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.

Recently I added a new book to my current rotation, which immediately introduced me to the Law of Attraction, which I am not convinced isn’t a bunch of phooey (no, it’s not The Secret). Basically, the Law of Attraction is centered around the belief that by focusing on positive or negative thoughts, one can bring about positive or negative results. For example, if you believe and envision yourself as fat and lazy, chances are that’s exactly what you are going to be no matter how much you wish otherwise. Your thoughts attract the reality. It really makes sense. It is safe to say that there is great power in a positive attitude and we have all witnessed how detrimental a negative one can be. Where I am skeptical is the notion that I will find money or win a trip to Hawaii simply for believing and envisioning that I will. But I digress…

As I was reading about the Law of Attraction, it was suggested I look at photos of my loved ones and direct positive thoughts and energy toward them, too, which I thought was a very lovely idea. It was like giving a little, free gift, not unlike saying a prayer for someone, and it made me feel good. But rather than ask that they be watched over and blessed, I envisioned them feeling the warmth of the sun on their face, peace in their hearts, hassle-free days; things like that. At the very least, it couldn’t hurt.

A few days later, I was having a really off day. My mind was busy. I felt anxious and depressed and everything seemed unstable. I wanted comfort and distraction; to dive headfirst into the pitfalls of my bad habits and embrace my bed and sleep for twelve hours, or get a bunch of junk food and zone out to movies, numbing all the pain I was feeling in the process.

The realization of how far I have come that I was actually aware of how I was feeling shed enough light through the crack that I knew I couldn’t give in and pull the shades on the sun shining through. I practiced meditation to abate my unquiet mind and pacing body. It was a futile attempt. With nothing to focus on and being completely unable to focus on nothing, I went to a coffee shop and wrote.

The very next day, switching gears, I went back to another book I have been reading. On the very page that my bookmark casually leaned against as if waiting patiently for my return, I learned about Metta Meditation. Metta means loving-kindness, and the goal is to help you reverse your programming so you can open your heart, rather than close it. It involves four steps:

1. Send loving-kindness to yourself
2. Send loving-kindness to someone you love
3. Send loving-kindness to someone you are neutral about, like a colleague or acquaintance
4. Send loving-kindness to someone you dislike or feel resentment toward

The similarities between the two concepts couldn’t be denied and I realized the universe was speaking to me. Furthermore, I also just found a solution to my shoddy meditation practice. Rather than try to focus on nothing, I would focus all my attention on sending loving-kindness to myself and others while practicing letting go and positive thinking.

But I also sensed something was coming. The universe was preparing me.

The very next day, someone I strongly dislike really ticked me off. I was irritated and wanted to confront her although I knew it would only exacerbate things. Anger can eat at me for some time and I hated thinking such negative thoughts. Again, I was failing to be compassionate and gentle – I was closing my heart. After a short while, I remembered Metta Meditation and smiled. Thanks, universe. It was a foreign, yet incredible thing to sit and think loving-kind thoughts to someone I really can’t stand. It wasn’t even as hard as I thought it would be, because the universe had sent me another little gift that morning by means of the below photo in my Pinterest feed:

How true that is.

If only that was the end to putting knowledge into practice for one week.

Most unfortunately, over the past three days, I have quite unexpectedly felt profound disappointment and great hurt at the hands of two people I love. I have felt agonizing helplessness, as well as great sadness. With no opportunity to communicate or resolve, there was literally nothing I could say or do except feel my feelings, try to process them and allow them to close down my heart until they diminished and I would be able to let them go. That was until I remembered that I had been prepared for this. I knew what I had to do, and it involved opening my heart.

First, I sent myself loving-kindness. Then, one at a time, I sent loving-kindness to the people who hurt me. It wasn’t elaborate; there was no incense or music. These things are unnecessary and procuring them can be a form of procrastination. Right where you are this very minute you can shut the door if you’re alone, or go in the bathroom if you have to, take a deep breath, lower your eyes, and begin sending loving-kindness. Not sure what to say? Say this: I send loving-kindness to ________. My wish is that he/she experiences only love and happiness in his/her life.

I still feel sadness and disappointment, but rather than anger toward these people, I feel love. I do not wish bad things because they hurt me. I do not feel the need to convey my feelings to them nor do I desire an apology. I will simply continue to send loving-kindness, just like I did from my bed this morning when I woke up.

Being hurt, yet feeling love is incredible. Next time you are angry at yourself or someone else, I do hope you will try it. Whatever you wish to call it, you are opening your heart, and it is a wonderful thing.

Peace.

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The Holidays are a tough time of year for most due to the high level of expectations and inevitable disappointments. It is almost impossible not to compare, with all the television commercials and catalogs assaulting us with images of what Christmas is supposed to look like. Roaring fires, bountiful buffets gorgeously garnished, caroling families, perfect gifts in perfect wrappings, lovers cuddling by the tree watching the snow fall, hot beverages dusted with freshly shaven chocolate in their hands.

This is an illusion carefully crafted to set the bar so high that we will spend great sums of money in order to try to achieve it. Even if the catalog Christmas does exist in some homes, the perfection is more than likely only on the surface. Forget to use a coaster and the mom of the house is sneaking away, unhinging her gritted teeth only long enough to slug some blackberry brandy and pop a Xanax.

For most of us, Christmas is chaos. It’s a race to get everything decorated, purchased, wrapped, mailed, and baked in time. The day itself involves obligations, lots of traveling, and enduring people you really rather not spend such a special day with. It is smiling at sarcastic comments clearly stemming from passive aggression, eating food that isn’t very good, adorning your best fake smile and exclaiming that yes, you really do like the [hideous] sweater.

The calmest and happiest are those who don’t sweat it. They take joy in their favorite traditions and rituals, and monitor their expectations. They seek out the good stuff, like a good chat in the corner with that awesome cousin they haven’t seen in a year, they know to bring their own craft beer, and they smile and endure the bullshit, because they know the secret of Christmas. And that is: Christmas is just a day. It is a day to make the best of, and to practice patience and love and compassion in the spirit of the season.

Over the years, I have lowered my expectations of Christmas to all-time lows and somehow still found myself being profoundly disappointed. I think the disappointment was worse because my expectations were so low that I couldn’t get my head around why they weren’t met. It was incredibly saddening and left me with a gauntlet of emotions to work my way through.

When my negative emotions I feel about the holiday season were being triggered back in October, I realized something had to change. And that ‘something’ was the only thing I actually had any control over. Me.

In a moment of wonderful clarity, I decided to expect nothing good or bad this Christmas and to relinquish all attachments regarding what I think Christmas should be. Like a snowy winter night, calm came over me.

With zero expectations, I cannot be disappointed on Christmas. Neither am I bracing myself for negativity and poor behavior. If I feel sad about it, I am living in the past. If I am worried about it, I am living in the future. My vision of this Christmas is only a blank canvas that will be painted as each moment unfolds.

And in the spirit of compassion, I think it’s important we all remember that everyone is going through something on Christmas; missing a deceased loved one, wishing they were somewhere else or with someone else, wondering if their estranged parent or sibling is thinking about them. I know that my mom tries so hard every year to make up for past years that she literally falls apart under the pressure and carries so much guilt that she can barely function come Christmas. This will be the year that her daughter will not be disappointed in her. I will not give her, or anyone else, the gift of additional suffering. And I will not be accepting that gift from anyone, either.

And if you need a few extra glasses of nog or another bottle of wine to keep a smile on your face, go for it! I hear calories don’t count on Christmas.

Thank you for reading.I wish you a very Merry Christmas, full of peace in your heart.

Heatherash Amara writes that we all carry the seeds of self-sabotage within our minds in the form of two negative voices; siblings of the same parents, fear and self-rejection. One voice is the judge. The other is the victim.

The voice of the judge looks for what you or others aren’t doing right. My judge is a loud-mouth, the dominant voice in my head. The volume stems from the incredibly high level of my expectations, which branch from my strong attachments to how I think things should be. My judge doesn’t have high standards; it has impossible standards, of myself and others. It is this dominant voice that has kept me in a near-constant cycle of comparison, disappointment and frustration – with myself and others.

The victim, on the other hand, looks for validation, which it never gets. The victim’s voice is the broken record repeating you-can’t-do-it-you’re-not-enough. The victim looks to an internal or external judge to prove its unworthiness. For example, my judge never fails to do just that when speaking to my mom’s victim, her dominant voice. When listening to the voice of the victim, you spend your days feeling powerless and hopeless.

Have you ever known someone who experienced a trauma and blames it for the depression they suffer as a result? Have you ever thought they should get over it or were seeking attention? This is a very simple example of your judge, and the person’s victim at work. Chances are, you have also been on the reverse of this in some way. We all judge. We have all been judged.

The soothing voice of compassion is what can quiet these two bickering children. We need to stop viewing ourselves as victims; broken, misunderstood, not loveable and not good enough. We need to stop judging ourselves and others. The judge and victim are siblings because remember, when we are judging others, it is because we see something in them that we don’t like in ourselves.

I have believed for a very long time that heaven may be comprised of many levels, and that we make our way up through those levels the more compassionate we become. To do so, we are reincarnated over and over until we experience everything: being male, female, animal, poor, wealthy, straight, homosexual, murdered, the murderer, raped, the rapist, and so on and so on. Only through these experiences can we be truly compassionate to all living beings on earth, never judge, and finally rest in peace in the highest level of heaven.

Whether that sounds crazy to you or not, we do know that empathy and compassion lead to patience and understanding. Rather than judging, we can seek out the best in one another, which somehow seems to bring out the best in ourselves.

And if finding the best in someone seems damn near impossible, we can shift our judgment to discernment. Judgment results in messes caused by blame and rejection. Discernment does not stem from emotion, but from clarity. So using the example of my mother, rather than judging her shortcomings and acting out in frustration and ultimately making her feel even more powerless and hopeless, I can try to quiet the voice of my judge and choose instead to remember that the voice of her victim is speaking. This would be an act of discernment and compassion. And maybe over time, the voice of her victim won’t speak so loudly, at least when she is speaking to me.

Welcome to my journey of self-discovery and healing.

After years of keeping busy, living in a near constant state of fight or flight, operating on cortisol and adrenaline, things have slowed down. I finally graduated college in May, the book I spent a year co-editing was published in late September, and I do not foresee another work promotion anytime soon, amongst other stressful and time-consuming things.

After years of obligations and stresses, I took inventory of my life. A lot has suffered the past several years, and I see now it was because I was suffering. I thought I was overwhelmed and exhausted. That’s what everyone told me, anyway, along with “you take on too much.” There was so much going on, so I blamed my anger, frustration and fatigue on all of it.

Once the deadlines, suffocating workload and other variables were eliminated, I felt worse. Without the constant stream of distractions, I contemplated how I was feeling. I questioned why. This was a difficult thing to do. Unbeknownst to me, I started on a journey as soon as I looked inward. It was a startling and heartbreaking realization when I came to the conclusion that I had been profoundly unhappy for a very long time.

As all of my attention and energy was elsewhere these past few years, something was happening to me. A hard, cold, rough shell grew around me, comprised of a multitude of layers of pain and suffering. It protected me in the sense that I didn’t really feel anything. All my emotions lay deep inside of me. But I realize now that I used this shell not in defense, but in attack, hiding behind a strong exterior and launching all my explosive anger and pain outwardly.

Inside, I was completely vulnerable; an emotional mess of complicated feelings.

Outside, I was a hard-working professional and student; a commencement speaker with a 3.98 GPA.

Inside, I was growing weaker day by day under the weight of my sorrow.

Outside, I was taking pleasure in the joys of life and my achievements only on an extrinsic level.

Inside I suffered, as if there was a dead, rotted seed deep within me.

This realization resulted in the creation of a deep chasm within me. There was no dead, rotted seed within me. I was the dead, rotted seed within a nut of my own making. This fracture inside of me was so intense that it created the first minuscule crack in my exterior.

Once I cracked the nut of my suffering, the tiniest sliver of light permeated my soul and it shined on the realization that I didn’t like myself or my behavior, and that I wasn’t the person I wanted to be. I began to think hard about who that person was that I wanted to become. This journey became not a quest for self-fulfillment, but of self-discovery. Because we can’t be anything until we first understand who we are. And we cannot even begin to understand who we are until we crack the nut on our suffering. I have been sad and angry for a long time. I am only beginning to comprehend what the sources of these emotions are, and discover and learn the tools to manage them.

In the book “The Art of Happiness,” Howard Cutler quotes His Holiness The Dalai Lama who believes that our underlying or fundamental nature is gentleness. If human ability and intelligence develops in an unbalanced way without being properly counterbalanced with compassion, it can become destructive and can lead to disaster. Aggression and negativity is not innate; but influenced by a variety of biological, social, situational and environmental factors.

I am not rotten at my core. My conflicts are a result of those factors and my human intellect – misuse of an unbalanced intellect and imaginative faculty. Knowing this brings me a tremendous sense of relief and hope; hope that I may be able to find my way back to my underlying human nature, that I may someday be the person I want to be.

This is my journey. A journey of self-understanding as I continue to crack the nut on my suffering and work toward reclaiming my innate state of happiness; returning to my basic nature; which is gentle and compassionate.

I invite you to share this journey with me as I continue to learn and use my newly discovered tools to grow and work to end my suffering.