.

This cycle that I speak of comes in an infinite number of varieties. My cycle revolves around alcohol and food. The root is a lack of self-love and general discontent with my mental construct of reality. A cycle can show up as any addiction.

For me, going through such a perpetual cycle came from many things. I had to surface those and realize them with extreme presence and awareness. Mindfulness is a healthy way to deal with the stress and anxiety; alcohol is not.

Ending the Cycle

I got to a point where I thought enough was enough. I had big goals, and this type of lifestyle was not supporting those goals. So I decided to stop, cold turkey, or so I thought.

I ended up quitting for about a month. I reduced my caffeine intake and didn’t drink at all. My energy went up, and I was feeling very balanced and grounded. This new pattern did not last long.

I ended up slipping back into the cycle. This made me realize that this would be tougher than it may have seemed. This setback reinforced how poorly I feel and how much money I waste when I am in that cycle. It was a stark reminder how easy it is to create embarrassing situations while intoxicated.

I now focus on the fact that we must have infinite patience with ourselves. There is no need for negative, self-defeating self-talk.

I have recently been blessed with an opportunity to rebuild my life in a different place with a new career path. I have taken that opportunity and am currently designing my life to include people who are dedicated to living a healthy lifestyle and have an objective of helping others.

I have again stopped drinking with the dedicated intention of not drinking for this month and not binging for the indefinite future. By writing this, I am now held responsible for my actions.

I know it will be an arduous journey to reform my life and habits, but it is less about never drinking or binging again and more about trending toward a life of more balance and less binge.

Reasons for Quitting

The intriguing part is that I am not stopping this substance abuse for me. I am ending it because I found a purpose that is larger than me. I have devoted myself to this, and I need to have a fully functional, focused, dedicated, and creative mind to carry out these things.

I have knowledge and wisdom inside of me that is very useful to others. I can translate it into a modern cultural and societal context in such a way that will be able to get through to and help many people. The rough draft of my first book is complete with many more to come!

I know that my thoughts become negative a couple of days after a binge drinking session. I know that I am not fully present and conscious during the drinking or when I'm hungover. When I am intoxicated, I act in ways and do things that my sober self would never do.

After a week or two of not drinking, I have noticeably more energy and a clearer mind. I realized that I must take charge of my own life and not let others influence me. To get to this point, I had to get fed up with poisoning my body and my mind.

Alcohol is also a complacency tool. It has been given to the masses as a legal substance to numb their thoughts and emotions. It is a destructive way for humans to be able to cope with things that they falsely believe they cannot control.

I must also always keep at the forefront of my mind that I have an alcoholic father and a mother who struggles.

I now focus on mindfulness and gratitude. I have since realized that we are all are extraordinary and unique beings who possess a gift that we must give. Because of specific experiences that we have had, we all have more or less of certain qualities. To be angry or resentful when we do not have these characteristics is unrealistic.

I want to be healthy, and this requires a holistic approach. We can have fit bodies and weak minds, or vice versa. To be truly healthy and happy, we must approach health from the perspective of mind, body, and soul.

All of these components need nourishment. If we fail to nourish one part, then like a plant, it will wither. Knowing how to be healthy is one thing; doing something about it is entirely different.

Personal Takeaways

• It is a personal choice to take positive action.
• I realized that when people get awkward that you don't drink, it is their stuff, not yours.
• Allowing such an unhealthy, addictive cycle shows little to no self-love.
• Health is a holistic thing (physical, mental, and spiritual).
• We must keep company who support us in our goals. Choose your company wisely.
• Alcohol is a complacency tool. It kills consciousness and creativity.
• This cycle I speak of comes in an infinite number of varieties.
• We are not alone. Many other people are trying to escape their reality as well.
• To cease such a cycle, we must devote ourselves to a larger purpose.

Conclusion

In the end, we are all human. This means that we are fundamentally flawed. We are also creatures of habit. It is easy for us to do something over and over if we feel we’ve gained some type of reward for doing it. This means that it is not uncommon for these habits to be negative, self-defeating, or unhealthy.

One thing that we as humans can do is to shine the light of consciousness upon these cycles that may not benefit us. The shadows of darkness cannot live in the presence of this light. I am not suggesting that shining and holding this awareness is easy. I personally still struggle with this. It is difficult. Life is difficult. With practice, like with weight training, we can become strong, and we can change these patterns.

We can identify our damaging cycles. We can share them with friends and family with no embarrassment or shame. We can choose to focus on what our higher purpose in life is, as we all have one. This will allow us to replace these negative, downward cycles with positive, upward ones that will benefit us and all of the people around us.

About Pete Willette

Pete is a young, energetic, life loving “thoughtrepreneur." An engineer by training, he has found himself as an inspirational and thought-provoking writer. His primary goal is to help people to lead "grounded and thrilling lives" through thought and idea sharing. His website with blogs, art, and soon-to-be book promotion can be found at www.thelifeodyssey.com.

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4 Things a Wise Man Taught Me About Making the Most of This Short Life

“The goal is to die with memories, not dreams.” ~Unknown

As we stood holding hands under that great oak tree, I had never felt more surrounded by love. It was simultaneously the most wonderful and haziest moment of my whole life as we said, “I do.”

It had really happened. I had married my best friend.

We made the decision to bring our wedding forward a year after my husband’s dad, Ian, had been diagnosed with cancer. In nine months we had planned and executed our perfect wedding day. And he was there.

We drank and sang and danced the night away. And three days later my now father-in-law dropped us at the airport to leave for our honeymoon. We were so looking forward to a week away to reflect on the wedding and come down from the madness of the past nine months.

But after just twenty-four hours we were on a plane heading back to England. Ian had passed away suddenly.

After a restless week of tears, hugs, and family time it hadn’t even begun to sink in. We’re now months down the line and it still hasn’t really begun to sink in.

I had lived with my mother and father-in-law for a few years prior to this. This was a man who quite literally made me laugh every day. But perhaps most importantly, this was a man who always told us to follow our dreams, travel the world, and do what makes us happy. It's hard to accept he's gone.

I had always admired his outlook on life. And though he is no longer here in person, he has left us with some rules to live by that I will carry with me forever.

1. Always make time for people.

Life can be busy. Sometimes a little too busy. But one thing that Ian always did so naturally was make time for other people. Whether he knew them well or not, he always had time for a chat. He got to know people; he shared stories with them. But more than that, he listened to their stories and he loved to hear about people from all walks of life.

Everywhere he went people were happy to see him. Even if it was just a week’s holiday to Spain you knew he’d be leaving with a bunch of hilarious stories from the locals and people he met. He had an aura about him that just seemed to attract people and make them want to stop and talk to him.

So what have I learnt from this? Okay, so life is busy. But it will pass you by if you let it. Sometimes it’s worth taking that extra five minutes to stop and talk to someone. Take time to get to know them. Making time for other people is such a satisfying feeling.

You never know whom you’re going to meet. You never know how people are going to affect or influence your life. But not only that, you have no idea how you could influence or change someone else’s life, even with just one conversation.

One thing that gets me down, and something I try not to do too much these days, is reading the news. Reading about how people treat one another, especially given everything that’s going on at the moment. Just making time for people you don’t usually speak to, or getting to know someone new can do wonders for restoring your faith in humanity. There are some incredible people out there!

My husband, like his dad, is very good at getting to know people. As we drunkenly made conversation with a taxi driver one night, we discovered he was a Buddhist and he was from India. That’s not the remarkable part.

As he pulled up outside the house we were taking to him about traveling and how we’d love to visit India one day. He took his wallet in his hand and he said, “What is this? Money? It’s a bit of paper. Life it too short to always be chasing money. You need to see the world and make the most of it.”

The conversation we had with this taxi driver was short, but it stuck with me for days. It made us so happy. We even took his card so we could call on him next time we needed a lift—and maybe a motivational chat about life!

We've always known we we're going to travel again one day, and while we understood his point about money just being a bit of paper, you do need some to get you started, even if it’s just booking a one-way ticket!

But this conversation had got us excited and we started dreaming of ways we could travel on a budget. Turns out, if you think outside the box travel can be much cheaper than you think.

2. Travel soothes the soul.

Ian loved to travel. He visited some incredible places in his lifetime, and was always on the lookout for his next adventure. Like I said, he loved getting to know new people and experiencing different ways of life. He was always the first to put him and his wife forward for an adventure, and they have some truly incredible stories as a result.

He always encouraged us to travel, and we can't wait for the day we pack our bags and head off on our biggest adventure yet. And wherever we go, a piece of him will always be with us.

If there is one thing I've learned, it’s that you should travel whenever and wherever you can—and you don’t need to be rich to do it! You could consider volunteering overseas, housesitting, or just plain saving up by cutting back on non-essentials in your daily life.

Whatever it is you choose to do, always grab the opportunity to experience new cultures and let them shape who you are. When I am grey and old, I want to look back and know that I have some truly great memories and experiences to share.

3. Always be yourself.

This was something Ian was very good at. No matter what, he was always unapologetically Ian. He didn’t waste time worrying about keeping up appearances or doing the conventional thing. He was the life and soul of many parties, and this was in no small part because he was just happy being himself.

This is something that really resonates with me. I know I worry too much. Sometimes I worry too much about what people think of me. Not always. But I know I let other people’s opinions affect my actions and mood from time to time.

Most of us need to work at being ourselves more often. There are many people out there, just like me, who know that they can sometimes be held back by the opinion of others. But we are all one of a kind, and I truly believe that people love you more for just being you. And okay, you're never going to get on with everyone, but you'll make more genuine connections (and you'll definitely have more fun) by being your authentic self.

4. Life really is too short not to make the most of it—so seize the moment.

And despite everything he did with his time on earth, he left too soon. He was fifty-three and still had an incredible love for life. On our wedding day, despite being ill, Ian was one of the last men standing on the dance floor, shirt off, swinging it around his head. Had you not known he was ill, you would never have thought it.

Perhaps this is an overused phrase, but it is something I now believe to be totally true: You really should live every day as if it were your last. Because these past two years have taught me that you never know when it’s going to be your time to go.

As someone who suffers from anxiety, I can often find myself becoming frustrated or worried about things I shouldn’t be. I am trying to teach myself to let go. And if there is one thing I wish you to take from this, it’s that life is way too short to worry about what other people think of you.

Always be thankful for the small things, because one day they may be the big things. Enjoy every moment with your loved ones, and don’t hold grudges, because what's the point? Cherish every hug, accept every complement, and seize every opportunity you can to make someone else smile.

About Natashia Larkin

Natashia is a PR & Communications Assistant based in the UK, with the dream to one day become a professional nomad and travel writer, touring the world with her husband. Just starting out, her blog is very much a work in progress, but check it out here: larkinaround.co.uk.

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When a Wrong Can’t Be Righted: How to Deal With Regret

“Regret can be your worst enemy or your best friend. You get to decide which.” ~Martha Beck

I was lucky enough to grow up with a pretty great mom.

She put herself through nursing school as a single parent, still made it to every field trip and dance recital, and somehow always made my brother and me feel like the best thing since sliced bread (even when we were acting like moldy and ungrateful fruitcakes).

She knew our deepest secrets, our friends, and who we were capable of being—even when we didn’t know ourselves. As I grew older my mom and I had a journal that we would pass back and forth. In it we shared our thoughts and feelings, stories, and fears, as if we didn’t live in the same house and across the hall from each other.

She was my best friend and my “person,” my closest confidante and biggest supporter—but there was, of course, an inevitable down side.

Like anyone who doesn’t know what they have, I often took her for granted.

With age came independence, “worldliness,” and too-cool-for-school-ness. My relationship with my mother took a back seat to friends, romance, and my early-twenties aspirations of moving to LA and becoming rich and famous. (In reality I became an assistant to someone rich and famous, which was exactly close enough to send my self-esteem into a tailspin.)

On trips home I was mostly concerned with seeing friends and popping into old hangouts; she’d be there when I got home, I figured, and she understood… right?

I was young and gregarious, and had more important things to do than spend quality time with my mother. Even after moving back to town I didn’t see her much; the years had seen her fall into a deep depression, and it was one that vividly echoed a growing disappointment in my own life—her pain seemed to only compound mine.

As I began to work on getting my own life back on track, I relegated time with my mother to every other Sunday and holidays, holding her (and our relationship) at arm’s length. What seemed at the time to be self-care and boundaries was also a mixture of avoidance and burden—but I didn’t truly know this until a Tuesday afternoon one day in November.

She’d called me the night before and I’d ignored it; she was lonely and called me a lot, and I’d decided that I couldn’t always stop what I was doing to answer. But the next day I got a call at work from my brother, telling me to come home at once. When I got there I found that she’d died in her sleep the night before.

I checked the voicemail that she’d left me. In it she’d asked me to come over and see a movie with her.

The guilt caved me in.

The following weeks and months were a blur. I was beside myself with grief, regret, and the illogical thinking that can come with loss: Maybe if I’d come over that night she wouldn’t have died. Maybe if I’d been around more, called more, or been a better daughter, maybe that would have changed things.

I recounted my failings and knew there had been many—there usually are, once death takes away the possible tomorrows that you thought you had. Losing her was one thing, but the cloud of regret that hung over my head was entirely different and all encompassing.

It lasted for quite a while.

I didn’t wake up one day and realize that I wasn’t to blame for her death, although I knew how illogical that thought was to others. I also never woke up and felt that the way I acted toward her was entirely right; though fallible and human, I’d consciously been an absentee daughter for quite a while.

But, what did this guilt mean for the rest of my life? Did it mean making myself sick with the never ending replay of all I’d done wrong, or constantly reliving all of the choices I wish I hadn’t made?

As time went on it became apparent that I could literally spend the rest of my life punishing myself. It felt almost fair to carry the weight of regret everywhere that I went. After some time, however, I began to wonder who I was carrying it for.

Was the regret for her, homage to my mother that I could never really repay? Was it for myself, a masochistic comfort that I felt in never truly forgiving my past?

As I contemplated these ideas in the periphery of my mind, I began to take notice of how others repair the damage stemming from guilt and regret.

In recovery communities, when you wrong someone (and realize it) you seek to make it right. You revisit the ill behavior of your past, and (unless it’s going to harm another) you approach the person and ask how to repair things. It may be that financial amends are necessary, it might be taking a restorative action, or it may be that you’re asked to simply leave those you’ve hurt alone—but an effort is made to right the wrong.

And if a wrong can’t possibly be righted (because of death, for example) you make something that’s called a “living amends.”

Another way to look at this is “paying it forward.” Maybe the person that you harmed is gone, but if they were still here, what would you do to make it right? Is there something that you can do for someone else, or another cause, or in memoriam of the person toward whom you committed the harm? Are there things about the way you live that you can change—things you would have implemented with said person, if you’d had the chance?

The idea of a “living amends” intrigued me. Although I knew it couldn’t actually change my past actions, it could definitely change the way that I felt about the future. And anything was better than sitting under a lead blanket of guilt every time I stopped moving long enough to think.

I realized that a huge regret I felt with my mom was the complete disregard I’d had for her time. I came to visit when I felt like it, left when it was good for me, and flaked if I couldn’t “handle” her that day.

I knew that something I could do moving forward would be to show up more consistently in other relationships: make commitments and keep them, respect the time of loved ones, and show with my actions how I felt in my heart.

I also realized that I don’t want to be the kind of person who avoids another’s pain just because it’s difficult for me to bear. Depression is a heavy load to carry, and sitting with a loved one while they’re hurting can be uncomfortable—but sometimes it’s in simply witnessing another’s pain that you can help lighten it.

Boundaries are important, and some of those I drew were necessary, but some were just convenient. I now try to show up even if that’s all I can do, because I know how it feels when another does that for me.

I began to honor her in small ways financially when I could: donating to animal welfare causes that she’d loved, reaching out to my estranged brother, and becoming politically active in ways that I’d never really considered before—all things that would have made her proud.

The tears still came and the past remained unchanged, but as I lived my way to the person she knew I could be, I felt the clouds begin to part and the edges of my grief soften.

As I forged this path of “living amends” I found that it applied to other aspects of my past as well—unchangeable missteps that had kept me wrapped in a blanket of regret began to unfurl into opportunities.

Rather than filling journals with the saga of self-flagellation (which is as ugly as it sounds) I began to ask, “Where can I make this right?” If a wrong (or a relationship) couldn’t be tangibly “righted” there were always other ways that I could live my way toward an amends.

I now look at it as actively applying the lessons that mistakes have taught me—searching for how to make my future actions match the hard-won realizations about who I want to be.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m not Mother Teresa, and I don’t wake up each day guided by a strictly altruistic force that leads to a perfect and pious life. (Although that would be nice, I’m still pretty human and a work in progress.)

What I have found, however, is a path of self-forgiveness: ideas, actions, and direction for the moments when I feel myself living in the cave of “if only” and regret.

Although that cave is a familiar place to be, there’s far too much life to be lived in the world outside of it.

About Melissa Pennel

Melissa Pennel is a coffee drinker, over thinker, and empowerment coach in Northern California. Find more of her writing on her blog. Catch up with Melissa on Instagram, Facebook, or on her website.

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