THIS book, Rising Strong, by Brene Brown…..I do not even know if there are words.

I have been COUTING DOWN THE DAYS until it was released.

I read her other book, Daring Greatly, and from that moment I was obsessed with this author.

She is a powerhouse, she has a phenomenal Ted X talk about The Power of Vulnerability HERE

I couldn’t put this book down, I mean I took it EVERYWHERE with me, and when I say EVERYWHERE I mean everywhere 🙂

I needed these messages so desperately and I wrote down all my favorites and wanted to share them, because I believe this is a way to live and more people need to apply them to their daily lives.

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Vulnerability is the willingness to show up and been seen with no guarantee of outcome. It is the only path to more love, belonging, and joy.

Doing this work is not only worth it, it is THE WORK of living a wholehearted life.

Rising strong after a fall is how we cultivate wholeheartedness in our lives; it’s the process that teaches us the most about who we are.

Wholehearted living as engaging in our lives from a place of worthiness. It means cultivating the courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and think, “ No matter what gets done and how much is left undone, I am enough.”

We want to be brave, and deep inside we know that being brave requires us to be vulnerable.

If we’re going to put ourselves out there and love with our whole hearts, we’re going to experience heartbreak. If we’re going to try new, innovative things, we’re going to fail. If we’re going to risk caring and engaging, we’re going to experience disappointment.

Theodore Roosevelt’s powerful quote from his 1910 “Man in the Arena” speech:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; …who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.

I want to be in the arena. I want to be brave with my life. And when we make the choice to dare greatly, we sign up to get our asses kicked. We can choose courage or we can choose comfort, but we can’t have both.

Not at the same time.

There are too many people today who instead of feeling hurt are ACTING OUT THEIR HURT ; instead of ACKNOWLEDGING PAIN, they’re INFLICTING pain on others. Rather than risking FEELING DISAPPOINTED, they’re choosing to LIVE DISAPPOINTED.

Emotional stoicism is not basassery.

Blustery posturing is not basassery.

Swagger is not bassaery.

Perfection is about the furthest thing in the world from Badassery.

People who wade into discomfort and vulnerability and tell the truth about their stories are the real badasses.

Perspective is critical.

But I’m a firm believer that complaining is okay as long as we piss and moan with a little perspective.

HURT is HURT. Everytime that we honor our own struggle and the struggles of others by responding with empathy and compassion, the healing that results affects all of us.

Whatever the middle space is for your own process, is when you’re “in the dark”- the door has closed behind you. You’re too far in to turn around and not close enough to the end to see the light.

Rumbling with our story and owning our truth in order to write a new, more courageous ending transforms who we are and how we engage with the world.

One of the outcomes of attempting to ignore emotional pain is chandeliering. We think we’ve packed the hurt so far down that it can’t possibly resurface, yet all of sudden, a seemingly innocuous comment sends us into a rage or sparks a crying fit.

It is happens often enough- chandeliering leads to eggshell environments- fear based settings where everyone is on edge.

Livng, growing up, working, or worshipping on eggshells creates huge cracks in our sense of safety and self-worth. Over time, it can be experienced as trauma.

Tactical Breathing

1. Inhale deeply through your nose, expanding your stomach, for a count of four- one,two, three, four.
2. Hold in that breath for a count of four- one, two, three, four.
3. Slowly exhale all the air through your mouth, contracting your stomach, for a count of four- one, two, three, four.
4. Hold the empty breath for a count of four- one, two, three, four.

The Power of Expressive Writing in the healing process:

“Emotional upheavels touch every part of our lives. You don’t just lose a job, you don’t just get divorced. These things affect all aspects of who we are- our financial situation, our relationships with others, our views of ourselves, our issues of life and death. Writing helps us focus and organize the experience.

In the research, he advocates limited writing or short spurts. He’s found that writing about emotional upheavals for just 15-20 minutes a day on four consecutive days can decrease anxiety, rumination, and depressive symptoms and boost our immune systems.

We can’t get to our brave new ending if we start from an inauthentic place.

This should feel vulnerable and personal. Your intention should be to embrace curiosity, awareness, and growth.

Having the courage to reckon with our emotions and to rumble with our stories is the path to writing our brave new ending and the path that leads to wholeheartedness. It’s also the beginning. Understanding our fall and rise, owning our story, taking responsibility for our emotions- his is where the revolution starts.

Two of the most common messages that trigger shame in all of us are “never good enough” and “who do you think you are?”

Great mothers know that they are worthy of love and belonging, and as a result they raise children who know they are worthy of the same things. Shaming other mothers is not one of the million ways to be a great mom.

We don’t compare when we’re feeling good about ourselves; we look for what’s good in others. When we practice self-compassion, we are compassionate toward others. Self-righteousness is just the armor of self-loathing.

The brokenhearted are the bravest among us- they dared to love.

To love with any level of intensity and honesty is to become vulnerable.

Heartbreak is unavoidable unless we choose not to love at all. A lot of people do just that.

This process led to some of the toughest but most important “deaths” of my life. I had to bury my idealized version of my parents and see them instead as people with struggles and limitations.

We can’t be vulnerable and open with people who are hurting us.

The most compassionate people I’ve met and interviewed are people who not only have spent time facedown in the arena, but also were brave enough to open their eyes to the suffering of others lying there with them.

Compassion: reconizing the light and dark in our shared humanity, we commit to practicing loving-kindness with ourselves and others in the face of suffering.

Empathy: The most powerful tool of compassion, empathy is an emotional skill that allows us to respond to others in a meaningful, caring way. Empathy is the ability to understand what someone is experiencing and to reflect back that understanding. It’s important to note here that empathy is understanding what someone is feeling, not feeling it for them.

Sympathy: Rather than being a tool for connection, sympathy emerged in the data as a form of disconnection. Sympathy is removed: when someone says, “I feel sorry for you” or “That must be terrible”, they are standing at a safe distance. Rather than conveying the powerful “me too” of empathy, it communicates “not me”, and then adds, “But I do feel for you”. Sympathy is more likely to be a shame trigger than something that heals shame.

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

Both ways of functioning are forms of armor- learned behaviors for getting out from under fear and uncertainty.

Over-functioning: I won’t feel, I will do. I don’t need help, I help.

Under-functioning: I won’t function, I will fall apart. I don’t help, I need help.

Trust’s definition is “choosing to risk making something you value vulnerable to another person’s actions, “and he describes distrust as deciding that “what is important to me is not safe with this person in this situation (or any situation).

Trusting myself or other people is vulnerable and courageous process:

Boundaries- You respect my boundaries, and when you’re not clear about what’s okay and not okay, you ask. You’re willing to say no.

Reliability- You do what you say you’ll do. At work, this means staying aware of your competencies and limitations so you don’t overpromise and are able to deliver on commitments and balance competing priorities.

Accountability- You own your mistakes, apologize, and make amends.

Vault- You don’t share information or experiences that are not yours to share. I need to know that my confidences are kept, and that you’re not sharing with me any information about other people that should be confidential.

Integrity-  You choose courage over comfort. You choose what is right over what is fun, fast, or easy. And you choose to practice your values rather than simply professing them.

Nonjudgement-  I can ask for what I need, and you can ask for what you need. We can talk about how we feel without judgement.

Generosity- You extend the most generous interpretation possible to the intentions, words, and actions of others.

We are most dangerous to ourselves and to the people around us when we feel powerless. Powerlessness leads to fear and desperation.

To embrace and love who we are, we have to reclaim and reconnect with the parts of ourselves we’ve orphaned over the years. We have to call back home all of those parts of ourselves that we have abandoned. Carl Jung called this individuation.

The lifelong project of becoming more nearly the whole person we were meant to be- what the gods intended, not the parents, or the tribe, or especially the easily intimidated or the inflated ego.

A fear of being perceived as weak forces men into pretending they are never afraid, lonely, confused, vulnerable, or wrong; and an extreme fear of being perceived as cold-hearted, imperfect, high maintenance, or hostile forces women to pretend they’re never exhausted, ambitious, pissed off, or even hungry.

Of all the things trauma takes away from us, the worst is our willingness, or even our ability, to be vulnerable. There’s a reclaiming that has to happen.

The really cruel things people say about us are painful. Cheap-seat folks are season-ticket holders in the arena. For women, they’ll go after appearance, body image, mothering, and anything else that could dent be-perfect-and-make-everyone-happy expectations. For men, they’ll go straight for the jugular- any appearance of weakness of failure.

When we stop caring what people think, we lose our capacity for connection. But when we are defined by what people think, we lose the courage to be vulnerable. The solution is getting totally clear on the people whose opinions actually matter.

A small, quiet, grassroots movement that starts with each of us saying, “My story matters because I matter”. A movement where we can take to the streets with our messy, imperfect, wild, stretch-marked, wonderful, heartbreaking, grace-filled, and joyful lives. A movement fueled by the freedom that comes when we stop pretending that everything is okay when it isn’t. A call that rises up from our bellies when we find the courage to celebrate those intensely joyful moments even though we’ve convinced ourselves that savoring happiness is inviting disaster.

Revolution might sound a little dramatic, but in this world, choosing authenticity and worthiness is an absolute act or resistance. Choosing to live and love with our whole hearts is an act of defiance. You’re going to confuse, piss off, and terrify lots of people- including yourself. One minute you’ll pray that the transformation stops, and the next minute you’ll pray that it never does. You’ll also wonder how you can feel so brave and so afraid at the same time. At least that’s how I feel most of the time….brave, afraid, and very, very alive.

Our vision is that we can rise from our experiences of hurt and struggle in a way that allows us to live more wholehearted lives.

Manifesto of the brave + brokenhearted

There is no greater threat to the critics and cynics

And fearmongers

Than those of us who are willing to fall

Because we have learned how to rise

With skinned kneeds and bruised hearts;

We choose owning our stories of struggle,

Over hiding, over husting, over pretending.

When we deny our stories, they define us.

When we run from struggle, we are never free.

So we turn toward truth and look it in the eye.

We will not be characters in our stories.

Not villains, not victims, not even heroes.

 We are the author of our lives.

We write our own daring endings.

We craft love from heartbreak,

Compassion from shame,

Grace from disappointment,

Courage from failure.

Showing up is our power.

Story is our way home.

Truth is our song.

We are the brave and brokenhearted.

We are rising strong.

Some of Brene’s Other Books are below.

You can find Rising Strong on Amazon

and you can view her website here.

Brene also spoke ALL ABOUT this book with Oprah and it is a phenomenal discussion, you can view it HERE.

I stumbled across this blog post about a woman seeing another woman she knew in the grocery store a few weeks after her daughters death.

It was written so honestly and genuinely that I couldn’t help but want to share it.

I feel like SO MANY TIMES we just don’t know the right words to say,

so instead we SAY NOTHING, and that hurts….like really bad.

Because guess what?!

All the other people you know are also feeling that way and SAYING NOTHING, so you are left with grief and sadness and there is NO ONE THERE.

This is the story of saying SOMETHING, even if that is only, ” I don’t know what to say” and acknoledging the person.

Because when it comes down to it, isn’t that what we all want?!

To know that we are seen and wanted!?

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Article Below:

I stood in the produce section of my local grocery store, my hands comparing the weights of cantaloupes. Heavy enough, I thought.

I sniffed its stem, searching for that sweet spot, while my palms rubbed over its rough netted surface. My breath froze when I glanced up across the piles of lemons and avocados to see her handling the tomatoes.

I stared at the cantaloupe. I hoped she hadn’t noticed that I noticed her.

I didn’t know what to say.

She lost her teenaged daughter in a horrific car crash several weeks earlier — five teens died on their way to school.

This mom was forced to give up the gift God had given her seventeen years before.

I felt heavy, as if my feet were rooted to the floor. I placed the cantaloupe in my cart and strained to take a back step towards the broccoli — so my back was to her.

She probably knows I am here.

I was uncomfortable. I fiddled with the Brussel sprouts. Now what do I do? I questioned. Coward, I thought.

When bad things happen, people fear they may say the wrong thing — even when they are trying to be helpful.

I remember the depths of my emotional pain many years earlier when I miscarried my twin girls. God held their tiny bodies in His arms before I did. Even though well-intentioned women whispered, “You’re young enough to have more,” I knew they cared because they arrived by my side, wanting to comfort me. Most often, their comments came with soft eyes, a nestling hug.

What I found worse, though, was when people avoided me, and said nothing at all.

One of my own brothers never called. Months later, he sent me a letter, asking for my forgiveness. One friend dodged me in Kmart. From the corner of my eye, I watched her dart down the automotive aisle. Another woman, pregnant, turned away from me in the church parking lot and began a conversation with someone else.

They could have simply listened for a minute, helped me heal.

Now the jagged edges of discomfort gouged my heart because I’ve been just like the women at Kmart and church, dodging people I didn’t know how to talk to. I’ve neglected to send the card, pick up the phone, pay a visit, or approach them in the store.

I took a deep breath.

Her baggy jeans and oversized flannel hung on her thin frame. Hollow eyes replaced the stubborn jaw I remembered.

I walked up to her, acting surprised to see her. I think she was on to me, but she didn’t draw attention to my cowardice.

I found the courage to say “Hello.” My arms jockeyed my cart so I could get closer to her. I tried to find words that wouldn’t get between us. The words I found were the only ones I knew how to say. “I don’t know what to say. I am sorry.”

We hugged. Eyes welled.

Silence.

Now what do I say? I wondered.

“Therefore encourage one another with these words. {1 Thessalonians 4:18}

In His most subtle of ways, the Lord guided me.

I used her daughter’s name — Tonia. “I’m sorry I never thanked Tonia for her incredible work with the school sports program. She taught my sons so much about life and basketball! They spoke highly of her.”

These simple words brought her face to life.

“Let me tell you a story about Tonia,” I offered. It was a funny story, one she didn’t know — one my sons had shared with me months earlier, when she coached their summer basketball camp.

Her eyes held mine, asking for more — more of her daughter. It was as if she were saying, “Please, keep her alive.”

I listened, and remained alongside her as she shared. I prayed it was healing for her. It was for me. We stood there talking for a long time, as shoppers walked by.

The original article was written by Sharon Gibbs on her blog, (IN)Courage 

I recently read the book

Broken Open: How difficult times can help us grow

and I was completely blown away by it.

It had some beautiful messages and passages and I wrote down my favorite ones to share with you all!

Life’s deepest experience is the joy that fills our hearts when we love and give to others.

In the end, what will matter is how much we loved-

Families, our friends, everyone we knew, everyone who traveled with us during our brief visit to this unbearably lovely place.

What will matter is the good we did, not the good we expected others to do.

This is still the real work at hand: for each one of us to meet the bad in the world with the good in our own hearts.

If we do not suffer a loss all the way to the end, it will wait for us.

It won’t just dissipate and disappear. Rather, it will fester, and we will experience its sorrow later, in stranger forms.

This is my path and the particular difficulties given to me are my teachers.

If we are not willing to confront the truth about ourselves that a loss unearths, we squander a rare and precious opportunity for transformation.

Our grief, while deeply felt, runs the risk of becoming a sentimental escape from the most meaningful part of the journey.

You can find this book an Amazon HERE and the author’s website can be found HERE.