In nightmares there is often no escape, a concept that adds to their terror. We are stuck, desperate to save ourselves or a loved one until the nightmare runs its course, releasing its grip on our mind. Yet sometimes, when struggling to endure our greatest fears, we have the power to just stop and say, I can just wake up. And just like that, the nightmare is over.

That feeling of awareness, power and relief is how I can best describe the choice to meditate.

Our minds act on auto pilot bombarding us with imagined crises, worries, and to-do lists to which there seems no escape. But unlike nightmares that do eventually cease, these thoughts stay with us, running in the background of every single thing we do, distracting us from tasks, conversations, pleasurable moments… the present moment. Waking up from the conscience daymare is harder than the unconscious nightmare, but with practice we can learn to simply wake up, and just like that, it can all fade away, just like the remnants of a nightmare.

All it takes is practice.

I have recently renewed my meditation practice with vigor and already, I feel different. I am more attentive: to myself, my tasks, others; I am significantly calmer; I crave peace, within myself and with others.

Meditation requires nothing but a willingness to try. If you think you need a serene space with the perfect incense, you are terribly mistaken. Right now at your desk, on the sofa, or on the train, you can choose to close your eyes. Breathe. Note the breath, count it if that helps to anchor your mind. Feel the sensation; be in this moment. Nothing in the whole world requires your attention this minute except your breath. When a thought occurs to you, acknowledge it and simply send it away, returning your attention to your breath. Breathe…

Open your eyes. How do you feel?

Practicing meditation gives our over-active minds a much needed break, a chance to quiet the incessant thought-process that jumps with the agility and haphazardness of a flea in a shelter.

Emptying your mind is damn near impossible. What I have found useful is imagining myself on a train platform. The trains represent my thoughts. I am aware of them as they speed by, but I do not board them. When I catch myself riding a train, I do not wait for it to stop, but jump off in a very Indiana Jones sort of way, tuck and roll, and take my place once again on the quiet platform with a playful smile on my lips. Sometimes I like to imagine myself lying on a grassy hill on a beautiful summer day. The lidded darkness behind my eyes brightens with the imagined sun and a slight breeze rustles the leaves on the nearby trees. The clouds are my thoughts. I watch them as they drift by, but do not allow them to take shape. When I catch myself riding a cloud, I immediately jump off abandoning the thought, and float back down to the ground and my body.

It is one thing for your mind to wander to dinner, but quite another to allow your mind to meal-plan for an entire week. With practice, you will learn to catch your thoughts before they wander too far from home.

This blog is about my journey to becoming a gentler, happier, and more compassionate woman. The terrain is incredibly rocky and uneven. Meditation is my new walking stick.

If you are interested in beginning your own practice, and I certainly hope you are, here are some resources I have found helpful:

1. The Calm app – 7 day guided introduction practice, soothing sounds, meditation timer, guided meditations
2. Zen Habits blog – I have linked to the “start” page where you can browse the most popular posts

There are also countless articles on meditation that are helpful, but remember, research can be a form of procrastination. You can close your eyes right now and just breathe…

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I always wanted to be a surfer. I was obsessed with surfing when I was younger, but I was 17 the last time I tried it. For 15 years I daydreamed about surfing again – rubbing my hand along the rails of boards in surf shops, sitting on surfing only beaches longing to be out in the line-up. Finally, at age 32, I had enough of the daydreaming and went surfing again.

I always wanted to be a real swimmer. I love to swim but didn’t feel comfortable getting into a pool and swimming laps due to my lack of proper form. Over the years, I checked out pools to join and never did. I’d gaze at the crystal clear water, longing to feel fluid as I skirted along the bottom. Finally, after the 2012 Summer Olympics, I had enough of the longing and signed up for private adult swim lessons at my gym to give me the boost of confidence I needed.

I always wanted to go kayaking. I had no kayak and no one to go with, so I sought both out. My very first kayaking trip many years ago was with a total stranger through the Pine Barrens of New Jersey and I loved it.

I always wanted to be a professional writer, so I joined a writing group and surrounded myself with writers, taking advantage of the wealth of knowledge provided. Not only have I met amazing people, but I have become a better writer, and had the pleasure of co-editing “Reading Glasses“, a collection of short stories, one of them my own. I am closer to my dream than ever before.

I always wanted to make sugar cookies, a seemingly small dream, I know, but still a dream. Every year I would research recipes, print them out and never make them. I think I was intimidated, but every year there was that nagging urge to make sugar cookies. Finally, I made them this past December. And they were wonderful.

What have you always wanted to do? Think about it for a moment.

I try to catch myself whenever I exclaim “I always wanted to do that!” and assess if it’s something I can go ahead and do.

I read an article recently where the author suggested bucket lists add pressure to our lives and increased sadness and regret. I disagree. I think it is important to be mindful of things we long to do or see, or places we long to go because when suffering the daily grind, it is easy to forget our dreams. A life without dreams is a life without goals, and that life seems very sad to me, indeed.

Many dreams, like making sugar cookies, only require a few dollars, a dedicated few hours of time, and some optimism. Is it possible that you, too have been delaying a very achievable dream from coming true?

As for the surfing, kayaking, and South Jersey Writers’ Group (SJWG), I had the help of Meetup. If you’re not familiar, Meetup is a website consisting of “meetups” for almost anything you can imagine all created by people like you and me who wanted to do something and wanted a group to do it with. When I went surfing last summer, I met up with two very nice strangers, one of whom had arranged rentals and a lesson. All I had to do was show up. The same with the kayaking. The organizer lent me the use of a spare kayak and instructed me. Meetup is also where I found the SJWG and I cannot imagine my life without this amazing network of people.

If not having someone to do something with has been holding you back, then you no longer have an excuse. If by some chance there isn’t a meetup for what you want to do, then start one. I am certain there is someone out there who wants to do what you do. If money has been holding you back, then save.

Last summer, going surfing, I was literally living one of my dreams. Writing this blog and having so many wonderful readers, I am living one of my dreams. Next weekend I will make sugar cookies again and I will be living one of my dreams. Every time I drop into the pool, peel my swim cap over my head, adjust my goggles and push off the wall, I am living a dream.

What dream will you decide to realize today?

I don’t believe that people can change. A sapling doesn’t change into a tree; it grows into a tree if cared for properly. If not, its growth is stunted. Rather than changing, I believe we grow into ourselves; like a sapling into a strong tree, becoming more what we were born to be, as we care for ourselves and reach our true potential.

I am growing. I feel it in my limbs. There are all these little amazing things, so small no one else would notice, that I am feeling, observing, and that are happening. Like a tree at the very beginning of spring, tiny specks of growth are budding everywhere.

Although people can’t change, they have the power to change their stories. Heatherash Amara writes in Warrior Goddess Training that transformation starts with how we use our words – how we speak our story to ourselves and others.

“Each word we choose can hold the vibration of healing, peace, and love, or be brimming with fear, victimization, and judgment.”

I am going to tell you a very personal story that I have been telling myself for a very long time:

Your dad doesn’t love you. He is ashamed of you, even though he knows hardly anything about you, and he doesn’t care to get to know you. He doesn’t talk about you and he rarely thinks about you. Seeing him brings nothing to your life but a week of heartache and tears. There are two people in the world who are more or less obligated to love you, and there must be something wrong with you if your father doesn’t.

It’s a sad story. It’s made me cry hundreds of times, and has made me feel great sorrow for the little girl in the story who grew up without a father’s love never feeling like a princess and that she was the most important little girl in the whole world; without that one man who would do absolutely anything for her that she could always count on.

A little over three years ago I decided not to speak to my dad anymore. I did it for me, to spare me from additional hurt and disappointment. It was a good choice at the time. I didn’t have any other tools at my disposal.

But now I do.

I saw my dad for the second time in three years last week. I knew in advance that I might see him. The second the thought occurred to me, it was gone. No trepidation, no anxiety, nothing at all. It wasn’t until I saw the back of his head that I remembered I might see him. Oh, there he is, I thought.

Once we met up, I observed and interacted with him, calm and composed. Nothing he said upset me, except his own self-deprecating humor – it was sad. I gave him a hug goodbye, and went on my way. Be it maturity, new tools, compassion or something else… it was that afternoon that my story began to re-write itself. I realized that he couldn’t hurt me anymore. It was my own attachments to my own idea of what a father/daughter relationship should be that had been hurting me for nearly 30 years. I thought that by not having his doting love, there was a part of me that didn’t grow right, that I would forever be a member of the Daddy Issues club, that I was left with a twisted, rotted limb that dangled dangerously in the wind and I’d never be whole or beautiful.

Later that night, I received a text message from my dad about a surfing movie he had watched and thought I would enjoy. One thing my dad does know about me is my passion for surfing and love of the ocean. He did think of me…

Since seeing my dad, new growth has formed and new words have graced the pages of the previous story. I have decided to let go of my expectations once again and work on accepting my dad for who he is and our relationship for what it is, not what I wished it would be, even if it means talking once a year instead of not at all.

I am going to rewrite the story. The next chapter will begin with a phone call to my dad, inviting him to dinner.

This past week a theme has emerged in my life, smoothing the shards of heartbreak, like the long-awaited spring has softened the edge of winter.

I awoke on Monday morning fatigued from restless sleep. Sitting up, the recollection of upsetting events the day before hit me, pushing me back down in defeat. Curling up, tears fell from my eyes.

Everything is going to be okay, came my own voice, but soft, gentle. You can do this.

All day this loving voice encouraged me. Feeling fragile in the past, I’d chip away at myself, forcing the break. This time, I was treating myself with care, avoiding further damage, seeking out that which would reinforce me, like a walk with a supportive friend, nutritious food, exercise, keeping busy.

After writing about not loving myself the night before, I began to think I may have been wrong because here I was treating myself the way I would someone I care for.

That night I wanted to curl into bed early, having used all my strength getting through the day. But again came the voice. Yoga will be good for you.

When the teacher came around with a deck of cards fanned out, I reached with my non-dominant left hand, my receiving hand, for a bright yellow corner. Looking down at the vibrant card holding my intention for the evening’s practice was a woman, a sunflower growing out of her cupped hands. The card read, “Are you taking care of yourself? If not, begin your self-care practice today.” The Universe had intervened again, sending me what I needed.

That night in bed, propped up, not curled up, I made a list of all the ways in which I cared for myself that day. It totaled nine items. Settling in for the night, I prayed, placing my fears and worries in God’s hands. I slept soundly.

Throughout the rest of the week, I continued to care for myself the way I would a friend or a child. There were times it was like caring for a child. Wednesday I craved the comfort of food, an emotional and self-destructive response that has been my inclination since my teenage years (or longer). Okay, one piece of chocolate. No, no, don’t cry. Two pieces. But then you must clean your room.

All week long I took my time, making one sandwich at a time, a tool I learned applies to much more than just anxiety. I do care for me. I was wrong when I said that in order to love myself I must eliminate all the things I don’t like about myself. All I need to do is to continue to care for myself; which is ultimately an act of compassion, love and affection.

Were you loved enough?

That is a very tough subjective question, I know. What defines enough? Can there ever really be enough when it comes to love?

My dog, Cooper is snoring beside me right now and the sound is to me what a baby’s laughter is to a new parent. When it comes to my feelings for this mustachioed, four-legged love of my life, there is no room for growth. My heart grew three sizes the day I met him, nearly making my chest explode. He has taught me more about the human capacity for love than any romance movie or relationship ever could. That is because he taught me what unconditional love is.

Love is a human need. Once our physiological and safety needs are fulfilled, we seek a sense of belonging, interpersonal relationships, and love. Without it, we don’t grow right, like a sunflower in the shade.

We spend our lives throwing the word “love” around; craving it, seeking it, feeling it; giving it. We love siblings, ice cream, parents and pets; snow days, pizza, spouses and brunettes.

But are you loved enough?

I want to be loved so deeply and so hard that a magical whirlwind of sparkles forms within my chest collecting every shattered fragment of my heart, piecing it back together. I want to be loved so much that it makes up for every single time I wasn’t. I want a love that I never have to fear losing. I want unconditional love for the rest of my life.

This is a tall order.

Cooper loves me unconditionally. He is also a dog and a fool who will not live the rest of my life, assuming I stick around a while. I say he is a fool because I am not who he thinks I am. I wish I was, but I’m not. I am broken and imperfect.

I haven’t been loved enough. But am I even worthy of such love that I seek? Aren’t we taught not to ask for things we’re not willing to give? I can’t give myself the love I seek. How often do you love yourself?

I have looked in the mirror, right into my own eyes, and said, “I hate you.” I know how to love, and I’m not just referring to the love for my dog. I love many people. I have loved flawed, broken people with the intensity that I wish to be loved with. I have looked into their eyes and found the perfection, and said the words, and meant it.

I have looked into the mirror, into my own eyes, found nothing but imperfection, said, “I don’t love you,” and meant it.

Why is it so hard to love ourselves? If we can’t love ourselves, why should anyone else? I can hardly take a compliment. Last night I told a friend he looked great when I greeted him and he kissed my cheek and said, “so do you!”. I said, “Ugh, no I don’t. I got so fat.” Why did I do that? I stopped myself and apologized and said “thank you”. If I can’t even take a compliment, is it any wonder I have trouble believing I deserve to be loved.

We need love to grow right. Are we really at the mercy of our parents, family, friends, lovers, spouses to love us enough? Is our growth really forever stunted if we weren’t? Can they ever really love us enough to make up for how we really feel about ourselves? What happens when people stop loving us? Love is the sun. Without it, we droop and shrivel. Why should anyone love me if I cannot even love myself? Only one person can love me the way I want to be loved, forever and unconditionally, and it’s me.

I do not hate myself anymore, but I barely like myself. In some ways, I am like a somewhat annoying acquaintance to myself that I have some respect for and who I sometimes have a good time with, but mostly try to avoid. To love myself is the pie in the sky dream – it’s the goal. To be forgiving and gentle and kind and to look in the mirror when my heart is broken and my eyes are red and swollen and smile at myself and say “I love you”.

For now, I just want to like me again.

See this little girl?

I love her. She is beautiful and fun, confident and free. She is bold and adventurous, innocent and honest.

I used to be her.

I no longer identify with her; she is a completely separate person whom I love because I admire so much in her. Isn’t that how we begin to fall in love? We see things in someone that we admire? Their smile, their intelligence, the way they use words, the way they make us feel when we are around them, like we can be a better person. She makes me want to be a better person. Several people I love make me want to be a better person. I want to be worthy of their love. I want to make this little girl, and the people I love, proud to love me back.

In order to be able to look at myself in a mirror and be able to say the words, “I like you”, I will need to eliminate things I don’t like about myself. When I set out on this journey, I have aimed to be more loving and kind, gentle and compassionate to other people. Only a little of that has spilled over in my own direction.

Being at war with myself has been so exhausting. I need to work harder at being someone I am proud of; someone I admire. Maybe then I could learn to love myself and receive love from others.

Life is a lot like yoga; one long pose. In yoga, it is very important to check in with yourself. Are you aligned properly? Are you breathing? Can you reach a little further, or should you pull back? Is your forehead furrowed? Are you smiling?

Nearly 20% into 2015, I think it is a good time to check in and make adjustments. There is still so much time for corrections to be made. And on the other hand, enough time has passed that maybe you need to take a moment to smile at your accomplishments.

Going back to my New Year post, the following were my goals for 2015:

I am going to continue on this journey, learning and growing, wherever it takes me. This includes practicing compassion, bravery, opening my heart, letting go, living in the moment, and ultimately working toward being a gentler, happier and more peaceful woman.

I live and breathe this goal. If I had a personal mission statement, this would be it. It is also almost impossible to gauge in terms of failure and successes. I can only say with 100% truth that I am learning, in every way imaginable. After cracking the nut on my suffering, I often feel fragile. I am seeing more, feeling more, contemplating more. I have literally opened myself up to this. Gone are the days of denial and ignorance and blind acceptance. Some days I feel really sad; understanding can be heart-breaking. But I rather feel this, and everything else I am feeling, than go back to how I felt last year.

Every night I am going to write down my single happiest moment of the day and drop it into my Happiness Jar in order to practice living in the moment, self-awareness, and also so that I do not forget these amazing moments.

Although there were days that I needed to get caught up, I am happy to report that my happiest moment of every day so far in 2015 is on a folded up piece of paper in my happiness jar. It is comforting. It helps me practice living more consciously, and to be more appreciative of my daily gifts. There have been a few days, like yesterday unfortunately, where I felt certain that I experienced not one happy moment. From start to finish it was just one of those days filled with struggle and heartache. But I got through it. Simply reminding myself that my success rate for getting through terrible, no good, very bad days is still 100% helped. That thought brought me a little bit of peace and made its way onto a scrap of paper. I also have Cooper’s enthusiastic greeting to fall back on, something that always warms my heart. The happiness jar was a wonderful decision.

I am going to practice yoga and meditation more consistently.

I have certainly practiced more this year than last. Certainly room for more practice, though. I do love it very much. The positive effects of both are instantaneous.

I am going to lose weight! The goal is 56 pounds. I am also going to STOP counting calories. I have been doing it for five years and have gained weight. It clearly is no longer working. Time to let go of the wall, trust my knowledge, and stop obsessing over food.

I have lost 8 pounds so far this year. Is that where I wanted to be by now? No, not at all.

It has been one of the coldest February’s in New Jersey on record, making getting out of bed at 5:00 am for the gym more difficult than usual. I was also sick for a third of the month. Are these excuses? Yes, absolutely. The word “excuse” in this context has a very negative connotation. I hate excuses. I’m sort of a no-excuse, no nonsense kind of woman. It doesn’t mean though that there isn’t some validity in my excuses. I am practicing being more loving and gentle to not only others, but myself. That being said, yes, it was cold, and yes, I was sick, but I could have done better. And although I could have done better, I am still proud of myself for losing 8 pounds, because that should not be diminished. So I will use “excuse” in its other context too and say: I acknowledge that I did the best I could and excuse myself for not having achieved more weight loss so far this year. I will try harder the remaining months of the year.

I am going to quit smoking cigarettes once and for all! This habit is not in line whatsoever with the person I want to be.

On 12/31/14, I was a smoker. It was also the last day I was a smoker. I haven’t touched a cigarette in any way, shape, or form since 2014, and even if this turns out to be my only achievement this year, I could live with that because this is an enormous, life-changing victory. I never loved myself much, and that makes me sad. But quitting smoking has been an act of pure love; it has nothing to do with anyone, but me, and what I decided to do for me. I like the way it feels and I know my future me’s eyes are watering with pride and gratitude looking at present me.

I love you, too, future me.

Submit three stories, essays, etc. to professional publications.

Wrapping up a freelance editing job, then working on my first article.

Tighten/re-evaluate my finances and spending – live more frugally.

This was my goal, and quite fortuitously, the Minimalism Game just reinforced it and took it a step further. I played all of January and February and tossed/recycled/donated/sold a grand total of 902 items! You can read more about my experience here.

Minimalism and frugality go hand in hand and tossing so many items helped me become much more choosy about what I spend my money on and bring into my house. I am doing very well living within my means, thank you very much.

This is where I’m at and I’m good with it. I feel no need to remove a goal or add another one at this time. Life has recently thrown me a few more challenges and I need to listen to my body. Yin Yoga has taught me a lot about extending just enough. In yin yoga, you hold poses for five minutes, with the goal being to deepen into each posture over time. Start out too strong and you will experience pain and need to ease off. You want to ease into the posture, opening your joints slowly, only taking on more when you’re ready.

If you feel ready to deepen into the posture known as life, please know that you don’t have to wait for a new year, a new month, new week or even a new day to make goals or self-correct. You can quit smoking right this moment, you can start a happiness jar today, you can [insert any of 10 million possible goals here].

Whatever your goals may be, just remember to check in with yourself, and to make adjustments where necessary.

I thrive when I accomplish lots of little things every day and pro-actively work toward my goals. I am at my best when I am exercising regularly, eating right, organized and prepared, and my house is neat. I feel good physically and mentally; my days are full, long and productive. I could remove trash from all the oceans with a pool skimmer, given the time and resources.

I had been on a fairly consistent roll for 2015, until I hit my first heavy hurdle that appeared in the form of a nine day sickness. I fought valiantly, but was defeated, and left laid out exhausted with sinus pain that made the simple act of seeing difficult.

In the big scheme of things, this is a small hurdle, I know. Hurdles come in all shapes, sizes and durations, but they are all setbacks and have the potential to cause us to slow down, back up, trip, or severely fall. Getting up again after a hurdle can be really challenging because while you’re holding your skinned knee, eyes clenched, whistling through your teeth in pain, a mountain grows in front of you. All the tasks, e-mails, looming deadlines, laundry, mess, missed workouts and unhealthy convenience foods create a ball that rolls through the days you’re sitting on the bench. It grows bigger, attracting every single thing you wanted to do, but didn’t, until this giant ball of crap blocks out the sun and a shadow falls over you and you feel defeated, not even knowing where to begin to climb this thing so you just walk away, shoulders slumped.

Sound familiar? Broken hearts, sicknesses, losses, failures, arguments, injuries, stresses – all hurdles that destroy momentum, all with the power to form mountains.

After nine days of sickness, fortunately there was no mountain, but a hill for me to climb. Damnit, I thought to myself, I had been doing so well! It was after that thought that I realized that getting sick was no failure on my part. Even if it was, big deal, shit happens. I realized the first step up the hill was to forgive myself for its creation. My hill formed because I was sick, and taking care of ME, saying “no” to commitments and people, which has always been hard for me, taking Nyquil at 7:00 pm and going to bed; putting ME and my well-being first, so I could recuperate as fast as possible.

I think this is where most of us fail. We allow guilt and defeat to bury us after our setbacks. Forgive yourself. It’s not like you tripped walking in a straight line. You tripped taking on a hurdle, and they can be pretty damn high! At least you were in the race!

After you forgive yourself, try to set time aside to start working on getting caught up. Go grocery shopping, get a workout in even if all you do is walk on the treadmill, commit to tasks in 45 minute chunks and switch the laundry in between each one. Start small, and most importantly, be patient and gentle with yourself. You may not be as strong or as energetic as you were before you stumbled. That’s okay – you got to that point once and you can get there again.

This is exactly what I’m doing, being mindful not to overdo it or put too much pressure on myself. I tackled a few things and am still getting caught up. I understand it will most likely take the rest of the week to get there.

Mountains are only looming when you’re looking up at them from a distance. Once you’re on one, you see there is a clearly marked trail to follow and you can no longer see how high it is. Before you know it, you’ve covered great distance.

When you start your day repeating 108 times “I have a choice”, the idea of choice stays with you throughout the day. So I’ve been asking myself: Am I choosing happiness? 

Ask yourself: Am I choosing happiness?

I’ve been working to limit the choices I make unconsciously when I’m emotional. But to do so, I’ve needed to learn how to pause and question my options. That’s been challenging, particularly because I’m a passionate and emotional person. When I’m able to pause, I’m no longer at the mercy of impulsiveness and options present themselves. Choosing the best option isn’t always easy, though. So to help me, I try to approach my options by asking, “what will bring me happiness?”

In The Art of Happiness, Howard C. Cutler, M.D writes, “Approaching our daily decisions and choices with this question in mind shifts the focus from what we are denying ourselves to what we are seeking – ultimate happiness” (36).

Let’s use emotional eating, something I am all too familiar with, as an example. Let’s say you had a bad day; you got caught in the rain without an umbrella so you were wet and cold all morning, work was stressful and nothing seemed to go right, and then you snapped at your spouse when you got home and now he’s angry with you. You’re hungry and your emotional response is to reach for the take-out menu and order your favorite greasy, cheesy comfort food.

But you pause and catch yourself. You remember that you have a choice and don’t have to allow your emotions to dictate what you eat. You become aware of your options: one, indulge in some comfort food or two, cook the salmon that is defrosted in the fridge and roast the vegetables you bought to go with it when you were feeling positive. Tough call. Look at each option and ask yourself: which will bring me happiness.

If you’re anything like me, pizza brings you happiness. But if you’re also like me, that happiness is fleeting and sometimes leaves you feeling guilty or with regret, particularly on days when pizza wasn’t planned and salmon is defrosted in your fridge. When asking if something will bring you happiness, I’m not referring to short term, fleeting, instant-gratification-happiness, like eating a slice of pizza, but a lasting happiness that doesn’t waiver with mood fluctuations and emotions.

Dr. Cutler writes:

“With this perspective, it’s easier to make the “right decision” because we are acting to give ourselves something, not denying or withholding something from ourselves – an attitude of moving toward rather than moving away, an attitude of embracing life rather than rejecting it” (36).

So rather than thinking that choosing salmon means denying ourselves pizza, we can think instead that by choosing the salmon we are giving ourselves happiness and embracing a healthier life, rather than rejecting it. This can be applied to nearly all small, day to day decisions. Stay in or go out? Vent your frustration or keep your mouth shut? Go to bed early or edit five more pages? Go to the gym or go home? What brings you more happiness may change in each situation.

The goal is to have control of one’s life and make decisions in our own best interests. We can pave the way toward a happier life with less guilt and regret, while letting go of victim-hood and the idea that circumstances rule over us. We just need to remember to pause and ask ourselves what will bring me happiness.

This is where I’m at now. Learning to slow down and remember I have a choice, assessing my options and making decisions that will bring us the most happiness.

Are you choosing happiness in your day to day life? I’d love to hear from you.

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I wasn’t in the best mood yesterday afternoon. Originally, I had plans to go home, experiment with zucchini noodles for a low-carb vegetarian dinner and then go to yoga class. I could just feel those plans slipping away in a fog of ambivalence as I sat annoyed for no particularly good reason. Visions of pajamas, pizza, bad television and an early bed time danced seductively across my mind.

I have often been a slave to my mood, allowing it to cancel my plans, dictate my behavior, control the foods I ate. Yesterday was no exception. That was until four one-syllable words burst through the voices of defeat and indolence, loud and clear.

I have a choice.

I almost laughed, as a joyful calm came over me. I can turn it around right now.

I thought of all the hours, evenings, DAYS I had wasted being pissed off or in a funk, riding it out because nothing happened to warrant a shift in my mood or make me feel better. I had forfeited my right to choose, giving in to negativity. But all along I could have simply chosen to feel better.

In no time, I was looking forward to my evening.

I arrived home and was harshly reminded by my discomfort that the heat was still broken. The thermostat read 52 degrees. My warm bed was very inviting.

I have a choice.

Then my husband informed me that the water was currently off while the heat was being repaired.

Annoyed. Pizza. Bed.

“The Brita is full. We have some water,” he said.

I chose to cook.

After dinner, my bones achy from the cold, I crawled in to bed with a magazine.

Is this it for today? Is this your choice, or are you just cold?

I got out of bed, did laundry and cleaned up.

Feeling more accomplished, I climbed back in to bed and made the choice to spend the rest of the night playing on Pinterest, another excellent choice.

This morning, I made the choice to get up at 4:45 am and go to the gym. Afterward, grateful for my wonderful new mantra, I decided to meditate and begin the empowerment of my mala.

A mala is basically prayer beads that come in either necklace or bracelet form, made up of materials and colors that represent the characteristics the wearer seeks. A dear friend gave one to me several months ago. To use a mala, you meditate on your mantra reciting it for each bead, empowering it with your mantra so that when worn or placed on others, it can transfer the power of the mantra. This meditation is done every day for 40 days. I hadn’t done it because I didn’t have a mantra.

Incense and candles burning, music playing, I took my mala in my hand and began to meditate on my choices, reciting my mantra as each cool bead passed between my fingertips.

I have a choice in how I feel.
I have a choice in what I say.
I have a choice in what I eat.
I have a choice in how I behave.
I have a choice in what I think.
I have a choice in what I do.
I have a choice…
I have a choice…
I have a choice…
I have a choice.

In my last post, I had mentioned that I was feeling great sadness at the hands of someone I love and wrote about how I was sending myself and them loving-kindness.

Since that post, I have learned firsthand quite a bit about cycles of negative behavior: how hard it is to break them, how hard it is to step outside and watch someone you love continue to go ‘round and ‘round, and also how it feels to finally witness the cycle you habitually participated in throughout most of your life. It feels absolutely awful.

Sometimes, opening your eyes is extremely painful.

After being hurt by this person, I realized that what I wanted most was to forgive. It was in that moment that I jammed my foot in the revolving door of my past behaviors and broke the cycle. It felt incredible. I realized that there were more options than to be angry and turn my hurt on the person who hurt me, ensuring they felt as badly as I did, ultimately evening the score and allowing for the eventual canceling out of both wrongdoings and a consequent truce. I decided instead that I would allow myself time to process my pain, create space for compassion, and come to a place of forgiveness before pushing myself to speak with this person. I didn’t want to risk falling back into the cycle I was trying to end.

I was proud of my decision and it felt good. Until with a sharp pain of manipulation on the part of the person who hurt me, I realized I hadn’t created that cycle alone. There was someone else behind the glass of that revolving door pushing hard to keep it turning against my efforts to hold it.

That’s when I learned that people don’t like their familiar cycles being toyed with.

I witnessed this person go through all the emotions of the cycle completely unprovoked and it was devastating. I experienced the attempts at manipulation, that gave way to guilt, that gave way to anger, that eventually turned to desperation, and finally exhaustion. I watched this person fight with an opponent who never showed up as I stood outside the ring in tears, fighting my own urge to jump in and scream “STOP! PLEASE!” I could barely stand the sight. But I knew the cycle had to play out. And even when horrible things were being said to me and I began to question what I had done to deserve it, I knew that I had done nothing. Nothing, except set this cycle in motion through years of participation. And I think that was the hardest thing of all.

Cracks need to happen to let the light in. Awareness hurts like hell. Waking up to the truth is hard; literally heart breaking, and I have cried more in the past two weeks than I have in a long time. I am still allowing myself time and space, although taking it worries me. I am afraid that something will happen to me or this person before things are resolved. But I also know that guilt and fear are the culprits at work behind that thought and I cannot allow fear to dictate my actions.

I’m still working it all out in my head. It is a lot to process. But I know I can only change my behavior and I can only be responsible for my own actions. My habits and behavior contributed to the creation of the cycle I was a part of. Perhaps I can slow it down for the other person as well if I continue to keep my weight against the door, no matter how much the push back hurts.

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