“The Birds are Mad at Me.” Tales of an Empath’s Life.

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This morning, while enjoying my first coffee, I looked outside and noticed the bird feeders were empty.

Crap.

I totally got caught up in my daughter leaving for college, the latest Netflix series, and you know, eating and other life stuff.

If it sounds like an excuse, it is.

I’m thinking what you’re thinking, is it my job to take care of the birds? Unless it actually is my job, and I am getting paid to feed the birds, the answer is no. Still, they’re helpless creatures and in a roundabout way, I signed up for the job because I put up the bird feeder.

Grabbing the bird seed bag, I hastily filled each feeder, and sent the birds a silent apology. After a few minutes, I peeled myself away from the trees and walked into the bathroom where my husband was shaving. “The birds are mad at me. I haven’t fed them in weeks. I filled the feeder this morning but they’re not coming by to eat.” I looked up at my husband who was now brushing his teeth.

“Birds don’t think like that, honey.” He smiled at me, but also peered in closer to see if I was serious.

I was serious. And yet, I wasn’t.

I knew the birds weren’t mad at me, but when you’re an empath, you feel everything. And sometimes, without realizing, you project.

In other words, someone, somewhere was mad at someone and I picked up on it.

I don’t remember when I first felt that someone was angry. It could have been yesterday, or last week. It could have been a second ago. And I didn’t realize it.

What we take in, needs to come out.

And when we’re not aware, it comes out in a whole bunch of strange ways, like me and the birds.

There’s a benefit to staying awake as an empath. Like a tick: if you find it within 24 hours, you’ll probably be okay. In other words, if you catch it, name what you’re feeling, or move through it—it ends fairly quickly and innocently. If you don’t, and it builds, it can wreak havoc both emotionally and physically.

A spiritual teacher once told me, “As an empath, you need to take out the trash.”

This is why a mindfulness practice for empaths becomes just as important as a healthy diet.

It is not just empathic adults who need to know what it means to be an empath. Many children are empaths and have no idea.

My son, often distracted in school, is exhausted when he returns home. He has been feeling for everyone else—all day, every day. He has no idea why. He just feels and releases. It’s why he goes into the woods as soon as he comes home. He unwinds with the salamanders and frogs. It calms him. He also likes dim lights, soft music, and time alone.

I’m the same, although I can do without the amphibians.

It’s also why we live on six acres and I work from home. As an empath, being around people can be exhausting. We can feel like rubber balls being bounced around by other’s emotions. We don’t know that it’s happening until one day, you look up and think the birds are mad at you. And you realize that something else must be going on. You’re too smart to think the birds are really mad. You know if you wait a little longer, they will begin feeding.

So you laugh at yourself, often.

And you spend time alone.

And you avoid the news.

And you make it daily habit to name what you’re feeling, and you ask often if it’s yours or someone else’s. And you begin to get used to not knowing why you’re feeling whatever it is you are feeling. And it starts to not matter.

And you even laugh, if you can, at some of the labels you and many other empaths have unknowingly taken on: depressed, anxious, ADHD, ADD, paranoid, phobic, introvert, and agoraphobic.

And you think, if they only had one label for all empaths it would be ESEP, Energy Sensitive Empathic People or ESEC, Energy Sensitive Empathic Children.

And you hope one day that all empaths will realize what is going on, and know that being empathic is a gift, not a curse. That being sensitive can have its perks.

You hope that others can see how empaths are helping others—by feeling the feelings for them.

And that spending time alone can lend itself to an active imagination, creative endeavors, and the time for self-reflection, a necessary and often eye-opening part of a life journey.

So the next time you think someone is mad at you, stop and think about the birds.

And then let it go.

After all, it was never yours to keep.

This article was also published on Elephant Journal. You can find it here.

 

 

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The Dance of Narcissism

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She can feel it coming a mile away.  A sideways glance, that look in his eye, or a single word.  Her heart pounds, her stomach clenches, she waits for her life jacket, yet the ocean of abuse seems to overwhelm her hopes. Waves of disappointment shake her to her core, drowning her hopes that this time things will be different.

Perhaps one day, she will calmly call it for what it is, who he is. But for now, she only need know the signs. Narcissistic abuse is insidious, harmful. The manipulation, the invisible tool strikes sideways, or when her back is turned. Like a poison that seeps into her bloodstream, chipping away at her self-esteem until she becomes a shell of who she once was.

She knows. Somewhere in the depths of her soul, she knows. She sees him, drinking up the beauty of his own image. She is his toy, his fuel, prey to feed his own hunger for power and dominance. Truth is, he is hollow, and the one who must fill his emptiness. His unsuspecting victims lured with charm, unaware they wandered into the lion’s den, soon to know the depths of his untethered soul.

It is the trademark of a narcissist, to stop at nothing, keeping his control at all costs. The Narcissistic abuser cannot tolerate the tiniest of chinks in his armor created by any form of real or imagine laughter or lack of respect, and will resort to blame, accusations and always repercussions. When she is dancing with a narcissist, something will always come back to bite her. Always.

Unable to see the walls of her prison, even if she knows they are there, she continues dancing. She cannot feel the noose around her neck, the coldness of the loaded gun pointed at her unsuspecting heart, often blind to the fact that he pulls the trigger often, and without remorse. Strangely, there is no mark.  At least that anyone else can see. But she is left grasping for air.

Like an energy vampire, all narcissists need victims, as much as they need a mirror to drink up their own image. Once bitten by a narcissist, she has been unknowingly been recruited for the toughest boot camp around. Her training has been intense, and she emerges as a ninja, able to sniff out the abuse from the most elaborate disguises. Or she becomes a victim, over and over. Unaware that she has a choice, that she can get away once and for all.

Yes, perhaps she has had enough.

As she begins piercing a hole in the narcissist’s costume, it will send him raging, scouring the dance floor to right what has been wronged – but it is only his fragile ego that teeters on the brink of destruction with each step. It is never too late to excuse herself from this dance.

Contempt emerges. Disbelief enrages. She has begun clearing the cobwebs. There is a way out, and that is to step aside. To know this truth within her heart, and unravel herself from the narcissist’s web, he was so crafty in designing.

She is now free to choose another partner, or better yet, exit the dance floor completely. For without engaging herself as a partner or victim, the narcissist cannot attack her. With time, she will be free to hand her dance card to someone else.

She used to take it, unknowingly blame herself.  At times, her body still reacts like a well-trained prisoner of war. Her body remembers. And that is ok. For once she has clawed her way out, she will be aware. Once the red flags arise, right behind them the white ones will wave. It is then, she will hand in her dance card forever.

She is not crazy.  She knows the truth. She can now follow her heart with each sunrise and sunset, releasing herself to feel the beauty of life. She is free.

HERE ARE 10 WAYS FOR TIRED MOMS OF TEENS TO FIND THEIR ENERGY AGAIN

I have seen many posts out there about how tired moms are and I felt the urge to write about self-care. This is not me giving you advice while standing on a pedestal. This is me saying I get it, I’ve been there. Let me share with you what I have done that has helped me feel less tired, but also what I’m still working on today. This is me letting you off the hook because as moms, we rarely do this for ourselves.

Here are the top 10 ways that help me to become less tired.

1). Saying NO.

Yes, an oldie but a goodie. I know, you have heard this so many times before. But there is nothing more empowering and invigorating than saying no. Whether it is to your teenage son who wants to go away for the weekend and spend money you just don’t have or your husband who wants a four-course meal when you want to order in pizza or a friend who wants to go to lunch. Just say no! No explanation needed. The funny thing about saying no is that it helps you to have enough energy to say yes next time.

2). Cutting yourself off from toxic people.

This can be a friend, a relationship or a parent. Toxic people are energy vampires and those who create drama, are super competitive or are just not supportive, are draining our energy whether we know it or not. Cut the cord! It may be uncomfortable at first, but you will see your energy start to come back in spades.

10 ways for moms to feel a new sense of energy

3). Let go of the “Super Mom” image.

I hate whoever created the Super Mom image. Ok, hate is a strong word, but I strongly despise whoever decided we should do it all, and with a smile and perfect hair. YUCK! No thank you. Give me black leggings with a hole in them and the notion that being imperfect is being human.

4). Celebrate small.

If you want to throw an elaborate graduation party, inviting half the school- go for it. Some people do enjoy entertaining. But if you are tired, and trying to remember if you even ordered your senior’s cap and gown (me), then it is ok to celebrate small. Bigger is not always better.

5). Pat yourself on the back.

This is my pat on the back for you. We just don’t do this enough for ourselves. Make a list of all the great things you have done for your family. Read it daily. We all need a reminder.

6). Me time.

I have always needed me time. I decided long ago, I would take it. If I didn’t Mr. Hyde would emerge, and my husband would look at me with that knowing look in his hide. He would utter, “Honey, why don’t you take an hour to go do something fun? And please bring back Dr. Jekyll – that possessed look in your eyes is scaring me.”

The key for me was not only taking me time, but also letting go of the guilt. “Me time” includes watching a funny movie, a show on Netflix, a walk by myself, a glass of wine, a soft ice cream cone with rainbow sprinkles (substitute any topping).

7). Gratitude.

Nothing invigorates me more than reciting what I am grateful for. It is a great way to change our mood, and let go of things that just don’t matter – especially worries that drain us.

8). Vacation.

For some time, my husband and I decided we would forgo vacations. We knew college was coming, and so was the need to have an excessive amount of money on hand, for our children to live somewhere else in order to drink excessively. Ok, I know that is not the reason they go to school – I hope you can hear the sarcasm in my voice – I must need a vacation!

Do not forgo these – whether you take a weekend or a week. When you just get away – it works to energize us. Often changing our location, changes our state, which changes our energy.

9). Have a good cry.

Sometimes it can happen organically, other times, we need to bring it on. Put on a sad song or even better, put on the Notebook (actually any Nicholas Sparks movie will do). Crying relieves so much tension, which gives us more energy.

10). Ask for help.

Ouch! I know. Many of us are not used to doing this – asking for help. I used to do it in a round about whining, nagging sort of way that did not work. It usually backfired. Now, I sit down, and ask for someone’s attention. I look them in the eye, and let them know how I am feeling. That I need help. Every time I do this, it works. They didn’t feel nagged upon, and I felt my energy come back like I was sucking up air from a pump.

I hope at least one of these things will work for you. You deserve to feel less tired and enjoy your life 100% no matter what you have going on. You matter.

 

Originally Featured on Grown & Flown – Where Parenting Never Ends. You May Find the link here.

 

One Spoonful, One Single Act of Kindness

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It was 1977. I was scared, but I knew I was in a good place. Surrounded by 10 other girls my age, I was just dropped off at summer camp for the first time. I was a shy, but athletic kid. I could overcome my social awkwardness by kicking one of those slightly squishy oversized red balls over the heads of the most hopeful of outfielders. Always, I was the first picked for any teams, and the fastest runner. Yet, none of my strength or speed helped that late morning, when I first stood at the foot of my bed, watching many of the other girls, laughing and reuniting from last summer.

It was a moment of relief, when one of my counselors walked over to me, sensing how I was feeling. “I’m Gina,” she said, pointing to her name tag. I smiled, shyly. “Come on, let’s go meet the other girls.” I let her lead me over to the group, still feeling awkward, but joining in a game of jacks. By the end of the morning, I was already feeling better, thanks to Gina. At that moment, I could not know that 10 days later, Gina would reach out to me again, in the moment I would need it most.

As a former recruiter, I know you can only find so much about a person before you hire them. You ask questions, scan resumes, but in the end you must make assumptions that you hope are right. Most of the time, you get it right – but not always. Some people look good on paper or over the phone, but do not end up being the best fit for a job. Others – you don’t realize just how good they are. That summer at camp, I had both. An incredible counselor, Gina, and a less than optimal one, Nancy.

It was about 10 days into camp (so 10 months), and we were all sitting around our dining table. Servers, who were also bunkmates, were moving back and forth, bringing bug juice, cups, plates, and whatever dinner was prepared that evening. I was a picky eater. No worries. There was always peanut butter and jelly on the table – my favorite.

Dinner that night was some sort of meat. I think it was pot roast -not my favorite. I went to reach for the peanut butter and jelly, the loaf of soft white bread, glistening against the wooden table. Nancy stopped me in my tracks, “No!” She uttered, grabbing my hand. Nancy liked to exert control over us, because she could. Her moods affected her action more than common sense. More often than not, she made up her own rules. We did not know when and where she was going to strike, but when she did, we listened. I took my hand back like I had been burned, and held it in my lap.

Tears sprung to my eyes at the thought of going hungry, or worse having to eat the pot roast. But it was more than that. I was tasting the feeling of fear upon my tongue. I knew that feeling well, as it was a familiar feeling at home, one akin to walking on eggshells. Sometimes the mood was better, and you felt free to be yourself, but then the rules could change in a heartbeat, and you got burned.

But this was camp, my safe place. Yet, there I sat, helpless, my plate empty, waiting for Nancy’s emotions to calm, and her need for control to pass. There I sat, helpless, trying to make myself invisible in a room full of screaming campers, feeling scared and alone as I did that first day. 

Problem was, dinner was ending, and having run around all day, I was really hungry, and afraid to speak up. It was then, I felt it. A tap on my knee. I looked beneath the table, and there was a hand. It was Gina’s. Her fingers held on to a spoon, filled with peanut butter. I realized in that moment, I was not the only one afraid of Nancy. We are never alone – we just think we are.

I looked up at Gina, as if that spoon was a scalpel and we were about to do surgery. She nodded at me. Take it. her eyes pleaded. I nodded back, and took the spoon, got up from the table, away from Nancy’s disapproving eyes. I hid in the corner, eating that spoonful of peanut butter, feeling both shame and relief. Feelings that would fight for bragging rights over the course of most of my life, until I would finally name them both.

As I reach into the my memory box, clearing away some of the cobwebs to come up with the details of this story, I admit to not even remembering if Nancy is her real name, while Gina’s name, I will never forget.

If Gina had not reached out to me, I could have gone a bit hungry that night, but probably not. Nobody went hungry at camp. We were likely getting canteen, candy in an hour or two, or making s’mores by the campfire. But she did, and it meant more to me than she will ever know. She reached out to me, not knowing the impact. 

There were many people in my life, that went on to hand me spoonfuls of peanut butter. My incredible life long friends, my dear husband, my former kind and patient boss, my children and my dogs – all scoops of peanut butter. Playing cards with my father when I was sick, sitting on the grass in the college quad with my wonderful poetry professor, laughing till our sides ache with my husband – all scoops of peanut butter. I have even learned how to scoop my own peanut butter with a nap on the beach, a walk through a wooded path, a funny movie and a warm fire on a icy winter morning.

Summer camp, as it turned out would become one big scoop of peanut butter after another, a place even my daughters would eventually call home, many years later.

I am sure Gina would not remember that night, or knew the impact of such a small act of compassion. Just as we do not know if our smile at a stranger or a quick text to a friend could brighten their day, or even prevent him from hurting himself. Kindness can have more of an impact than abuse, hatred and drama – especially when someone has been the recipient of both. One spoonful, one single act of kindness – so simple and yet so meaningful. We can all impact each other, choose how we connect. Why not choose kindness?

Today, I sometimes wonder where Gina is – if she has a family, what jobs she took on, if she travelled as a single warrior woman, or made a home, nestled in the security of suburbia. I would like to think she is still handing out spoonfuls of peanut butter wherever she goes.

The World is Abundant, and Waiting for You to Reach Out and Grab it.

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I entered a short story creative writing contest for fun, and my piece was selected among many submitted stories to be published in a book. I did it for fun, but also, I learned something from the experience.

I have always known that there is enough to go around, that our world is abundant, but there was a part of me that never quite believed it, especially in the areas where I perceived I was lacking. For example, I have always been blessed to have a wonderful marriage and life partner that is also my best friend. So I never doubted that there is someone out there for everyone. That was never a question in my mind. I believed it with all my heart. I never looked at someone’s relationship and thought, why don’t I have that? What are they doing that I am not? I have always felt abundant when it came to relationships. I only felt happiness for anyone who found a significant other that treated them well, and loved them unconditionally.

It is the areas where we feel we may be coming up short, or at least less than perfect in our own eyes, that can lead to feelings of lack. And when we feel lack, we may then compare our self to others. For me, my career outside the home has been less than traditional. And my desire to be a writer has been lurking inside for many years. It began when my children were little, and 18 years later, I am still writing – yet my best selling whatever, is still out there – so is my ability to make a substantial income off of my writing.

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I used to feel envious when I looked at others with a successful career, those who knew exactly what they were capable of, and went out and got it. And the comparison made me feel less than. And it was not working for me – it was working against me. It pushed me away from my keyboard, and I stopped writing. Like anything, the key to finding success and improving, is doing it. Thus, this feelings of lack, was not bringing me any closer towards my goals.

It is only lately that I am beginning to get traction with my writing, and others are taking notice. Not coincidentally, I have also stopped comparing my self to others. I have just been putting my head down and been writing, writing, and writing.

The writing contest I entered was fun. I did not win first prize, so I did not receive any money. But that is ok. I have faith that if I keep writing, the money will follow. And I have always believed there is a lesson, a gift in everything. Had I only felt less than for not winning first place, I would have missed the gift. It came when I read the short story of the winner of the contest. Her style was so different than mine – it was like comparing apples to oranges. The gift was the reinforcement of the belief in the abundance of the Universe. We are all unique and all have something to contribute, and there is more than enough to go around. We just need to find the right audience – whether it is a reader, significant other or company. Thinking that there is a limited supply of whatever we desire, is simply not true.

When I stopped comparing my self, and started looking to others to learn what they did to make them successful, I saw the abundance. One is based on envy, the other, curiosity. I stopped wishing I was Danielle Steele or John Grisham, and began to write like me. Turns out, I like to tell stories, and it does not matter how the story is formed – an essay, short story, novel or article. What matters is that I understand that I know I am unique, and my style is my own. 

In this contest, more judges liked her piece, but some liked mine enough to accept it for publication. Perhaps next time, my piece will win first prize, or not. There is enough styles, judges, editors, readers out there for my work, that I do not have to compare my self to others and feel lack. I just need to be myself, and follow through on my commitment to write each and every day. And then, I need to share it.

The world is abundant, and waiting for each of us to reach out and grab it. Whether it is writing or a relationship or a job, coming from this perspective and making the effort, will put us well on our way to achieving what we desire.

We need to stop wasting our time comparing our self for others, and grab a hold of the three keys to start receiving what we desire:  

  1. Come from a place of abundance. We need to change our belief in lack, stop comparing and start learning from others.
  2. Make a commitment and do it – every single day.
  3. Put our self out there. If nobody sees our work, or resume or if we do not join any dating sites or meet up groups, then it does not matter how much time or effort we put in.

Rejection is part of the game, and it no longer bothers me. I used to take it personally. Now, I just know it is just someone doing me a favor, saying “next.” Pushing me one step closer to a yes.

Bring forth your uniqueness, talent and faith. Put your head down, and go for it, but do not forget to look up from time to time. And not to compare your self to others, but to pat your self on the back.

You are unique. You matter. The world needs you.

 

 

Ten Reasons Why You Should Make Yourself Uncomfortable.

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I had a creative writing professor in college who told me I was a terrible writer. Ok, well she never looked me in the eye and said my writing was no good, but she tore apart everything I wrote and encouraged the class to do the same. Apparently, she never heard of a compliment sandwich. I remember feeling unworthy and embarrassed of anything I wrote during her class, and left each day feeling like I should never write again. Week after week, my writing worsened and I could not wait for the class to end. I will never forget this professor.
 For some strange reason, I decided to continue to follow my passion for writing in college, and took a poetry writing class. My professor was encouraging and pointed out everything that was beautiful and spot on about my writing. I remember feeling engaged, and always left her class feeling inspired about my writing. Each week, as I reached deep, I expressed words and phrases that I never knew I could find within myself. My writing got better and better, and I was truly saddened when the class ended. I will never forget this professor.
 In the end, I decided to continue writing, as it brought me so much joy, and despite my first professor’s opinion, I have found that others have responded positively to my writing.
 Looking back, both professors were important in my learning, but the one that caused me discomfort, taught me the greatest lessons. I would like to share these with you, in hopes that you can look deep within yourself and know you are valuable, worthy, and inspiring, no matter what someone else may tell you, and that everyone and everything is here to help you.
 What did I learn from my professor who was full of negativity, criticism and doubt?
1. I learned to look within myself to find the truth.
2. I learned to not give my power away.
3. I learned that people are subjective in their opinions.
4. I learned to give myself what I needed to succeed.
5. I learned that everyone is truly doing their best.
6. I learned that a life lived without awareness, creates actions against others without awareness.
7. I learned to use discernment in who is giving me information.
8. I learned everyone and everything is here to help us.
9. I learned there are gifts in the strangest of places, and the cruelest of faces.
10. I learned there is no such thing as constructive criticism. That if you give people enough love, support and guidance, the best will be brought out of them naturally.
 No matter what we choose to do in life, we are so often met with obstacles, rejection and mountains to climb. But we must remember that it is in these challenges that we find the greatest gifts. If everything was easy, what would we learn?  How would we grow?
 We are stretched from getting uncomfortable. When someone steps into our world and tries to knock us down, give their opinion or is just plain rude. It is in that space where we ask the most pertinent questions. Is this my truth or is this their truth? How is this helping me?
 Everything we could ever want out of life is just beyond our comfort zone. If being uncomfortable were easy, we would all welcome it with open arms. But it is not. Being uncomfortable is tough. We feel like our lives are out of control, our days are chaotic, the moments uneasy, and this can all really freak us out. We can feel like all we know is being taken from us. We can feel fear, doubt and even paranoia.
 In order to deal with this discomfort we may turn to addictions, blame, blindly reacting to others, or helplessness. When this happens, and we dodge the feelings that arise, we never get beyond our comfort zone, and never receive the gifts.
 The way to have all we aspire to have is through this discomfort. Let the feelings come and go. If we tread gently with ourselves and others, we can rise above the uneasiness, by sitting within it. We can look not what is right in front of us, but what is just beyond the horizon. And then we can act with awareness, consciousness and know exactly what we need to do without any morsel of doubt. Sometimes we take action, and other times we sit still.
 If we can hold on through the discomfort, we will be receiving exactly what we need, what is in the highest and best outcome for all. Then the letting go occurs and upon our arrival we receive the gift we have been waiting for – all that we could have ever imagined for ourselves and our lives.
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 So, the next time someone gives you their opinion, triggers you, or flips you off in traffic, say thank you. Instead of reacting, check in with yourself. For, they may have just given you a gift of pushing you smack into your discomfort zone. And here, may be all you have ever wanted. Life gives us challenges and tests, don’t be fooled by the ones that cause us discomfort. These are the greatest gifts with the ugliest wrapping paper.
 Want help or more information on navigating life’s discomfort zones? Contact Beth today.

 

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In the wake of the Orlando Shootings, the latest massacre of innocent victims, I turn my attention not to the victims, but the shooter. The person who was so filled with hatred, that he opened fired upon unsuspecting human beings who were simply out to enjoy themselves. How does one go from an innocent baby to a mass murderer? How does one acquire so much hatred in his heart that he unleashes his fury upon not just one, but hundreds of others? These are the question we need to keep asking ourselves.

Most can not help but focus on the victims.  They are the ones who suffered.  They are the ones whose families are going through shock, disbelief and unbelievable grief.  It is the same way, I turn my attention towards my son when he has been bullied on and off this year.  It is natural to turn our attention and our hearts to the victims, not to the offender who somehow, someway, turned his feelings of worthlessness, powerlessness, loneliness, self-hatred, anger and self loathing upon others. So why am I focusing on someone who committed such a horrendous act?  Why would I want to help a bully?

It is a not a new saying that “hurt people, hurt people.” And there are a lot of “hurt people” walking around our world.  Thankfully most of them do not unleash their pain on others with semi automatic rifles.  But all we need to do is to look around to see the pain in another’s eyes, the disconnect and loneliness so many people feel who walk upon this earth. Forget loving ourselves, most people don’t even like themselves.  Is this shooter just an extreme example of how many people feel in this world?

In order to stop the hurting, we need to face our own feelings of self-hatred. So many of us search for so much in this life. We search for money, fame, relationships and achievements, yet all of this leads us down a path away from ourselves. So we keep searching and we don’t even know what we are searching for.  And when we come up empty. We drink, we work too much, we become addicted to pain killers, we worry about our weight or how we are aging. We dye, nip, tuck, and hide. And we still come up empty.

What we are searching for cannot be had, obtained or kept. It cannot be stolen. It cannot be taken. It cannot be felt by hurting another.  What we are searching for is love.  More specifically, self-love.

You do not need to be religious or to be in a relationship to understand what it means to feel loved. This is temporary love, the kind that disappears when the person or object goes away. Most never know what that feels like – to love themselves.

What does that even look like?

I saw a post the other day by Anita Moorjani , a woman who became physically sick with cancer, and was given a few days to live. That was ten years ago. The post read, “How well does love thy neighbor as thyself work, if you don’t even love yourself?” How Anita is still alive today? The lymphoma had spread throughout her body, and on the eve of her inevitable passing, she had a near death experience. You can read about it in more detail here, in her book, Dying To Be Me.  Anita defied all medical knowledge. Within weeks her cancer was 50% resolved, and within months, not a trace of cancer found within her body.  The message she received was “Love yourself like your life depends on it, because it does!” She speaks today about the importance of loving ourselves. That is why she is still here.

And I cannot agree more. We need to love ourselves beyond what we think we deserve.  And then when we are spilling over with love, well beyond our expectations, then we give this love away to others, well beyond their wildest expectations.

This is not about becoming self-centered, but performing self-care.  What is the difference? Self-care is about taking good care of our own feelings so we don’t project them onto others, act badly, or cause problems in relationships. Being in touch with our own feelings and embracing them is the healthiest thing we can do. Being honest when we feel jealous, angry or sad. Feel them all and allow them to come and go without lashing out. Self care is about taking care of our hearts, bodies and soul on the deepest level imaginable. Self centeredness or narcissism is an inflated sense of someone’s own importance, a deep need for admiration and a lack of empathy for others. There is a big difference.

Are we loving ourselves enough?

Enough to find time to meditate so we can feel the rhythm of our own breath?

Enough to feed our bodies nutritious foods?

Enough to find balance between work, play and family?

Enough to say no when we are asked to stray from our truth?

Enough to stand up for what we believe even in the face of opposition?

Enough to come out of the closet?

Enough to set boundaries with others, especially those we love?

Enough to be honest with our how feel?

Enough to speak kindly to ourselves?

Enough to realize that we are good enough, just the way we are?

Enough to listen to our bodies when we are thirsty, hungry or tired?

Enough to say to ourselves what we never heard from another?

Enough to love ourselves no matter what we have done, said, or thought?

We Matter.

You Matter.

I Matter.

If we all loved ourselves beyond our expectations, our hearts would be transformed; our lives would be transformed; our world would be transformed.

This is dedicated to anyone who never felt they were good enough. Even those that pulled the trigger.