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You can feel what brings you down and what

lifts you higher.

But if you're someone who grew up stuck in a

toxic environment, you might have learned to

cope by investing all your energy into lifting

up everyone around you with the hope that

maybe they won't let you down anymore.

But that's a full time job that's often carried

into adulthood. Not to mention it's often a

fruitless endeavor.

One way to heal is to realize that you are no

longer required to stay stuck in toxic

environments the way you once were.

You can now invest your energy into practicing lifting yourself up and taking yourself out into the

world where healthier environments await.

-JLK

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She danced to her heart but was told to stay still. She sang from her depths but was told to be quiet. She explored her own interests, but they gave her more chores. She shared something funny but was told she was rude. She spoke from her mind but was told she was wrong.

And finally, when she had no space to dance or sing or share herself or even breathe, she asked quietly for an invitation out, but no one heard, bc she was stuffed so deep inside her body.

She lived like this awhile, until one day she wondered if all the things constraining her were as real as they seemed. What if they were only beliefs? And not even hers?

So she tried moving her body past her constraints and she sang a song and the sound made her smile, and she wrote down her thoughts and they read like a poem, and abandoned the dishes and went for a walk.

And she felt the air in her lungs and it felt like life. And she realized she didn’t need an invitation to be herself—the invitation to live was being alive.

-JLK

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Sometimes, keeping the peace doesn’t actually create peace. It just keeps you silently in survival mode.

Keeping your perspective to yourself in order to protect yourself from other people’s toxic, unskilled, reactive behavior does not serve you in the long run.

Instead of keeping the peace, you can practice developing skills to communicate your truth. You don’t have to communicate your truth to toxic people. Try first with someone you trust, or even someone you hire to trust, or start a blog.

You will grow stronger and stronger by practicing communicating your truth. Not as a battle strategy or as a revenge strategy, but for the sole purpose of representing who you are in the world—your values, your perspective, what’s meaningful to you. If someone is uncomfortable with your truth, let them be uncomfortable.

If it eventually costs you the relationship, then it wasn’t really a relationship—it was that younger version of yourself, still looking for validation and safety in spaces that will never be available for such things.

Not communicating your truth can cost you your relationship with yourself, with your lifelong agreement to honor your spirit.

It’s never too late to represent yourself in the world. Your self is always right here, wanting to share itself and be seen and heard. Kindly ask your fears to step out of the way and let yourself be the spokesperson for what matters to you.

-JLK

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I think the whole world needs to agree to a gigantic truce—every single person—from our minds, our homes, our communities, cities, countries and continents.

I don’t think we need to love each other, or even love ourselves. So long as we make a promise to take time to heal. To unravel the rage, the pain, the grief, the fear, and the stuff we use to cover it up—the sarcasm, apathy and distraction.

And once the truce is agreed upon, all the money that pays for war can pay for everyone to have a house that’s safe, a comfortable bed. Groceries and a kitchen. A plot of land and a tree. A community center down the road where people can connect and share ideas and make them happen. While the children go to school and take only two classes: how to communicate-to-be-understood and how to listen-to-understand.

And we’ll spend mornings and evenings in meditation all together, until everyone begins to heal the pain of so many yesterdays, so it stops showing up every tomorrow.

-JLK

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I think this is why healing is best done when we feel safe. Because when we feel safe, we can reflect on those moments when we didn’t, and maybe even notice that the way we protected ourselves made other people feel not so safe—people that we love, even ourselves.

When we take the time to think deeper about this stuff while we’re feeling safe, we have more clarity to determine whether the people who triggered us were actually a threat to us, or if they just reminded us of a time when we were helpless and didn’t feel safe and had no choice but to shift into survival mode. And we can then offer these parts of ourselves our love and understanding.

When we work to recognize the stuff that activates unsafe feelings within us, it’s as if we’re shining a light on those moments. So, when we encounter these moments throughout our days—whether it’s with our kids or our partners—instead of reacting and shifting straight into survival mode, we have a choice to see what we’ve already illuminated when we felt safe—and maybe even discover that we actually feel safe right now. And that we actually have the skills to problem solve instead of react—skills like self-soothing, and skills like communicating-to-be-understood and listening-to-understand.

When we develop awareness of the parts of ourselves that are still struggling to survive as well as the parts of ourselves that feel safe, we create compassionate connections between all our parts that help us to feel more whole. And when we begin to feel whole, we may realize that we are capable of creating deeper, more fulfilling connections—with ourselves first, and also with others.

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I was thinking about this story so I thought I’d share it again…

When school didn’t work for my son…

Back when my son was in preschool, I was still such a people-pleaser.

And there was one morning when my son just didn’t want to be there. I mean, he never really wanted to be there, but this time, he was crying so hard.

And I was so torn bc his teacher kept telling me how normal it was, that he was fine. But my son was clearly not fine.

Then the teacher (she was actually the assistant teacher) picked up my hysterically crying son and said, “This would be a good time for you to leave.”

And that’s when my inner self stepped in front of my people-pleaser self, and I grabbed my child back and said, “Actually, this is a good time for both of us to leave.” And we left and my son said, “Thank you, Mama.”

I grew up constantly being torn away from what felt natural and into what I was supposed-to-do. And I was told I was ‘fine’ so many times, I couldn’t even begin to count.

And after so many years of this, I began to bury my inner sense of myself, along with the relationship I had with my natural interests and natural feelings of safety and comfort.

My energy went instead to learning how to pretend that I was fine, bc that seemed to be the way to earn acceptance and adoration.

But I wasn’t fine either.

And it took years before I was in a position to bypass all those ”I’m fine’s” and heal what really had never been ok, and heal it on my own terms.

And it took years to recognize that it wasn’t really a reflection of me that I wasn’t fine, but a reflection of all the environments I had been forced into that really weren’t a match for who I was.

But then I had a son. And I didn’t know what the hell to do with him except to put him in the same systems I’d been put in.

But that one day, when he clearly wasn’t fine, it was as if all the younger selves inside me that were finally healing after so many years of pretending to be fine, refused to be ok with what was happening. As if they all spoke up and screamed together: “He’s not fine!!!”

I could practically hear them cheering as I walked my son back to the car that day.

Ideally, in this world, we’d have school systems that would nurture the gifted parts of us, instead of systems that want to mold us into being parts to help the systems work better.

Schools would be gardens for our essences so that our natural perspectives and interests and ideas would be what grows and flourishes out of the school buildings and into our communities.

But such is not the case for many of us. And sure, many kids love school. But many don’t. Mine certainly didn’t.

It still took me a few more years to realize that no matter how much I wished my son would love school, it wasn’t going to happen.

And I finally believed him when he said for the millionth time that school was an unhealthy place for him and that he wasn’t going to be fine, that he couldn’t go back. And finally, I pulled him out.

Maybe one day we’ll find an in-person school that’s a good fit for my son. Maybe one day we’ll find a place where the teachers ask, “Are you fine? No? Let’s talk about what we can do differently so that you can feel fine.”

But for now, my son is exploring his interests, making friends, and learning how to communicate his thoughts and his feelings his way—on his own terms and in his own time.

-JLK

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Reminder to myself…

Instead of feeling perpetually disappointed when your needs aren’t being met, consider that maybe you’ve just been trying to get your needs met at all the wrong places.

This doesn’t mean friendships or relationships need to end. It simply means that we haven’t yet explored the many different kinds of outlets that are available to share ourselves through.

And an outlet isn’t always a person. Once we get clear about what we’re looking to give and receive, we can seek out the right kinds of places that will be naturally receptive to these parts of ourselves.

-JLK

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(An affirmation—something I’m working on.)

I think of myself as a gardener.

I imagine the future and see my garden in full bloom.

I take seeds from that future garden and I plant them metaphorically right now.

How I water these seeds is with my nurturing-in-action.

There will be droughts. That’s expected.

Sometimes my energy has to go to watering myself in order to just survive. And that’s ok.

And other times I know my brain will get overwhelmed—I’ll start getting new ideas and before I know it, I’ll be planting new gardens—watering new seeds and neglecting the old.

And that’s also ok. Sometimes flexibility can lead to blossoms I would have otherwise never expected.

But no matter how it goes, knowing that whatever I water is what will grow helps me remember to focus on watering the seeds I *want* to see grow, instead of the ones I would never want to see in my garden.

This means that I refrain from watering the seeds of shame, because I know those seeds will blossom into a shame garden.

And this means I refrain from watering the seeds of ‘I’m not worthy,’ bc I know those seeds will grow into a garden that would never reflect the wonder of who I am.

And this also means refraining from watering toxic people, expecting that they will one day blossom in my garden, bc I know that other people are responsible for their own growth and I’m responsible for mine.

With practice, I can learn to trust myself and be a reliable gardener.

-JLK

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(Potential trigger warning: mental health issues, hearing voices…)

Years ago, during one of the many times my mother was near death, I went down to Florida.

During the day, I stayed at the hospital, and at night, I slept in her bed at her apartment.

She’d had a seizure and there was blood on her chair and comforter. And the energy in the room was all fucked up. You could literally feel the monsters my mother had been battling.

Lying in her bed, I was so scared. Terrified, in fact.

Even with all the lights on. But there was no other place I could go.

And then when I got more scared than I could handle, I realized there was only one thing left to do: talk with those monsters, my mother’s monsters, that had scared me on and off my whole life.

So I took a deep breath, and I said, “I bet you guys have been misunderstood too, just like my mother. I bet in some ways, you’ve just been trying to protect her. To tell her important things, urgent things. But she hasn’t been listening, or she’s been twisting the meaning of your words. That must be frustrating.”

I felt a softening. So I continued.

“Well, I hear you. And I’m here. And so what I’m going to do, is give you guys all a hug.”

And that’s what I did. I hugged each scary thing I was feeling, and the strangest thing happened…

Every time something scary was touched by love, it turned into love. One after another. Everything scary melted into the understanding it was given.

The most powerful weapon turned out not to be attacking the fear or fleeing the fear, but giving love to the fear, by accepting it first, and then reflecting its best intention.

Then I got another idea. I got up and wrote my mother a note:

Whenever you hear voices in your head, telling you terrible things, I want you to listen deeper. Because there’s another voice that’s there too. It’s this one. Mine. Telling you I love you and that I understand you. And that I’m here with you. If you hear my voice, I bet those other voices will hear my voice too. And they’ll like the sound of it. And they’ll feel better too, and they’ll let you get some rest.

I love you, Your Daughter.

Then, I got back into my mother’s bed and fell asleep.

And ever since, when something inside me scares me, I try to remind myself not to run away, but to instead go right toward it, and give it my love.

-JLK

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For those who’ve experienced trauma, there may be a recurring time of day when you experience a heightened sense of hypervigilance, a heightened sense that something is wrong.

This can happen no matter how much time has elapsed since the trauma actually happened.

You may find yourself in these moments looking for evidence for what is still wrong, and you may find many things wrong.

These pieces of evidence that everything is wrong might all meld together and leave you feeling privately drained and awful, even though you still may smile and be your best self for everyone else.

You may find yourself secretly desperate for an elixir that might help let you have a little peace.

You may find you notice all this more when you’re by yourself, where there are less distractions and less attractions.

Whenever you find yourself in this uncomfortable predicament, please remember that there is a space within yourself where you are safe. It may be just the tiniest apartment deep within yourself, but it’s yours whenever you’d like to visit.

The walls of this space are built with boundaries, boundaries built not from animosity for others but rather built out of love for yourself.

This space can be here for you to be just as you are and just as you aren’t. Where you can sit on a cushion of empathy and observe all that’s right or wrong but from a less triggered place.

Where you can simplify your actions to breathing in, knowing you’re breathing in, and breathing out, knowing you’re breathing out.

You may also find comfort that you are not alone here. That there are so many others like you building similar spaces, learning how to not be held hostage by their circumstances and by other people’s behavior.

Sending my love to you, you who gets secretly triggered everyday. You’re not alone. I send you peace from my tiny apartment to yours.

-JLK

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If you experienced past trauma at certain times of the day, you may find that there’s still an urgency to prioritize safety at these specific times of day.

For example, maybe at night, you don’t really care about your ‘thriving’ goals, because you’re too focused caring about your ‘surviving’ goals.

Maybe this looks like pushing everyone away to protect your autonomy, or feeling more reactive by other people’s demands or their neglect. Or just doing your best to cope with the acute panic that still consistently shows up.

And maybe when you wake up in the morning, you feel confused, because your mind is suddenly in a different mode now—able to access more nuance, flexibility and the stuff that inspires you. And maybe this is bc your brain is out of the danger zone so it’s able to focus on thriving now.

If this is you, please don’t shame yourself for being on this roller coaster ride. Allow yourself a minute to reflect on your nighttime experience and then give yourself permission to get back to investing in your daytime goals.

I find when I replace my shame with wisdom, it makes sense that I have parts of my self that work the day shift and other parts that work the night shift. That’s what was necessary to cope with those old circumstances out of my control.

But I believe we can begin to merge these parts. I believe as we strengthen our attention, this part of ourselves that is aware can be available around the clock to support both our thriving parts and our surviving parts.

With awareness of all our parts, we will get to experience that there is nothing ‘wrong’ with us. That we are both an extension of our environment and an extension of the divine. That we are whole, complete, fascinating, and worthy of being here.

-JLK

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Someone asked me a question about how to notice which internal voices are our own, and which belong to other people’s, and how to develop our own voice if we mostly, or only hear other people’s toxic internalized voices.

Thought I’d share in case it’s useful to anyone…

Earlier, my 11yo son was supposed to go on a walk with me. But he didn’t want to go.

And I felt myself getting reactive and I said something mildly shaming. Something like, “I was really hoping you’d honor your word here.”

And he tried to explain that something else came up that was important to him.

I managed to pause for a second to hear a voice in my head: “You have no control over your son.”

This was not my voice. It was my father’s voice.

But this was the voice that fueled my reactivity towards my son.

When I gave that voice my attention, I could remember the times when I was younger and I didn’t keep my word with my father.

I had wanted my father to understand my perspective and I had wanted him to be flexible enough to negotiate with me, but instead he only said, “I’m so disappointed in you.”

This hurt to hear. And he said that a lot.

But the weird thing is, I almost said it to my son.

I had a powerful urge to say it. That awful message was at the tip of my tongue: “I’m so disappointed in you.”

And why?

Bc I think we humans evolved to be programmed by our parents. Our parents/caregivers are the ones who instill within us our first software that we run on.

Ideally, we’d grow up in families that would teach us the skills we need to survive and thrive.

But toxic families install toxic software, and it’s then our new purpose in life to figure out how to uninstall and create new software for ourselves that instills a sense of self instead of a sense of shame.

So, just as I almost used my father’s voice on my son, I often go ahead and use those old voices on myself. And I think they’re mine:

“It’ll never work out for you.” “You missed your chance.” “You’re a disappointment to everyone.” “The stuff you do is just not enough.” “You’re not the valuable person you think you are.”

It’s not only my father’s voice. We live in a society where affirmations for not-being-enough are shouted from the rooftops practically everywhere we go. I sometimes think the bird call of humanity is ‘You’re not enough.’

So to create new voices, I have to separate myself from those old voices. And one way to do that is by being aware of those old voices as distinct from mine.

And by using my current voice to understand where those old voices came from, I’m creating a voice for myself.

Personally, I think writing is a great way to understand the meaning we’ve given to those old voices, and I think writing is a great way to create new voices.

We can create new software for ourselves, one affirmation at a time. And when we voice our affirmations, we begin to make new choices based on the new voices we’re using.

I like to think of it as wiring—I fuel the voices with my attention.

Those old voices have a lot of fuel bc I’ve been giving them my attention so long.

But in time, they’ll run out of fuel if I stop giving them my attention.

And my new voice will start getting more powerful the more attention I give it—by voicing what’s meaningful to me, and by listening to my own voice.

So back to my son—when I was able to access my own voice, I paused and looked at my son and thought of myself at his age—wanting my needs and wants to matter—and I remembered that my son just met a new friend and that’s really important to him.

Without my fathers voice, what was my own experience of my son not wanting to go on a walk?

Big deal.

Bc flexibility is one of my self-created affirmations. And so is ‘context first.’ That way I’m looking underneath the moment for its meaning, instead of comparing the moment to what others might think it *should* be.

Does my son need to prioritize honoring his word in that moment to be a quality person? No, bc teaching him flexibility and to communicate his wants and to negotiate and enroll someone in a new plan is much more important to me.

So basically, by writing down the things I notice about the voices I’ve internalized, as I’ve done here, it strengthens my current voice, bc through writing, I’m using my current perspective to understand these other voices and how they’ve impacted myself and my life.

And this is the kind of exercise that helps me to create a voice of my own.

-JLK

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When I’m trying to find peace and comfort, I still get attacked sometimes by that uncomfortable feeling of wanting to reach for something—a cookie, a phone, anything.

It’s so difficult for me to remember that there’s nothing 'out there’ that's going to make anything ‘in here’ feel better for long.

And I still wrestle with that perpetual reaching and nothing there, reaching and nothing there. Until I have no choice but to sigh and surrender to the idea that maybe I don’t mind being alone in my body after all.

Because when I think about it, I’m not really alone. I have my current self to connect with, along with everyone I’ve ever been. And plenty of associations and memories to keep me entertained.

It’s habit really—this experience of believing I’m not enough just as I am, that feeling that keeps me running from the most glorious moment with the most substance—the moment we’re always in. Right now.

-JLK