Bliss in 22 Days

Buy it here: Bliss in 22 Days

“What do you want?”

Emphasis on the want. 

Every new client hears this question during our first meeting. I usually toss my query after hearing the subtext behind actions, and behaviors, and rarely feelings.

Wants. Desires.

We all have them.

Spoiler Alert: 90% of my clients say that want to be happy.

What will make you happy?

Is it getting that promotion you’ve been yearning for? Is it the high-powered vehicle cloaked in your garage? Is it losing those last five pounds?

Yes. Yes, because you’re successful when you’ve reached your goals…you’re happy you have a new promotion so that you can take that Tahitian vacation or pay off your high balance/high percentage school loans…you’re overjoyed as your shiny ponytail whips in the wind during an afternoon convertible drive zooming on desolate roads. . .you’re giddy you can finally fit into your 7-16 denim skinny jeans.

Are these fleeting experiences enough to feel happy?

Happiness…is it experienced intrinsically or extrinsically?

Psychologists have long toyed with the definition and interpretation of the word ‘happy.’  Finding your inner gaiety does not need to be laborious or far-reaching. You just need to change your brain.

Yes. Change it.

Throw out the concept of ‘positive thinking’ and embrace ‘realistic thinking.’  Express gratitude. Maybe you don’t have a glossy Red Monster of gas guzzling endorphins on four wheels parked in your driveway, but you do have a reliable mode of transportation to get you where you need to be. Maybe those over-priced denims are still hanging in the back of your closet, but you do have clothes that fit, are clean and are comfortable.

Yes, I realize I’m presenting you with a ridiculous scale of comparison, but the truth is that ‘happy’ can only be found from within you. Not somebody bringing you flowers, and not the layers of shoes stacked in your closet.

Wants. Desires.

I believe success lies in being happy. Happy with who you are and happy with what you have.

Finding your happy is a process; it’s a journey.

Happiness is perspective, reality and gratitude.

Don't wait to be happy. Don't try to find it in another person.

Happiness is a choice; it can only come from you. 

My journaling workbook will take you through a 22 day process to help you find your joy.

Always finding my happy,

Lesa

Loneliness

Loneliness.

You may have felt it at some point; it’s normal. It’s only a problem when you get the feeling of being trapped in loneliness; suffocated by it. No one can fill that void for you. It becomes a matter of you embracing the solitude and accepting yourself – give yourself time to navigate and learn from the experience and begin to love yourself.

A few tips:

1. Loneliness is a feeling

Your feeling may have become an emotional habit, but chances are this feeling has been triggered by an event that is happening currently or previously. Recognize it, accept it and awaken your power to change how you feel.

2. Be kind.

Be kind to yourself by expressing your wants and desires and choose a way to be kind to others. This action will create a sense of self-worth as you make a positive difference.

3. Identify your faulty thought patterns.

Pay attention to harmful thoughts and replace any negative self-talk with realistic thoughts or affirming messages. Mindfulness, meditation and exercise can also help you center yourself and tune in with your thoughts and feelings.

8. Accept yourself.

You may not love yourself or be ready to love yourself – so accept yourself. You are the only one who is capable of filling the void. Only you are capable of developing yourself. Accept and love yourself first so you do not become dependent on others to fill the void.

L

Loving again

Love Again After the Narcissist = Equals = Loving Yourself First

by Lucy Wright

Loving someone who doesn’t love you back, who is only capable of loving themselves… is like waiting for a ship at the airport.

One of the happiest moments of life is letting go what you can’t change. Let. It. Go. Easier said than done when you’ve devoted yourself to, and tried so hard to love the self-absorbed.

When I was finally out of the marriage – and starting to discover who I was again – I asked my counselor how I would “not do it again.” How would I not find, not be attracted to, and not end up with, ever-ever-ever again, another Narcissist. Would I know the red flags? Being with a Narcissist was all I knew. My father. My NEx. How would I “not do it again.”
“You have to love yourself first” is what I heard.
What? Who? Me? Love Me?
I didn’t understand.

I had been a shell for so long. To remember who I was, I had to forget what he spent so many years telling me to be; what he spent so many years telling me who to be.
I was curious about “moving on” after the ExN, but I made a pact with myself to remain solo – just me, myself and I – for at least six months post getting out of my abusive relationship and having my divorce finalized.

Inwardly I knew I wasn’t ready to date. I was scared of the very thought of even trying to go out and meet a man for a cup of coffee and attempt to carry on any sort of thought-provoking, intelligent conversation. Who was I? What did I like to do? What were my goals? Where did I like to travel? After being told the answers to all of these questions for so long – you are this, we do this, we like to go here but not there – I couldn’t even answer these simple questions for myself, let alone think I might sound interesting to someone else.

Before the relationship with the ExN began, and even during the first few years we were together, I was social. I had confidence. I had a lot of friends. I was smart. I enjoyed reading and keeping up with world events. I kept myself in shape and I enjoyed wearing pink. I felt good.
I smiled.
Throughout the years I was married to N-him, I lost all of that. I had no friends, no confidence, and had to ask for validation and permission before making even the most simple, seemingly obvious decision.
He went to the gym. I stayed home with the kids.
I rarely left the house.
I wore dark sunglasses.
I never smiled.
……………………………
I knew I needed to learn to be Me again. But… who was Me?
……………………………
Fast forward six months when I finally took the leap to go for that cup of coffee. With a man.
I struggled, a lot, but I ended up learning about myself. And eventually I had some fun.
I was slowly figuring out who I was again. It took a long time initially, and the learning is still a work in progress. To this day, so many years later, I continue to struggle, at times, with who I am, who I was before, how I changed so drastically with N-him in order to survive, and how all of that affects me even to this day. Difficulty making decisions? What did I do wrong? Why doesn’t he understand what I’m trying to say? Why do I have so little self-esteem sometimes — still?
I took time to start learning to be me again. I am still learning.
………………………………
I have learned to love myself again after life with a Narcissist But I continue to have “triggers” from my past that cause me to doubt myself sometimes even now.
Bless my current husband for being patient with me. And understanding. Many times I don’t even know what is going to set me off – why I start crying, or what is said that revives some memory in my brain from the past, and causes my walls to go up so quickly.
Real men love you for who you are. They know your baggage, and they still love you anyway. They are caring, gentle and kind. They do not judge. They will never hurt you. They treat you with respect. And by standing by your side, through thick and thin, good and bad, better and worse, you, a survivor of domestic abuse, can finally begin to understand what it means to have trust in someone again… to love someone again.
I am a different person from who I was when abuse was my norm. I want my kids to know that there is no abuse in true, unconditional love.
<3
Learn to love yourself first.
Then find your ship – not the one at the airport – and determine your course forward.
Have some fun.
And when you are ready to…
Trust in Love again with someone else.

He Never Hit Me

A client recently shared this article with me - I wanted to pass it along.

By Reut Amit

Warning: This post contains descriptions of intimate partner abuse and may be triggering to some.
How many times did I find myself on his bathroom floor cowering beneath him, feeling the hot spit land on me as he screamed? Stop crying like a baby. You're crazy. No one else would put up with you. How many times did I shudder on that floor counting my breaths, bringing myself back from the brink of suffocation during a panic attack that was triggered by one of these maniacal and regular assaults? But he never hit me.
How many hours did I remain on that bathroom floor after he had gone to bed, my eyes red with burst blood vessels? How many times did I hear the sound of his snores and realize he had fallen asleep, no more than a meter away, to the sound of me hyperventilating while still in the throes of that panic attack? How many times did I whisper aloud, "How did I get here? How did I become this woman?" How many times did I tell myself to get up, call a cab and walk out the front door? How many times did I get up and look in that mirror and fail to recognize myself? How much hate could I have for the broken woman staring back at me? But he never hit me.
How many times did I crawl into that bed, rather than into a cab, and wake up with his arms around me, telling me that I brought it out in him? He wasn't like this. I made him like this. I needed to change the way I approached him about these things. Be less accusatory. If I just softened my approach, it would allow him to react differently. How many times did I adjust my approach before I realized the only way to avoid the abuse was not to bring it up at all? But he never hit me.
How many emails and text messages did I find? How many parties did we attend knowing that one of the women was there? I learned quickly not to address it so that "I" wouldn't ruin a perfectly nice evening. When his family member asked me if a lipstick she had found under the couch was mine, I threw it away and said nothing more of it. Neither did she. Another humiliation taken in silence. But he never hit me.
How many times did he tell me he was going to sleep, out for dinner with a client, couldn't hear his phone, but actually taking out another woman? How many times did he ignore my calls and call the next morning telling me nothing had happened? It was sadistic. I could see how much he enjoyed being that powerful. How many defamatory lies did he concoct and propagate to my old colleagues and friends when I walked away from him? How many times did he smear my reputation? How many times did I go back, believing every promise that he was a new man, believing every half-hearted apology? But he never hit me.
How many times did a friend pick me up because he had kicked me out of bed in the middle of the night for questioning him about one of the women? How many times did I go back before those friends had had enough. How many times did I defend him and justify his behavior when I told a friend about what he had done? When did I stop telling anyone altogether to avoid the shame of the insanity of the circumstances I was somehow in -- the shame of being a strong independent woman who couldn't take care of herself enough to leave a situation that was so toxic? When did I stop expecting more? But he never hit me.
How could I explain to someone that I believed it was partly my fault, even though I was embarrassed to hear those beaten woman's words spoken from my lips. No one really understood. No one knew him like I did. It was my job to protect him from the truth of what he did to me. I couldn't let them think he was a monster. I wouldn't tell anyone. I was entirely alone. But he never hit me.
My solitude meant that I could no longer see the reflection in other people's eyes indicating what was normal. I could only see the reflection in his eyes and began to believe what he told me about myself. I began to believe his irrational explanations despite my own heart and eyes. I let him define reality. I became isolated. It became easier to cut off my support networks completely than to have to lie about everything. Than to face the humiliation of my reality. A part of me knew that once they knew the extent of what was happening, they would force me to get out for good. I wouldn't be able to go back. I knew I would always need to even in the worst of times. But he never hit me.
I set a benchmark. The red line I wouldn't cross. The minute he hit me, I would leave. But the truth is, I know I wouldn't have left then either. I would have rationalized that in hitting me, he would realize how out of hand things were. Everything would change now. I wouldn't have left. By hurting me, he showed me he loved me. He cared enough to go that crazy. He cared so much that he was overwhelmed by anger or jealousy or sadness and simply couldn't control himself.
When it was over, I wasn't permitted to mourn him. No one could understand how love, hate, fear and comfort could coexist simultaneously. They could not understand that in addition to my abuser, I also lost my confidant, the person to make dinner with, the person to watch movies with on a rainy Sunday, the person to laugh with, the person who knew me. I lost my companion. How can you explain to someone that the abuse was only a part of who he was? How do you explain that to yourself?
There are still days when I remember tender moments and wonder if it really was that bad. I still struggle with reconciling how he could love me to the point of tears and yet hurt me as if I was an enemy. Like a child, I'm learning to redefine the borders of normal behavior and to realign my expectations. I remind myself that acts of violence can never be acts of love.
For the first time, I see my own reflection in other women who have emerged from the depths of such darkness. Indescribably courageous women whom I have never met, but who have shared their stories and in doing so, saved me. These women embraced me with their pain and unknowingly convinced me that I was not alone, that I am worthy of more. I hadn't believed that singular truth in a very long time.
Knowing that others were there has allowed the shame to dissipate. I used to default to the trained belief that I was crazy, overly sensitive or had imagined it all because I could not reconcile the love and the abuse. I have permitted myself to accept that both existed. Their stories have allowed me to forgive myself. To recognize how arbitrary that red line was. Seeing myself in their eyes has allowed me to name my abuser. To name my experience as an abused woman. And then to let go.
I pray now that my words will travel to the broken woman staring back at them and embrace her. I hope they equip her with the strength and love she needs to raise herself from the depths.
Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) for the National Domestic Violence Hotline or visit the National Sexual Assault Online Hotline operated by RAINN.

Self-Care

Perfectionism, self-love, self-nurturance, pressure, self-care.

How often does your focus shift from self-care to self-aloofness?

Too often I see women who should ease up on the pressure to be perfect, the pressure to take care of everyone and everything and forget about the importance of self-nurturing and self-love.

Self-nurturing means more than getting your nails done or ordering a pizza on a Friday night – it’s a path back to your heart.

* Self-care is not optional.

                Running yourself ragged for too long cannot only lead to overeating and symptoms of depression, but it can affect your adrenals creating a problematic health path you don’t want to walk.

*Stay away from drama.

                You get what you put out. If you act in a way that is positive and  {with} minimal drama, you attract the same kind of positive situations and people. ~April Myers

If someone repeatedly comes to you with catastrophes, give yourself a window of time for listening and then take care of your own needs by walking away.

 *Self-care can take minutes

                It’s a myth that you need to spend an entire day pampering yourself.  If you have that mindset then you are likely to  think that you never have time for self-nurturing. Just three minutes before bed to breathe deeply and sit quietly will reap wonderful benefits.

*Self-care is affordable

              An expensive vacation or day spa package is not necessary.   A walk through the park, an Epsom salt bath, or 10 minutes of stretching can go a long way to refresh your body and mind.

*You have the right to practice self-care

                Taking care of everyone and everything else is not a prequesite to taking care of yourself. Self-care gives you the energy and nourishment needed to accomplish greatness.

*Self-care does not mean choosing  between yourself and others.

When you are not taking care of yourself you can end up in a cycle of deprivation leading to  frustration and fatigue. Put your oxygen mask on first before helping those next to you!

L