Three Ways to be Sweeter to Yourself

With the new year, comes lots of change. Maybe you made resolutions to change your eating or your health routine, and are potentially on track to make some positive adjustments in your life. But with the challenge of change can come self-criticism, doubt, and frustration. Our inner critic can be the loudest during times of transition, when the potential to fail is high and the work feels never-ending. To stay on track and not lose motivation, we need a strong sense of self-compassion. Basically, we need to be our own biggest cheerleader! Here are some ways to quiet down that little self-deprecator in our heads, and access more self-compassion.

1. Notice when you tend to criticize

Is it when you lose your temper, make a mistake, or embarrass yourself? Maybe it’s all of the above. Just noticing when this tends to happen is important; it’s the first step in unsticking yourself from the pattern of just allowing the criticism to happen. When you begin to notice the self-criticism happening, this awareness can open up the potential to stop and change the negative train of thought arising. The mental exchange would go a little like this:

“Dammit! I am so lazy! Why didn’t I just get up off my butt and go to the gym today? I’m never going to lose any weight at this rate.”

[pause and notice the criticism]

“Whoa. I was just really hard on myself.”

[the pause that comes after this is where you can choose to continue being self-critical or instead switch it to something more compassionate]

“Well, I was lazy today because I didn’t sleep much last night. And beating myself up isn’t going to change anything. I’ll go to the gym tomorrow morning and stay for a bit longer since I missed today.”

The pausing and redirection will take practice, but eventually you can train the reactions to perceived failures to be more self-compassionate, leading to more self-worth and less stress around what you feel you did “wrong.” You’re also more likely to reach your goals if you approach yourself more like a loving friend than an aggressive bully.

2. Stop comparing and start being grateful

One of the most common ways we self-criticize is around body image stuff. We are constantly calling ourselves too skinny, too fat, shaming our skin, hair, clothing, and everything in between. A lot of the time, we do this in conjunction to comparing ourselves with someone who does have the perfect hair, skin, or body. Comparing ourselves to others will always make you feel bad. It is a sure-fire way to make your life look unappealing, and it sucks the joy out of your own success. Someone will always have a better looking life, and the sooner we realize that this doesn’t affect the value of our own life, the better. 

Stop looking outwards and turn towards the positive aspects of your own life — the harder you look, the more beautiful things you will find. You might not have a supermodel’s body, but are you in good health? Can you walk, talk, breathe, and think? If you can, you’ve already got a leg up on many people. Do you have people who love you and support you? It may not be a huge squad, but that doesn’t make these people any less important or valuable. Cherish that which you already have, and take stock of how lucky you are — even in little ways. Some of the loveliest moments in life is when we quietly enjoy the present, and look around at the tiny, beautiful things: a warm, clear day, a good book, a hug from a friend, a pet next to our feet. Soak this in rather than glide past it, and I promise the own beauty of your life will begin to shine brighter than ever.

3. Self-care is absolutely necessary

Life can become heavy and stressful, no matter how well you are handling things. Like seasons, our lives will naturally ebb and flow into good and bad phases. One way of making sure we are strong enough to make it through the tougher times is investing in self-care. When we begin to notice that we are run-down, stressed, and not acting like ourselves, that is usually a big ol’ red flag that we may need to slow down and ask ourselves what we need to feel better.

The answer can be as easy as “more sleep” (and I’m willing to bet that every single one of us could do with more of that!) But the more we pay attention, the clearer the answers will be. Sit quietly with yourself for a few minutes and ask yourself “what do I need right now?” Be patient — the answer may not be immediate. Even if it takes a little while, usually an answer will arise. Maybe you’re tired because you are working longer hours and don’t know how to set boundaries at work. Or it could be that you’ve been eating poorly because of how rushed you are, and this is affecting your energy levels and mood. Maybe your stress is so high, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to not be running around all day, and you have taken this as the norm. And maybe this wasn’t even clear until you actually stopped and thought about how crappy it’s making you feel. Taking time to check in through a chat with friends, some journaling, or even just quiet reflection before bed is ultimately what will give us the answer as to what we need to feel happier, calmer, and more fulfilled. Once you determine what’s wrong, you can begin to make changes to feel better. Things like eating better, cutting out toxic people, going to the doctor, not taking your work home, or finally scheduling that massage — the list of self-care options can go on forever! But you’ll never know what your personal remedy will be unless you stop and ask.

I once read an interesting metaphor on how we try to escape our “baggage.” It likened our emotional baggage to actual travel baggage, and how even though we forget it sometimes (purposely or not), it will always eventually be at the carousal waiting for us. In other words, claim your baggage, instead of running from it. Then accept it and do your best to work with it. Only this way, can you free yourself from the heaviness it brings.

Putting your self-worth in the hands of others can be like putting all of your eggs in a very shaky, very unstable basket. Instead, practice cultivating your own value through treating yourself with loving kindness and being your own best friend. This way, you always have a strong fountain of love to dip into when things get rocky, and you are always in charge of how full that pool will be. 

“You can search throughout the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere. You, yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.” – Buddha

What Bali Taught Me.

I’m writing this now having been home for a little over a month from my adventure in the beautiful jungle island that is Bali. I still have people coming up to me from time to time, asking me how it was. And I still struggle to answer that question — just like I did when I first got home and I was bombarded with the endless amounts of “how was it?!”

Most people who know me (or follow me on social media) knew that I got really sick over there. They asked me about the whole ordeal, and I could immediately sense the internal cringe when they knew I had been sick for a good chunk of my trip. And my response was always the same, easy quip back: “it didn’t ruin anything for me!” That was the short answer to reassure them that yes, I am aware that being sick halfway across the world, during a yoga training I paid a lot of money for, very much sucks. But the long answer is that it didn’t just not ruin my trip, it made it exactly what I was hoping it would be — a perspective-shifting experience that taught me something extremely important about my Self and my approach to life. 

I work with mindfulness every day. I am a therapist who is constantly reminding her clients to let go of their past, not dwell on what is to come, and try to live as completely in the present moment as possible. I meditate and do yoga and practice rituals each day to do the same. I focus a whole lot on trying to be as here as I can be. And yes, all of these practices have served me incredibly well; I don’t know how much of an anxious mess I’d be if I didn’t have these things to ground me. But none if it sinks as deep or hits home as hard as when life throws you a massive curveball, knocking you to the ground before you even knew what hit you. This is when the practice of mindfulness is most essential, but it’s also when it is the most difficult to access. 

~

I arrived in Bali incredibly excited to be set free of my routine, of answering emails and phone calls, knowing I didn’t have to help anyone, or teach a class, or hear someone’s problems. I was ecstatic to be able to set all that down for eighteen days, while I played and did yoga and met interesting people in one of the most beautiful settings on the planet. My sweet driver (who’s name I forgot, but was kind and extremely helpful to a newcomer) picked me up at the airport and off we drove to Ubud, where I would be staying for the rest of my trip. We arrived at my first stop, a secluded villa where I would be staying for the night on my own, before moving on to the retreat grounds. Once there, I unpacked, took off those godforsaken leggings I had been wearing for what felt like close to 48 hours, and went outside to soak it all in. I pretty much had the place to myself and promptly took advantage of the pool, which faced the raw, dense jungle. I spent the whole day in that lounge chair — reading, taking pictures, writing, thinking, swimming. I got so lost in the Bhagavad Gita that I got a sunburn. 

The next day, a new driver sped us through the thick afternoon rainstorm (a weather pattern I’d grow familiar and fond of during my stay) towards the Bagus Jati resort grounds. We weaved through tiny roads, past rice fields, zooming by dozens of mopeds, their passengers stacked in two’s and three’s, with babies usually riding shotgun. When we arrived at the main entrance, I couldn’t believe where I was; it felt like a combination of Jurassic Park and a five-star tropical hotel. I was surrounded on every side by jungle and greenery, with big, circular rooms with thatched roofs dotting the horizon. The people there greeted me with such warmth (and with the most delicious ginger virgin mojito ever) that I felt instantly welcomed. As I rode the golf cart over to what would be my room for the next ten days, vibrant colors enveloping me, I couldn’t contain my huge smile. I knew I was meant to be here. I met my soon-to-be friends at dinner that night, everyone clamoring to introduce themselves. Lots of hugging and name-exchanging and repeating of the names since most of us promptly forgot them. Then Janet came in to talk to us about what the next week and a half held. Her warm presence and gentle demeanor instantly made me feel drawn to her, magnetized to that mother-like energy that all of the yogi women who have most inspired me evoke. 

Practice began at 6am the next morning, with seated meditation to start. As a widely proclaimed non-morning person, just the wake-up time was hard enough. But looking back now, I miss those long walks in the crisp morning air, as the pink and orange sunrise began to peek through the palm trees. I miss never knowing which winding stone path would take you to the yoga room the fastest, and I miss walking past species of flowers and butterflies I had never seen before. I miss the quiet and contained space of the yoga room that housed what would become my sangha, it’s floor-to-ceiling windows framing the jungle in the horizon. We would sit and meditate, and at the same time keep our ears perked up for the sound of Janet’s soft footsteps entering the room — our signal that asana practice would soon begin. 

We practiced on the hard wood floors of the yoga room, mats being discouraged because of the space they took up. This also took some getting used to, but eventually the smell of the earthy planks of wood would become familiar and comforting. One of my favorite poses would end up being full prostration, where we’d lie belly-down on the floor, with our forehead heavy on the wood, our hands stretched out in prayer. This posture, symbolic of complete surrender, would come full circle for me.

I won’t dive into every detail of our day-to-day for two reasons: it would take me one thousand pages to write about every emotion and experience, but also because it was a sacred time that can only really be properly remembered via the vibrant memories in my head. I met some incredible people, who all had stories so deep and interesting that it reminded me of how cohesive this planet is. We all connected through yoga, obviously, but became incredibly close because of the daily moments we shared. We laughed big belly laughs over wine and Bintang at dinner, teasing each other like brothers and sisters. We roamed the city, helping each other find the best deals by haggling with the locals, and tried on $7.00 t-shirts in the back of hot, sticky market shops. We helped each other up Mount Batur, clamoring up unstable pieces of rock in the dark, while checking to make sure our group was always together. We chanted mantra and kirtan, and also danced to Beyoncé together. In the mornings, we discussed how achey our bodies were (and how amazing our massages later that day would be) over slices of fresh, cold fruit and mini-pancakes. We shared stories of our experiences with yoga, and how we all felt equally indebted to this practice that had healed us all, in one way or another. It was the perfect petri dish of people, place, and spirit that turned us from strangers to dear friends in a matter of days. 

Then one morning, at about 5am, I woke up to my stomach making noises it had never made before; somewhere along the lines of what a really clogged pipe sounds like when its being drained. You can imagine what came next. I’ll skip the details, but basically I had to be ensured I was near a toilet at all times. I skipped practice that first morning, and by the afternoon felt okay enough to put some clothes on and join my group at the pool. I laid down on the floor as Janet lectured, my sweet friends stroking my hair or giving me squeezes of encouragement as I laid there, useless and bedraggled. Luckily, the Ayurvedic doctor was there that day, and I asked her what could help stop my bowels from turning themselves inside-out. She recommended a spoonful of honey and nutmeg, twice a day. It worked to plug me up, but looking back, my body was trying to rid itself of everything inside of it for a reason, and keeping it contained probably wasn’t the best idea. The trips to the bathroom stopped, but the fevers started. I woke up two nights in a row, drenched in sweat, burning up. I lied in bed wondering if my temperature was high enough to warrant waking up my poor roommates who had a 5:45am wake-up call. I would tiptoe to the mini fridge and take out a Coke can or water bottle, place it against my sternum, and curl back into bed with a wet towel on my forehead, praying that I wouldn’t pass out and hoping that the Advil (the only medicine I brought with me) would work to reduce my fever. The fear of not knowing where the nearest hospital was kept me up most of those nights, but eventually I’d fall asleep again, drenched in a mixture of sweat and water condensing on my shirt.

I don’t know which benevolent entity decided to grant me pardon from my disgusting state, but on the night of our final closing ceremony, I felt pretty good. I showered, put my white dress on, and went out to meet my friends, who gathered in an excited group by the restaurant. Maybe it was that we sang karaoke and danced and ate and drank and did all my favorites things that kept the sickness at bay. Maybe it was the high from the amount of sheer joy I felt being around these people. I don’t know, and probably never will know why that night it was like I was never sick, but I was able to dance the night away with these incredible beings who were now my close friends. And I thank the universe for the chance to enjoy that very special night.

The next day however was a different story. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I began getting a fever as soon as I woke up that morning, and refusing to miss our final practice, I laid out my mat in the back of the room, hoping I could trudge through a few Surya A’s. Ten seconds into my downward dog, my arms began to shake and I dropped to my shins and into child’s pose, where I stayed for a good ten minutes. I then dragged myself to the back of the room and made myself a comfy nest with bolsters and pillows and blankets, careful not to burn my hair on the candles that lined the outside rim of the room. Did I mention that actually happened to me earlier that week? Filling the room with the smell of your burnt hair, all while being grossly sick, was pretty miserable. Although now looking back, it was pretty hilarious too. 

In my prop nest is where I sat and watched these amazing souls flow to the gentle cuing of Janet’s voice. When time came for the on-the-ground stuff, I made my way back to my mat. We were in some type of forward fold, my forehead pressed onto the ground. That’s when it all came flooding out. A song that Janet had played most mornings came on — one that has a sad, but beautiful melody. I began to cry and cry, my tears pooling underneath me on my mat. I stayed in the fold, letting my tears drain into the ground. I was sad my body was betraying me, but I was even more upset about it all being over. These new friends of mine would now part ways, jumping on planes that would take them back to their respective homes on different continents. Our unified energy would soon begin to dissipate, and this broke my heart more than anything. As we sat singing and chanting in our final morning circle, we all welled up with tears. We all knew that magic had taken place over those ten days. We knew this wasn’t something that just happened — the connections that we had created held a very special meaning to them. We all had a collective knowledge that this group was unique, that the energy we had created was something to be reckoned with. We all knew that the love we had created within this circle was something that only came from pure love, joy, and raw vulnerability. As we parted ways, we promised to keep in touch, taking pictures and giving deep, long-held hugs. I thanked Janet for all she had given us, for the knowledge she had imparted, the space she had held, and for bringing us all together in a place so incredibly beautiful that pictures will never do it justice. She joked that my sickness was a “natural cleanse” and even though she said it light-heartedly, I knew she meant it with some truth — that this was more than just me being sick at a bad time. And slowly, I began to catch glimpses of understanding as to why this was part of my journey.

By this point in time, I was doing pretty badly. I was out of Advil and everyone was leaving to their respective rentals in Ubud or back home. I caught a ride with some friends to my rental house, and was lucky enough to have very kind hosts who told me about a good clinic to visit. Everyone kept telling me I should go see someone, so I caved and went that day to talk to the doctor. They took blood and stool samples, and promised me results by the end of the day. I asked the doctor, a well-dressed, young Balinese woman, what she suspected it was. Without pausing, she said, “I think it’s dengue, but hopefully not.” That was all it took to take me into a tailspin of worry. I called my parents, knowing I would freak them out, but not being able to keep it a secret anymore. Also, I just wanted my mom and dad to tell me it would be okay. They comforted me, telling me they would be there in a heartbeat if it got worse, and to try to not jump to conclusions until the tests came back. 

That night, waiting for the results, I cried again. But this time, it was out of anger. How dare the universe do this to me now? Why did I have to get this sick? What did I do to deserve this? Why me? I asked all of the desperate questions one asks in times like this. I was so angry at fate for sending me this sickness. I didn’t get why this needed to happen, or why now I had to suffer alone through the worst of it. I sat by myself, in this room in a house in the middle of a village in Bali, thousands of miles from everyone I loved, and I cried hot, angry tears. I cursed the universe for making me miss out on nights on the town with my new yogi friends, for condemning me to this bed, with no one to even FaceTime with because the time difference was so big. And to top things off, the clinic never emailed me back. I was pissed. I emailed my host, asking him to please call them and ask what the results were so I could get on the proper meds. He got back to me almost immediately, and when I read the header of his email, I breathed a giant sigh of relief. “Luckily it’s not dengue. Just a bacterial infection in your GI tract. They said they will give you antibiotics tomorrow, which should take care of it.” He made it sound so minor. Laughable, even. I sat there, imagining what this bacteria that had taken hold of my body looked liked. I pictured a giant, green worm with pointy teeth, munching away at my intestines, eating up my insides. I fell asleep feeling slightly more at ease, knowing that at least there would be a cure for all this mess. And that maybe I could get back to normal, and not spend my last days in Bali bedridden under tear-soaked sheets. 

The next day, I woke up feeling the worst I had the entire time I’d been sick. I hadn’t eaten more than a few spoonfuls of rice in about 36 hours, and it was all I could do to muster up the energy to put a dress over my head and call my driver. When I arrived at the doctor, they took me to the back and asked how I was, expecting to hear I had had some type of recovery. I shook my head and said I felt worse, that I could barely stand up and hadn’t eaten in almost two days. The doctor’s face fell and he said I likely needed to get an IV drip because from the looks of things, I was severely dehydrated. I agreed, knowing this would probably help me regain some strength and hopefully my appetite. They took me to another room, clean and simply decorated, with a small bed and blanket, and readied my hand for the IV. I am not scared of needles, and I give blood like a champ, but at that point my body was in so much pain, and so incredibly weak and tired of hurting, that when the nurse inserted the needle, I yelped in pain and immediately started crying. I was so over my body hurting, I just wanted this to be over. They left me there with a call button, and the promise that in a few hours I’d feel much better. I called my parents again, but not before calling my boyfriend to weep about how miserable this all was. I reassured my family that the IV would surely help, even though I myself was beginning to doubt I’d ever feel well again.

I drifted in and out of sleep, glancing periodically at the drip to see how much was left as I wrapped myself in the wooly, yellow blanket. After about three hours, the IV was almost done.  The nurse came in, and asked me how I was doing. I told her I felt better, still weak, but slightly hungry (obviously, a good sign). I had some strength back, and was beginning to see the light at the end of this tunnel. They sent me off with a pack of antibiotics, recommendations to drink a ton of water, and a surprisingly small bill (side note: America, please get your health care costs in order, for God’s sake). I asked the driver to take me to a supermarket, where I loaded up on bread, peanut butter, juice, bananas, and some chocolate cookies. I went home and snacked a little, careful to not eat too much. I went out to the pool and swam around quietly, thinking about the whole thing. I showered and messaged my friends, letting them know I was alive and excitedly made plans to meet up with them that night. We had dinner and caught up over what I had missed, and as I sipped my Sprite, I felt overjoyed that I was almost back to normal. 

My final day in Ubud was spent shopping, of course. I hurried around town, popping in and out of shops, trying to remember everyone who I was supposed to bring back a souvenir for. Towards the end of the day, I felt myself getting weak again, and rather than risking it, went home and rested. I was leaving the next day and did not want to push my luck before getting on three flights back around the world. Luckily, the following morning I woke up feeling great and like I was back to my normal self. I got picked up early by my driver, and we stopped at a big garment shop on the way to the airport. I told him I had time to kill, and he said he did too. So, we shopped and walked around. When it was time to go, we got back on the road to the airport, my driver blasting American pop songs on the way. As I stared out the window at the stone sculptures lining the streets and the moped families racing by, I mentally said my goodbyes to this magical island, knowing I probably wouldn’t be back for a long time.

~

Once I had been back home for a few days, and started to tell my story to family and friends, I began to gain a different perspective. When I was sick, I obviously didn’t see the lesson. I was angry and sad and hated the whole world for turning against me. I was trapped behind my lens of resentment towards fate. But then, as I started to integrate the experience more and more, I remembered a very special experience I had in Bali, and all the pieces began to make sense. One day (before I got sick) we were taken to a water temple, which is a sacred place with multiple fountains spurting water out of the side of a wall. Our guide explained to us that this temple was used for a very special cleansing ritual: people asked the gods to let the water cleanse them of what they no longer wanted to have burdening them. We entered the cold water, fully dressed in our clothes and traditional sarongs, and shivered as we waited in line to go under the fountains. As I approached the first of about twelve fountains, I repeated in my head what I wanted to let go of. I created a mantra that basically strung together all of the parts of my personality that I wanted to be released from: my anger, my need for approval, my unsureness in my abilities, etc. And as I dunked my head under the first rushing stream of water, I was completely caught off guard by how cold it was. Shivering and unsure, I cupped and splashed the water over my head seven times, like we were taught, bowed in reverence, and moved to the next one. Again, repeating my mantra, I dunked my head a second time, this one less surprising, but just as cold. By the time I approached the third fountain, I was already soaking wet. At this point, I stopped caring and went into a repetitive state: dunk head, splash seven times, repeat mantra, bow, move on. Repeat 10 or so more times. As I neared the final fountain, I had been completely taken over by the rhythm of the process. When I emerged from the pool, my friends helping me to step out, I started to tear up. Something in me had shifted. I wasn’t sure what, but I felt different. I felt raw, like a layer of skin had been peeled off. One of my friends hugged me and as I silently cried in her arms, I’ll never forget her saying to me, “It’s okay. You are fully supported.”

Looking back. I realized I had asked to be purged clean. Not just asked, but I had basically pleaded, multiple times in a row, to be cleansed of all of the internal muck I was holding. I had asked the gods to help rid me of the unwanted, the parts of me that no longer served my purpose in life. And looking back now, I think I got exactly what I asked for. To put it a bit further into perspective, I have a notoriously bad relationship with my stomach. My guts used to always be upset over one thing or another, and it is only until recently (and through the help of a lot of probiotics and a better diet) that I have some semblance of a normal digestive system. But that was always my “problem area,” and I had even jokingly told one of my yogi friends earlier in the trip that, upon my return to Austin, I was going to sign up for a colonic. Well, you can see how that wasn’t going to be necessary anymore after my experience. But not only was the purging/cleansing connection there, I also gained another incredibly important lesson from all of it. I learned how truly fleeting our health can be, and how one moment we can be climbing the top of an active volcano at sunrise, and the next be unable to pull your pajamas over your head. Or be able to eat anything other than white rice. I realized how incredibly precious life is, and everything that I had ever learned about mindfulness made actual, concrete sense thanks to this in-vivo experience with the non-permeance of life. Not only did I learn the value of being present with what I have now, but I also felt an inexplicable amount of gratitude for the fact that I only felt this pain for maybe five days. I cannot fathom the experience of those who are dealing with an illness everyday of their lives. I began to empathize ten thousand times more with those who cannot eat a solid meal, or put their shoes on by themselves, or have the energy to lift themselves up in bed. My heart burst open when I thought of all of those people who have to live this struggle 100% of the time, and I was able to touch into a type of gratitude and compassion I never had before. I wasn’t just thankful for the obvious things anymore, like a nice place to live or money to buy expensive yoga leggings with. I was thankful to be able to put food in my mouth and swallow it. I was thankful that the water I drank on a daily basis was clean. I was thankful that my legs could take me across the street. I was thankful to go to the bathroom normally! The gratitude rushed through me like a monsoon, and I was able to see all of the unseen things that surrounded and blessed me on a daily basis. And for that, I wouldn’t trade my experience for the world. I wouldn’t change a damn thing. 

No one learns from the easy stuff. No one gains a life lesson from living comfortably. We have to be lifted up and then, when we least expect it, be knocked down and shattered. Only knowing the depths of pain can we appreciate the immense light of happiness. So thank you Bali, for all of it. For the highs and the lows, and for stretching my heart in ways I couldn't have imagined. You taught me more than I expected, and I got way more than I bargained for from your magical island. My ability to see the gifts wrapped beneath really ugly wrapping paper has been broadened. I understand now much more than ever before that it is all supposed to happen, that it is all meant to be placed in your path. Because if it is your rightful path, then it all happens for a good reason. All the pain, the tears, the wounds, the bloodshed — it is all a part of your story. And as long as we can trust that the tribulations are just a chapter in your book that supplements the overall story, then the road forward can be a little less scary.

Om Namah Shivaya

Vulnerability: The Doorway to Healing

As part of the collective community of human beings, we all share the same repertoire of emotions. The part that is different and unique for each of us is how we hold and express them. Through our experiences with our parents, friends, and lovers, we begin to shift the way we look and feel about particular emotions. Sometimes, a certain emotion can become so painful and scary to look at, that we decide we are done acknowledging it. We distract and avoid this emotion at all costs, choosing to keep busy with anything that will keep it far, far away from the forefront of our minds. 

Through my daily work with people’s emotions, I noticed that by far one the most difficult feelings for people to acknowledge is vulnerability. In therapy, people will run circles around confronting vulnerability, like it’s a burning fire they are trying to keep a safe distance from. Admittance of weakness, fear, and sadness is very rarely done with ease, and mostly met with a whole lot of resistance. 

So, why is it so hard for us to admit we’re in pain? Or that we are scared, lonely, weak, and sad? If these emotions are so common, so present in every single one of us, then why is it so hard for us to let our shield down and say, “I need help”? 

One theory is that most of us grew up with parents from the pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps generation; the Baby Boomers who were used to hard work and getting their hands dirty to get what they needed. There wasn’t time to be sad — there was work to be done and a family to feed. The luxury of having time to acknowledge painful emotions probably wasn’t something most of our parents had. And if they did have the time, they might have been met with resistance to express it. As children of this generation, we may have been taught the same lesson: stop crying and get over it. 

Those that are part my own generation were the first to experience the internet, the nuances of social media, and the expression of opinions in a way that reached the masses with one click. We grew up in the age of blossoming mass communication. With this progression, came a sharing of human emotion in a way that had never been able to reach so many people, so very quickly before. As a result of this wave of shared experiences, we began to acknowledge each other’s pain. We began to realize that we are not alone in what we are feeling.

Now more than ever, I see people embracing their emotions, seeking help for themselves or their loved ones who are in pain, and being able to admit and share their hardships with others. We are more open to reaching out and touching others with our stories, hoping that through this connection of the human experience, we might be able to help one another. 

But despite this amazing progress in emotional openness, so many of us still struggle to admit that we feel helpless or lost. My clients know that their hour spent with me is safe and private — they are protected from outside judgement here. Yet some of the hardest work done in that room is helping people realize that it is okay to drop the armor, to let someone be witness to their pain. Some people have been holding their shield up for many, many years, and you can see how the weight is crushing them. This armor can take many shapes:

“How can I allow myself to love? I’ll only get hurt.”

“I can’t tell them how I feel. They’ll only judge me or use it against me.”

“I can’t let this person in. It’ll only end in pain, like it always does.”

“What good does it do to connect with others? They’re only going to leave me.”

“I’m fine. It’s only when I stop and think that these feelings come up. I just have to stay busy.”

“I don’t like to admit I feel this way. It feels pointless and like a waste of time.”

“I can’t tell them about my messy past. They’ll judge me and think I’m damaged goods.”

“It’s not a big deal — people breakup every day. I’ll get over it.”

“Being sad is a waste of time. What good does it do me to sulk and throw a pity party?

Any of those thoughts sound familiar? All I have to say to those responses is ouch. If I was hurting, and someone responded to my pain with any of the above statements, I would feel completely shut down and deflated. Wouldn’t you? So why do we approach ourselves with these responses? If a dear friend came to you in a lot of pain, asking for compassion or reassurance, would you approach them this way? I hope not. That would just be mean and pretty dismissive. So then why is okay to tell ourselves to “get over it” and “buck up” and “just forget about it”? Why do we not hold ourselves in a way that is understanding and loving, like we would our dear friend? 

The mind likes to be dismissive of problems it can’t solve, and vulnerability is just that. Your brain sees sadness and weakness as unworkable and unsolvable, so it says, “let’s just go ahead and move onto something else!” Our brains our trying to be helpful, but in reality they are ignoring a growing infection that needs desperate care and tending to.

I often ask my clients this question: If you had a deep cut in your arm, full of dirt, bleeding and painful and stinging, what would you do to heal it? Most say they’d clean it out, put some sort of ointment on it, bandage it up, and then likely check on it later, replacing the bandage and ointments as needed. This is a pretty logical and healthy way to approach physical healing, right? Emotional healing works in just the same way. In order to even begin the healing process, we need to LOOK AT THE WOUND. How would we know if we need to clean it or what type of ointments to use or how big a Bandaid we need, if we are constantly looking away from it? This is what we do when we turn away from our painful emotions: we are refusing to acknowledge a wound is even there. We drink, smoke, eat, clean, browse the internet, work, exercise, party, do anything in a desperate attempt to not look at the damn thing. And we all know what happens when a wound gets ignored — it gets infected, more painful, and even harder to heal. This is why the first step towards our emotional healing is to really look at our wounds. You can begin by asking yourself these questions:

What is this pain I am feeling? Can I give it a name (loneliness, anger, depression, grief)?

Where is it in my body and what does it feel like physically (tightening, pressure, gripping)?

What experience or person may be triggering this emotion?

Have I felt this emotion before? How long has it been around?

All of these questions turn us towards our wound. By being introspective with our pain, we are exploring the wound, seeing what it needs to heal. Once we have a few answers about our pain, we begin the cleaning process. Just like with physical cuts, the washing out is the hardest and most painful part. The “cleaning” continues with more exploration into your pain — therapy, journaling, meditating, talking with friends, anything that helps you confront your damaged heart. This is where it becomes hard to stay present. It stings and burns and brings up memories of what caused the damage in the first place. But, if we are able to stay with this pain, we can begin to cross over to true healing.

This excruciating process may take months or years to complete. And even then, if the wound is very deep, we may have to come back and regularly clean it back out. But this is part of what I like to call our “emotional maintenance.” It’s just like the changing of a bandage. One day, the gauze may come off clean, and you may start to feel like that damage has finally left your soul. Or maybe the bandage will always come off with a tiny bit of blood on it, and that’s okay too. We can acknowledge that some wounds may always be tender. They may leave emotional scars that will feel a tinge of sensation when something arises in our lives that reminds us of what caused it. This doesn’t mean you are broken or damaged. This means you are a human being that has the strength to endure pain and come out alive on the other side. You are the opposite of weak and pitiful — you are strong, courageous, and had the power to look pain in the eye and say, “I refuse to live with this anymore.”

It all begins with vulnerability. It starts with saying, “I am not okay.” At some point in your life, you may begin to see that the barricade isn’t keeping you safe anymore — it’s keeping those who may be able to help you out. Drop the sword, the shield, the armor, and accept that pain is a part of this one-act show we call existence. Trust that opening this door and allowing help, love, and support in is all part of tending the wound. Seek out ways to heal, but most importantly, give yourself the same comfort and compassion you would give the friend in need. Pain is a common thread that is woven through each and every one of us. The more we come together by opening up and admitting we are hurting, the more opportunity for us to unite during times of deep suffering. 

And after all, we could all use a little help to make this journey a bit less heavy and a lot more joyful.

Ferny.

I'm Sorry.

Forgiveness is a tricky subject -- one that digs up a lot of different opinions, a lot of strong emotions, and oftentimes a lot of bruised hearts. Most of us have been on both ends of forgiveness. We have likely been in several situations where we offered our apologies to someone we caused pain to, all of these times looking a little different from the rest. We extend our sorry’s in small bursts, laughing at our embarrassment. Or maybe through long conversations, punctuated by tears and hard embraces.  We may have had to swallow our pride in order to get our relationships with people we love back on track, or write long, heartfelt letters when our words wouldn’t come out or weren’t enough. Some may argue that the act of asking for forgiveness may be one of the toughest tasks a person may have to do. But what about the one who is being asked for forgiveness? The act of forgiveness itself, of truly letting go of anger, revenge seeking, and harboring ill-will may be one thousand times harder.

For some people, forgiving might be a sign of weakness – a way of saying that what the person who hurt you did was okay. And so people hold on to their anger, harboring this resentment and feeding it every time they think of their offender and what he or she did. This sounds unhealthy of course, but what about actions that are, in many people’s eyes, unforgivable? I don’t want to write them out because they are different and unique for every human, but almost all of us can think of something, that if done to us or someone we loved, would be impossible to pardon. What then? Does that condemn us to a life of housing a poison in our bodies that is impossible to eradicate?

I don’t think so.

I think that forgiveness can manifest itself in different ways. The most obvious way is to communicate it – to verbally say to someone that you are willing to move forward, and thus not seek revenge or continue to dwell on his or her wrongdoing. And you can tell them that you will begin to take steps away from having this eat away at your insides, that you will not feed the anger monster. That you will at the very least try.

 But I don’t think words need to be spoken or written directly to experience the cleansing effects of forgiveness for the one extending it. After all, forgiveness is much more personal and individual than we make it out to be. It really is a one-person show. Maybe you can never physically confront someone who wounded you deeply because simply seeing that face would tear the cut open again. The healing effects of the scab that time constructed would be painfully ripped away. Pain like this feels raw after years and years of space and distance. Yet, I still believe that healing can happen in these instances.

Question what it does to you when you let the anger, the resentment suck you down. When you sit with these thoughts, what happens? Your mood likely sinks, maybe you have fifty different imagined conversations with the person, going back again and again to recreate what you would say if you saw them. Each time you think about them, something gnaws at your stomach. Something grips at your throat. And you end up feeling worse.

Next time thoughts arise about this person, or the situation they were involved in, I challenge you to ask yourself what it does when you buy into these negative thoughts? What does the anger turn you into? And most importantly, is this who you want to be, once you’ve let it completely consume you? I hope the answer is no.

Now, ask yourself this: “if I wasn’t scared or paralyzed or ready to rip their throats out, what would I do or say? If I had the patience of Buddha, the compassion of Jesus Christ, the non-jaded heart of a child, what would I tell this person?”

Then write it down. Every word. Coming from this place of compassion, of love, of ultimate forgiveness. And once you’ve exhausted your hand and likely covered your piece of paper in tears, burn it. Tear it into tiny pieces and light it on fire. And as you watch those embers burn out, know that the part of you who is capable of ultimate forgiveness exists. Even if that part is never manifested in the real world, those words that you wrote from that incredibly compassionate place came from somewhere. From some part of you, no matter how deeply hidden. It is my hope that knowing this will help you let go of some of this pain, and will allow this wound to be metaphorically bandaged, and in turn allowed to heal.

As humans, we are all capable of forgiving immensely painful actions. This is true because, as much as we may think we have our shit together, we are all fallible and imperfect. Every single one of us, one day, will be on the receiving end of forgiveness. Be a perpetuator of compassion and understanding. Forgiveness can be a wonderful thing for the receiver. But for those who give it, a transformation can happen: cleansing, releasing, letting go. It is a purging of poison in order to move forward in a more peaceful and sane way.

As a final thought, ask how forgiving you are of yourself. How often are you self-critical, chastising your actions, calling yourself dumb or incompetent, or self-deprecating due to a mistake? We are all so very guilty of this. Try to see if you can come from a place of compassion when dealing with your own mistakes.

Again, we are all human. Tell this to yourself often. Tell yourself that you will grow from any misstep. You will try harder and do better if confronted with the same situation. But refuse to be your own biggest bully. It is a commendable thing to forgive others, but forgiving yourself is an action that takes much more patience and strength. But really, if there is anyone in this whole world worth forgiving because you love them so much, shouldn’t it be your own Self?

“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.”

-Mark Twain

Hello, New Year.

With a new year comes the opportunity for new beginnings. For many of us, this chance for starting fresh comes in the form of a resolution. Oftentimes, it’s circling around our physical health or wellness: lose weight, work out more, eat healthier, quit smoking, start jogging, yadda yadda.

Our intentions are good; we want to tweak a part of our life to help us feel and maybe even look better. But sometimes we sacrifice our emotional wellness in the process. Let’s take a look at the most common New Year’s resolutions and shift them a little bit, into something that can benefit us not just on the outside, but also offer something to our internal selves.

Losing weight

For some of us, this may mean a couple of excess pounds around our middle. For others, this could mean a total body overhaul. Whichever is the case for you, start by asking yourself, “Why do I want to lose weight?” The direct and most obvious answers might be to look or feel better, and to increase body confidence. And while these are legit reasons, I wonder if we can ask why these reasons are important to us. What will losing 10 pounds give you? If the answer is “more confidence,” ask yourself if that confidence already exists in you. Truth is it probably does, just in another realm of your life. Remind yourself that your confidence and positive outlook on yourself is not contingent on those extra pounds disappearing. The sad truth is, even if you lose them, you might still struggle to feel good about yourself. Instead, bring some light onto parts of you that you already do feel good about, whether it’s a body part, a talent, or a personality trait. Know that you already have the potential to be confident and love yourself as is, and don’t let this self-love depend on whether the number on the scale is lower tomorrow than it was today.

Working out more

You might ask why this resolution even needs to be questioned. Who ever regretted working out more? And while I do believe that an active lifestyle would benefit nearly everyone, I also think that the reasoning behind why we do it should be questioned. Again, ask yourself what’s important about working out for you. If it makes you feel good, adds energy and vitality to your life, and you value caring for your body in this way, then by all means, go at it! If the reasons are more geared towards competitiveness, ego-boosting, insecurities, or shame that develops if you don’t work out, then maybe question the motive. Do it because it feels good and makes you happy. Don’t do it to be better than the next guy, or because of outside pressure. Because there will always be someone who can run faster or lift a heavier weight or do a more advanced pose. But if where others are in their journey doesn’t matter to you, and your focus is on where you are, then not only will you be a fit person, but you’ll also be a happy one.

Eating healthier

Same reasoning applies to this one. Question why eating better is important to you, and you’ll discover whether it’s something you value. Do you eat healthy because it feeds and fuels your body in the right ways, which in return makes you a happier person? Or do you eat in a way that deprives your body for the sake of the results? If eating a certain way is making you thinner, but also making you miserable, then maybe reevaluate the decision. Also, if eating all-raw or vegan or paleo or [insert fad diet here] is feeding your ego more than it is your body, it might not be the right choice. Don’t eat a certain way to feel better than others who don’t choose to follow that particular path. And if you do choose to eat in a way that may vary from the societal norm, keep the judgment of others at bay. While you might believe not eating meat/dairy/anything other than kale may be the more righteous, healthier, and less detrimental diet, this might not be the truth for others, and that’s okay.

And finally, here are some resolutions that we can all benefit from keeping:

Love yourself more.

We could all use some more self-love in our lives. Practice being less harsh and critical of yourself. Instead of being judgmental of a mistake or setback, acknowledge that you are human and you are going to mess up sometimes (maybe a-lot-of-times). Then ask yourself how you can do better next time, without calling yourself a failure, loser, less-than, or incapable. Remove all the negative self-talk involved – it only makes a shitty situation shittier.

Practice compassion (with yourself and others).

We covered the self-compassion piece already, so now ask yourself how you’re managing your relationships with others. Be kind to everyone, even those who you don’t think deserve it. You only cause yourself more anxiety and pain by feeding into someone’s negative personality. Acknowledge those who are difficult with a little patience, compassion, and understanding. Shoe-on-the-other-foot scenarios are great for this. And if this isn’t panning out well for you, then just walk away. It is a practice of self-love to remove those who no longer serve a positive purpose in your life. You really don’t need to water those weeds.

Have an attitude of gratitude.

Say thank you for all the good things in your life every day, however many or few there might be. It is this practice that makes the bad times not so bad, and the good times even better. Gratitude can remind us that no matter how low we sink, there is always something to hold onto. And usually, when we look closely, there’s more than we even acknowledged.

Check-in with yourself.

This could be done with a 10-minute meditation in the morning or silently sipping your coffee at breakfast. Maybe it’s before you go to bed, when the house is quiet and dark. Check in with yourself and ask, “How am I today?” We so often race past our emotions in order to seem put together, and by doing this, we often end up repressing a lot. Emotions don’t go away when we ignore them. They linger until they find another way out. Cue a panic attack or emotional outburst or unexpected fits of crying. Instead of letting the pot boil over because you left the top on, create a metaphorical release of steam. Asking yourself “how am I doing today?” can do wonders for being able to process what you’re feeling in a healthy way. If you realize you’re sad, then cry. If you feel confused or frustrated, write in your journal or go for a walk. Angry? Maybe screaming into a pillow is what’s needed. None of these emotions are wrong. They just are.The more we acknowledge them as human and normal, the more we can become comfortable with feeling them as they come. We start allowing them to just be, and in turn we learn how to be with them.

Lastly, this new year commit to doing something good for yourself regularly, maybe even on a daily basis. This might take a bit of time and practice, but be motivated to commit to these constructive actions because of how much the Future You will appreciate it. Ask yourself, “If I were to look back on December 31st of this year, what would I be glad I did for myself?”

Look at January 1st as a fresh, new page on the story of your life (or maybe a new book altogether!) and ask yourself how you can make it the best one you’ve written yet.

-F.

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language, and next year’s words await another voice.” 

- T.S. Eliot

Be. Here. Now.

I’ve noticed a change in my behavior over the past couple of years that is slightly unsettling. I used to be someone who would cherish when it came time to settle into bed, gather four pillows, and prop up to read a book. I devoured them and prided myself on being able to go through lengthy reads in a week or two. Barnes and Noble was my sanctuary and also my wallet’s worst enemy (this was before I discovered the money-saving joys of Amazon). I would walk out with three or four new books, hugging them close, telling myself I couldn’t wait until bedtime to dive in.

Things are different now. I have a stack of books on my bedside that I have yet to open. Books that stare at me with judgment.

Reeeeead me. Why are you spending so much time on Instagram when I could be making you smarter? I’ve been sitting here for months – pick me up, dammit!

So what has changed? I still love, love, love reading, and I will never trade my paperbacks for a Nook or Kindle, promising myself long ago that technology wasn’t going to take over this realm of my life. Because truthfully, it’s pretty much taken over everything else. And now, I see how it’s begun to take reading away from me, as well.

These days, when I settle down into bed, I grab my phone. I flip through Instagram pictures that have been uploaded since I last checked it. I look at my Facebook, maybe watch some funny videos someone put up, or update my yoga page. I check my email to make sure everything I needed to send out has been sent. I scroll through my Twitter to see what people are talking about that evening. In total, I probably mindlessly scroll through various apps for about an hour until my eyes get exhausted and I throw my phone on my bedside table, turn over, and fall asleep with sore thumbs. An hour that could’ve been used to absorb two or three lovely chapters of a book.

So what comes up for me when I say, “I’m just going to read tonight.” Well, it sadly sounds a little like this:

“ I kinda want to see if anyone posted anything interesting from this weekend.”

“Oh crap, I better send that email before tomorrow morning.”

“I want to reread that funny comment on my wall – maybe think of a witty response.”

“I wonder if anyone retweeted my hilarious tweet from today.”

“I’m going to send my friends a Snap of my dog. She looks precious right now.”

Yeah. I’m being serious. This is the kind of crap that is keeping me from picking up my book. And when I do finally pick it up, I am bombarded with thoughts from my mental to-do list. Stuff I have to do tomorrow, or by next week, or people I need to get in contact with, or yoga classes I have to promote, or crap! I haven’t called my parents in a week. My mind is constantly pulling me away from my beloved stories, saying to me, “No time for this. We need to WORRY ABOUT TOMORROW.”

But worrying about tomorrow is pointless. Because right now all I can do is sit here and read my book. That is all I have control over. That is all I have going on. Tomorrow hasn’t arrived, and all the stuff that I’m concerned about will have its moment to be planned and taken care of. But right now, I’m in bed. I have a book in my hands and a few precious hours before it gets too late. I ask myself if this is really any way to spend the moments of your evening when you should be “winding down.” All I am doing is winding myself UP – constantly turning over activities and exchanges and errands that either happened that day or will happen tomorrow.

This isn’t restful. This isn’t beneficial. And this most certainly isn’t being present.

So I’ve made myself a promise. I promised to be more mindful of what is going on in my life in the present moment. And although it’s a tough battle I fight with my mind by the minute, I’ve found small ways to become more present in my life. I’m attempting to cultivate an ability to cherish what I have going on in that moment, as mundane as it may be. And here are some ways you can try it too.

1. Enjoy slow, quiet mornings.

When I first wake up, I almost immediately reach for my phone to check emails, notifications, early morning texts, what-not. I’ve started to avoid this. I think to myself that my brain just woke up, and if my brain is anything like me, it needs a minute! So why bombard it with info from an annoyingly bright screen right off the bat? Instead, I’ve begun to wake up and just enjoy being awake for a minute or two. I stretch, cuddle with my dog, look out my window, take in the weather, and stretch again. Then I give myself time for ME before reaching for my phone. I make some tea or take a hot shower. Most mornings, I sit out on my front steps while my dog does her morning business and just take in the day.* These small, quiet activities set a peaceful tone for my day. Savoring these morning rituals has slowly become my favorite way to be more present. Think of things you could do right after you wake up, like meditating for 5 minutes or drinking your coffee outside as you listen to cars drive by. And savor them, without worry or concerns bleeding into these moments.

2. When someone is talking, listen.

Easier said than done? I hear you. Try this one out when every single member of your family and all your friends are just as eager to talk as you are! The people in my life are opinionated and loud and hilarious and intelligent. Which is a wonderful thing, but also makes it kind of difficult to really engage with one another. I’ve learned to become a more receptive listener – to not already start thinking of my response when the other person is yet to finish their sentence. To stop interrupting. Be present with what they are telling you. They will instantly notice the difference. They will feel heard. This is especially helpful when someone you know is having a moment of distress. Instead of flooding them with advice (something I want to automatically do), listen intently. Empathize with them. Most of the time, all they need is to be heard and this is oftentimes more helpful than barraging them with your opinion of what you think they should do.

3. Being present with emotions.

We all have those emotions we don’t like to look at. Be it anger or sadness or vulnerability, we all have aversions to certain feelings. So what do we do when they come up? We run. We avoid. We distract. And then what? Yeah, they dissipate for a few hours, maybe days, even months. But ignoring your emotions is like sweeping them under a rug. You probably can’t see them for a while, but then that lump starts to get bigger and bigger, and then it becomes so obvious that you can’t ignore it. Finally, you become stuck not only dealing with one emotion, but a huge dust bunny of compounded feelings that becomes too overwhelming to deal with. Instead, let yourself feel what you’re feeling. If you’re sad, cry. If you’re angry, throw something (preferably not at someone). If you’re happy, dance. The more you let these emotions out and acknowledge them, the less likely it is that they will come and bite you in the ass when you least expect it. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. Because it’s what you’re feeling. You can’t control that; you can only control the behavior that follows it. So be present with your emotions and learn to become friends with even the nastiest ones.

4. Spend some time alone.

There’s nothing more terrifying for some people than being alone. Some of us can’t fathom quietness for anything else but when it’s time to sleep. But alone time is essential for our mental health. We need time to process what we are feeling, to chew on things that are important to us, to organize all the pieces. And it becomes very difficult to do this amongst constant distractions. Soak up alone time. Becoming truly happy with just being with you is what helps us stop looking at external factors to make us whole.

5. Do yoga.

Yes, this is somewhat of a shameless plug for my favorite thing ever, ever. But it doesn’t have to be with me! Doing yoga isn’t just an exercise for the body – it is an exercise in being mentally present. You have to pay attention to minute details that are going on in your body in order to know whether or not you’re doing the pose in a way that is beneficial to you. Think of being in Warrior Two. Your mental conversation with yourself might sound a little like this:

Crap, this pose is hard. And she wants us to sink deeper into our front knee? I’m already as deep as I can be, lady! When can we vinyasa already? 

That is not being present. You’re ready to move on from the pose because it is difficult. Rather than thinking about what comes next, listen to cues and listen to your body. Check in with every body part that needs to be engaged. Once you’ve noticed if your arms are fully extended and back leg is super strong, then just breathe. If your leg is hurting or your arms are getting tired, just notice that. Remind yourself of your strength and the benefits that come with doing this one pose. Come back to your body, and let your mind and inner criticisms soften.

~

We could all benefit from being more HERE. Cultivating a practice of enjoying the present moment will likely make our lives that much more beautiful because that is all we truly have. Tomorrow may never come and yesterday is already gone. So how can you make your right now the best right now?

-F

* I’d like to thank my dog for taking her time to pee and having me sit patiently on those steps, as that is what caused the inspiration for this post.

Body-Bashing Bullsh*t

I live in a city of beautiful people. People whose beauty comes just as much from their soul as from their physical bodies. But the problem is that sadly, the internal beauty always comes second to the exterior one.

I am lucky to be surrounded by amazing people. Human beings who are not just fun to be around, but smart and hard-working and motivated. Hustlers who have incredible ideas and innovations and minds just bursting with creativity. Austin is full of these young, driven individuals who are determined to leave a mark on this planet, and who have the brains and the capabilities to do so. And you want to know what else they have? The body to back it up. 

Austin always comes in as one of the top ten fittest cities in America — usually being way ahead of its other Texan counterparts. And you don’t need a list to tell you that everyone here is motivated to be healthy. Just looking outside will tell you this. Everywhere you go, people are jogging, hiking, taking the newest spin class, hot yoga-ing (hello!), and lifting heavy stuff until their hands bleed. We Austinites are on a mission, and it ain’t just to be healthy. We want to be the best looking person on that boat come lake season. We want to bare our cut abs and show off our toned arms as soon as the weather goes past 70 degrees. We want people to NOTICE. 

Unfortunately, this entire mentality of “being the best looking girl/guy out there” is flawed. Flawed completely. Because it involves comparison. And a very wise woman (hey, madre) once told me, “There is always going to be someone out there who has it better than you and someone who has it worse than you.” In other words, you’ll never win this game. You might be the fittest guy at that pool party, until that dude who does Crossfit six times a week walks in. Then where do you stand? In second place, feeling miserable. And the worst part about it is that you have ranked yourself. YOU put yourself in second place. Because everyone else there is too worried about what THEY look like to care about you.

Have you ever had that experience of looking at a picture of yourself, and all you see is flaw after flaw after flaw? The weird teeth, the bad skin, the cellulite, the pooch belly. It seems like it is all glaring back at you. And then you show the picture to your friend, and what does she see? HER so-called flaws, which you never even noticed. Maybe what you saw was her pretty smile or shiny hair. Why can’t the beauty noticed by others be the first thing we see in ourselves?

Instead, it becomes this endless game of Who Can Insult Themselves More. And there is never a winner. We are all just left feeling terrible that we will never look like the models in the Victoria Secret fashion show. But the real problem is not you. It’s the fact that we are being told we need to look like that to be happy. And we all are believing it.

And it is making me mad. 

I look around and see my beautiful friends, the beautiful people in my family. Women and men of all shapes and sizes and hair colors and skin tones. And they all have something about them that I admire. But when we talk about ourselves, all we can see is our flaws. And then I get to my own mirror. I pinch fat and I suck in my belly and pull back skin in disgust and say, “I should probably work out more.”

But I’m sick of thinking this way.

I want to love my body. I want to no longer think that a few marks of cellulite define me. I want to believe that it’ll be okay if my stomach is never washboard flat. I want to embrace myself because this is all I’ve got. And I want the world to come with me. 

There is nothing wrong with working out to be healthy and strong and to live a longer life. But when your physical self is all that matters, you’ve stopped thinking about something incredibly necessary — your internal Self. With a capital “S.” The you that actually matters. What about cultivating that part of you as much as you work on your body? Your loving self, your compassionate self, the friend, the partner, the parent, the lover, the sister, the son — where is he/she when the body is cut and defined to its most perfect form? Most likely lost because the ego has eaten him alive entirely. If all you base your happiness on is outside opinions, you will always be let down. If you think that self-worth comes from people complementing your seven-day-a-week workouts, you will soon find out how wrong that is. You are already all you need to be. You are you. And there are so many internal parts that matter so much more than the external. How compassionate are you to your human brothers and sisters? How forgiving? How grateful are you that you even have a working, strong, capable body? How humble do you become when you realize how lucky you are to even afford a gym membership? Take a deep look. Has something been neglected in the search for physical perfection? Most likely, it’s the part of you that knows its okay to not look like a model out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. That part of you that knows that the people who truly love you and care about you don’t give a shit about your six-pack. They care about your heart, your friendship, your company, your spirit. 

Listen to this part of yourself. Remember that perfection is an invented idea that shifts with whatever is in style and trending today. That maybe in 50 years the curvy look will be back. Or maybe not, and eating disorders will continue to be rampant among little ones who should be thinking about their first kiss, not how many calories were in their dinner.

I want to try to be more accepting of myself. To love my body as is, because it isn’t bad. “Bad” is a concept created by a dude in an ad agency who thought girls in bikinis would sell burgers (and sadly he was right). My body is my body. It is what it is. There are parts of it which I love and parts which I hate. And I want to be able to turn the hate off. To be able to say that perfection is bullshit and my personal happiness doesn’t come from how good I look in my yoga pants this week. Or from looking better than the 9,000 other girls in bikinis which I will encounter during the summer. I am choosing to give a big middle finger to my internal critic. And to trust that those who truly matter know that defining someone by their looks is as shallow as a teaspoon. That I can still strive to be healthy, but that it doesn’t have to kill my self-worth in the process. That I can love myself throughout.

So, be fit. Go strut in those jeans that once didn’t go up your thighs. Be proud of the work you do to keep yourself healthy and which extends this one life we have to live. But don’t make it your first priority. This should be a spot reserved for your soul. For your friendships and relationships and personality characteristics you need to tweak. Because in the end, we all age. We all will lose that great ass or toned biceps. But we can find comfort in the fact that the love you cultivate in your life won’t fade. Compassion and kindness leave a much more lasting impression. The people in your life who have moved you with their love and sweetness and intelligence — those are the ones we remember.

And washboard abs can’t compete with that.

-F

Making Space.

Whenever we are confronted with an especially difficult phase of our lives, we usually find ourselves asking (or pleading) the universe for a change. We say to the Greater Force, “Can this just be over already? I am tired of feeling [insert current emotion that is drowning you here]. Justdo something about it already.”

We are asking for a change from the Thing that is bigger than us — whatever He/She/It may be for you. How you envision it doesn’t matter. What matters is that nothing can happen, outside help or not, if there isn’t room for it to happen.

Think of a giant chest of drawers. Let it represent how you envision your Self, compartmentalizing all the different parts of You. Maybe it looks like an elaborately carved wooden bureau, with a million little doors, each holding a different part of your life. Maybe you would rather see it as a sturdy file cabinet, with a small number of heavy drawers, where you only put the most important things. Whatever your compartments may look like doesn’t matter. What we all have in common is that, at most times, all of these compartments are filled.

We have a family drawer, which may hold our mom and dad and our siblings. It could hold our very best friend who was more of a sister to us than anyone blood related. It could hold your grandparent who was like a mother to you. It could most definitely be holding your beloved pet that you consider a first-born child. It could be holding wonderful memories, or it could contain negative and dark parts we never, ever look at.

Our other big one is the relationship compartment. Most obviously, it could be holding our current partner. It could be so full to the brim with love that it hardly shuts. Maybe it holds two people. Or it could possibly be holding the remnants of someone who doesn’t need to be there anymore. Maybe this drawer feels scary and empty. Or it feels like it is holding something (or someone) it shouldn’t be.

What about the drawer that holds our passions? If this drawer is full in all the right ways, this means that you are cultivating energy around those things you are most in love with – the things that light you up and define you. But if this drawer is full of something heavy and that doesn’t sit right, maybe what is in there doesn’t belong. Perhaps the thing filling that drawer right now is only temporary, and holding space for something bigger and better.

Envision all your most important compartments, then take a second to sit with them. Do some feel heavier than others? Do some feel weirdly empty? Do some seem to be overflowing with stuff that doesn’t even belong there? Do some feel neat, tidy, and just as they should be?

If this is a hard concept to grasp, it is all leading to the idea of making space.

Let’s say you are looking at your relationship drawer. It looks empty as… well, you know. You say to yourself, “See? My drawer is empty. Why isn’t anything coming and filling it up? Its emptiness is just begging for a relationship!”

But is it really empty? Look into the corners of that drawer; pull it out of its hinges and investigate it. You may see some fear in the corner. Or some resentment. You may see the face of someone you thought you’d let go of.  You may see a little wadded up piece of paper in there saying “Don’t do it. You’ll just get hurt again.” This is not an empty drawer. To really make space for the thing that truly belongs in here, we need to not just feel like the drawer is empty, but make a concentrated effort to purge anything in there. So we let go of fear and resentment. We forgive (or not), but no longer cling to old, crusty, negative emotions. We say to the old us that wrote that note, “Well, if I got through that, then I can get through whatever else life throws at me!”

Once that drawer has been scrubbed clean of all the things tarnishing it, then it is truly ready to hold what was meant for it: something positive and good and just right. The same goes for all the other drawers. We have to embark on the journey to get what we want with a clean slate. Bringing our baggage with us is only going to cause clutter. Choose to invest more time in the things you want and less time into things you already know you want to get rid of. Don’t feed the monster, as I like to say. It is the same thing as stuffing the drawer full of crap you don’t need.

We make space for good things by being good. We cultivate healthy relationships through being a healthy person. We draw in what we give out. So, if the monster that lives in the drawer is making a presence in your life once more because he’s made quite a comfy home in there, it may be about time for an eviction. What parts in your life need a mini-renovation? Take some elbow grease to that drawer and clear it out.

Here’s the kicker, though. You won’t ever really know when it is completely clean. Sure, it may look clean and feel clean, but there are some corners we just can’t ever get to, no matter how hard we look. And that is okay. Because when you are ready, the universe (or God or Buddha or your own personal energy) will give you exactly what that drawer needed.And when you get it, you will realize you weren’t even anxious about filling it anymore. Because “being ready” means you were too busy being happy about other stuff to worry about feeding the Impatience Monster in that bottom compartment. So he starved. And something wonderful took his place.

Trust that time and patience will give you what you need for your drawers. But also trust in yourself and in your ability to cultivate these things.

 “Practice and all is coming.” -Sri K. Pattabhi Jois

-F

10 Things I Learned on my Yoga Mat

It’s no secret that I am a tried and true yoga aficionado. Ever since I first stepped my bare toes on my first hot pink, flowered mat, I fell in love with the practice. See, I was never an athletic person. Everyone who went to high school with me can tell you that when it was time to run around the school during P.E., I was always one of the girls that took the shortcut through the parking lot. Or just walked it. Yoga was the first time I was actually doing some sort of physically challenging thing that I didn’t absolutely hate.

But losing weight or getting in shape were never the reasons I started it or kept at it.  Another thing those close to me will tell you is that I have some terrible eating habits (that I am actively trying to change. Wait, are those waffle fries?), but my health was never an issue. No, yoga became a mainstay in my life because of what it did to me mentally. These past two years, I threw myself into the yogi game headfirst. I tried to practice as much as I could. And as I progressed, I found that the things I learned while I practiced my asanas could be applied off my mat too.

Here, I share those that have stuck with me after the om chanting is done and the sweat has been wiped clean off your Manduka.

1.   Take risks: Don’t let the fear of falling stop you.

This was a tough one for me to learn at the beginning. When I first started to get more serious about my practice, I hesitated on pushing myself very far. I took the common yoga saying of “listen to your body” a little too far, and mostly so I could feel safe. I was always too scared to try the complicated arm balance or the headstand. I always told myself “better safe than sorry.” And although this saved me from maybe a sore back every now and then, it didn’t let me progress. This directly ties in to how we should approach life. Taking risks is the only way we will ever be able to figure out if we can actually do something. You will most likely fall (or fail), but once what you were scared of happening happens, it magically becomes LESS scary. So you are more likely to try again. And again. AND AGAIN if you need to. Don’t let failure be the reason why your life stays comfortable. You never know when that risk will end up in a success, so reach towards it and don’t let fear dictate your behaviors. Also, just like there’s a nice padded mat to catch me when I do flip over and out of forearm stand, life has cushions like family and friends to be there to catch you when failure knocks you one.

2.   Be dedicated or else you won’t move forward.

We must be persistent once we know what we want. My dream of dreams is to come into handstand unassisted. I watch the Instagram yogis in awe (and with slight jealousy) as they so very nonchalantly come up into their magical upside-downness. So I practice. Before and after class (and during, if my teacher makes a tiny bit of space for inversions), at home when I can’t sleep, or when I’ve had a beer and I’m feeling especially silly and limber. Even though I am nowhere near to making this happen without a wall behind me, I have a few precious seconds of buoyancy. This brief, fleeting moment of holding myself upside-down feels magical, and that one second of suspension reminds me that all this work will someday be worth it. But I will never get there unless I keep practicing. I won’t wake up one day and be able to do it. We need to always visualize our goals – map out exactly what it is that we want. And then work towards it. Every day should be another opportunity to put a penny in the jar of our dreams. Whether it be some yoga pose or a new job position or improved health or just being a better version of yourself, make sure you make time everyday to add some change to that collection.Because one day you’ll be cashing that check and every moment of sweat and frustration will be worth it.

3.   It’s not a competition. It is about your own journey.

“Competitive” could have been my middle name, had my mom been able to see about eight years into the future and seen her tiny, but scrappy daughter trying to own her friends at foursquare. And freezetag. And Nintendo. Basically anything where someone at the end gets called the “winner.” Yoga has taught me again and again that it isn’t about who is best in class. I always catch myself looking around, seeing if I’m “better” that the next person. And then I catch myself feeling horrible for doing that. Because I remember that where I am right now is exactly where I need to be. I have had to drill this lesson into my head. It isn’t about whom you beat or how many people are “worse” than you – it’s about your own journey. At the end of the day, if the girl next to me is doing child’s pose while I’m busting out Scorpion, it doesn’t make a damn difference in my own personal practice. Or in hers. Same goes with life. We are programmed to think life is a big rat race, and to have the mentality that if you didn’t win, what you did didn’t matter. But sadly there’s no trophy handed out before you die. All that you will have is either the reassurance or regret that you did or did not do your own personal best. That you did or did not live by what personally made you happy. That you didn’t do it for the accolades or to be the best. You did it for YOU. So stop comparing yourself to the next guy (a constant mantra/reminder I have to tell myself) and focus on YOUR process.

4.   Oftentimes, it’s not about your physical strength. It’s about your mental strength.

We’ve all had good and bad days. Days where we can just fly through, killing it at work, socially, whatever. Then there are days where we just want to stay under the covers and have a gigantic pity party for ourselves. The thing that remains constant in most of these scenarios is that our body has not changed. If on Monday you wake up, feeling ready to rule the damn world, and walk into class or your office with confidence and energy and positivity, you most likely WILL rule the damn world (your world). But if say come Friday, you’ve dealt with your significant other being a jerk, your boss making you work long hours, and your parents ragging on you for the third time today, then you probably aren’t going to walk into the day feeling like you can rule anything. You most likely will struggle to make it to the end of the day without choking someone or wanting to hide under your desk. But notice that you physically haven’t changed. You just FEEL heavier. This is where mental strength comes into play and can save your day. In yoga, we usually set an intention before class. For me, it’s usually one word that I want to focus on realizing while I practice. Things like “strength” or “dedication” or even “letting go.” When I walk onto my mat feeling the weight of negativity, my mental strength has to come in and take over to pull me through. And if I believe hard enough that I CAN do it, I usually DO.  Same goes with life. You still have the strength and power you did yesterday. Today might just feel heavier than yesterday did. But the strength still exists. So tap into the cheerleader in you that knows this. And have him or her lift you up and help you through the bad day.

5.   Make time for silence. And for yourself.

Pretty self-explanatory, no? At the end of yoga, we have savasana, or corpse pose. This basically means we get to have about 5 to 10 minutes of sweaty, lovely silence all to ourselves. The room gets dark and quiet, you close your eyes, and for maybe the first time all day (or all month!) you get some real, tried and true peace. But silence can be scary. It can be emotional. It can also be a much-needed respite for our souls. It brings out something different for everyone. But truth is, no matter how much you dislike it, you need it. We all need to shut down for a second (or hopefully more). In an age of constant glaring screens, dinging text messages, pinging G-chats, and incoming emails, our brain craves silence and peace. So when the red flags of overstimulation start waving, and you can sense you’re going on overload, find your own version of savasana and dis.con.nect.

6.   Take a break from thinking about anything that isn’t the present.

Our thoughts are racing constantly. There is never a moment where they stop telling us what to do or what we should do or what we should’ve done or shit, did I leave my flat iron on? We have to make an active and conscious decision to STOP. Yoga does this in that you are sometimes so wrapped up in a pose (literally sometimes, ha. Yogi humor, y’all) that you cannot think of ANYTHING else but keeping your arm on the ground and your other leg straight and your chest forward. This focus is rare outside of the mat for me. There are few situations that make my brain focus on the here and now. So we kind of have to train ourselves. Make an effort to focus and be mindful of the things that are presently happening. And let go of the ruminating thoughts. Tomorrow isn’t here yet and yesterday has already happened. So focus on right now and give your thoughts a lunch break. How do you feel right now? Like RIGHT NOW? Happy? Sad? Indifferent? Neutral? Hungry? Did you even realize you felt this way before I asked you? How does your body feel right now? Cramped? Relaxed? Sore from your last attempt at Crow pose? See, that there is focusing on the present. It’s a little check-in with yourself.

“Hi, Self. How are you doing right now? Not so good huh? I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. There have been 1,675 distractions circling me all day. Let me give you some attention.”

No, you’re not weird for having a me-to-me conversation (I mean, if you do it out loud, I can’t guarantee your cube-mate won’t look at you weird). And yes, you’ll feel better for having done it.

 7.   Cohesion, and remembering we’re all in this together.

Living in an individualistic society, we often lose our sense of unity. We forget that we really all are in it together. That there are people out there who know exactly the pain you are going through now. Or the joy. For me, nothing reminds me more of this than when I chant an Om with my yogi-mates. It may seem cheesy sometimes, especially when the lady next to you sounds like she swallowed a didgeridoo. But listening to a bunch of cohesive voices together makes me feel like there are little strings connecting us all. That I am never truly alone. We need to build on this idea that we are all a community of humans. Be a compassionate friend and a good listener. Help those around you who need it. It can be easy to ignore the plight of those who don’t have what we have. They are usually in another country, or at the very least, in a neighborhood way south of ours. It is easy to not want to bother with what you don’t choose to see. But you are forgetting the extreme power one human being has to change another one’s life. It doesn’t have to be money. It can be lending a shoulder when someone is in pain or offering to buy a person lunch just to brighten their day. It can be a flower given to a child or a hot coffee offered to the man sitting on the corner of the intersection. Remember that without each other, we are alone and the world is dark. Friendships and connections and reaching towards each other is what keeps our lives warm and lit up.

 8.   Breathe into pain. You’re stronger than you think.

When life hits you, and I mean REALLY hits you, we want an easy out. We want to say, “I am not strong enough for this. There is no way I can see a silver lining. I’m never making it out in one piece.” We want to resign to being sad or depressed or angry or resentful because we feel we CANNOT be anything other than that. It’s too hard to be happy — too difficult to look on the bright side. Guess what? Yeah, it is. When life has knocked you down, and stepped on your head, and given you a good kick in the ribs while she’s at it, being positive can seem like the hardest and most ridiculous thing in the world. But if there is still breath in your lungs and strength in your heart,there’s a chance. You are stronger than you think. You just have to want to fight for it.You have to believe you can make it through. Whether it be holding the last few seconds in plank pose or making it through a devastating loss, the same holds true. Let yourself feel the pain, but also breathe into it, accept it, then believe that your body can take way more than your mind says it can. Because almost always, you will prove to yourself that it will.

 9.   Laugh at yourself. And forgive yourself.

I’ve fallen out of poses many a time in front of my classmates. I’ve had really embarrassing ones too. Ones that hurt like crazy and almost caused me to roundhouse kick my neighbor. But the key lies in being able to laugh it off. We ALL fall. In yoga and in life. We make dumb mistakes, we hurt people, we make bad decisions, and we have accidents. All of this is completely and utterly human. And we have to be able to find the humor in our shortcomings. Instead of beating yourself up about it, know it won’t be the first or last time you mess up. So be forgiving. Chalk it up to being a life lesson and carry it with you next time you are confronted with the same situation.

10.   The journey never ends.

Yoga reminds me that, no matter where you are, your journey hasn’t ended. No matter how good you get at the poses, there will always be something else to work on. There will always be another step up. Same goes off the mat: you’re never going to get to a point in your life where you are completely and totally satisfied with yourself. And thank goodness for that. Our journey ends when we take our last breath. Until then, remind yourself to live every day striving for happiness and a more fulfilling life. The work will always be there, but find joy in it. Life isn’t about slaving away miserably for that cushy retirement in the Bahamas when you’re 80. What about right now? What about life before then? Work to make TODAY the best day you can. That way, when you are eventually lying in your hammock underneath a palm tree, wrinkled and old and pretty damn happy, you can look back and be grateful you enjoyed every single step to get there.

Namaste, y’all.

-F

Being a Kidult

For most of our lives, we have this fighting urge to distance ourselves from the age that we presently are. It starts when we are kids, almost as soon as we gain a concept of rules and who enforces them, and then goes through adulthood, although the desire of being older reverses into wanting to be young again.

Remember how much fun recess used to be? Remember that rush of excitement that came with being let out of the jail cell that was your classroom to go run a muck on the playground and take leaps from the merry go round going at full-speed?

But then, an hour later (or longer, if you were lucky) came the dreaded BELL. The sound that signified the best part of your day was over. The ones like me, who were trying to grasp the very last straws of their playtime, usually got rounded up by a dreaded ADULT. We got marched back into our classrooms, muttering under our breath, “I can’t wait ‘til I grow up. Then I’ll be able to do whatever I want.”

Fast forward twenty years later. Now you’re an adult. Your wish came true — you are a grown up. Or did it? And ARE you?

If you’re one of the lucky ones, it might have. If you’re a trailblazer, making your own rules and fulfilling your heart’s desire, while still maintaining a steady income, then you kind of won at life (which makes me secretly hate you). The rest of us had to go to school for X-amount of years to start getting even remotely on the path of what we want to do with ourselves. And the rules never went away. The “guy in charge” never went away. He morphed from your parents to your teachers and into your boss. That endless recess we imagined when we were five may have never happened for us. Or did recess just begin to morph into something a little different?

Your mid- to late-twenties can be such a whirlwind due simply to the fact that you grow up faster during this period in your life than any other. People start getting engaged and married, having children, getting real jobs, buying houses, the list goes on. Everyone around you is GROWING UP. And one day you might look in the mirror and acknowledge that you too are growing up a little.

And this thought freaks out a lot of people.

All of a sudden, there is pressure all around us — to get the great job, the great partner, the big house, the money, the incredible social life, all while keeping a confident, yet cool composure. You ARE an adult after all.

But I say that you have a choice. I say you have the option to alternate as you wish, from kid to adult and maybe something in between. I also think that those in their mid- to late-twenties are pros at moving from one role to the other. We just sometimes have identity crises and can start to panic when unsure of when to be what.

Sometimes there are situations where we shouldn’t regress. Where we should start taking the adult role seriously and navigate life using it where appropriate, no matter how much we don’t want to grow up.

This is when we need to act like an adult.

At work.

If you’re lucky enough to have a job you love, cherish it. Which means work hard. Show your potential. Make connections. Be respectful to the thing that takes up 8 (or more) hours of your day. You’re making a name for yourself right now, so what do you want it to be? Pour your heart and soul into what you do. If you’re in the right place, work will just be that much more fulfilling. If you’re not quite where you want to be, all of the above will help you get there.

Around elders/higher-ups.

Don’t be the jerk that is mean to their parents. You’re not thirteen anymore and no one thinks that’s cool. It just makes people uncomfortable. Know your place in the hierarchy. Be sweet and kind to your parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles, which sometimes means doing things you don’t particularly want to. Just remember, they actually DO have way more life experience and knowledge than you do. So listen to them, love them, and appreciate what they’ve done for you. This can also apply to your bosses, supervisors, and those who have earned a role higher than yours. Instead of loathing them for holding authority over you, show them some respect and they in turn may show you how to climb higher on the ladder.

With decisions about your health.

Now is the time to start investing in yourself – in your physical health and your mental health. Find something physical you love to do and attack it. Go full force. That way, exercise won’t seem like a chore because it’ll be something you enjoy (even if just slightly). Also, invest in some self-care. If you’ve been managing your anxiety solo for years and still can’t get a hold on it, go talk to someone. Sometimes it’s okay to admit we can’t do it alone. Now is the perfect time do to the work because you’re young and things can be tweaked a bit more easily. Don’t wait until your doctor gives you bad news on your blood pressure, or your depression has you on full house arrest to make those changes.

How you spend your money.

Spend it on what you want and love and makes you happy. But make sure there is always enough left over for what you need.

~

And then there are those moments where the business suit comes off, the judgment goes out the door, and for a little while you remember what it was like to truly, TRULY not give a shit.

This is when we need to act like a kid.

When you’re dancing.

Or singing. Or both. Life is too short to care about what you look like when you’re lost in your favorite song, having your favorite drink, with your favorite people. You’re going to be eighty years old one day, wishing you could shake it like you did in your twenties. Take full advantage of a dance floor and good music. My favorite dancers are not the good ones — it’s the ones who are clearly giving zero f*cks. And the people who judge you? Well, you can’t see them when you’re doing hair whips anyway.

With your best friends.

These people get you. Like, really GET you. So there is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about with them. Be gross, loud, obnoxious, cry like a baby, be giddy, gush, rant, rave, or all of the above with them. True friends will not judge you or make you feel insecure. They will most likely be doing the same right along with you. These are the people you can drop the act with. You don’t have to try hard with them. You don’t have to try at all. So be the weirdest version of yourself when you are with them. You can go back to acting cool when there are other people around.

When you start taking things too seriously.

I hate when this happens. Life feels like it gets dark and serious and like everything is falling apart. But it’s not. It just FEELS that way. So go do something that makes you laugh or feel silly. Shatter the dark mood with some cheesy music or by playing with your dog. Remember that we’re all just specks spinning around in space, and that life is so much more than boy problems or work problems or being thinner or being validated by others. You can CHOOSE to be light. Even if just for a second. Don’t let the dark side win, Skywalker.

When you are by yourself.

If you don’t take FULL advantage of being a complete, honest-to-goodness, no-holds-bar version of yourself when you’re alone, then you are missing out, my friend. What you do with this time is yours to decide. But my girls who sit makeup-less eating ice cream while watching Reality Bites in a Hello Kitty t-shirt know what I’m talking about. Or the boys who walk around in their Christmas boxers in July and play Backstreet Boys while making a peanut butter and potato chip sandwich know. It’s who you are when you KNOW there will be zero judgment, zero criticism, zero expectations. These moments are limited. Soon, husbands and wives and children and in-laws will take away this precious Me Time and constrict it to maybe an hour a week, if you’re lucky. So if you have full-blown access to it now, use it to its best and most ridiculous potential.

~

Then there are special occasions in our lives when one should be able to fluctuate from kid to adult to the weird, middle ground. For me, one of the biggest opportunities to practice our merging of both kid and adult is in relationships.

This is when you can be both.

We almost have to be both kids and adults to keep the train rolling in the right direction.

Be an adult when: you actually like someone. Or you actually don’t. In other words, be straightforward. By the time you’ve hit your mid-twenties, you know The Game very well. Every move, every Like on Facebook, every text and its timing is calculated to make some person want you more. Or less. Or just notice you’re there. And what’s lost is the fine art of honesty. Here’s an example of straightforward-ness. This may be somewhat mind-blowing to a few people out there:

“Hey, I like you. Let’s hang out.”

“Hey, I like you too. When should we do that?”

“How about Tuesday?”

“Sure! I’d love to.”

…or…

“Hey, I like you. Let’s hang out.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not really feeling it.”

Of course the conversations won’t be this weirdly blunt, but what I’m trying to show is that Person A and Person B are clearly expressing that they are into each other. And thus one makes a move. And then the other agrees to hang out. And wham-bam, you got yourself a date and maybe the beginning of a relationship. Or Person B isn’t into Person A and that is clearly expressed and both people can move on with their lives. Nowadays, it’s morphed into exchanges of vague texts where no one really says how they feel because neither party wants to sound “too eager.” So movement is halted, usually resulting in one or both people becoming frustrated or apathetic.

Be honest about your feelings with each other, or at the very least, don’t lead people on. The world would be so much simpler and less frustrating. God knows we could all do with less of those drawn out, useless interactions with people who just aren’t really for us.

And for those already in relationships, be an adult when it comes to communication. Even if you know what you need to say will hurt someone, say it. Just word it well and don’t be a jerk about it. Keeping it all locked in will only result in a horrible subsequent explosion of word vomit and emotions, where no one wins. Talk frequently and honestly. This is the glue that will hold a partnership together.

Be an adult about fidelity. In laymen’s terms: Don’t cheat. If you’ve gotten to the point where you’re interested in other people, be brave enough to say so. Either way, the relationship is headed towards an end. So, you can choose to make it an honest, but still painful one, or one filled with deceit and a lot more work and suffering involved. Be real about who you are and what you expect in a relationship. Whether it be an open one, or a strict one-person show, make sure this is clear. If you know monogamy is not your thing, don’t make your partner believe it is. The concept of fidelity and what it means for each person in the relationship should never be blurred.

We’ll end on a lighter note: When to be a kid in a relationship. 

Remember me talking about how you act with your best friends? Well, it’s the same concept only you get to be annoyingly affectionate with each other too. Love strongly and don’t be afraid to express it to each other. No one can judge what works or what doesn’t for the two of you, so don’t let outside expectations or judgments dictate how you behave in your relationship. A close friend of mine once called her relationship “her story” and I immediately fell in love with that term. It’s yours to tell and write and create. There’s no pre-written outline you have to go by. Or nothing that can say that whatever your relationship looks like is right or wrong. You create it as you go, and it’s personal and unique to the both of you.

So…

Live together before marriage. Or don’t. Pee while they brush their teeth. Or don’t. Be attracted to them as a sweaty mess. Or don’t be. Who cares what it looks like or what roles you take as long as you’re happy? Love cannot be expected to take any certain form, so your relationship is as unique as they come. It’s the only time these two particular people will live out this particular adventure together. So be silly. Be passionate. Play a lot. Laugh even more. Respect each other, be sweet, and be compassionate. And always keep your hearts open.

~

Never let go of the kid in you. They are there to remind you that life isn’t as serious as you think. That sometimes you need to get out of your own head and go laugh or explore or cry or watch cartoons or eat an entire sleeve of Oreos. These moments are shining examples of you at your most real. It means you aren’t the boring grown up. But you’re also not the sad kid at recess with no control. You are you, which is a happy little weird in-between. And that is perfectly okay.