Love the body you have. Treat it with great care. Feed it well. Move it around.

I grew up In the era of Charlie’s Angels (crime fighters who just happen to look like supermodels). My parents were both avid dieters, both with undiagnosed eating disorders.

I believed that to be lovable and have value, I had to be thin. I envied women/girls who were skinny and felt disgust (my own projected shame) toward those who were not.  I forgot that these women were more than their bodies, smart, funny, feeling, thinking, amazing human beings. My envy and judgement was a barrier to real deep friendship.

And the source of my judgement, the belief that I was never thin enough to win love (even at a size 2), was a weapon I used against my own body, starving myself, exercising as penance for eating, and even making myself vomit, as my own eating disorder escalated into bulimia.

In my early thirties, a beloved friend asked me to stop vomiting. I could feel her love and her worry, and that was all it took for me to stop. Changing my thinking took longer and proved much harder.

The real turn around began in a class on eating disorders in graduate school. The instructor began the class with a video of about 4-5 women with round, soft, bellies, wide tushies, and sagging boobs dancing and singing a song which went something like, “Who says my body’s too fat? Who says my belly’s too large?”

This was my red pill.

I began to read and listen to women who had long explored the role of patriarchy in creating an unobtainable and destructive female physical ideal, one that pitted women against each other and themselves, keeping them too busy, distracted and anxious or depressed to participate fully in civic and professional life.

I began feeding myself, honoring my internal signals of hunger and fullness, learning to trust that I would not restrict food ever again.

I began to move for pleasure and fun, to enjoy being strong for my own purposes.

I began to act lovingly toward my own round belly, wide tushie, and droopy boobs.

I loved and cared for myself fat, far better than I ever had thin.

And nothing bad happened. I was not an outcast. I had a loving husband and great friends (who I could now love without my old blinders, envy and judgement). I created a professional life that worked well for me. Women came to me for help learning to love their own bodies.

When I stopped rejecting myself for being fat, so did everyone else. I realized it had been my own attitude that invited others to treat me badly based on my appearance.

It has been a long and sometimes painful process to shift my own beliefs, but so, so worth it. There is no security deeper than the security we create within ourselves.

Our culture objectifies bodies, especially women’s bodies. We learn through the messaging and attitudes that surround us to think of our bodies as objects.

Much of this is sexual. Most diet and exercise advice is aimed at making us f*@%able, but always letting us know we’re not attractive enough.

Some of it is designed to make us into good worker bees. Ignore your cold symptoms. Take daytime medicine and get that project finished.

Through the Attachment Informed Reparenting process, we actively scrutinize cultural messaging to discover how insecurity is manufactured and perpetuated. We work hard at replacing the negative thoughts and habits that come from a lifetime of brainwashing. And the parent within commits to doing what truly feels enlivening, uplifting, and soul-feeding. Our inner parents remain steadfast in loving us, especially when we go against cultural norms.

What belief or habit have you adopted or adapted to that isn’t working for you? What common notions are you ready (or ready to become ready) to question, shift or abandon altogether, in your quest to honor what’s really true for you?

Instead of Blaming, Seek Repair

When things go wrong I look for who is responsible. I don't know if this is training or innate. The fight part of my brain lights up like those urban areas of the earth seen from space at night.

Recently, I've been upset about all the allergy medicine I was given as a kid. I spent so many days sleepy and out of it. And now, studies show that those of us who were so drugged are at risk for developing dementia. I want to blame my mother, who took a lot of parenting shortcuts, and might have liked me better in a subdued state. But is that fair? Would she have known that the medicine, loaded with codeine, was dangerous, if she even thought to read the ingredients? Back then, people trusted doctors, and there was no WebMD.

Then my brain blames the pediatrician who encouraged dosing me on opiates. Maybe this is why I felt like I wasn't there for the first fifteen years of my life. One could say I was depressed, but maybe I was sleepy and zoned out, not that anyone seemed to notice. Even then, the doctor could not have known the effect of anticholinergic drugs long term. That study just came out a few years ago, the one about developing dementia.

Truly, what I can say is that the wish to alleviate my hay fever, which was bad, was well intended. No one meant to rob me of attending my own childhood. No one meant to send me to early oblivion. So why do I seek someone to blame? We all do it everywhere. I rarely work with couples now because it's so much work to get them off the shaming-blaming warpath.

I think it's this. We want to show the other person how badly we feel in the wake of their mistaken (hopefully not intentional) behavior or thoughtless words. We expect to teach a lesson through pain. That's kind of the definition of punishment. And we don't just blame or punish others. We do it to ourselves, probably more aggressively than anyone else. We are so committed to the belief in punishment, that we feel entitled to become sadistic in the name of course correction.

Which, maybe, maybe would be okay if it worked. But it doesn't. No matter how much I used to yell at myself (thankfully, I have stopped), I didn't study more or check more items off my to-do list. If anything, I dug in harder, my inner three year old not saying, but doing, "you can't make me."

What we really need when we go on a blame hunt is something restorative. It would be great if my mom or my doc would say, "I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't mean to cause you harm. I'm so sorry. Going forward, I will try to be more careful."

In attachment psychology, we call this relationship repair. It acknowledges that as humans, we all screw up, usually without malice. But when we harm the people we love, we own up. We feel bad and we try to do better. This is a really different dynamic from towing the line in fear of punishment. It comes from empathy. It comes from resonating with the other person and wanting to restore the ease and joy of trust and emotional connection.

The thing is, it's really hard to do this kind of repair if you grew up in a family with an insecure attachment pattern. We learn it from modeling. And insecure parents, like mine, are too defensive to admit mistakes. But we can still learn. Therapy is one of the best places to learn because inevitably, your therapist is going to screw up. She will forget something important or cancel just when you need her most. And when that happens, (if she's good and she's done her own work) she will show you how to repair.

Whether you are in therapy or not, you can begin practicing repair with the one person who you know will participate thoughtfully: you. Instead of yelling at yourself or calling yourself names when you can't get on track or you make a mistake, see how it would feel to practice repair. Imagine saying to the disappointed part of you, "I'm really sorry. I know you are stressed about this _______ (test, project, interview, etc.). The truth is I'm _________ (tired, scared, stuck, confused, bored, distracted, etc.), and I'm not giving it the energy you want me to."

This is where things can get dicey. In order for the repair to work, you have to accept the apology. If you've been betrayed or if you've trusted someone who couldn't keep their word, this can feel more than difficult. It can feel foolish. Here's an important key. Don't promise yourself anything you can't deliver. The reason why a good therapist can do repair is that she is consistent most of the time. She shows up on time. She ends on time. She keeps her word. When she messes up, it's unusual. This builds trust.

When you apologize to yourself, it might be a good opportunity to see if your promises to yourself are realistic, given what's going on in your life, your health, your temperament and your history. I am 53. I have arthritis. I'm in the midst of menopause. I work part time. I write this blog when my body feels up to it. And I do a super gentle work out at the gym, just to keep my joints from stabbing me. My friends know that all plans are loose. My husband has learned to do things without me. I don't make commitments to myself or others unless I know I can keep them. And sometimes, I try things to see if I can manage them, knowing I won't stick with anything (or anyone) that doesn't give back as much energy as it takes.

As you assess what you truly have the energy and desire to do, you might need to alter your self-perception. You might need to grieve that you are not who you think you should be (or who someone else thinks you should be). It might feel terrible and awful for a while. And then, you might discover that who you really are is much more comfortable, much happier, much freer. Grief brings all kinds of unexpected gifts.

As you come to accept yourself more fully, you might discover that it's easier to accept others, warts and all, especially those who can own their blunders, who are mostly consistent, who can be trusted. When you step off the warpath, you may find a different road where your needs are met more fully, more easily, more often. And when they are not, you will have the company of someone who can give you the comfort of an honest and open hearted apology: you.

Insecure Family Holidays

This weekend, we have the double-whammy of Easter and Passover. If you're insecurely attached, this might be a time of disappointment. Or longing. Or dread. Who will be at the family gathering? What scrutiny will pass over some relative’s face or out of this person’s mouth?

My insecure mother has had a life-long fantasy that we were a big, happy, close-knit family. She went to great lengths to show this image to the world. She made sure the house was perfect. We were never allowed to touch the walls, lest we leave a fingerprint. She cooked for days in advance, following the women’s magazine wisdom to make everything look effortless.

She nagged us to diet so we would look good in the clothes she chose for each us, even my dad. She heaved giant sighs to let us know how our chubby bodies and ordinary lives disappointed her. She did nothing to hide her disgust when one of my sisters gained weight or brought home a less-than-handsome boyfriend. For her, everything focused on being thin, well dressed, and appearing successful.

But she had no interest in fostering actual success or real happiness in her kids. We learned that to be given the security of her love, we had to look well adjusted, but it didn’t matter if we actually were well adjusted. The way to deal with distress, according to her, was to act like everything was fine. If we told her we were uncomfortable, we were labeled too sensitive. End of conversation.

My clients tell me stories with similar themes. The content of their experiences may be different, but the theme is the same. There is a clear parental directive. “Don’t be real. Don’t be you. Keep up my (mom’s or dad’s) fantasy about who I am as a parent and who we are as a family, especially when people are coming to dinner.”

As I got older and had more therapy, it became essential for me to be exactly who I am at all times. Pretending had become untenable. I found myself getting sick whenever I had scheduled a trip back to my home town. I stopped attending family dinners and immediately felt better. The guilt I had been entrained to feel at disappointing my mom began to ebb as I realized I had been drafted into being her emotional caretaker from birth on, and that this was upside down.

In secure families, parent’s attend to their kid’s emotional needs. In insecure families, it’s the other way around.

I began to pay attention to how I wanted to spend holidays, what they meant to me. Easter and Passover are celebrations of the first green shoots of spring, the earth coming back to life and light after the darkness and chill of winter. This became a metaphor for my growth and healing.

At the Passover Seder, we celebrate freedom from bondage. Becoming aware of the unconscious agreements we had to live by in our insecure families is a similar kind of awakening. As we let go of these agreements - to protect our difficult and fragile parents from their anxiety, shame and insecurity, we gain freedom from having to pretend, freedom to be (or discover) our real selves.

At the Easter table, we celebrate the awareness that the Christ in us never dies. The seed of who we are stays within us, no matter how we have had to hide, pretend, or transform ourselves to feel accepted and loved. We can learn to love ourselves as Christ loved, tenderly washing our own feet, treating ourselves with the warmth and respect he offered everyone, sick or well, rich or poor.

This weekend, whether you are alone, with friends, or sitting with your insecure family, I invite you to tune inward to your feelings and needs. These are your compass, your guide back to you. You are the promised land. You might need some time to wander in the desert, learning how to be free. It may take more than three days, but the person you really are, the person you were meant to be can be resurrected with your own patient, tender, forgiving kindness, compassion and love.

Keep hunting for what delights you and sets you free. Easter eggs are everywhere, all year long.

I shouldn’t be feeling this way

I shouldn’t be feeling this way.
I’m sorry.
I’m being emotional.
I’m sorry
It must be hormones.
I’m sorry.
I don’t know why I’m crying.
I’m sorry.

I can’t tell you how many people come to therapy, which is basically a safe place to cry, and apologize, week after week, for crying. It’s like going to a restaurant and apologizing for being hungry.

Why are we so quick to discount and judge our tears (and the sadness, pain, anger, grief, and relief they express)?

Shame, judgment, and fear.

I remember multiple playground experiences when someone, sometimes me, was called "cry-baby." We are trained early on that we should be tough. Never let them see you sweat. Don't show fear. These warnings reveal a belief that people can't be trusted. If we are real, we will be in trouble.

Some people will exploit vulnerability. But hiding your feelings won't protect you. People who take advantage of others know how to prey on those who act tough, but aren't in touch with their real feelings. When you have your own permission to feel, you develop radar for people who shouldn't be trusted. When you respect your feelings, you respect those little messages from your gut that tell you something isn't right. Access to your feelings is protective.

Some will judge. Acting tough or above reproach won't protect you either. People who judge try to mask insecurity with the illusion of superiority. When you have empathy for yourself and others, you develop radar for people who judge. When you have compassion for your feelings, you gravitate toward others who are compassionate. Choosing to be with people who are understanding and accepting (and giving yourself understanding and acceptance) is protective.

However you are feeling, that's exactly what you should be feeling. Emotions are just the body's response to experiences. They are neither a sign of weakness or strength. They are messengers, telling us when something feels right or wrong for us. They are energy generators, giving us the power to move (e-motion) toward safety, love, and joy or away from pain, danger, or distress.

Crying is the body's way of releasing that energy when you don't need it anymore. This is why we cry when we are sad, but sometimes also when we are angry, moved, or scared. We cry most often when we feel relieved. Crying signals the end of big feelings. It cleanses us, and we need that cleansing, just like we need to sneeze sometimes or to pee. The body has it's reasons.

While we can't stop others from judging or exploiting, we can change our own behavior. Notice self-judgement (I shouldn't be feeling this way), and practice validation or curiosity instead. Repetition is how we create new beliefs. Rehearse and practice as often as you can. Put a post-it on your bathroom mirror...

There is a good reason I'm feeling this way. My body is sending me a message and some energy. I should pay attention and proceed with caution.

Even when your feelings are responses to events that happened in the past or might happen in the future (the trigger is a thought or memory), you still need validation and compassion.

It's painful/scary/infuriating to remember/anticipate that experience. My body is responding as though it were happening right now. This is hard. I really need to help myself come back to the present moment where I am safe.

When others judge, remind yourself they are masking their insecurity with superiority. What they say isn't about you, but a reflection of how they judge themselves. Ouch. You may feel more compassion for them. And you may choose to spend less time with them. Inside, you can work on creating a judgment-free zone. With time, you might feel so much relief that it makes you cry.

Managing Disappointment Securely

Secure adults manage disappointment well. They don’t shame or blame people who disappoint them. They don’t retaliate or withhold warmth to punish or coerce people into doing what they want. They can sit with disappointment and frustration, knowing the feelings will pass. They trust that other solutions will likely present themselves in time. And they know the comfort of accepting a Yes from someone who is genuine (vs. the unease when someone says Yes out of obligation).

They are also good at setting boundaries. If they recognize that someone routinely fails to honor commitments, they either:

• Discuss the dynamic openly to come to an understanding about what each person in the relationship can truly offer, or 
• See when someone has difficulty with congruence (the ability to say what they mean and mean what they say) and adjust their expectations accordingly so that they are not left in a lurch. 

As a child, I learned I would be shamed, guilted, and/or ostracized if I disappointed my parents. One of my earliest memories is from the age of two or three. I don’t remember what sparked my rage or tears, but I remember lying on my bed, tantruming and sobbing, “Nobody loves me!”

I also remember my mother telling my older sister something to the effect of, “Don’t go in and comfort her. It will only encourage her.” Sadly, many parents like mine were told by experts to “extinguish” behavior they didn’t like in their kids by ignoring it. Behavioral psychologists saw crying and tantrums as an irritating behavior to be eliminated, rather than a signal of distress.

Attachment psychology looks at crying and tantrums as a normal part of human development. All children become emotionally dysregulated at times. Their little limbic brains become overwhelmed by feelings. This can be exacerbated by fatigue, illness, over-stimulation, or frustration.

When this happens, little people need help from parents to feel soothed. We call this emotional co-regulation. Through the magic of mirror neurons, the parent feels the child's distress. This (ideally) motivates the parent to help.  By relieving the child’s distress both parent and child feel better. This deepens the parent’s sense of mastery, and it deepens loving feelings and empathy for the child.

Soothing does not mean spoiling or giving in to a child’s every wish. It means empathizing and staying present and connected through the disappointment. When parents can provide soothing fairly successfully, kids learn that someone can and will help with painful feelings. This builds trust. 

I wonder what might have happened between me and my mother had attachment psychology gained the public eye sooner. I like to imagine her telling me in a gentle voice, "It makes sense my answer disappointed you. It's so frustrating to hear "no" when you really want something. I feel the same way when I'm disappointed."

Over time, kids who are soothed internalize the process of being soothed.  They become more and more able to soothe themselves by talking to themselves the way their soothing parent does. The growing capacity to self-soothe becomes the ability to manage disappointment securely.

Kids learn:

• Disappointment can be tolerated. 
• Feelings can be expressed without fear of punishment or emotional abandonment. 
• Feelings dissipate when they can be felt fully and understood compassionately (hiding feelings makes them churn for a long time). 
• They can love someone who disappoints them. 

Why Don't Insecure Parents Soothe Effectively?

Parents with insecure attachment patterns tend to become dysregulated when their kids are dysregulated. This is what happened with my mom. She never had the experience of being soothed as a child. So she didn't have a map in her mind of how to respond. She was probably sent to her room if she distressed my grandmother. So my cries likely brought up that alone feeling and maybe the helplessness she felt as a child. 

My cries definitely dysregulated her. But instead of using her feelings to sense what I needed, she became angry. Because her attachment style is dismissive, she must have felt so validated by expert advice to ignore my cries. What a relief for her to be able to ignore me and feel that, by doing so, she was being a good parent and teaching me not to be a cry-baby.

But neither of us got to experience co-regulation. She never learned to soothe herself or others. In truth, she never learned to manage her own disappointment well. But because she too wasn't able to voice her feelings or needs directly, she used manipulation, coercion, threats and withholding love (insecure behaviors) to get other people to meet her emotional needs. She never got to experience the love and bonding that happens when help is given freely and joyfully.

I feel so lucky that I found help from therapists, teachers, writers and mentors that allowed me to repair my attachment pattern (an ongoing process!). I could so easily have gone down the same path as my mom. But I’ve learned to validate my feelings and give myself empathy and compassion. I’ve learned to soothe and comfort my own disappointment. And I’ve learned to communicate my needs, wishes and boundaries to others with an open hand - where there is room for others to say yes or no.

When others can’t help, I feel the disappointment, and I comfort myself till it passes. Then I adjust accordingly, finding what I need within or from others who are more available. I have more patience and trust that what I need will arrive at some point. I can keep looking for the right person to help. Until they arrive, I can manage the wait by keeping myself friendly company.

Your inner parent can help you manage your disappointment by:

• Validating your feelings. It’s normal to feel upset when things don’t work out the way you hoped. 
• Reminding you to just be with the feelings and keep you company while they are strong. It’s usually better to wait until the intensity passes (and it always does) before making decisions or taking actions. 
• Helping you soothe the distress by focusing on breathing, making your exhalations longer than your inhalations. This tells your nervous system that you are safe and can relax. 
• Diffusing intense sensations in the body by noticing them and giving them more room. For example, you might feel tightness in your throat, chest, or belly. Feelings are energy. When we hold them in, we create pressure. Imagine allowing the energy to take up more space. It can extend beyond your body, expanding to fill a room, a building, a neighborhood or more. As you do this, notice if/when the intensity begins to lessen. 
• Nudging you away from any desire to punish or teach a lesson to someone who has disappointed you. 
• Once you feel calmer, your inner parent can help you decide if you want to discuss your needs with the person who disappointed you and see if there is a way you can both get what you need. 
• Or, your inner parent can help you see if there is a pattern that tells you this person isn’t as reliable as you need. This might indicate that you should look for someone more dependable. 
• Set a boundary without blaming or shaming anyone - something as simple as, “I’ve decided to go a different way with this.” 
• Your inner parent can also help you be gentle and patient with yourself through this process. It takes time to build these skills. It can help to have a therapist or a friend who is good at listening and validating without advising. dismissing, or intensifying your feelings. Make sure to notice whether you feel comforted and calmed. That will tell you when you have found a good listener.

Part of the work in becoming secure is being able to sit lovingly and gently with all of your feelings rather than avoiding them (which is like self-abandonment) or acting on them too quickly (which can backfire). Disappointment, like any feeling, is a message. Listening deeply and tenderly, then acting wisely, fosters trust in your very own self.

Can Attachment Theory Help You Reap the Benefits of Good Sleep?

Sleep research shows that it’s not just that we remember less when we are sleep deprived, sleep deprivation primes us to be cranky. We may remember fewer positive experiences when we are sleep deprived. And we seem to become more sensitive to unpleasant experiences when we are tired.

But getting enough quality sleep isn’t always easy. Pain, the need to pee, noise, light pollution and stress all impact sleep quality. Most articles on improving sleep offer tips to address these challenges. These include exercising early in the day, no food or drink for two hours before bed, unplugging any electronics in the bedroom, and seeing a doctor about sleep and pain disorders.

One key to improving sleep that is rarely mentioned though is the feeling of security we get from having a secure attachment figure with us at night. Stan Tatkin who applies attachment theory to couples therapy talks about this in his PACT training for therapists. Sleep is a vulnerable time. From an evolutionary perspective, when we are unconscious, predators can make us a tasty midnight snack. Sleeping with trusted, caring others gives us safety in numbers. The touch of a loved one also releases neurochemicals like oxytocin, making us feel relaxed and comforted.

But what if you’re single or your relationship isn’t going well? What if your early attachment wasn’t secure, and it’s hard to relax and trust others now? I have a theory that we can use the power of mental rehearsal to activate secure attachment within, improving sleep and the feelings of well being and clarity that come from being well rested (if anyone is looking for a research project, let me know. I’d love to have my theory tested!).

If you would like to test my theory on yourself, we can create our own informal research study. First, create the best “sleep nest” you can. This might mean adding pillows to snuggle into. It might mean using 100% cotton sheets for temperature regulation. You might experiment with mattresses, pads, or toppers (if your budget allows) to find the right mix of cushion and support. You might find that a heavier blanket helps you feel swaddled. Though research is limited, there is some evidence that a weighted blanket reduces anxiety and increases serotonin and melatonin, which are both involved in sleep regulation.

Second, use your imagination to activate your inner parent or snuggle buddy. Just like athletes and performers mentally rehearse to improve skills, you can imagine someone safe and caring holding you while you fall asleep. Do this while snuggling a pillow or feeling the weight of your covers to support your imagination. 

The key to making mental rehearsal effective is to involve your senses. 

• Creating a sleep nest activates the sense of touch or proprioception. You might imagine your snuggle buddy holding you (or you holding them and squeezing a pillow). 
• Aromatherapy or imagining a fragrance you find soothing involves the sense of smell. If you associate cocoa with bedtime, this might be a good fragrance to try.
• Involve your sense of sight by visualizing your ideal snuggle buddy. This could be a romantic partner, a best friend, a family member. Find someone safe and comforting, either totally imagined or based on someone in real life. See their arms holding you. Envision the happiness in their eyes or smile as they enjoy cuddling you.

I know this might seem goofy. But parts of your brain that regulate mood don’t know the difference between real and imagined experiences. This is why your heart races when you see a scary movie and why your heart swells when you see a love story. Imagining you are secure in the arms of someone caring and safe may very likely release the soothing sleep chemicals you need. 

Don’t let your inner critic stop you. If you hear it saying this is silly or stupid, validate, “Yes, this is goofy, and it may not work, but no one is watching or judging. I can try it for a week and see if it helps. I’m just participating in an experiment.” 

If you do this experiment, track how long you sleep, how deeply you slept, how alert you feel during the day, and whether your mood changes. You can share your experiences in the comments below or in the Healthy Secure Adulting group on Facebook.

Sources:

• https://www.jscimedcentral.com/SleepMedicine/sleepmedicine-2-1022.pdf

• http://healthysleep.med.harvard.edu/healthy/matters/benefits-of-sleep/learning-memory

• http://healthysleep.med.harvard.edu/need-sleep/whats-in-it-for-you/mood

• https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/04/09/sleep-positive-memories_n_1408431.html

• https://www.sciencealert.com/here-s-how-a-lack-of-sleep-can-mess-with-your-emotions

• https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/flourish/200912/seeing-is-believing-the-power-visualization

• Nurtureshock, Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman, Twelve, 2009

• Stan Tatkin, PACT Training, Marin, CA, 2009

What if Your Goal for 2018 was to Make Yourself as Happy as You Could?​

Instead of improving yourself... what if your goal for 2018 was to make yourself as happy as you could?​

One of the core beliefs insecure people share is, "I'm not good enough." This makes New Year's resolutions both appealing and treacherous. The appeal lies in the hope that if you just become better (thinner, smarter, more successul...), then you will be okay. The treachery comes when the resolve fades and you feel like a failure, confirming the deep down belief that you aren't good enough.

Resolve is like a fist. When you first make it, it feels powerful and strong. But the longer you hold the fist, the more tired your hand gets. You cramp up. You have to let it go at some point. The same is true for resolutions. When we try to change ourselves to win acceptance, approval, belonging or love, we will tire of the effort.

It took me a long time to learn this. I was a striver, through and through. I strove to lose weight. I strove to get high grades. I strove to be successful. I was a poster child for the old cliche, "You're only as good as your last success." The day I passed my Master's exams (oral exams in which you are given a short vignette about a client and must answer whatever questions the panel asks about how you would treat the case and why), I felt bulletproof. For a while. Then I had to get my first internship. And my first job. And learn to run a practice. 

Self worth based on externals isn't self anything. It's externally dictated. It's not secure, because the external world isn't in your control. So changing yourself to feel good enough is pretty much doomed. Even if you succeed, your core belief will remain unchanged. Then you'll go looking for another self improvement project. I know this. Remember, I was the poster child.

As the blog progresses, I will tell you lots more about my story and what I've learned and want you to know. For now though, see how it would feel to make one small (but also huge) shift. Consider a resolution to make yourself feel as good as possible in 2018. How might your resolutions be different if the aim is joy? What would you do more of or less of to feel deeply loved by your very own self?