From Conflict to Connection

Photo by Tao Heftier

I have been reflecting lately on how stressed out we can get in our daily lives — especially since the onset of the pandemic — and how learning to regulate our nervous system can help. 

I recently traveled to Boston to attend the memorial service for a dear friend of twenty-five years. This exceptional woman changed my life in countless ways. When I received notice of the service, I decided to attend with no hesitation, despite the service being less than one week before my wedding. Not even bad weather from Hurricane Ian could stop me, which meant flying out two days earlier than I had originally planned.

Gathering with family and close friends at the memorial service was a balm for our bereaved souls. We hadn’t been able to come together a year prior, when Susanne died, so we were all determined to gather for the placing of her stone at her graveside. 

Following this gathering, I flew home the Monday before my Saturday wedding. This was a bit crazy.  Since July I had been coping with a thoracic compression fracture accompanied by severe chronic pain, planning a wedding in our home, and preparing for this very important memorial trip.

In short, I was exhausted. My nervous system had been frayed over the past few months.

As I wearily rolled my carry-on luggage up the outdoor ramp at the Philadelphia airport to board one of the flights taking me home, I spotted the flight attendant, whom I’ll call Holly, and took an immediate dislike to her. Moments later she shot me a look of death and commanded, “Turn around! That can’t come on the plane. Go back and give it to the baggage handlers to stow!”

I was stunned. Her command was so intense. It wasn’t the kind of greeting I was accustomed to and certainly not by a business class flight attendant. My heart began to race, my breath became shallow. I could feel heat rising to my face as my jaw and fists tightened. I reacted swiftly and defensively. “I am allowed to bring this on board. Two different employees told me so!” I snapped.

She gave me another look of death and raised her voice, “Who told you that?!”

“The gate attendant and the baggage checker.” I shot back defiantly.

“Turn around.” She yelled pointing her finger at me. “I’m getting the pilot!”

She’s getting the pilot? I thought incredulously.

Momentarily defeated but in no way calm, I did an abrupt about-face, yanking my suitcase with me, practically throwing it at the baggage checkers with the outdoor cart. This was clearly not my finest moment. 

I found my seat on the smallish plane and attempted to calm myself by taking long, slow breaths, the exhale longer than the inhale.

What on earth just happened there? In a word: neuroception.

Have you ever had the experience of meeting someone and taking an instant dislike to them? It seems illogical. You know nothing about them.

Or do you?

Neuroception is an evolutionary reflex that compels  your brain to assess a situation with lightning speed and determine if it is threatening or safe. Unlike perception, neuroception occurs at a subconscious level. 

Through a vastly intelligent neural network, the nervous system takes in myriad levels of information from the environment. Is there anything more stressful than moving through the hustle and bustle of an airport to then be trapped with hundreds of strangers in a tin can flying hundreds of miles per hour? As we move through the crowds and onto the plane, our brains are working overtime, constantly assessing the environments for cues of safety and danger. All of this takes place while we are trying to block out the overstimulation of loud noises, marketing messages, shops, and sales people competing for our attention.

It’s surprising that more fights don’t break out on planes!

Neuroception, a term coined by Dr. Stephen Porges, occurs within seconds, before you have time to weigh in consciously. The brain makes a snap decision. Something in my neuroception determined the flight attendant posed a threat. The Polyvagal Theory posited by Dr. Porges suggests our nervous system has three basic branches and states:

1. immobilization (freeze),

2. mobilization (fight or flight), and

3. social engagement and connection.

In this case it was social disconnection and conflict. I had been thrown into a fight/flight response.

My nervous system had been hijacked by fatigue & grief and then a fight or flight response. I quickly became agitated, irritated, and frustrated when Holly yelled her command. Recognizing which state my nervous system was in gave me the knowledge to take appropriate action. 

After letting go of a bit of embarrassment because of my response, I turned my attention to using my inner resourcing skills. I reassured myself that I was not in a life-threatening situation, and I began to recover composure. 

The pilot came to personally explain the luggage policy and apologize for the misunderstanding. Holly stood close behind him, arms crossed, nodding her head. She forcefully interjected, “I was just doing my job, ma’am.” She seemed to believe my one carry-on might sink the plane in an emergency landing. In my calmer state, I became curious about what might have hijacked Holly.

I began to observe her closely.

She ran a tight ship. During the safety demonstration, which she performed with perfectly articulated and executed movements, she maintained her grim, no-nonsense façade. After take-off, she stood in the galley taking out one plastic trash bag after another. She meticulously folded each of them into a neat little square, then carefully tucked them away. She did the same with the napkins. She was calming herself, bringing order out of chaos. 

After the drink service, she did not relax her rigid body. Instead, she discreetly withdrew a book from a hidden cubbyhole. As she opened it, I recognized the cover. Then, it all made sense. 

She was reading a copy of The Body Keeps the Score, by Dr. Bessel Van der Kolk, the foremost expert on trauma. In fact, the author is the physician responsible for giving us the term PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). I’d be willing to bet that Holly was a trauma survivor. 

My heart immediately opened with compassion. 

Brava, that she was reading that self-help book. Suddenly, as a former trauma recovery therapist, I wanted to help her. She had a dysregulated nervous system! Given her job, it’s likely she finds herself in a constant state of dysregulation. 

However, dysregulation doesn’t occur only with individuals who have trauma histories. It happens to each and every one of us. We witnessed entire populations experiencing dysregulation during Covid. Remember the news of people breaking out in fist fights over the mask debate? Many of us still haven’t recovered and fully reclaimed our calm nervous systems. 

Holy had also been triggered into a state of fight or flight. She saw a passenger boarding her plane breaking the rules. She took immediate action.

I had witnessed a few ways that Holly tried to regulate her nervous system through a body and mind rigid with perfectionism and controlling, commanding behaviors. As a professional, I have seen this thousands of times in a thousand permutations. I discreetly called her over. She leaned forward slightly. I mentioned I had noticed the book she was reading

 “Okay…?” She acknowledged with trepidation and caution.

I explained I was a former trauma psychotherapist. Her face visibly softened. Her eyes lit up. Her body language opened, shoulders dropping as she moved to squat next to my seat.

“Are you familiar with nervous system regulation?” I inquired.

“No,” she answered while leaning in closer, clearly interested.

I explained what clinicians now know about neuroscience and the nervous system, adding, “In fact, since Covid I have yet to meet someone who doesn’t suffer from a frayed nervous system!”

She nodded rapidly in agreement. 

I can only imagine what she had witnessed in her profession since Covid. She has ushered tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of passengers, onto her planes. Passengers with little patience, calm, or cooperation. Many flight attendants had been subjected to verbal or physical violence. There was a higher rate than ever of passengers in states of fight or flight.   

I then explained what my nervous system experienced when she directed me to turn around and go back down the ramp. She further softened at the mention of my friend’s death during Covid. She then went on to explain what she had experienced as I tried to board. 

It was a beautiful moment: We were making friends with one another’s nervous system! Our brains had moved each other from a threat category to a safe category, allowing us to move from conflict to social connection. 

Asking her for a pen and paper,, I wrote down a book recommendation and beamed her my brightest warmest smile. Her face brightened, smiling in reciprocation.

As I exited the plane, walking toward Holly, I smiled again and paused to wish  her the best. She clasped her hands in prayer position and bowed. I returned her gesture.

Since that day, I’ve been thinking a great deal about my interaction with Holly and what larger lessons we might learn from it.

When we witness another going into a rage, speaking sharply, becoming frustrated, aggressive, short, hysterical — or the opposite, shutting down and shutting up — we are witnessing nervous system dysregulation.

What if we all had the power to regulate our nervous systems with flexibility rather than being thrown into extreme states and getting stuck for periods of time? We would have greater health, better professional & personal relationships, higher levels of efficacy, along with greater frequencies of calm, confidence, and safe connection with others.

And we could walk through airports with relaxation and ease!

Yes, I know I am making a tall order, but change starts with one individual at a time. If a once highly anxious, nervous, fidgety individual turned mindfulness teacher, trauma recovery, therapist and resiliency coach can do it, so can you. You can learn to regulate your nervous system and move away from conflict toward connection.

Part of my work with professionals, executives, directors and their teams is to educate them about dysregulation and train them to regulate their nervous system. –  Nervous system regulation naturally leads to emotional regulation and clear, calm mental processes. It is one of our greatest tools in building resilience, preventing burnout, and fulfilling that tall order. 

Imagine how different your work environment could be if you and your teams experienced less conflict and more calm, clear communication and connection.

Intrigued? I’d love to connect. Reach me at www.theBraveIntrovert.com.

You’re a Swan, Not a Duck.

The Value of Values

In my early twenties, I worked in outside sales for a startup company in the San Francisco Area. David, my direct manager, was experienced in sales, extroverted, and very pushy. I was green, introverted, and gentle, but I presented myself with confidence, which is probably why I landed the job. 

The professional demographic we served were lawyers, physicians, and CEOs of huge insurance companies. This demographic could be intimidating and hard to please. Being highly sensitive, I often sat in my car after an appointment crying over the brusque behavior I received. I told myself all kinds of negative messages like I was too sensitive, I don’t have what it takes to succeed, or there must be something wrong with me. My manager reinforced those messages telling me to “let the negativity go like water off a duck’s back.” The problem was, I’m not a duck. 

I tried for a while to conduct myself professionally with David’s sales tactics. It felt unnatural. But I wanted so much to succeed, I let a particular passenger on my Life Bus -- my People Pleaser -- highjack me. If I could please my manager, I believed it would pay off in job security. 

My manager kept pushing me to be more aggressive, like him. That wasn’t my style, but being a competitive athlete, I tried to bring that spirit of competition to the workplace. 

I behaved the way he wanted me to. For a while. It didn’t last long. As hard as I tried, his approach didn’t fit my personality, values, or ethics. I couldn’t be someone I’m not. When I tried going against my nature I got sick. Literally. I was constantly nauseated, highly anxious, and I suffered migraine headaches. This is a common occurrence with HSPs (Highly Sensitive Persons). When we allow a passenger to highjack us into behaving in ways that are not natural to us, we often end up burned out, and our health suffers. 

Six months into the job, I began to push back and started listening to my instincts and intuition. If my gut told me not to drop in on an executive on a particular day or time, I listened. I revised my schedule. I asked for inner guidance as to when to approach certain clients. It worked.

Unlike David, I was good at building long-term relationships. He wanted instant results. I was playing the long game. He complained about my sensitivity to the new regional manager, who spent weeks joining me on sales calls. The regional manager challenged David’s perspective about my sensitivity: “What you need to understand is that Martina’s sensitivity will open doors in ways that aggression won’t. Let her do her work to get appointments with the C-Suite executives, and then you can then accompany her to those meetings.”

My manager was reluctant but willing. Slowly, methodically, and with great persistence, I gained the trust of the assistants who were directly serving the professionals in the various organizations. I listened to their problems with genuine interest. I felt for their struggles and challenges. I wanted to be able to help through our services. I showed up earnestly, with authenticity. I followed through. I did all the right things according to my integrity and ethics. 

Within a few months, I had secured meetings with the head professionals that hadn’t given David the time of day. He was pleased. But he didn’t trust me to secure these big accounts based on my approach. So, David accompanied me to these meetings. 

Unfortunately, he was in over his head. His brusque, aggressive manner was an immediate turnoff to the C-suite crowd, who happened to all be men. He essentially got into a pissing contest with them. And he was the loser. Our company was the loser. He made promises I knew our company couldn’t keep. He lied. He pretended to have relationships with top executives he didn’t know. I remember sitting through meeting after meeting, watching David sweat and shift uncomfortably in his seat. On some level, he knew he was out of his depth. He couldn’t back up his promises or lies. He didn’t get the accounts. 

In one meeting, David pretended to have a relationship with a top regional manager at a large insurance firm. Ironically, that very regional executive called the executive we were in a meeting with. He took the call. The look on his face when he told his colleague he was meeting with David and the colleague didn’t know him, said it all. David was exposed. David tried to cover his tracks by saying that it was actually me who knew him. But I wouldn’t back his story. At that point, I was too angry that he wouldn’t release the reigns to my hands. If he had, I believe we would have a good chance at securing the account. 

I only lasted two years at the job. The pay was excellent. I had health insurance and paid time off, but in my heart of hearts, I knew I couldn’t continue to support David’s lies or make excuses for the company. If I did, I was setting myself up to be a complicit liar. How could I continue to nurture and stoke relationships within the firms we served when I couldn’t back up my promises? My company wasn’t on top of its game. Being authentic, truthful, and keeping my word were my highest values. I had a smart head on my shoulders, but being introverted and highly sensitive meant that I had to conduct business from my heart. Yes, I used my intelligence and business savvy to strategize, but my heart was my superpower. It needed to lead.

When I met with David to inform him that I was leaving the firm. He said “you’re making an excellent choice. You’re not cut out for sales. You’re too sensitive. If I were you, I would never work in sales again.” He placed the blame for my failures with the company squarely on my shoulders. Not once did he consider his approach was failing. Incidentally, I did go on to work in sales again for a Fortune 500 company. The senior sales manager had beautiful ethics, was supportive and kind to me, and my health issues were resolved. Most importantly, I held true to my values and that straightened out my life and path.

By the time I was 30, I was ready to work for myself. I was independent, confident in what I was good at, and I liked being my own boss. I could live and conduct business from my values. I didn’t make promises I couldn’t keep.

The truth of the matter is that I wasn’t too sensitive. And neither are you. But most of the Highly Sensitive Person’s (HSPs) I know and work with are the only ones in their family-of-origin who are highly sensitive. Naturally, this can be confusing to family members who don’t understand because they don’t have the same sensitivity. As a result, our family, schoolmates, teachers, and society misunderstand and give us labels such as ‘too sensitive,’ and we conclude, “there’s something wrong with me.” And that’s terrible on one’s self-esteem and confidence, right? 

I have met many HSPs over the decades who have tried to dress up in duck suits when we are, in fact, elegant swans. (No disrespect to ducks, here!) We are faking our quacks and our waddles. And when we behave like this, we do a great disservice to ourselves because there is nothing more powerful than you being and expressing your truest self from your heart. This can be scary. I know. I’ve been there! It’s scary partly because the passengers on our Life Bus remember that when we were young, we were not accepted or embraced for who we truly were. Mind you, there are HSPs who were raised by amazing parents who knew how to help them with their sensitivities. But even then, an HSP can struggle out in the larger world. 

When we are young, passengers or ‘parts’ develop coping strategies so we can at least appear to fit in because connection is a biological imperative. But we ultimately suffer because we are not seen, heard, or valued for our truest self. We can feel as if we are imposters pretending to be someone we are not. We conclude we are unacceptable or unlovable on some level. This can activate parts to try to compensate by taking on roles such as being a “People Pleaser,” “Perfectionist,” or “Self-critic,” to name a few. 

You don’t need to become someone different to succeed. You simply need to learn to accept who you are and to express yourself in ways that feel comfortable to you. You need to get into the driver’s seat and stay there. And if this were easy to accomplish, I wouldn’t have a job as a coach! I can show you, too, how to thrive in business, in life, in leadership positions, in group situations, and in high-visibility environments. I can teach you how to succeed in every situation that makes you feel insecure or not enough.

If you’re interested in support to go further faster please reach out. I’d love to talk!

Take care of that good heart of yours. 

Martina xx

Why I Love Anger

Greetings my fellow adventurers!

I love anger. Yes, I know. It seems like a strange thing to say. I never would have expected myself to say those words given the family I grew up in. My father was a highly anxious neurosurgeon who expressed and coped with his anxiety by raging at his family. I was well into my adult years before I realized his rage was born from anxiety vs. cruelty or meanness. When I had that realization, my forgiveness for him was immediate. Still, as a Highly Sensitive child, his rage would impact my nervous system like a wildfire rampaging and it scared me. I immediately became overwhelmed and shut down. My greatest desire was to shrink and make myself as small as possible. “Don’t be a target!” was my mantra and coping strategy. 

Fast forward to my adult years as I began to heal my childhood trauma and learn how to regulate my own emotions. The key was discovering how to regulate my nervous system. Before I get to that, first I’d like to return to why I love anger. 

Let’s begin by understanding there are no ‘bad’ or ‘negative’ emotions. You've probably heard this but may not believe it. Anger, like sadness, joy or fear are all internal resources that inform us as to the appropriate response to any given situation. It’s natural to feel sad when a loved one dies. It’s natural to feel joy at the birth of your child. It is natural to feel fear when walking down a dark alley alone at night. Therefore, it is natural to feel anger under certain circumstances. 

Anger loudly rings the alarm bell telling us something is not right. A violation has occurred. Here are a few examples that come to mind. Anger tells you someone crossed a personal or work boundary. Anger screams out against social injustice, cruelty, unfair treatment, poverty, loss, lack of consideration, disrespect, abuse. Thank you, anger. 

Anger is clarifying. When the energy of anger arises, it offers us the ability to find clarity on an issue. When I was in my twenties working as a sales rep I hated it when my manager went on calls with me. At first, I couldn’t pinpoint my discomfort. One day it became clear. My manager was a liar. He would say whatever he thought the client needed to hear in order to make the sale. This made me angry because I knew our company couldn’t provide the services he promised. I felt complicit to this injustice, as if I was also a liar. After repeatedly confronting my manager in a calm professional manner, I realized he wouldn’t change. For my own sense of integrity, it became clear I had to leave the company. 

Anger is energizing. Like all emotions, which essentially are energy, anger arises to tell us that we need to act. Have you ever noticed it’s the opposite of depression? When we are depressed we often collapse and move around in slow motion like a sloth. Admittedly, sloths are mighty cute and loveable. But what happens when suddenly there is reason to get angry? We find ourselves energized. This is also true when we are scared or anxious. Anger comes on the scene as one option to change our current state of being. 

Anger is motivating. How often have I said to myself, ‘I’ve had enough? I’m changing this situation!” For those of you my age and older, you may remember the movie Network News. It’s late at night and someone in a high-rise apartment opens his window and shouts, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!” Window after window opens up as other residents shout out the same sentiment. Maybe it’s time you yelled out the window.

Anger tells us we’ve had enough. It’s time to take charge of the situation. I can’t tell you how many times anger guided me out of personal or professional situations in which I felt disempowered, discouraged, defeated or depressed. Anger arrived at the scene like a super hero endowing me with strength I didn’t realize was in me. 

So, yes. I’m a fan of anger. But let me be clear. While I love anger, I also view it as a fire that, if not closely monitored, can turn into a wildfire of rage. If not expressed in a productive way, it can burn down a valued relationship. It can turn into abuse. It can motivate a person to get out of his car at a stoplight and beat up the man in the other car. Worse. To shoot a person in traffic because he cut you off. True stories. This is why we are afraid of anger. It is most often not expressed in a healthy way.

When I was in my thirties and married, my husband and I fought frequently. The things he would say would push my buttons and light me on fire. Outraged and indignant, I would spew innumerable inarticulate words at him in the most unproductive way. It was no surprise given what was modeled to me as a child. One day I decided to ‘use my words’ like we tell toddlers. I used my words to simply name and state my emotion. I was sweeping in the kitchen; my now ex-husband made an inflammatory remark. While furiously increasing the rate of my sweeping arms, I repeatedly said out loud, “I’m mad. I’m mad at you. Yes. I am very mad, in fact.” My body and nervous system calmed down. This was progress.

The real turnaround was when I learned to speak on behalf of my angry part, not from that part. In order to speak on behalf rather than from, you must first feel the anger inside your body even if it’s uncomfortable. You make internal space to listen to what that part has to say and then you convey its message without torching the other person. When you feel the anger, it allows you to process it and then get clear on what’s wrong. Think of it this way. You’re a lawyer representing a client who was arrested at a human rights rally. Your client is still on fire with her anger. She wants you to convey the passionate reasons she wanted to express at the rally while spitting in the police officer’s face. As an attorney, you wouldn’t express your client’s indignant anger emotionally in court. Instead, you would speak in a composed manner on behalf of that client. 

Sound like a big order? It is. I am not saying that learning to do this is easy any means. Like anything else, it requires first, a decision, second a great deal of practice. If you get angry to the boiling point, that is not the time to express anger. Give yourself time to cool off. If instead, when you get angry you are more prone to stuffing it or suppressing it, you have a different challenge. You are scared to feel and express your anger because it may cause conflict. You may be punished. You may fear that you might even lose that relationship. So, first of all, you must internally validate your right to experience this very natural emotion we call anger. Give yourself permission to feel anger. Take the time to understand why this part of you is angry. Validate the feelings. Then, you can step in as the attorney and advocate for your right to be heard. 

Circling back to my father. When in his early sixties, he stopped doing five surgeries a day five days a week, his nervous system calmed down dramatically. He became more kind, empathetic, and compassionate. So much so that I asked my sister, Ann, “Who is this nice man, and what did they do with my father?” It was then I understood he was full of rage all the time because he was constantly overwhelmed, anxious and his nervous system was wracked with stress. It occurred to me that he was actually a Highly Sensitive Person who didn’t know how to calm himself. And I can't tell you how many HSPs I have worked with over the years who didn't know how to regulate their sensitive nervous system. It's not your fault. 

Can you lend a compassionate ear toward your anger? You anger is not your demon. It is a friend who cares. It is a friend who wants to help you. I encourage you to begin the process of befriending it. Or, as the Buddhists would recommend, invite it for a cup of tea. Get to know it. You don’t have to love it. But you do need to respect its role.

In the meantime, I encourage all of my introverted and/or Highly Sensitive friends and clients to keep learning how to regulate your nervous system. It starts with owning, rather than avoiding, your emotions. I am also a big fan of meditating, relaxing or finding a fun exercise or sport. Most importantly, keep up your social connections especially with those who are trustworthy and can create space for you to be yourself.

If you’d like to learn more about the tools I offer as a coach to regulate the nervous system, click here and schedule a discovery call.

Take good care of that good heart of yours,

Martina xx

It’s a State, Not a Trait

There's nothing wrong with you.

It is too early on this autumn morning for the sun to be peeping out through the tall trees. I am sitting on the back porch at 5:00 am hiding under the eaves to escape the torrential downpour of rain. Our 3-month-old puppy, Sugar Maple, is nestled on my nap in the warm folds of my fuzzy bathrobe. We are outside to avoid having yet another potty accident indoors. Speaking of which, I’ve never used so much Nature’s Remedy Urine Destroyer in my life. Ugh. 

As I sip on my hot coffee, I set my timer and began to meditate. Within minutes, memories from my college career began to bubble up to my awareness. 

Early in my college career — I say career because I went to three colleges to complete my degree — I blamed myself for being a failure when I was cut from the drama program. Looking back on it now, I realize I wasn’t a failure. My nervous system and internal system were simply overwhelmed. 

The state of our nervous system dramatically influences how we view ourselves and the world. When we are in fight/flight mode, the world can seem hostile, competitive, unfriendly. We become critical and judgmental of ourselves and others. And, often anxious. When we are in shut down/overwhelm, the world seems life threatening. We feel defeated and hopeless, devoid of energy and depressed. When we are in positive connection to ourselves, our environment and others, we feel safe, relaxed, confident, enthusiastic, even joyful.

In my sophomore year, I carried nineteen credits, which was more than a full-time load. I was commuting to the University of Santa Barbara forty-five minutes in each direction, making for early mornings and late nights. The constant demand on my schedule left me exhausted and anxious. So anxious, in fact, I started ‘hearing voices’ and began having panic attacks. I later learned from a therapist the ‘voices’ were a common symptom of severe anxiety. In my forties I learned that these voices were not just racing thoughts, they were actually internal parts of me screaming out for help. 

We all have many internal parts. It’s natural. But at the time, I thought I was going crazy and I was too scared to ask for help. I kept pushing myself. Believing if I worked harder I could reach my goals. I kept overriding the cues from my body and nervous system that told me I was exhausted and needed to rest. As far as I was concerned, slowing down or resting were not options. 

The acting classes were aimed at ‘breaking us down’ emotionally, to ‘open us up’ to our inner depths so we could become good — even great — actors. The problem was, unbeknownst to me, I had quite a bit of unresolved childhood trauma. Breaking me down is exactly what happened, but not in a positive way. Instead of the rigors of the acting program turning me into a good actor, it began to give me a breakdown. 

Today, I see that time period as an uncovering — without processing — of the childhood trauma I didn’t know I had experienced. Additionally, trying to keep up with all the classes along with the accompanying emotional and mental upheaval kept my nervous system working overtime in a constant state of fight/flight/freeze. Hence, the constant anxiety, panic attacks, and migraine headaches. As we say in the South, I was a hot mess!

It’s no surprise that when it came time for me to audition in order to move forward in the theater program, I flubbed my performance and was cut from the program. Cutting students from the program was meant to prepare us for auditions in the ‘real world.’ I get it. But it was actually quite unfair to cut a student before she has even learned her craft. 

I experienced so much embarrassment, humiliation and shame I wanted to go into permanent hiding. I saw myself as a BIG FAT FAILURE and concluded I must have terrible character traits. I told myself stories about my flawed character: There’s something wrong with me, I’m not good enough, I’m not worthy, I didn’t work hard enough. I am guessing that many of you reading this blog post can relate to a time in your life when you felt similarly, perhaps even now.

I wanted to drop out of school, move to NYC, share an apartment with my older cousin, and pursue my other dream of dancing professionally. But my father was authoritarian and intimidating. I allowed him to redirect me to a small private college in Menlo Park, California. I am grateful he did so. Once I reached Menlo Park, located on the lush south peninsula of San Francisco Bay Area, my nervous system started to calm down. Unlike the 30,000-student campus of UCSB, Menlo College had only 800 students. The campus was gorgeous and spacious, the classes were small, and the professors actually learned my name and were encouraging and supportive. I joined an aerobics class, started cycling, joined the theater club, and made deep connections with new friends.

Once again, I excelled academically and personally. The anxiety and panic attacks abated. My confidence returned. I felt successful and hopeful about the future. What I didn’t know about myself at the time was that I was an introvert and Highly Sensitive Person (HSP). As such, my nervous system easily overstimulated. Smaller classrooms, a beautiful quiet campus and individual attention contributed greatly to my success. 

As I view my college career through the paradigm of the nervous system, I can hardly blame myself for becoming fearful, anxious, and overwhelmed. When viewing college through the paradigm of the Internal Family System model, I see it is not my fault that my young ‘parts’ within had not had the opportunity to heal. Their old coping strategies were inadequate and dysfunctional. 

Once I left my family-of-origin and entered the world at large, these strategies no longer worked. This gave rise to the unresolved trauma and shame in my internal system. It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t a failure. And neither are you now nor have you ever been a failure.

However, introverts and HSPs are the first in line to judge and criticize ourselves when we perceive we have failed or we didn’t do well in a situation. Because we are more sensitive than 60-80% of the population, we feel things, both somatically and emotionally, with more depth and intensity than the average person. In fact, our brains are constantly processing our surrounding environments in acute depth and detail and on multiple levels. The majority of this processing occurs below the level of consciousness. Naturally, we conclude that if something isn’t working in our lives or environments, it’s our fault. It’s not. Please stop telling yourself this message. It’s not true and it’s not helpful. 

When I was meditating this morning, reflecting on my early college days I felt a tremendous amount of self-compassion arise toward my younger aspects of myself. I began to consciously extend this compassion to these parts reassuring them that they did the very best they could. I reminded them that when they were young, there was no one there to help. There was no one there to extend the beautiful qualities of Self to them: compassion, courage, clarity, connection or confidence. But I AM here now with an abundance of those qualities to give to my younger parts. I began to relax and feel a sense of positivity.

I invite you to begin to extend self-compassion and acceptance to yourself. Because, my dears, your sweet, young innocent parts deserve it. They haven’t done anything wrong. It is not their fault if there was no parent to consistently connect with in a safe positive way. Your parts are worthy of your compassion and love. And the more you are able to calm your nervous system and to extend acceptance to yourself rather than self-criticism, judgment, blame, shame and hatred, the more you will begin to thrive and prosper in all areas. Trust me. I know from experience, not only from personal experience but also from helping thousands of clients over the years discover this truth for themselves. 

It is not negative traits driving your experiences. It is the state of your nervous system. In other words, it’s not psychological. It’s biological. Your nervous system is doing what it is designed to do by nature. Viewing your world and experiences as driven by your biology takes away the shame and blame. Now, this isn’t to say your past, your thoughts, and unhealed wounds don’t play an important role. They do. But it as an HSP, you need to understand the power of regulating your nervous system. It is 80% more sensitive than the general population. Regulating your nervous system will also provide emotional regulation. This is a process. Each day we are offered a new opportunity to learn about ourselves, to learn self-acceptance and self-compassion. 

If you would like to learn more about how to regulate your nervous system, let’s talk.

In the meantime, take care of that good heart of yours.

Xo Martina

The Year Love Refused to Die

The Year Love Refused to Die

As the year 2020 comes to a close, we all wait, hope, pray that 2021 will be better. I want to name 2020 as The Year Love Refused to Die and draw on a few examples professionally and personally. 

No doubt you know at least one person who contracted COVID-19, and some of us know loved ones who died from it. Of course, COVID was not the only Grim Reaper to visit. There were natural disasters around the world. There were Black lives lost through police brutality. And life continued to bring her usual announcements to loved ones that cancer has come to call. Yes, the year 2020 shoved death and loss in our faces, relentlessly, like a nasty debt collector. 

I don’t need to list all the other myriad losses we experienced this year because I know you have been keeping your own list. With all of these losses comes grief, which is never a hand we want to be dealt. Grief can be debilitating when it comes in spades, and boy did it come in spades.

2020 brought us many a wake-up call. In fact, it seems like the phone just kept ringing. I want to focus on one call to answer: the call to recognize how precious life is. The call to open your heart, not despite but because of the sadness and sorrow that grief brings.

Grief is your joy returning. Imagine a lovely smooth gray rock sitting innocently under a large tree branch that drips water upon it each time it rains. Over time that continual dripping carves the stone into a different shape, a shape that can hold the water. Imagine your tears are that stream of water carving a new shape inside you to hold the joy that is returning. 

Grief is at once a contractive experience, drawing us away from life into ourselves, and an expansive process, if we allow ourselves to feel the pain. As we journey through the process of sadness and sorrow, our heart has a chance to expand as we ultimately return to life, valuing it more than ever.

When you think about all the types of losses you have endured this year, you might consider how much you have taken for granted everyday mundane routines. You drop your kids off at school and go to work. You stop at the gym after work to take a spin class. You are tired of cooking, so you gather your kids and off to the pizza palace you go for dinner. You feel lonely and call a friend for a drink. You go visit your mother in a nursing home. These things disappeared in 2020. Do you value them differently now?

Can we talk about this year through the lens of the enduring human spirit and love? I am naming 2020 as The Year Love Refused to Die. Think about it. Did you stop loving or caring for the important people in your life? No. You found creative ways to keep up your connections. One of my clients, whose mother has dementia and is in a nursing home, has not been allowed to visit her mother during the pandemic. She started calling her daily. She sent hand-written love letters to her weekly. She called a nursery and had enough flowers delivered to fill a small florist. She had her mother’s favorite ice cream flavors delivered.

At the beginning of sheltering in place, my dear friend of 30 years—I’ll call her Elizabeth—was going through a nasty divorce that involved infidelity and betrayal. She was having difficulty getting out of bed and concentrating at work. All she could focus on was her anger and sadness. Then, her beloved dog of 12 years went into kidney failure due to cancer. She had to make the brave choice to euthanize her. She was devastated. She would not be allowed to come into the veterinarian’s building due to COVID. So I jumped in the car with my dog, Seamus, and met her in the vet’s parking lot. Together we got into the front seat of Elizabeth’s car with her sweet dog. Together we sat, holding one another as we said goodbye to her through tears and hugs. Elizabeth went home to shelter alone, without her spouse, without her beloved companion. Afterward, she thanked us profusely for showing up in love. We couldn’t take away her grief and sorrow, but my dog and I could demonstrate our love. 

Nine months into the pandemic, a dear friend I will refer to as Lisa received a terrifying call no mother ever wants to get. Her precious ten-year-old daughter was diagnosed with a rare, aggressive cancer than only one in a million get. It was gut-wrenching. We all imagined the worst-case scenarios. How could we not? It was so unfair. This vibrant, intelligent, creative, artistic, kind, loving ten-year-old had barely begun to experience life. Was it going to be snatched away? 

As I was getting off the phone with my friend, I mentioned I was going down the street to take an outdoor Zumba dance class. When I got to class, I received a text from Lisa who knew the Zumba teacher. “Will you please ask, Natalie, humbly, if her class will dedicate their dance to my daughter today? Please ask them to dance like they have never danced before with all their love.” I conveyed the message to Natalie and the class. There were gasps and awws. There were tears as they unanimously agreed to dedicate the class to Lisa’s daughter. The entire class showed up in love. 

As a former hospice bereavement counselor, I learned the importance of grieving, of feeling our sadness to allow our joy to return. I remember sitting with a lovely woman whose teenage son was killed by a drunk hit-and-run driver one night. We met weekly for thirteen months. We rarely talked. Mostly, I held her hand while she sobbed and declared she no longer wanted to live. Understandable. A major factor that kept her here was the fact she had another young son who needed her. The loss of a child is not the natural order of life. In fact, it appears to be the hardest type of loss to recover from. But this beautiful woman chose to be courageous and stay on this earth to show up with love for her other son who is now in his late twenties and thriving. So is she. Her joy eventually returned. 

I am not suggesting you allow your grief for the innumerable losses of 2020 to bring you to your knees. I am inviting you to feel the anger, sadness, and fear in small spurts as you can so that your joy can return.

If you enjoy movies, check out the Indie film, Love Sarah. A film about loss, healing, and recommitment to living. Plus, you will drool over the beautiful pastry concoctions. 

At the close of this year, I invite you to take a few moments to reflect on the ways you showed up with love. If you want to share, I would love to hear from you!

If you are a newbie to my list, I send out a special, “Welcome!” I’m Martina Barnes, and I help women build Reliable Personal Power in all areas of their lives. Did you know that learning to embrace your emotions without allowing them to take over is one of the key components to creating Reliable Personal Power? If you’d like to learn more, join me for a discovery call. 

With love,

I am Reliably Yours

Martina