For most of my years, I pursued achievements. I always thought that when I reached a particular milestone, then, I would find the contentment that seemed to continually elude me.

Looking back, I realize that what I was mostly in search of was external validation – that I was worthy of being loved. And that I had my life “together.” The achievements served as a veil – as a performance - to myself and to others – covering up what was underneath the facade - all that I was uncomfortable addressing.

Under the surface, there was trauma from my childhood, a disconnection from my inner self, and a “life” that had been created that had very little to do with my own visions, dreams, and purposes. I had in many ways become a puppet - carrying out others’ desires and intents for my life rather than my own. Repercussions of this way of being included allowing myself to be abused; living at times in poverty; and, often, depression, anxiety, and loneliness.

In my thirties, I married a surgeon and had two children - also becoming a stepmother to my husband’s daughter. I lived in an expensive house, had a nanny, hosted a lot of parties, and was pursuing my doctorate degree in psychotherapy. From the lens of “success” in our society, it perhaps looked like I “had it all” – that I had  “achieved” the American dream - but the truth was that I was largely continuing to live a counterfeit life – a life that did not feel like me. And I had yet to address the ghosts that were haunting me internally.

In a routine doctor’s visit, I was told I had early-stage breast cancer.

Soon after, in 2012, the truth would no longer sit in silence within me. My feelings came to the surface – these feelings that I had sensed my whole life – that had been behind the depression, anxiety, and loneliness – these core emotions that I had tried to bury within me. There was a reckoning of what had happened in my childhood; there was a stark awareness of what was happening in my marriage; there were, at times, intense feelings of not wanting to live. Specifically, of not wanting to live in the life that I was in – a life that did not feel like mine – that had not been built from my inner self – but from a counterfeit outer self that I had created in order to survive my childhood, my marriage - and, to some extent, society in general. Nearly everyone around me was uncomfortable with my feelings that were arising. I was strongly encouraged to take anti-depressants; I was told by some that I should solely focus on my blessings and be grateful for what I had; and others did not believe the truths that I was sharing.  There was a strong sense within me, however, that acknowledging and sitting in and communicating my truth – most of all to myself - was the only way out, even though at times, the process seemed unbearable.  

Over time, I looked at the truth in every aspect of my life. I removed all of the veils, all of the illusions, all of the rationalizations. I examined my childhood, my marriage, my relationships, where I was living, what kind of life I was providing for my children, how I spent my day, my career, my health – all of it. In my Ph.D. dissertation, I wrote about the transformation of inner truth:

“THROUGHOUT THE PROCESS, WE NAVIGATE A JOURNEY, ARRIVING AT THE LOCATIONS THAT THE TRANSPORT TAKES US—SOME WANTED, SOME UNWANTED—AND WE CONTEND WITH ALL OF THESE.”

One of the locations that I arrived at that was very unwanted was the awareness that I could not continue in my marriage. This had been an internal knowingness nearly from the beginning of the relationship, but with young children, I tried so hard to pretend, to hope, to do whatever I could – to stave off this outcome. The divorce was brutal.

In the trauma of an acrimonious divorce with small children, my former spouse and I engaged largely in the dominant societal model of trying to show the other parent in the most negative light possible and weakening the other’s position. On my side, I took pictures of what was going on in his household and I hired a private investigator. On his side, he blocked me from our bank accounts and asked my former bridesmaids to write letters against me for court. In the judicial hearing, both my former spouse and I were publically shamed by each other’s attorneys and by the judge. At the end of the hearing, as the character assassination of me had been so profound, my former spouse’s lawyer took the opportunity to discuss with the judge the possibility of my spouse having full custody of our children. As the judge sat in his chambers deliberating his decision – for over an hour - I was terrified that I might have lost custodianship of my two children. It was the most barbaric day of my life. The betrayals that I felt through this process – from my former spouse and from the women whom I had considered my friends – as well as the public shaming and the resulting negative identity conclusions I drew about myself constituted a shattering of what I knew as my life. I do not think that it is out of the realm of possibility - that there was a potential trajectory here - that this entire experience may have had permanent cataclysmic repercussions for my own identity - and my own life, especially had I never been introduced to all of the practices that I now personally use and share in my workshops. The self-hatred and self-blame I experienced were overwhelming. Within this context, we had also recently moved to a new state where I did not know anyone, I was often alone without my children, and I was processing all of the other truths of my life – including the trauma of my childhood. With all of this, I frequently felt wholly untethered - like a balloon in outer space – there was no safe stable ground anywhere outside of myself. I entered what I would call a dark night of the soul. 

THERE WAS NO OTHER PLACE TO GO – BUT TO GO WITHIN.

And I resisted this – kicking and screaming. I was not comfortable being alone - for my entire adult life I had been in relationships with men. I realize now that this was in part because when I was alone, this was when all of the uncomfortable feelings would start to arise. And in the beginning, for at least the first year, it was nearly unbearable to be alone with my feelings. Because they were very painful. But I had no choice. I was on my own. And as a tempest swirled around me, as the acrimony between my former spouse and me increased and a probable court trial loomed, as the strain of the divorce continued to affect my relationship with my step-daughter and I felt that I had lost a child, as the pain of what had happened throughout my life came up to be digested, I went deep inside myself – for the first time. Layer after layer of feelings came up – and I as experienced them, they were released from me – and I was free of them. I was becoming liberated! And as these feelings cleared, I could sense that I was making more and more space for myself – for who I really was. And, simultaneously, I slowly started to learn to love myself, to honor myself, and to trust myself. Over time, I felt parts of me that I had never experienced before – worthiness, self-respect, and faith in myself.

I started to heal from the trauma of the custody battle and my own shame. The main argument that my former spouse’s attorney used against me was the strained relationship with my step-daughter during the divorce – that this made me an unfit mother in general. As I went deeper within myself and separated more and more from others’ thinking, as well as utilizing my own doctoral therapy education, I could clearly see that the context of the divorce and my former spouse’s acrimony toward me made it very difficult for my step-daughter and I to be close during that time. This separation from other people’s thinking became a salvation for me.

I kept making space for myself. And as I spent so much time alone – it felt like a hermitage – I was able to separate myself from the bulk of my societal programming as well. Everything that did not resonate internally with me was cast off. There was an enormous amount of prayer, yoga, and meditation as well. This process lasted for about three years. This retreat from society. It was a detoxification and a purification from my entire old life. 

I began to feel whole, empowered, strong, and self-sufficient. I embarked on solely listening to my inner guidance. I stopped being concerned with how others perceived me. I started to connect with my own vision for my life. I privileged my alignment with myself. This above everything else.

With the clarity I now had, I could see how my former life was a giant miscreation – a series of trauma responses. (The writing of my Ph.D. dissertation during this time – on emotional trauma – helped me more fully understand this.) I could also discern that I had spent nearly a lifetime running from my feelings and trying to find comfort/distraction in everything external to myself – in men, sex, food, parties, gurus, my children, my pets, exercise, higher education, and therapists. The truth is that I wanted someone else or something else to save me. And although some of these external pursuits did help to a degree – particularly my doctoral dissertation and therapy (because these helped me to connect with myself), it was simply sitting alone with my own truth, my own feelings, and my own pain that transformed my life. During this period, I was slowly disentangling from the life I had miscreated. I was in a strange space – a territory between lives really – as a new life had not yet been built. Yet from this newly-found authentic space within me, I was starting to create a different way of life for myself and my children – one that was in resonance with who I was.

EVENTUALLY, OVER TIME, THERE WERE MORE EXPERIENCES OF HOPE THAN DESPAIR, OF PEACE THAN ANXIETY, OF JOY THAN PAIN.

And, there was forgiveness – after I had felt everything there was to feel. And I could see how every painful challenging situation in my life was an initiation and ultimately led to my expansion. What I thought were the worst possible experiences of my life turned out to bring me to locations I never thought I could reach. There was immeasurable love springing from my heart and I could see love and goodness all around me – even in those who had hurt me. I could just love it all. 

In the end, I realized that every feeling is sacred. Especially the ones I most wanted to avoid. These in particular became portals. Portals towards my best life. And perhaps the greatest gift has been that I have been able to largely end my own suffering. That no matter what is happening externally, I know there is a place within me that is ever full of peace, connection, and love.  

You save yourself. You build your own life. You are your own hero.