Michelle Kindt RN, MSS, LCSW, BCD

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No Self, No Problem: How Neuropsychology is Catching Up to Buddhism, a book by Chris Niebauer, Ph.D., and Hierophant Publishing. Visit the link in our BIO to re...ad a FREE EXCERPT of this book OR visit the link below: https://www.hierophantpublishing.com/no-self-no-problem-bo/ . . . #noselfnoproblem #hierophantpublishing #buddha #buddhism #neuropsychology #selfhelp #mindfulness #brain #newbook #mind #lifequotes #meditation #illusion.

The Mastery of Self is a BOOK by don Miguel Ruiz Jr., published by Hierophant Publishing. Read a FREE EXCERPT here: https://www.hierophantpublishing.com/mastery-self-don-mig/ #themasteryofself #donmiguelruizjr #donmiguelruiz #toltec #selfmastery #hierophantpublishing

The inability to receive support from others is a trauma response. Your I don’t need anyone, I’ll just do it all myself conditioning is a survival tactic. An...d you needed it to shield your heart from abuse, neglect, betrayal, and disappointment from those who could not or would not be there for you. From the parent who was absent and abandoned you by choice or the parent who was never home from working three jobs to feed and house you. From the lovers who offered sexual intimacy but never offered a safe haven that honored your heart. From the friendships and family who ALWAYS took more than they ever gave. From all the situations when someone told you we’re in this together or I got you then abandoned you, leaving you to pick up the pieces when shit got real, leaving you to handle your part and their part, too. From all the lies and all the betrayals. You learned along the way that you just couldn’t really trust people. Or that you could trust people, but only up to a certain point. Extreme-independence IS. A. TRUST. ISSUE. You learnt: if I don’t put myself in a situation where I rely on someone, I won’t have to be disappointed when they don’t show up for me, or when they drop the ball... because they will ALWAYS drop the ball EVENTUALLY right? You may even have been intentionally taught this protection strategy by generations of hurt ancestors who came before you. Extreme-independence is a preemptive strike against heartbreak. So, you don’t trust anyone. And you don’t trust yourself, either, to choose people. To trust is to hope, to trust is to be vulnerable. Never again, you vow. But no matter how you dress it up and display it proudly to make it seem like this level of independence is what you always wanted to be, in truth it’s your wounded, scarred, broken heart behind a protective brick wall. Impenetrable. Nothing gets in. No hurt gets in. But no love gets in either. Fortresses and armor are for those in battle, or who believe the battle is coming. It’s a trauma response. The good news is trauma that is acknowledged is trauma that can be healed. You are worthy of having support. You are worthy of having true partnership. You are worthy of love. You are worthy of having your heart held. You are worthy to be adored. You are worthy to be cherished. You are worthy to have someone say, You rest. I got this. And actually deliver on that promise. You are worthy to receive. You are worthy to receive. You are worthy. You don’t have to earn it. You don’t have to prove it. You don’t have to bargain for it. You don’t have to beg for it. You are worthy. WORTHY. Simply because you exist. -Jamila White, @inspiredjamila Coyote Phoenix

I was talking with a friend about how the things I love end up being broken in my very busy home. She sent me a link and it was so meaningful to me, that I cut... and pasted the content, and now I am sharing it with you. Love, Edie. Broken Things October 20, 2015 by Kathleen Fleming This was my hallway last Wednesday. Broken. Sharp. Treacherous. This was my hallway. It was my son who did this. Sometimes, often really, things break - irreparably. And it takes your breath away ... straight away. It took my breath away when my son stormed into the bathroom, frustrated, angry, fed-up for his very own, very significant to him, reasons. And when he chose to SLAM the bathroom door, causing the heavy mirror mounted to the front to slip out of the hardware holding it in place and crash onto the floor - a million, BROKEN pieces were left reflecting the afternoon light. I was quiet. I surveyed the damage and took a deep breath. Put the dog outside so he wouldn't cut his feet, put the cat in the basement for the same reason. I walked into the backyard and felt the hot tears streaming down my face. It's amazing how alone you can feel as a single parent in moments like these. I realized how scared and disappointed I felt. Did this really just happen? Yes. This was real. And as I stood and considered whether or not this was an indication of his developing character, I heard his tears through the window above me, coming from inside the bathroom. His soul hurt. This was not what he expected either. Hello, Anger - I don't remember inviting you into my house. Scary. Terrified. Ashamed. Worried. Scared. Deep breath, #MamaWarrior. Deep breath. That small, fragile soul needs you right now. He needs your very best. Your biggest compassion. Your most gentle and firm mama love and reassurance. More deep breaths. Go Mama. Go. Go now. Go open the front door, tiptoe through the broken glass, hear him hearing you coming, watch the bathroom door crack open, see the face you love most in the world red with worry and wet with tears, his voice is suddenly so small: "Mama, I'll never do it again, I am SO sorry." More tears. More weeping. Such uncertainty on his sweet face. Go Mama. Get him. Go now. Scoop him into your lap. Yup, you're crying too. Damn this was big. Hold him tight. Watch how he curls into a ball in your arms so quickly. See how eager he is to be loved by you. To be reassured by you. See how small he still is. See how fragile that spirit is. I love you. You are safe. I am right here. The worst part is over now. I've got you. I'm here. I love you. Go Mama. Tell him about Anger. Tell him now. Anger is a really powerful feeling. You have a right to your Anger. Anger burns hot. It can purify. It can also destroy. He nods. He feels it. He's met Anger now. There's a better way to show your big feelings. We'll work on it together .... tomorrow. I'm here to help you. You are safe. You are never alone in your anger. You are never alone in your fears. I'm here. We're here together. Now we will clean together. And we cleaned up the broken pieces. We swept and we vacuumed. It was quiet work. It was careful work. It was thoughtful work. Sometimes things break. Sometimes we break them. It's not the breaking that matters, the how or why. What matters is how we choose to respond to the broken-ness. Does it kill us? Does it throw us into a downward spiral of blame and punishment? OR Does it help us remember how to love deepest? Does it push us towards compassion and over the hurdle of "rightness" and "wrongness" into LOVENESS? Yes. LOVENESS. Go Mama. Go now. Get that baby of yours. Teach that. Show that. Live that. It's called LOVENESS. Go. Now.

A friend shared this and I really liked the lesson! *original poster (Kate Scott 2020)*: RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE. When I was at one of my lowest (mental) poin...ts in life, I couldn’t get out of bed some days. I had no energy or motivation and was barely getting by. I had therapy once per week, and on this particular week I didn’t have much to ‘bring’ to the session. He asked how my week was and I really had nothing to say. What are you struggling with? he asked. I gestured around me and said I dunno man. Life. Not satisfied with my answer, he said No, what exactly are you worried about right now? What feels overwhelming? When you go home after this session, what issue will be staring at you? I knew the answer, but it was so ridiculous that I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to have something more substantial. Something more profound. But I didn’t. So I told him, Honestly? The dishes. It’s stupid, I know, but the more I look at them the more I CAN’T do them because I’ll have to scrub them before I put them in the dishwasher, because the dishwasher sucks, and I just can’t stand and scrub the dishes. I felt like an idiot even saying it. What kind of grown ass woman is undone by a stack of dishes? There are people out there with *actual* problems, and I’m whining to my therapist about dishes? But my therapist nodded in understanding and then said: RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE. I began to tell him that you’re not supposed to, but he stopped me. Why the hell aren’t you supposed to? If you don’t want to scrub the dishes and your dishwasher sucks, run it twice. Run it three times, who cares?! Rules do not exist, so stop giving yourself rules. It blew my mind in a way that I don’t think I can properly express. That day, I went home and tossed my smelly dishes haphazardly into the dishwasher and ran it three times. I felt like I had conquered a dragon. The next day, I took a shower lying down. A few days later. I folded my laundry and put them wherever the fuck they fit. There were no longer arbitrary rules I had to follow, and it gave me the freedom to make accomplishments again. Now that I’m in a healthier place, I rinse off my dishes and put them in the dishwasher properly. I shower standing up. I sort my laundry. But at a time when living was a struggle instead of a blessing, I learned an incredibly important lesson: THERE ARE NO RULES. RUN THE DISHWASHER TWICE!!!

Pooh woke up that morning, and, for reasons that he didn't entirely understand, couldn't stop the tears from coming. He sat there in bed, his little body shakin...g, and he cried, and cried, and cried. Amidst his sobs, the phone rang. It was Piglet. "Oh Piglet," said Pooh, between sobs, in response to his friend's gentle enquiry as to how he was doing. "I just feel so Sad. So, so, Sad, almost like I might not ever be happy again. And I know that I shouldn't be feeling like this. I know there are so many people who have it worse off than me, and so I really have no right to be crying, with my lovely house, and my lovely garden, and the lovely woods all around me. But oh, Piglet: I am just SO Sad." Piglet was silent for a while, as Pooh's ragged sobbing filled the space between them. Then, as the sobs turned to gasps, he said, kindly: "You know, it isn't a competition." "What isn't a competition?" asked a confused sounding Pooh. "Sadness. Fear. Grief," said Piglet. "It's a mistake we often make, all of us. To think that, because there are people who are worse off than us, that that somehow invalidates how we are feeling. But that simply isn't true. You have as much right to feel unhappy as the next person; and, Pooh - and this is the really important bit - you also have just as much right to get the help that you need." "Help? What help?" asked Pooh. "I don't need help, Piglet. "Do I?" Pooh and Piglet talked for a long time, and Piglet suggested to Pooh some people that he might be able to call to talk to, because when you are feeling Sad, one of the most important things is not to let all of the Sad become trapped inside you, but instead to make sure that you have someone who can help you, who can talk through with you how the Sad is making you feeling, and some of the things that might be able to be done to support you with that. What's more, Piglet reminded Pooh that this support is there for absolutely everyone, that there isn't a minimum level of Sad that you have to be feeling before you qualify to speak to someone. Finally, Piglet asked Pooh to open his window and look up at the sky, and Pooh did so. "You see that sky?" Piglet asked his friend. "Do you see the blues and the golds and that big fluffy cloud that looks like a sheep eating a carrot?" Pooh looked, and he could indeed see the blues and the golds and the big fluffy cloud that looked like a sheep eating a carrot. "You and I," continued Piglet, "we are both under that same sky. And so, whenever the Sad comes, I want you to look up at that sky, and know that, however far apart we might be physically...we are also, at the same time, together. Perhaps, more together than we have ever been before." "Do you think this will ever end?" asked Pooh in a small voice. "This too shall pass," confirmed Piglet. "And I promise you, one day, you and I shall once again sit together, close enough to touch, sharing a little smackerel of something...under that blue gold sky."

Simple pleasures: