Tag: breaking free

Fight or Flow

carissaricci

How much energy and how many hours have been spent trying to keep things in my life that I thought were important? Jobs. Situations. People. The list is long, and the answer is…too many to count.

I’m guessing many of you have heard of Mel Robbin’s “Let Them Theory”1 by now, but for those that haven’t, here’s the summary. We often want to control what is around us in an effort to keep things in our lives that we feel are important. But if we release our expectations and just let people do whatever it is they’re going to do, that gives us a clearer picture of the reality of what we’re dealing with and agency to create boundaries and make decisions based on that information. Once someone shows us who they really are and where their priorities lie, we can then make choices that are healthy for us. Just, let them. And then you can make the move that’s right for you.

While it can be hard to let go of (or reorient) our expectations, most of that difficulty lies in letting go of the perception, not necessarily the reality.

I’ve made some starts down this road, but this year is about getting even more clarity for myself about what stays in my life and what I need to let fall away. It’s like a revised version of Marie Kondo-ing my stuff, but with the non-material things in my life. Looking at every situation and connection and deciding where I want to intentionally put my energy and those where I need to reduce or remove my energy. While it can be hard to let go of (or reorient) our expectations, most of that difficulty lies in letting go of the perception, not necessarily the reality. So often, we project our ideas of what that person or situation could be as opposed to looking at who or what they are right now and then having the courage to acknowledge it and make a plan in the best interest of our own health and well-being.

Have you ever left a conversation with a friend and felt completely wiped out? Is it something that happens every time you’re with them (or more often than not)? Is there reciprocation? Overall, do you feel like you get as much as you give?

I had a friend who consistently spent the majority of our time together talking about what was going on in her life and was leaving me with only about 5% of our time to talk about what was going with me (if we even got around to me at all). After talking with her about it, nothing changed, and the relationship continued on the way it always had. The last time we met up, I was fighting off an anxiety attack on the way out. I realized two things. As an empath, I need to continue working on not internalizing the feelings of others to such a large degree. Secondly, it was time to let that relationship organically become a less important one.

Once I stopped regularly reaching out and didn’t hear from her or see her taking initiative to stay in touch, I realized how lopsided the relationship had been and how much energy I had given to it over the years. I was fighting to keep her in my life because I perceived her as a friend who had the potential to meet me halfway. But that just wasn’t true. And she repeatedly proved it to me, so why did I choose to keep giving her energy that could be better spent elsewhere? To be clear, I’m not faulting her. This comes back to the “Let Them Theory”. I needed to “let her”, and then it was my responsibility to get clarity on how much time and energy I was willing to put there.      

On the flip side, I have people in my life that I could talk to for hours and feel energized at the end of the conversation. There are seasons where one of us will lean in a bit more to support the other when there’s big life stuff happening, but overall, there’s reciprocation. Care. Balance. They’re putting in as much effort to connect with me as I am with them. Their actions match their words. They don’t just say I mean a lot to them—they show me that I mean a lot to them.

So often, we fight for others to see our value. We want them to value us enough to put in the effort. Make us a priority. To see us. I heard this analogy about the cost of water and depending on where you go, the price of the bottle changes. If you’re at a supermarket. A gas station. A theme park. A concert. The water doesn’t change…its inherent value is static, but the price fluctuates drastically depending on the location. It’s the same with our value. So, if we’re not being perceived as valuable, it’s up to us to realize that it’s about where we are or who we’re surrounding ourselves with that needs to change instead of us trying to shape-shift into something that we feel will be valued in that environment or with that person to make it “fit”.2

Be authentically YOU. You will lose some people. Situations will change. You might even realize you need a different job or career. But then watch what happens…

I had a mentor give me a great piece of advice once. Be authentically YOU. You will lose some people. Situations will change. You might even realize you need a different job or career. But then watch what happens…the right people will stick around, you’ll find a job that lights you up more than it drags you down, and you’ll be surrounded by people who are in a place where they can show up in true connection with you in the ways you need most.

Instead of forcing or fighting those “square peg, round hole” situations in my life, I’m working on noticing when I find myself in that space, letting them be exactly what or who they are, and then making (sometimes difficult) decisions about what the best way forward is based on that reality—trusting that those people and situations that see my value will stick around and those that don’t will fall back (or in some cases, completely away). And that’s okay.

If you’re trying to determine where to put your energy, a question I’ve found helpful to ask myself is: “Fight or flow?” Am I consistently in a fight with myself to stay in this job, situation, or connection…or does it flow? It doesn’t have to be in flow 100% of the time, but if I’m in fight more often than flow, that’s a good indication that it’s time for me to take a look at it.                

You might find that once you start to dig in and figure some of this out, some not-so-great feels might come up. I had to work through a lot of guilt, anger, and frustration with myself. Once I started pulling the curtain back on how much of my energy and time I’ve put into situations that weren’t right for me, it was difficult to come to terms with it. But now that I’ve acknowledged that loss, it has taught me an important lesson. I can now make sure that however many years of life I have left are spent in more intentionality and flow.

We have such a limited time in this human experience. You deserve to have a circle of people around you who match your weird with their weird. Who see you, love you, respect you, and value you—exactly as you are. Not if you would only “do this” or “be that”.3 That is the baseline of what you deserve, and this is your permission slip to not ever settle for less. I hope you use it.

1This is the Mel Robbins podcast that outlines more details about what it means to “let them”.

2This doesn’t mean that you don’t give people a chance to show you a different side of themselves…but be clear and intentional about what that looks like and where your boundaries are.

3The intention isn’t that you don’t grow and develop, but just because you’re a human that’s “in progress” shouldn’t preclude you from being loved and accepted as you are right now (both by yourself and others).

Beginning Again

carissaricci

When I was a kid, I used to think that life was a long line of events, one leading to another. A neat and tidy row of experiences that would build on each other until I was a wise adult, and that as I got older, I would “figure it out”. I had no idea how involved the “figuring it out” phase would be or that it’s really just an illusion and absolutely no one has everything nailed. The “figuring it out” phase should really just be called life and that “phase” lasts the entirety of it.

And beginning again? It’s not just something that happens once.

Some of the hardest and most rewarding lessons have come when I admit that I don’t know what I’m doing. When there don’t seem to be any clear answers. When I feel lost. It’s in the grappling with all the everythings in those moments when my life has pivoted the most toward something that feels more aligned.

I’m at the start of an entirely new way of living. My house sold in September, and my dog and I are officially nomads. I left my full-time job and have launched into a mix of consulting, coaching, and retreat guiding which has been one of the best decisions I could have made. And yet…it still comes with all the symptoms of being in transition. I can think back to so many moments when I hesitated to take the leap or make a change for so many reasons—one of them being me trying to avoid those exact discomforts. As I’m writing this, it’s reminding me of those prescription ads with the long list of side effects: “Side effects of ‘taking the leap’ may include: fear of failure, night sweats, doubting yourself, fear of the unknown, ‘what-if’ syndrome, procrastination, nightmares,” and the list goes on…

When you find yourself “What-if’ing” yourself to death, change the “What if?” to “Even if.”

I’ve realized there’s no easy way to get myself out of a rut. The best way I’ve found is to just jump in and do it. Not when all my ducks are in a row. Not when I feel ready. Not when I feel comfortable. Not when success is assured. When I feel the pull and my intuition pointing me in the right direction, I know it’s time to take the leap and trust. One step at a time…even if it’s a winding road.

One of the best pieces of advice I’ve ever gotten was this. When you find yourself “What-if’ing” yourself to death, change the “What if?” to “Even if.”

Instead of “What if I get lost on my way from the train station to the hotel?” it becomes “Even if I get lost on my way from the train station to the hotel…”

It has helped retrain me and reinforce that I’m a capable human, and if I find myself in an unexpected or stressful situation, I will find my way through. I will figure it out. I will ask for help when I need it. But I won’t let the What If’s keep me from taking chances.

If you’re also in the middle of a major transition, this quote might be helpful to remember:

Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it is the middle that counts the most. You need to remember that when you find yourself at the beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up.*

The beginning of this last start for me was scary for sure (and saying goodbye to the things I needed to let go of was difficult at times), but I’m so glad I took the chance—it has absolutely changed my life by leaps and bounds for the better. I’ve found a really good rhythm in this new way of living, have an incredible community of humans in my circle who I’m incredibly grateful for every day, and the “Sunday scaries” are no longer a pervasive part of my life.

If you’re beginning again like I am, take heart. EVEN IF things don’t go exactly the way you planned. EVEN IF some of your fears come true. EVEN IF it seems like you’ve lost your way. You will figure it out. Trust yourself. Lean on your community. Keep taking those steps forward. And leave room for a little hope to float up when you find yourself questioning whether you’re on the right track.

EVEN IF the last step you took didn’t result in what you thought it would, that doesn’t mean it was the wrong one. Keep going. Keep learning from each step you take. Bolster yourself with things that light you up.

And know that I’m right there with you.

*Borrowed from a 90’s rom-com…extra points if you can name the title.

Breathe

carissaricci

Breathe. Seems simple, right? Something we all do every day. And yet, there have been so many moments in my life when I feel like I’m holding my breath. And sometimes I am. Literally and figuratively. My body tense, like it’s ready to take a punch.

As I’ve been thinking about the power of the breath and noticing what’s happening in my body, I’ve also been reflecting on the difference between thinking about what I’m feeling versus feeling what I’m feeling. I’ve been going through a lot of transition in my life over the last few months and it has been pushing me past the edges of my comfort zone in big ways. Testing me. Triggering me. Bringing up old stories. And giving me opportunities to practice leaning into the feels.

I was in a therapy session once, working through some particularly heavy stuff when my therapist said, “You’re great at thinking about and articulating feelings that are coming up for you, but what would it look like to sit with the feeling?” That was a terrifying proposition. It took me some time to realize that feelings (even intense ones) wouldn’t kill me, even if I was sure they would. Ironically, I was trying to protect myself by not letting myself feel the full weight of what I was carrying…but by avoiding sitting with them, I was ensuring they would stick around in a state of never being fully processed. Wading into that pool meant dismantling more than a few beliefs about what it means to truly care for myself.

But wade, I did. And at first, the water was freezing.

The one who does most to avoid suffering is, in the end, the one who suffers most.

Thomas Merton

I sat with the pain, the fear, the sadness, the anger…I let myself break. Truly break. I thought about all the times I had numbed, sought distractions, or shoved the feelings down so I could continue pushing forward. All the days I would get up and attempt to disregard how I felt so I could “keep my life in order”. It had all finally caught up with me. I’m a BIG feeler, so for me to numb, distract, or press them down took an incredible amount of energy. Over time, it had all stacked up and when I hit that breaking point, I hit it hard.

After that session, I remember feeling so spent I could barely move. It’s like when I was in school and would push myself beyond what I should have to get through finals week. Then when I was done and I let my body relax, it felt like I’d been hit by a truck.

I still have moments when I avoid sitting in the fullness of the feels. Or moments like I’m in right now when I have a to-do list a mile long that makes it easier to slip into old habits (i.e. distracted by being productive, not giving myself enough time to feel the feels the way I need to, and then hitting a major wall). I can always think about what I’m feeling, and I can always talk about how I’m feeling, but letting myself feel the depths of what’s truly there? I still sometimes hesitate at that step, scared of what will come out when I fling that door open. But I’m learning that the sensations I feel, the tears that may fall, and the thoughts that might come up are all okay and part of the process.

The wound is not what happens to you; it is what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.

Gabor Maté

I used to think that trauma was the event, but Gabor Maté talks about how the wound “is not what happens to you; it is what happens inside you as a result of what happens to you.” So, how do we tend to those wounds? How do we lean into self-compassion? How do we get grounded and back into our bodies? How do we give ourselves permission to sit with the fullness of the feels? Even the big ones? Even if we feel like we might not survive it?

I’m still working on the answers to those questions, and it’s something I’ll be searching for and practicing until the day I take my last breath. I’m sure of it.

I’ve been so fortunate to have people in my life who see me as whole, even when I feel broken. I think that’s really the key…we’re all healing, but that doesn’t make us any less whole. And when you have people in your circle who recognize that and sit with you in whatever life brings, those are your people. Our individual journeys might look different, but there’s such strength in seeing one another exactly where we’re at and cheering each other on. We don’t have to wade into that pool alone.

And when we hit that cold water, we need people who will sit in it with us. Shoulder to shoulder. Who will remind us of who we are when we start to doubt it. Who will bear witness to our pain…and who will show us how to breathe when we forget.

To all those who have done that for me, I have so much gratitude in my heart for you. And to those who are just beginning to dip your toes in the water, remember to keep breathing. You’ve got this.

You Are Enough

carissaricci

Today started out like most Sundays do. I ran through my morning routine. Walked my dog. Ate some breakfast. And then headed out the door to meet up with a good friend at a coffee shop so we could prepare some things for a retreat we’ll be co-guiding together.

As we talked through preparations, I paused when we started to talk about a communication we were going to draft because I felt unsure of myself. Knowing that I was hesitating, she looked directly at me and said, “I’m going to challenge you. You are a great writer. You have so much experience. I trust you. You are enough. Just as you are.” Each sentence ended with an intentional pause. As soon as she said, “you are enough”, I felt the tears well up and couldn’t stop them. She gave me a big hug, allowing me time to feel the feels, and then asked, “Is there something underneath this?”

I was flooded with memories of countless times throughout my life when I haven’t felt good enough. Strong enough. Fast enough. Thin enough. Smart enough. Interesting enough. Pretty enough. Talented enough. Brave enough. I was reminded of all the problems I couldn’t solve. Things I couldn’t fix. People I couldn’t save.

As I’ve grown, I’ve started to rewrite those narratives, but as anyone knows who has tried to do this work…it’s not easy. The stories stack up over time and no matter how hard we try to rewire ourselves, the echoes remain. Trying to get to a place where no situation or person (including yourself) can ever make you feel “not good enough” is quite the task.

The fear of not measuring up can make us want to hide because that’s safer than being seen and judged as not enough. Invisibility becomes our comfort zone. So, in hindsight, it makes sense that putting myself out into the world in the context of this work would have triggered all these past feelings of “not enough-ness”. But I wasn’t prepared for the realization of how strongly those old stories still had a hold on me.

I hope we all have at least one person in our lives who sees the real us and believes in us like my friend did today. They lovingly remind us of who we are in our darkest moments and help us continue to fight through the hard days. I’m so grateful to all the people who have shown up for me when I’ve needed it most.

To wrap up this post, I have a challenge for you. The next time you’re with someone and catch them in a moment when they aren’t feeling like they’re enough, please remind them that they are.

And if you need a little encouragement today, I’ll leave you with this:

No one is you, and that is your power.

Dave Grohl

The world needs YOU. It’s time to come out of hiding and step into your power.

You. Are. Enough.

Living in the Abstract

carissaricci

Think I’m in the right place. Realize it doesn’t fit anymore. Deconstruct. Take stock of what’s left. Process the feels. Redefine myself and my life. Repeat.

Every time I run through the cycle, I always feel resistance at the beginning. There’s a step between “think I’m in the right place” and “realize it doesn’t fit anymore” that I call: “try to pretend that I’m in the right place even though I know I’m not so I don’t have to face what comes with having to make yet another transition.” I can remember sitting on the threshold of some big decisions, asking if there was an easier way. If I could shortcut it. Work around it. Pretend that I could unsee what had been made so undeniably clear to me. But I also knew that I could no longer continue to betray myself.

Those realizations were the toughest I had ever faced because it meant that I had to consider things I didn’t feel ready to acknowledge. I was afraid that if I started to dismantle what I thought my life would be, that I’d never be able to put it back together again. That I didn’t know how to let go of the version of myself that I had created to survive and the picture I had held in my head of what my life would look like. She was all I had ever known, and my current life was the culmination of years of sacrifices and hard work.

While I’ve experienced big shifts in all areas of my life, some of the more recent shifts have been in my career—over the course of which, I bounced back and forth between the academic and the corporate worlds. But the moment I felt like I had finally “made it” was when I got the call from Nike. All those years of struggle and grind and burning the candle at both ends had landed me in a spot that I couldn’t quite believe. During my first few weeks, I was convinced that I would spend the remainder of my working days there. Why would I ever give that up? I was all in.

I didn’t know how to let go of the version of myself that I had created to survive and the picture I had held in my head of what my life would look like.

Fast forward nine years (quite a few of those last ones battling between what I knew in my heart and trying to hang on to the dream of retiring from Nike someday)…I had allowed myself to become completely burned out and it was all I could do to keep going. Even after setting some boundaries to get my life into better balance, I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it up. And I also knew deep, deep down that I couldn’t stay while also living the life I knew was right for me—I couldn’t find alignment with myself there.

Was I really going to close the door on it? And face a blank canvas?

When I was in one of my painting classes in college, I can clearly remember the first time we were given an assignment to paint something abstract. I panicked. Well, maybe panic is a bit strong, but I wasn’t exactly excited about it. I liked order. And planning. And things to be in neat boxes. A still-life? On it. A landscape? You bet. Abstract painting? I felt completely out of my depth.

In that class, the professor made us build our own wooden stretcher frames and stretch our own canvases, and I’m not lying when I say I may have procrastinated that process a little. Okay, I procrastinated a lot. The miter cuts weren’t quite lining up right (translation…they would have worked fine, but weren’t perfect, so I started over). I re-stretched the canvas when I saw a little pucker in one corner (translation…it was on the backside of the frame where no one would have seen it anyway, but it needed to be fixed). You get the idea. I was doing anything and everything to avoid actually starting the painting.

To paint without anything to reference? To paint from the heart? To trust that something that looked like nothing concrete might still be beautiful? That process stretched me as much as I was stretching that canvas over the frame.

I spent DAYS painting, re-priming the canvas with gesso, and repainting. When I shared my struggles with my professor, she smiled and said, “Carissa. Let go of what you think it should be. Stop making rules for yourself where there don’t need to be. Relax and let go.”

I applied some gesso to get the canvas back to neutral, left the studio, and came back a couple of days later with her mantra ringing in my ears. I reluctantly pulled on my painting clothes, gathered all my supplies, prepared my palette, sat in front of the easel, popped my ear buds in to listen to some of my favorite tunes, took a deep breath, and let myself stare at the blank canvas for what felt like an hour (translation…probably more like 10 minutes). I looked down at all the blobs of paint I had put out on my palette, grabbed a brush, and felt that familiar sinking feeling of “Where do I start?” Out of nowhere, I heard an inner voice say “Just START.”

So, I did. I let go, and I just started slapping paint on the canvas. Colors I loved and shapes that felt fun. I stopped trying to make it look like anything. I stopped trying to make something someone else might find pleasing to look at, and instead, created something I found beautiful—regardless of what anyone else might think. It was one of the most freeing moments…giving myself permission to create something for the sheer joy of it. Not knowing what it was going to look like. Not having an end goal. Letting each stroke unfold as it was happening and being fully present in the process.

Those feelings I felt then are incredibly similar to what I’ve felt in some of the bigger life choices I’ve made in recent years. I have swiped coats of gesso on parts (or sometimes all) of previous versions of myself and visions for my life, stared at the pieces of blank canvas, let myself have a moment of panic, cranked the tunes to process the feels and fuel inspiration, and then started slapping the paint on…my heart leading the way.

Let go of what you think it should be.
Stop making rules for yourself where there don’t need to be.

If you feel overwhelmed by that prospect, you’re not alone, and it can be helpful to remember that even though we’re staring at a blank canvas, it doesn’t mean we’re starting from a blank canvas. We may not be able to see the layers underneath, but they’re there. Influencing our future direction. Reminding us of lessons learned. Encouraging us on. We have experiences and wisdom that have been gathered over the years that will absolutely help propel us forward and provide inspiration. While it can feel daunting to stare at a blank slate, we can dig deep into who we are and what we know to help us create the next version of how we bring ourselves to the world and what our lives will become.

When I faced the decision to either stay at Nike or jump ship for something new, I landed at SVB1, and right before I pulled the trigger I remember thinking, “Am I actually going to do this?” My heart said, “You bet you are.” So I did. And then at the end of this last year, I made the BIG decision. The decision to go out and do my own thing. Did it feel empowering? Absolutely. Do I still struggle with doubts? For sure. The road feels uncertain at times, and I wonder if the world wants what I have to offer—if I can make a living doing what lights me up. But it was time. I had to put a coat of primer on and dig into the beginnings of yet another abstract creation.2

If you’re also working through a phase of your life where you’re making the decision to stop painting landscapes and try an abstract, I’ll give you the exact same advice my college professor did: “Let go of what you think it should be.”

What is your heart saying?

And as you work through the growing pains that inevitably come with embracing a new way of living, I’ll leave you with these wise words from Zanna Keithley:

You are going to have beautiful days and devastating days and light days and heavy days, and there will be chapters when the heavy and devastating feel like they’re all you’ve ever known. And you’re going to break down and break open and feel like the pain has buried itself in your lungs and in your cells and in your soul until you don’t know you from it or it from you, like it’s melded into your bones and intertwined with the intangible part of you that nobody else can see. And you will run and run and want to keep running until your shadows can no longer chase you and you can no longer breathe and this pain doesn’t feel so unbearable. And you will keep sitting with the pain and sitting with the pain and sitting with the pain, and some days it’ll feel a little lighter, and other days, it’ll feel like the entire ocean is crushing your chest and everything is heavy and is this the way it’ll always be? But in time, slowly, the weight will lift and the wounds will start to heal and that first unencumbered breath will be the best thing you’ve ever known. And you’ll begin to let go of this burden you’ve been carrying and remember what it’s like to be you again, and you’ll uncover that inner spark within you that’s been there all along. And you’ll turn your pain into your purpose and use it to try and help other people feel a little lighter and a little less alone and a little more seen. And the pages will keep turning and a new chapter will begin, and this time, you’re going to walk forward a little less afraid. And you’re going to live every inch of this beautiful and messy and wondrous human experience.

Because this—this is what you’re here for.

1 Some of you may have heard of it. It was a bank that imploded in spectacular fashion in under 48 hours. My former colleagues and I are eagerly awaiting the Netflix special that will undoubtedly be made depicting its epic demise.

2 Stay tuned…more to come soon on my newest creation.

Toward

carissaricci

How many of us have a string of unfulfilled New Year’s resolutions in our pasts? I’m hoping it’s not just me…that would be embarrassing. If you can relate, take comfort in the fact that you’re not alone. I rarely persisted the whole year with any resolution I set. I would always draft them with the best of intentions, but they never truly got to the heart of what my soul was longing for. Because they weren’t tied to what mattered most to me, I could never consistently check those boxes.

With the beginning of each new year, I now choose a word of intention instead. Something I can keep coming back to. Something that will ground me when I feel lost or need encouragement. Last year’s word was “trust” and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I leaned into that one hard most of those 365 days. It stretched me and pushed me in ways I wasn’t expecting—and provided me with some of the most incredible experiences I’ve ever had.

View from Piestewa Peak Summit

After sitting with my reflection on the 365 days behind me, I turned my attention to the 365 days ahead of me and experimented with some words to see how they fit. I wanted something that indicated movement and action-taking. Forward? No. Onward? Still not quite right…but I couldn’t put my finger on why. I found a quiet space and let myself settle into how I want to feel in 2024. And that’s when the word dropped in. Toward. It implies not just a forward motion, but a forward motion with a specific intention.

So, what am I moving toward?

  • A career that feels more fully me. Where I can do work that is directly tied to where my soul is calling me to be.
  • Connections with people that are genuine—with vulnerability, depth, heart, and light.
  • Moments when I am fully present and that bring me a sense of wonder and joy.
  • Adventures in new places where I can explore to my heart’s content. Meet new people. Try new food. And experience a part of the world I’ve never been before.

It’s all well and good to make statements and express desires, but if there’s no driving force behind it, they often fall into the same wastebasket as crumpled up New Year’s resolutions that were never realized. There needs to be some fuel behind them. They need to be connected to something real inside you, and sometimes, you need your community or other sources of inspiration to keep you going.

Here are some quotes I’ve seen lately that have helped me stay grounded:

The longer you resist the calling of your soul, the harder it is to find your way back. Intuition isn’t instilled in us for nothing. It’s the movement inside us that we must listen to if we want the void to vanish.

Nikki Rowe

I can corroborate this one. For so long, I lived in the ways I thought I “should”. It took me a long time to find my way back and to trust my own intuition again.

Your soul calling will never leave you alone until you honor it and follow it.

Rhys Thomas

For me, this looked like little internal whispers…followed by little nudges…followed by bigger pushes. I’ve been working hard to get better at hearing the whispers and honoring them the first time I hear them. I don’t want to wait until the “push” stage again. I liken that stage to what a baby bird must feel like being thrown out of the nest by their mother…not the best sensation. Just sayin’.

Pay close attention to the reason you get up in the morning. The daydreams you lose yourself in, the books that ignite your imagination, and the songs that make your atoms want to dance. Pay close attention to the people that energize you, the conversations that spark curiosity, and the jokes that make you laugh—these are the clues to your happiness.

Taj Arora

When you get so wrapped up in something that you lose track of time…maybe unintentionally skip a meal. If you hear yourself saying, “I would do this even if I wasn’t paid for it,” that’s a good indication that you’re on the right path.

I’ve also heard the term “energy vampire” recently which made me laugh at first, but then realized how much sense it made. Pay attention to how you feel after spending time with someone. Are you energized or drained? If it’s the latter, that’s a great opportunity to reevaluate how much of your energy you’re willing to put there.

Our happiness is something we cultivate, and we can do it with intentionality—exploring what is true for each of us.

To honor all of this, I must embrace a persistent willingness to say “yes”. To things I think aren’t possible. To things I’m not sure will work out. To things that feel BIG…and maybe a little uncomfortable. If I feel alignment in my soul, then “yes” has to be the answer. Even if I’m not sure how I’m going to get there or what it will look like.

For those of you that are setting your own intentions for the year ahead, know that I’m rooting for each of you and cheering you on. Even when the road ahead seems uncertain. On the days you want to give up. When there seem to be more questions than answers. You’ve got this.

And if you get stuck, remember to let your soul take the lead. It knows the way.

It’s Not All Glitz and Glamour

carissaricci

“What if I completely lose my balance, slam into the door—accidentally opening it—and fall out with my pants down around my ankles and toilet paper wrapped around me like a mummy?” This was an actual thought I had while attempting the hover technique over a toilet while on a high-speed train. I had tried to hold it, but the water I had downed earlier was looking for a new home and there was no way my bare skin was going to touch the toilet seat in its current state. My fitness tracker told me that I had climbed the equivalent of 97 flights the day before, and when I say that I was feeling a little shaky, that’s an understatement. One of many memories that made me laugh afterwards, but was one of the less glamorous moments of my trip.

When posting about travels, I often share the beautiful pictures and wonderful memories made and leave out the “other stuff”. Let’s face it. That “other stuff” can be uncomfortable. Daunting. Disappointing. And sometimes a little scary. For me, agreeing to experience that “other stuff” is absolutely worth it, but I feel like it’s important to talk about because in many ways, it draws a remarkable parallel to what we encounter in life even when we’re not traveling. What about all the muck and gunk we have to wade through to get to the good stuff sometimes? Buckle up, dear reader. I’m going to lay it bare. 

I’m here to tell you…it doesn’t matter how much you prepare and plan, you will encounter moments that make you feel embarrassed, confused, and completely over your skis.

While abroad, I encountered a lot of unexpected things. Closures. Delays. Unclear directions. A bee in my scarf (more on that later). Various toilet “situations”. Feeling like the dumb out-of-towner. Now, this one I expected to feel at times, but I wasn’t expecting to feel it as much as I did. I’m here to tell you…it doesn’t matter how much you prepare and plan, you will encounter moments that make you feel embarrassed, confused, and completely over your skis. 

Lesson 1: It’s Okay to Ask for Help (Yes, Really. It’s Okay.)

By the time I got to Paris, I was feeling pretty confident about my ability to get around. I was on the back half of my trip and had learned a lot about how to navigate in different countries. The place I was staying was a 5-minute walk from the metro station and a 22-minute subway ride from the heart of Paris. I looked up the different metro lines, found the one I needed, and got myself to the station quickly. Easy peasy, right? Then, I got to the ticket kiosk. It took me a couple of minutes to figure it out, but I worked through it and ended up with a tiny paper ticket in hand. Feeling fairly proud of myself, I then walked to the turnstile. 

This is where it all fell apart. I could not for the life of me figure out where to put my ticket. The only thing I saw was a scanner where people badged in with their metro cards. I couldn’t see anywhere to put my ticket. I tried everything I could think of and was at a complete loss. A sweet, small, elderly woman saw me struggling. She walked right up to me, grabbed my ticket, put it in this tiny notch next to the scanner, and the ticket flew in and popped out by the turnstile. She gestured that I was supposed to take the ticket. As I grabbed it, I felt a hard shove on my back as she pushed me through. When I looked back to thank her, she was smiling and waving at me. No words were exchanged, but it was yet another moment where a kind stranger took pity on a clueless traveler and helped her find her way.

Lesson 2: Sometimes, Things Aren’t as Complicated as We Make Them

Remember the bee I mentioned earlier? I was sitting outside this beautiful cathedral in Bordeaux, soaking up the sun and taking in the views when this large bee flew in between my neck and the scarf I was wearing. Paralyzed, I was scared to move a muscle at first—trying to figure out if I could remove my scarf gently enough so that it wouldn’t sting me. I very slowly started to loosen it, and the bee simply flew away. In my mind, I was already doing the mental gymnastics I thought necessary to strategize how I was going to get this bee out and visualizing scenarios of it stinging me and my head swelling up to twice its normal size. But there was no need. Just a little space and a soft nudge was all that was required.

Lesson 3: Have a Conversation with Your Fear

In order to see some of the things I was wanting to see, I knew I was going to have to step outside my “happy place” when it came to heights. When I was climbing the 300 steps up the dome at Sacré-Coeur, I stopped halfway—not sure I could do it. I almost turned around and bailed. I was standing on this little landing that had a sign saying something like, “Only 167 steps to go!” and could feel the anxiety building. With my hand on the wall, my fear tried to talk me out of continuing. “You don’t really need to make it to the top. The view from the bottom is pretty amazing, even if you are surrounded by hordes of people. You’re scared now, but it could get worse. You don’t know what’s ahead.” That’s when I marshaled my courage and said, “That’s right. You don’t know what’s ahead. It could be amazing. You’re safe, and you can do this.” I know it sounds corny, but the pep talk worked and I kept moving. Shakily and one step at a time. 

When I got to an outdoor space before the next flight of stairs, a woman and her son were resting. She asked if I was okay and I said, “Yeah, thanks. I’m just not a fan of heights.” She smiled in understanding and replied, “My husband isn’t, either. He tells people that it’s not a fear…it’s an ‘intolerance’.” We both laughed and I told her I was going to steal that phrase. When I made it to the top, I let myself take as much time as I wanted to soak it all in. Not just because the views were incredible, but because I had done one more thing I wasn’t sure I could do. I had taken one more step toward tolerating my intolerance.

One of the views from the top of the dome of Sacré-Coeur

So often, we associate discomfort with “bad” and avoid it like the plague. We’re wired to. But living in (and with) discomfort is necessary in order to get to the heart of what it means to live a real life. This trip was a serious lesson in the radical acceptance of the present moment. There were so many incredible, jaw-droppingly beautiful moments. What a pity it would have been if I had let the few uncomfortable ones keep me from experiencing all the rest.

I would have missed out on getting to know the lady who ran the smoothie shop I visited when I desperately needed something to cool me down from hiking up and down steep city streets in the middle of a heat wave.

I might not have witnessed someone painting one of the famous Portuguese tiles in a small tile shop I randomly wandered across if the tile museum hadn’t been closed on the one day I could go, nudging me to explore elsewhere.

I would have never found the best sorbet ever if I hadn’t been desperate to find a bathroom and decided it was worth it to purchase something so I could get access to a toilet.

The moral of the story? Life will get bumpy sometimes. We’ll find ourselves in uncomfortable spots. Disheartened. Sad. Unsure. Grossed out. Embarrassed. Frustrated. Anxious. It is an ongoing battle for me to accept those feelings when they come. But it’s getting better…bit by bit. Navigating the bumps is worth it, and by leaning into those moments, we grow. And we get to experience some truly amazing and potentially life-changing things we wouldn’t have otherwise.

We often want to post the Instagram-“worthy” pictures and stories about phenomenal moments. And that’s ok! But I think we’re missing out if we don’t also share the other non-Instagrammable moments*. I hope by putting some of these stories out into the world, it helps others feel freer to share theirs. We are not alone in wading through the “other stuff”. This I know. May we cheer each other on in the glitz and the glamour and the muck and the gunk—for it is all a part of this perplexing, strange, and beautiful life.

*Disclaimer: These particular moments don’t need to be photographed. I feel like you all owe me a thank-you note for not including a picture of myself tangled in toilet paper, looking like a cartoon character as I balanced and braced myself in that train bathroom. 

Going Solo (Part 3)

carissaricci

“Bad GPS!” I heard the Uber driver yell as he attempted to get me from the train station to the place I was staying for the night. He knew very little English and I knew even less Portuguese. As we continued to wind through the streets in the dark, I checked to see if my GPS would work properly…and it did. Thankfully. I managed to communicate to him to pull over so I could get in the front seat. My phone wouldn’t fit in the device where he had his, so I held it at eye level for him. The entire trip. My arm was shaking by the time we got there. The situation was so funny, that we ended up bursting into laughter a number of times before we finally found the location and he dropped me off. Another moment that still brings a smile to my face.

So often, we want or expect things to go a certain way—but many times, they don’t. These last few weeks have been such good practice for me to roll with the unexpected while learning some lessons along the way.

Lesson 1: Don’t Assume (You Know What They Say About Assuming, Right?)

In my Bilbao hotel, the shower situation seemed wonky. It was in a small corner in the bathroom which was no big deal. But when I went to open the door, it opened in toward the shower and left barely enough space for me to squeeze myself inside before shutting the door. For the first couple of nights, I found myself wondering how anyone who was any bigger than me would fit. There was no way. Did they pole vault themselves in over the top? Most of my shower time those first days were spent pondering that question. 

On the last night, I grabbed the shower door handle to push it forward and then slipped a little and the shower door went the other direction leaving plenty of space for me to walk in. Yep. That’s right. The shower door opened both directions. I spent my last shower in that hotel room laughing at myself. How many times in life have I done things like that? Making an assumption that the first thing I try is the right way to do it instead of trying the opposite tactic (or at the very least, a different one). 

Lesson 2: Get Creative

On a train from Spain to France, I was sitting next to a man who was reading a graphic novel in Japanese, but he also had his phone open. Puzzled, but not wanting to seem stalker-ish, I ventured a quick glance to see what he was doing. On his phone, he had the same book pulled up in what I guessed was a language he felt confident with. He had headphones on–I’m not sure if he was also listening to it or jamming to his favorite tunes, but I thought it was such a cool way to learn a new language. Learn something new by doing something you love. Another lesson in opening the aperture to different possibilities. 

Lesson 3: TRUST

One of the last legs of my trip took me from Paris to Bruges. Another train ride, with this one connecting through Brussels. When I got off the train to catch the next one, I checked my ticket and asked one of the employees on the platform if she could help me find the train I needed since the train number on my ticket didn’t match any of the departing trains listed on the board. She told me it was the next one coming on the same platform, but I hesitated because that one was going to Amsterdam which was not in the direction I needed to travel. 3 more people later, I finally found someone who looked at the code on my ticket and said, “Yeah, this isn’t going to get you there. Your ticket is for an intercity train. That’s not this one. And I don’t know where it’s leaving from. You’ll just have to check the boards.” With only 5 minutes left to catch it, I could feel urgency pumping through my veins as I scanned the boards. Nothing I could see had my destination, but there was another one going to somewhere else in Belgium and left at the same time as it said on my ticket. It was the best bet, so I grabbed my luggage and raced all the way to Platform 16. Out of breath and wondering if I was even in the ballpark of where I needed to be, I could only hope. Looking at the board on the platform, they finally listed the stops and Bruges was one. It was delayed 8 minutes…I would have made it even if I hadn’t sprinted. 

This particular lesson keeps chasing me down, reminding me to let go and trust. To lean on my intuition and know that I will handle what comes my way.

When I walked back through the door of my home, the oddest feeling came over me—like I was a stranger in my own house.

As my current round of travels have come to a close, I find myself already wanting to buy the next plane ticket to somewhere I haven’t explored yet. I opened Pandora’s Box and there’s no way I’m going to be able to shove everything back inside—and I don’t want to. 

When I walked back through the door of my home, the oddest feeling came over me—like I was a stranger in my own house. I have outgrown my former life. It no longer fits. I was snatched completely out of the hamster wheel of my “normal” life for an extended period of time, and now those patterns that felt slightly uncomfortable before? They feel unbearable now. Instead of feeling like that irritating itch on the back of your neck you get from t-shirt tags, it feels like I’m now wearing clothes made entirely of those same tags.

When I was eating dinner in Lisbon one evening, the server who was taking care of me asked me if it was my first trip to Portugal. I replied that it was, but that I have Portuguese heritage. His eyebrows rose in delight, and then he leaned in and put his hand on my shoulder. “Well then,” he said, “welcome home.” I hadn’t planned on giving my dinner a sprinkling of tears that night, but as I’ve learned…when the tears come, I need to let them be. 

As I’m continuing to reflect on my time abroad, the memory of that moment with the waiter in Portugal keeps coming up, and I think I know why. This trip was another huge step in the returning home to myself. Even if my physical house doesn’t feel like home anymore, I’ve realized I’m at home wherever I go—as long as I’m living in a way that is authentically me.

Exploring Lisbon

Thinking about living the life I want, it sometimes feels like a lonely road. I don’t know a lot of people who want the same type of life I do, but I remind myself that no matter how far the physical distance, I will always be connected to the people I love.

When I was traveling, I messaged a good friend with, “No idea how I’m going to go back to normal life after this.” He replied, “But what if this becomes your new normal life?” As soon as I read what he wrote, I smiled the biggest smile. On my way home, another dear friend messaged me with, “May you be gentle with you and go slow. Everything may look the same as when you left – and yet I have a sense you may not be.”

I keep going back to those wise words from both friends as I try to find my way into whatever this next phase looks like for me. They are another reminder that no matter where I go, the bonds of friendship formed over the years will forever be interwoven into my journey. This is what gives me the courage to keep taking steps forward. To all of the friends in my life who are cheering me on—thank you. Your love and support are helping fuel my feet as I continue to seek out what’s next.

To all of us who are continuing to march toward our own true north, I know it’s hard. Some days, excruciating. But we’ve got this. We really do. So, let’s keep going.

Going Solo (Part 2)

carissaricci

“If a tree falls in the woods, but no one is around to hear it, did it make a noise?” This feels related to a more relevant question for today: “If we don’t take pictures of our experiences and post them, did they really happen?” (In case you’re wondering? Yes. I realize how old I sound when I say things like that.) 

As I’m traveling, I regularly battle against the desire to take pictures of literally everything. Each time I turn a corner, there is some beautiful sight to behold and the temptation to capture it is so strong. After a couple of days of fighting the urge, I made a deal with myself. I could take a few pictures of whatever I wanted, but then I made myself put the phone away and just stand in the moment. Taking it all in. The light. The sounds. The smells. The feelings. And I let myself say things like “I can’t believe I’m actually standing here looking at this.” I allowed the goodness to wash over me and didn’t move on until I felt ready.

Photography is a favorite hobby of mine, so it’s ridiculously easy for me to get swept up in capturing a moment while forgetting to actually be in the moment. The lesson for me in all of this is to slow down and intentionally be present in my life as much as possible. Much easier said than done—but a worthy cause.

Similarly, I had to resist the pull to see “all the things”. As I walked the streets, a little voice in the back of my mind would whisper, “How can you come to [insert city name] and not see [insert name of famous structure/art piece/park…]? If you’re not seeing those things, are you really doing this trip right?” As the days passed, it became easier to quiet that voice. And the people I met along the way helped me. 

My first impulse was to feel frustration at the unexpected turn of events, but then I realized that my word of intention for 2023 was TRUST. So I trusted. And I’m so glad I did.

About halfway through the train trip from Bilbao to Barcelona, we suddenly ground to a halt. Everyone around me was chattering away in Spanish and I had no clue what was going on. The woman next to me, seeing that I couldn’t understand, opened her phone and typed a phrase into Google Translate to let me know that the delay was likely going to be a long one—at least an hour. 

My first impulse was to feel frustration at the unexpected turn of events, but then I realized that my word of intention for 2023 was TRUST. So I trusted. And I’m so glad I did. That first sentence she typed into Google Translate turned into hours of us typing back and forth to each other—a friendship forged out of what some would deem a misfortune. I learned about where she was from, things she loved to do, and some interests we had in common. When she found out I grew up in California, she said something that I didn’t understand and gestured like she was a gorilla. My quizzical expression sent her back to her phone and she typed “Arnold Schwarzenegger”. I laughed and typed back, “It’s sad to me that’s what people outside the states think of when they think of California,” which then sent us both into a fit of giggles and a handful of Terminator jokes. 

It then hit me that I would need to try and contact the person who was supposed to meet me where I was staying to let me in. It was already going to be a late check-in, but now I wondered how in the world I was supposed to expect someone to stay up past midnight to let me in. His response? “I won’t leave you sleeping in the streets! And remember: there’s nothing to worry about, we are in Spain!” Another lesson in trusting. In believing in the goodness of other humans. In rolling with the moment. Everything has a way of working out—even if it’s not in the way we expect. 

Looking up in La Sagrada Familia

After arriving in Barcelona and getting a good sleep, I found myself in La Sagrada Familia the next day. I had seen it from the outside before, but had never been inside and let me tell you—if you’re questioning whether or not to buy the ticket, DO IT. It was one of the few places I’ve been where my breath was literally taken away when I stepped through the doors. I let myself marvel at every incredible view. As I wondered into each nook and cranny, I found this small area in a back corner with an agent standing at the entrance. He informed me that the space was for meditation, reflection, or prayer and that there were no pictures allowed. I agreed and entered. It was a chapel space with a few pews and only one other person already there—he left soon after I took my seat in the back. My intention was for reflection. I’m not a religious person and trying to meditate in such a spectacular setting felt like it was just setting me up for failure in such a mind-blowingly beautiful place. Good luck not getting distracted, right? 

As I sat there reflecting on my life, and in particular, these last few years—the tears flowed freely. The culmination of the “everything’s” and the intensity of those “everything’s”. Joy. Grief. Pain. Exuberance. Gratitude. All at once. In this transcendent space, I let myself feel it all. A woman walked in a minute later and my first reaction was one of embarrassment until I realized that she was crying, too. She took her seat at the other end of the pew I was sitting in, and we both took in the gorgeous light of the stained glass windows while feeling all the feels. I don’t know anything about her. I don’t know her name or what her life is like. I don’t know why she was crying. But in that moment, I felt inextricably connected to her. After I had processed what I felt like I needed, I got ready to leave. I looked over at her and she looked back at me. Tears still in our eyes, we each placed a hand over our hearts in acknowledgement of the other. A soft smile which was immediately reciprocated. And then I slipped out quietly, not wanting to disturb the rest of her time.

When I’m headed in the right direction, I now have deep clarity about what that feels like. Heart forward. Heart open.

When I finally stepped outside to get one last look at this massive architectural masterpiece, I felt an all-consuming warmth and contentment of spirit—and also a renewed resolve to continue following this path I’m on. Something has clicked in a big way for me on this trip. When I’m headed in the right direction, I now have deep clarity about what that feels like. Heart forward. Heart open.

Yesterday, I caught a train from Aix-en-Provence to Bordeaux and as I was waiting on the platform, three Italian women came and sat next to me, asking me if they were catching the right train. Trotting out the faithful Google Translate, we had a lovely conversation as we waited. When we parted at the transfer in Marseille, the woman I talked with the most thanked me for the chat, wished me a wonderful trip, and kissed me on each cheek with a “Ciao, bella!” and a hearty wave in farewell.

So, in answer to my previous question of “Am I doing this trip right?” The answer is YES. Absolutely. These new friends and moments of true connection mean more to me than any place I’ve visited. Although all of my experiences over the last few weeks will forever hold a special place in my heart, it’s the lovely interactions I will remember most—a vibrant reminder of our shared humanity. What a gift.

Stepping Out of the Box

carissaricci

There is no greater threat to innovative thinking than the phrase, “We should do it that way because that’s the way we’ve always done it.” What if we looked at all the ways we’re living and the hidden assumptions we’re making underneath it all? Why is it that we do things the “way we do”?

Take weddings, for example. In the states, there is a prescribed “right way” to do it. From cutting the wedding cake (which always seems to be dry…why is that?) to the different dances (which usually includes watching at least 1 person dance like Elaine)…it all seems so prescribed. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve attended some really beautiful weddings. But the weddings that leave more of a mark on my memory are the unique ones. When the couple steps outside the traditional box and does things their own way, throwing these made-up requirements into the wind–it looks like fun. Maybe we should do that more.

In that spirit, I’m no longer going to accept the phrase, “because that’s just the way it is” so fair warning—if you say this to me, get ready to hear me respond with, “What if we tried something different?” As my dear Ted Lasso1 so eloquently illustrated, what if we were curious instead of judgmental? What if we started questioning (without judgment) why we think and do the things the way we do?


Searching for what is familiar is a way to feel safe and secure, even if it’s only a feeling.
An illusion.

To help, I’ve started using what I’m calling the “impatient toddler method” on myself. When I’m doing something that seems mainstream or when I feel like I’m in a rut, I ask myself why I’m doing it that way. When my mind gives me an answer, I respond back with the typical question a toddler might ask next: “But, why?” I respond to the little tyke again. And then I let the toddler keep pestering me with, “But, why?” If the answer at the end of the the string of questions is “because that’s just how it is”, I enter into reality check mode. Does what I’m doing really align with me or not? If not, I’m experimenting with giving myself permission to let it go and try something that feels more like me. I’m nowhere near perfect at this, and I still get sucked into old habits and ways of thinking for a lot of reasons.

Why I’ve done things “because that’s how they’re done”:

  1. Going with the status quo is comfortable. Fitting in feels far better than the judgment that sometimes comes from others when we do something “different”. Research has shown that social exclusion activates the same parts of the brain as physical pain.2 It makes complete sense why we would subconsciously tend to go with the comfortable instead of throwing the rule book out the window to embrace our own way of doing things. When faced with the choice between potentially falling down a staircase or a guarantee that we wouldn’t take a tumble, I think we can all agree that the latter definitely sounds more appealing.3
  2. Searching for what is familiar is a way to feel safe and secure, even if it’s only a feeling. An illusion. For a moment, I could feel grounded because I recognized what was around me. Even if (and this is the kicker), it was an unhealthy situation for me.


If it means I have to keep deconstructing my life brick by brick to rebuild something more aligned and true, bring it on. If you’re feeling a similar call, let’s be bold together.

As I started playing around with coloring outside the lines, I was fearful of unraveling everything I had worked so hard for and was equally trepidatious to dive into the unknowns that come when we begin to consider the possibility that maybe we’ve been living half asleep. On the conveyor belt. Checking off all the tick boxes we feel we “need to”. And then I realized I’d rather strive to live fully awake and with intentionality, even if it makes me pause for a second (or in some cases, a few years) to consider if I have the courage to actually do it than to never attempt it at all.

The best gift we can give the world is bringing our fullest and truest selves. It doesn’t have to be a big thing all at once. Like the story of the tortoise and the hare, slow and steady wins the race. One small step at a time.

Potential Site of the Race Between the Tortoise and the Hare
(The Columbia River Gorge is incredibly scenic and the perfect spot for a race.)

Even if it means I have to be scared while I do it, I’ve decided I’m going to continue to march toward what I know feels right for me anyway. I’m accepting that there may be stretches along the way where I will be inching forward on my tiny little tortoise legs instead of sprinting like a bunny. (You just pictured me as a tortoise, didn’t you? That’s ok. I set myself up for that one.) 

If I have to deconstruct my life brick by brick to rebuild something more aligned and true, bring it on. If you’re feeling a similar call, let’s be bold together. Let’s step out of the box, dance however we want, and embrace our wonderful uniqueness. Our individual and collective healing depends on it.

1If you haven’t watched Ted Lasso yet, here’s the shameless plug for it. Take 31 minutes to watch the first episode. If you aren’t hooked at that point, I’m not sure we can be friends. Just kidding! I would still be friends with you. But you’d have to be okay with the fact that I might be wearing my Ted Lasso socks every time we hung out. (Disclaimer: Since the 3rd season isn’t yet out, I’m not responsible if it takes a hard left turn. This recommendation is based solely on Seasons 1 and 2.)

2 Rejection is Like Pain to the Brain

3 I’ve actually fallen down staircases twice in my life, so I can vouch for the fact that it hurts. Ironically, they both happened in similar ways. Tripped at the top, fell on my front, and bounced all the way down. Once I realized I was falling and there was no way to recover, I tried to do it as gracefully as possible. In case you were wondering, there is absolutely no way to fall down a staircase in a dignified manner. I’m feeling like there might be a life metaphor buried in there somewhere…