Of all the thousands of people I've interviewed and studied over the years—looking for patterns in the data—only about 15 to 20 percent were folks living with their whole hearts, folks who were really all in when it came to their relationships. So I decided I wanted to find out why. What quality did these people have that made them so capable of both receiving and giving love?
When I examined my research, I discovered that these were people who deeply believed that they were worthy
of love and belonging. These folks believed this regardless of the circumstances, unlike the majority of us who think: "Okay, I'm worthy of love and belonging a little bit, but I'll be superworthy if I get promoted. Or I'll be superworthy if I lose 20 pounds." These folks believed that they were loveable and that they had a place in the world, and those beliefs translated into specific choices they made every day. They were aware. They recognized shame, and they knew how to deal with it. They recognized vulnerability, and they were willing to feel it—rather than ignore or numb it.
What I wondered was, How do the rest of us cultivate these same qualities? It's not like we can just decide to be vulnerable or say, "Hey, I'm worthy," after which—poof—this instantly comes true. But there are practical changes you can make in your life which encourage these beliefs. Here are five basic everyday actions that can help you develop a deeper, more loving sense of wholeheartedness, both for others and for yourself.
Letting Go of Exhaustion
Everybody in the world says that you need to work less in order to live a fuller, more connected life. But so few of us address what prevents us from doing it. The reasons are simple: (1) exhaustion is a status symbol in our culture, and (2) self-worth has become net worth. We live doing so much and with so little time that anything unrelated to the to-do list—taking a nap, say, or reading a novel—actually creates stress.
Wholehearted people, on the other hand, know when to stop and rest. Personally, I had to learn this. I'm still learning this. I screw it up every now and then, but five years ago I made some huge changes in my personal and private life. I went from full time to part time at the university, and my husband, who is a pediatrician, cut his hours to four days a week. As it stands now, we never get less than eight hours of sleep.
What did this require? A constellation of choices. For example, one of the things I have to do to cultivate more rest is to say no. Last year, I turned down 85 percent of the invitations I got to speak. Because I have a commitment to be at the family table four nights a week.
To say no, we have to understand why we're saying yes. One of the reasons is scarcity. I, like many of us, was so afraid that maybe all these opportunities would just go away, that maybe next year people wouldn't ask for me to come speak, and maybe my work wouldn't get the attention it needed, and that if I didn't have my work, who would I be? So I thought I had to say yes, yes, yes. The only reason I can now say no is because I work on my shame "gremlins." Gremlins are the tricksters who whisper all of those terrible things in our ears that keep us afraid and small. When the gremlins say "you better say yes, or they won't like you" or "they'll think you're lazy," I whisper back: "Not this time. I get to say no. I get to love myself, stay home and drive soccer carpool."
Next: Creating joy