Three things I learned in 2016

I could have written a post about how well I met (or didn’t, as the case may be) the goals I set in early January, but I doubt my yoga attendance record or attempts to address my tendency for lateness are of much interest to anyone but me. What I’m writing about, instead, is what I’ve learned this year. Because the truth is, the challenges are always more interesting than the wins (right? right?).

Here goes.

Lesson 1: There is no one thing that makes everything perfect

In theory, I already knew this. But I had to experience it again to really understand it. Allow me to explain.

For years I’ve been banging on about how finding a partner is not a magic formula for happiness and purpose, as it’s our sacred responsibility to create these for ourselves. Even though I believed this devoutly, there was still a part of me that believed love would somehow cause some deep transformation that would result in me becoming a better, more confident, altogether more complete person. So when I found myself in a relationship this year, for the first time in many years, guess what happened? Nothing.

I mean, lots of stuff *did* happen – don’t get me wrong, loving someone and being loved in return is wonderful and deeply satisfying, and I am very happy – but it turns out I am still the same person as I was before I met him. I’m still battling insecurities, afraid of my own inadequacy and struggling to find my way in the world. 

Without realising it, I had been looking for the one thing that would make everything perfect. That’s a pretty familiar MO for me, actually. Over the years such searches have included: cutting out gluten (it will make me feel so much better!), taking overseas trips (it will help me find myself!) and lastly, meeting someone who would sense in me something special, something that I wanted so badly to be there… and was terrified was not.

A relationship, it turns out, does not so much fill the gaps in yourself as much as expose new ones. This is as true about love as it is about losing weight and getting a new job. Changing yourself has little to do with changing your circumstances, and significantly more to do with changing your thoughts and beliefs. And gratitude, always gratitude. There is no one thing, and there is no perfect. The best work I’ve done in terms of my personal growth, this year and all years, had nothing to do with any other human. And that’s as it should be.

Lesson 2: It’s OK if people don’t share my opinions or beliefs

I don’t know when or how this happened, but sometime during the year I stopped giving a fuck about how people responded to what I do. I used to avoid discussing One Grounded Angel, fearing the disapproval of others. This did me an enormous disservice, and possibly also others who might have needed some of the messages I was passing on. I suspect this reticence to be seen diminished in direct proportion to my sureness about the value of the information I’m passing on.

Of course, the more ‘visible’ I became, the more I became exposed to criticism and negative opinions. My viewpoint on such matters has always been this: what other people believe in is none of my business. I won’t say it doesn’t upset me when people post messages telling me what I do is bullshit but I would like to think I’m better at not taking that personally. This is the mantra I intend to carry into 2017: I do not need the approval of people who do not approve of me (that’s a life lesson from George Michael, by the way).

Lesson 3: I have failed, but I am not a failure

I wrote about this at length in a June blog post (read it here) so I’ll keep this to a brief summary. I had to change tack halfway through the year, as my reiki practice rooms failed to attract enough clients to be profitable. This stung. I felt personally inadequate, as if this lack of success were an indictment on my own worthiness. It took a period of healing and gradual acceptance for me to realise that this was not the case. This failure does not make me a failure.

Everything has played out exactly as it was supposed to. I don’t know why just yet, and maybe I never will, but I do know that venture was not meant to be. And that must mean something better is coming.

2017, I’m ready.

Are you playing small? Make this the year you stop settling for less

Last week I was talking with a friend of mine about a mutual friend of ours who has, to put it bluntly, settled for less than she is worth. She is in a relationship with a man who is unable to be authentic with her. He lied about his job when they met, even going to the extent of borrowing a mate’s work uniform when he met her, to carry off the illusion of this career fantasy he had constructed, and went to some effort regaling fake work stories. He only came clean when she found a pay slip in his drawer – some months into their relationship – revealing his employment reality to be much less grandiose than he had claimed. Hardly a solid foundation for a healthy relationship. Yet, for reasons I am not privy to (and nor should I be), she went on to marry him.

When I reflected later on this conversation, I realised that I, too, have settled.

It’s not my place to judge anyone for their romantic choices – particularly given my own gloriously ugly history in this department. But while I respect her right to make her own choices, those choices bother me – even though, as noted, it is none of my damn business. Her choices bother me because it appears to me – from my privileged position on the outside with no understanding of what it’s *actually* like inside that relationship – that she has settled.

I do understand the desire to settle.

Where I grew up, the pressure to get married and produce children was so intense that many times in my 20s I wondered whether it would be easier to just pick a not-right-but-not-wrong guy to achieve the appearance of a successful life, instead of hedging my bets on the possibility (wait make that PROBABILITY!)  that I will meet a man who I connect with on a deep level. I didn’t choose to settle but I’d be lying if I didn’t occasionally regret that. But as the wise Elizabeth Gilbert is fond of noting, the safe option is not actually safe (in this case because it would lead to a lifetime of dissatisfaction and regret).

The word ‘settle’ is a big one for me. Not long after the aforementioned conversation, a very dear friend, the gorgeous blogger Glitter Is My Favourite Colour, sent me a poem that she thought might resonate with me (she was right – it did). I’ll copy it below, but to give you a quick overview, it’s all about stepping out of mediocrity to follow your own path. What stood out to me most strongly was the word ‘settle’. Even though I have not settled in love, there are areas of my life – I now realise – in which I am settling.

When you settle, you say to the Universe: I’m not willing to reach for the amazingness I deserve, I’ll take ‘good enough’. There are all sorts of reasons we might do that, but mostly they come back to fear of failure and lack of appreciation for just how powerful and worthy of greatness we are.

Being honest with myself, I’ve realised there are a couple of friendships in which I’m doing all the work (making the contact, organising the catch-ups) and getting nothing back. This has really been bothering me lately. It bothers me because I’m settling for friendships in which the other person is not emotionally invested nor even particularly interested in participating in. Healthy friendships are a two-way street – and I have a lot of these in my life, which I’m very grateful for. These other friendships are doing nothing but zapping my time and energy. As the meme declares: ain’t nobody got time for that.

I’m also settling in a professional sense. I’m not pitching for meaty stories that would be stretch me and bring me greater satisfaction. I’m not stepping forward with my spiritual business because I’m terrified it will fail. I’m not addressing my volatile financial state because I’m scared I will be poor my entire life. These are all areas that need my attention. They are not easy to fix, but I think shifting the unhealthy mindset behind them is a very good place to start.

The Universe brought this to my attention, I believe, because I’ve been asking for guidance on how I can push forward and expand this year. The message I’m receiving is: don’t settle. Sure, unsatisfying friendships and limited professional development may not appear to be hampering my life in a larger sense, but they kinda are, because through these choices I’m sending the messages that I don’t believe I deserve more.

I do deserve more – and so do you. It’s time to start acting like it.

*Here’s a portion of that poem:

You. Go, now – into the lush, emerald forest of who you really are. Find yourself. Discover your gifts. Share your gritty magic with the world. Follow the promising path of your courageous destiny. Go – Now. Do not settle for an empty half-life. Do not settle for good enough. Do not settle for anything less than exquisite or extraordinary. Oh, sweet wise, wild woman – do not settle – At all.

Source: Elephant Journal.

The year 2015 – it was good for me. Was it good for you?

Tis the season for an onslaught of New Year ‘Imma change everything’ status updates and extreme healthy eating promises that will be long forgotten by February.

I’m guilty of the same.

Almost every year, an editor will commission me to write a feature about how people can make their New Year resolutions last, and I dutifully interview an expert who will utter proclamations about goals that are ‘achievable’, ‘realistic’ and ‘meaningful’ – great guidelines that I never take on board myself. Every December I find myself taking stock of my life and making plans for how I can improve myself. And every December I find myself reaching more or less the same conclusion: the most significant changes in the year were the ones I did not intend to happen. The significant growth I’ve made this year has been a byproduct rather than a direct result of any actions I took.

Here were my nine (wait, what?!) goals for 2015, and an assessment of how they went:

LEARN REIKI. I did it! I’m now a fully qualified (and practising) reiki practitioner.

One Grounded Angel's display at the Festival Of Dreams.

BUILD MY BLOG WITH THREE POSTS A WEEK. I started off well, but by about June I realised how demanding this was, and I pulled back to once or twice a week, which I’ve maintained successfully. But the blog has definitely grown steadily, along with my social media audience, so I’m calling this a win.

MORE FUN. Having realised how out of balance my life was, I decided to lock in one fun activity a month. This is the sad reality of being a busy adult – fun has to be scheduled. This started off brilliantly. I went indoor trampolining. I hired a bike and rode along an unfamiliar stretch of coastline. I said yes to weekends away with people I did not know. I used my tax refund to book a trip to New York (finally!). But when the weather got colder I stopped making this a priority. It’ll be a focus for 2016 too, but in a less regimented format.

DO YOGA ONCE A WEEK. I kept this up for most of the year – and really benefited from it – until I went on holiday in August and never really went back. I want to commit to this again.

DO MORE PROFESSIONAL ANGEL CARD READINGS. Nailed it.

WRITE TWO SHORT STORIES (FICTION). I wrote one (which isn’t too shabby) and started another (which had good framework but I lost enthusiasm for it). I’d like to at least get this partial story completed. Not for the story itself but because the process of making time for creativity benefits me on so many levels.

I made it to New York! Here I am at the Empire State Building.

GET THREE WORTHY FEATURES PUBLISHED. I set this goal because the stories I’d been writing (for work) were mediocre, and I wanted to write stories that align with my overarching goal of purpose of helping people live more meaningful lives. I managed to do two features that fit this goal, and have been commissioned to write for another in 2016. A partial win.

DO MORE VOLUNTEER WORK. Fail. I have continued volunteering at a retirement home one Saturday a week but did not take on anything extra. This is also worth revisiting in 2016.

IMPROVE MY RELATIONSHIP WITH MYSELF. I set this goal because my self-esteem was stupidly low, and I knew that the only way I could improve my relationships with others was to improve my relationship with myself. Initially I had a goal to write down two things I liked about myself at the end of the day and put them into a jar. This lasted about three months before I lost interest in this project. Then I set out to say three uplifting affirmations to myself in the mirror every morning, but this, too, fell by the wayside (is anyone else seeing a pattern here?!).

New Year's Day 2015.

Even though I abandoned this last resolution, I think it’s the area in which I’ve grown most – and that happened when I focused on other things. I took a risk and started a new business which required me to back myself, and to stand out as a healer (which was an uncomfortable but rewarding experience). I made an effort to build friendships instead of hiding myself away due to fear of rejection. I did work on forgiving myself for choices I’ve made in the past and forgiving others that have hurt me, which helped me find peace. I made a conscious effort, towards the end of the year, to embrace my individuality instead of constantly comparing myself to others and feeling like a failure because I do not have the things that they have (or appear to have – and I still have more work to do in this area). All of these things have helped bring me to a point of friendship with myself. That is my lasting legacy of 2015. And as I think about my goals for 2016, I’m more aware that whether I succeed or fail at them won’t much matter. Yes it’s important to extend myself and deepen my connection with my soul, my people and my work, but the growth is what happens in the spaces between. 

Nobody wants to feel vulnerable. But everybody needs to. Here's why

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you’re at school or work, and suddenly you look down and realise you’re completely naked? That sensation of feeling exposed has been a constant for me since I started this blog, and I’m starting to realise that that’s a good thing.

Renowned vulnerability and shame researcher Brene Brown talks about a ‘vulnerability hangover’ – that stomach-churning feeling of dread that occurs when you’ve revealed more of your true self than you have before, and now you feel emotionally exposed, ashamed and probably full of self-loathing. You’ve shattered the façade of coolness and competency, revealed your authentic self, and in doing so have put yourself up for judgment and potential ridicule.

Perhaps you texted someone asking if they’d like to go on a date, and they haven’t replied. Maybe you told your workmates about your battle with post-natal depression and they hurriedly changed the subject. Perhaps you started a blog where you outlined your deepest fears, your slightly left-of-field spiritual beliefs and all the things that make you different. (Um, hello!)

I think you can see where I’m going with this. 

Depending on the type of content, I get a massive vulnerability hangover almost every time I post on this blog, and it can last for days. I've penned some very personal stories in this space, and in one instance, the exposure factor made me felt so yucky that I could not bear to publish that post for two days. Eventually I did, because I knew that would help me destabilise my fears… but I can’t tell you how sick I felt about it. 

There aren’t enough hash browns in all of McDonald’s to ease a vulnerability hangover.

Brene Brown has dedicated her academic career to teaching us why allowing ourselves to be vulnerable is an act of strength, not of weakness, and it can transform the human experience. She is incredible – seriously, if you see only one TED talk in your lifetime, make it this one... there’s a good reason it’s one of the most viewed talks on the channel. Brene writes that being encased in a self-protective shell hampers the extent to which we can grow and fully experience life – the way we love, belong, trust, feel joy and express creativity, etc – in all its uncertain glory.

Being vulnerable is not, by the way, the same as revealing details about yourself in a bid to get attention or sympathy. Celebrities are not making themselves vulnerable when they post nude pictures or TMI details about their health; they are only revealing the extent of their low self-esteem and need for validation.

Back to my own vulnerability hangover. I am happy to report that, so far, I have lost no friends as a result of making myself vulnerable on this blog, and I am not aware of anyone slagging me off (although I can’t rule it out).

Actually, some wonderful things have happened. I am more (quietly) confident and more self-assured. I am less controlling of my own and other people’s behaviours, less afraid of judgment, less afraid of isolation, and less afraid of all the one thousand and one things that could go wrong at any given moment. I don't think that is solely due to the blog; I've been doing a lot of work on improving my low self-esteem and I'm sure that has been a major contributor. But being vulnerable, I am realising, is an essential part of growth, and by doing so I have strengthened my relationship with myself. By forcing out of the shadows the sense of shame that I had held at my core, I am seeing myself in a more compassionate, more accepting light. I feel like I am starting to become the person I was supposed to be all along but had not felt safe enough to let myself be. 

It has also transformed my relationships with others. In the process of opening myself up and revealing unflattering details about myself, I have forged deeper connections with people already in my life, and established common ground with strangers. And in that process, many of these people have revealed the rawness of their humanity to me, too. People’s pain. People’s insecurities. People’s fragility. I am seeing old friends in a brave new light. I have once again been reminded that though we are different, we really are all the same.

None of this was the purpose of my blog, but it is a better outcome than I could have expected.

There’s a sentence by lyrical US writer Andrew Solomon that I scrawled in the front page of my diary at the start of this year and I come back to it every time I need to be reminded of my inherent value. It’s the closest thing to a life motto I have. It reads: “If you can give language to experiences previously starved for it, you can make the world a better place.”

Through this blog I am making my world a better place. I can't help you or anyone else make your own world better – that job belongs to you – but if me writing about my journey of personal growth prompts you to ask yourself new and pressing questions about what you stand for, where you are going and how you might be keeping yourself hidden, my ongoing vulnerability hangover might *just* have been worth it.

It still feels yucky though.

On necessary heartbreak

"You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens."

I’ve never met a Rumi line I didn’t love, and this sentence is one of my absolute favourites. It reminds me of a quote I read last year by the peerless Cheryl Strayed. Someone had written a letter to her ‘Dear Sugar’ advice column (BTW if you’re not familiar with the Dear Sugar series, you are truly missing out) asking what advice she would give to her twentysomething self.
Her characteristically eloquent response included reference to her decision to divorce her husband in her mid-twenties. She had still loved him, but even though she could not say why, she knew she didn’t belong in the relationship anymore. Cheryl closed with this quote, which I have loved ever since and never forgotten: “Be brave enough to break your own heart.”

When I first read this, it leaped off the page and dug its steely fingers around my own silently shattering heart. You know that feeling, I know you do. Something resonates with you so strongly you’re sure it was written just for you, just for that moment. It is the truest thing of all the true things that have ever been before. At the time I was in the process of completely uprooting my life in New Zealand and moving to Australia for no good reason other than the fact that I could not stay. And no matter how many times people asked me why I was leaving, I could not produce a better answer than “I need a change” – as if this were sufficient to justify the wrench of leaving all the people I loved. If you’re going to leave behind the people who define you, bolster you and imbue your life with so much meaning, you’d want to have a very good reason. I didn’t. Staying meant stagnation, but leaving meant losing so much. I knew ultimately that I would gain in the long run, but in that moment, surrounded by boxes, Customs forms and piles of the objects that had amounted to my life in Auckland, I could only see the losses.

You must be strong enough to break your own heart. Friends, I held these words to my chest and I repeated them at 2am when fear and despair kept me from sleep. I uttered them when I found myself shaking in the toilets at work and in the evenings when I ran out of tissues to collect my tears. These words reminded me that I had to do the thing I did not want to do – even though it made no sense - and proffered the dimmest promise of finding hope on the other side.

We do not grow when we stay stuck, we grow when we take risks and follow our instincts, even when common sense and peer pressure do not support us in those actions. I broke my own heart and I found – as I had suspected it would – that the being strong made me even stronger. It was the right thing and the best thing to do, and it was worth all the tears and all the despair.

My affection for Cheryl’s prose is matched only by my adoration of Rumi, and I firmly believe there is Rumi line for every occasion. On the subject of necessary heartbreak, he offers this: “The wound is the place where the light enters.”

And where light enters, growth happens.

(That last sentence is mine, but you can use it.)

Have you ever broken your own heart? I’d like to give you a high-five. And a hug. Because that is an act of bravado, not to mention self-love. Email me your story here.