The range of feedback I have received since publishing Thirty Years Without You has been fascinating to me and I’m eager to begin these conversations. I have received incredible support, generous accolades for my writing and vulnerability, and it has been incredibly humbling. I started this blog thirteen years ago because my calling to write felt so strong but it was equally matched by my intense fear of being seen and heard and unsure of any actual talent I might possess. The only way I knew to truly get through that was to lean into it head on, so here I am.

As I connect with each reader and their response to this book, it is actually those who feel a deep resistance to it who I want to address first. Students and clients and even those in my inner circles who indulge me as I spout the principles of Yoga Philosophy, already know what they’re getting into. Talking to strangers simply about the concept of Thirty Years was completely different. Many reflected back at me the natural reaction of those unwilling, uninterested, or more interestingly to me, intensely afraid of what exposing themselves to such a book might do to them.

If this resonates with you, I want you to know it is not your fault. Feeling our feelings is scary, but it’s more than that for many of us. We learned, either directly or indirectly, that our uncomfortable emotions are uncomfortable for others. Rather than learning how to sit with or express the stirring of anger, fear, anxiety, sadness, insecurity, grief, or pain, we were told or taught to push it away so often that as adults we actually apologize for our tears. Imagine that! We apologize for being human, for feeling emotions and letting others see them! As if our humanity is some shameful secret we need to hide away.

Think about it. It’s not uncommon for any of us to have heard “Sshhh, it’s okay, don’t cry, look over here instead” or “Hey, eat this” or “Play with that.” Some of us may have been met with more anger or outrage in reaction to our outbursts being yelled at to “Stop crying!” or “I’ll give you something to cry about!” More indirectly, we may have simply witnessed the adults around us force their own feelings down, deny them, judge others for their outward expressions, or apologize for being “emotional.”

It’s not necessarily the fault of the adults either. They were children at one time too. We’re all just doing our best with what we know and what we’ve learned along the way to survive. As children, we need adults to keep us around and to want to take care of us. We need them to be sheltered and fed and clothed. If our tears make them feel uncomfortable we risk them leaving us, neglecting us, or not caring for us in the way we need them to stay alive.

Ultimately, this means we learn from early childhood how to behave in a way that is acceptable to others so we don’t lose our tribe. Whatever our community, our culture, or family dynamics look like, we all learn how to survive. The thing is, eventually we grow up, develop our own independence and own individual identity and it’s no longer satisfying just to survive, we want to learn to thrive.

This inability to own or even identify emotions that are difficult to feel may come from an innate need to survive but you need to know you are worthy of more. You are allowed to live out the full human experience. You are human and you are valid as you are. You deserve to feel and express within yourself the full spectrum of human emotions. Rather than conditioning yourself to be smaller and more palatable to others, decide your worth now without looking for outside validation. So how do you do that?

It’s a skill. It takes practice. It’s like building a muscle of kindness and compassion. It means taking a few minutes a day for stillness, for quiet, for rest. It means quieting the mental chatter, the narrative, and the stories that justify why we minimize ourselves for others. It means listening and noticing your habitual reaction to fear, sadness, insecurity and the distractions you choose to escape or fortify your walls of resistance. It means leaning into the discomfort that stirs within you, asking for your attention to show you your own habits, your beliefs, and your mindset so you can decide if they are holding you back or serving you in any way.

You have a purpose and it is not to make others feel comfortable with who you are. Every moment you allow yourself to believe you are more valuable as a complete, whole, human individual the less you will depend on society’s acceptance of you. The more you develop your intuition honoring your spirit and your unlimited potential, the less you will rely on changing yourself for others in the hope that they will love you. The more authentic you are to yourself, the more authentically you will navigate through life’s challenges. It will be difficult, it will take time, others will struggle with the shift they see in you, but leaving behind that which doesn’t serve you means that your time, energy, and attention becomes free to discover who you are and what is truly meant for you.

My invitation to those who connect with this intrinsic fear response to feeling deeply is to consider using this opportunity to bring awareness to what is coming up for you. Yoga teaches us to cultivate stillness of the mind regardless of whatever chaos we feel within and around us. What better way to practice that skill than to do so when you feel the stirring of emotions–the energy in motion–that we normally resist, refuse, suppress, or deny. Whether your resistance looks like not picking the book up at all, or if it means beginning the book but not being able to finish it, this discomfort is where the potential for growth lives. I encourage you to lean into it.

Let me know what you think.

With Love, V