what to do when love isn’t safe

Everyone who starts to do personal growth work has something, somewhere, that holds them back.

  • Chronic procrastination.
  • Doubt and worry that lead to anxiety.
  • A pattern of self-sabotage, such as telling the most unsupportive people of your plans as soon as you’ve gotten excited about them.

And here’s a big one that particularly affects intelligent people, everywhere:


Gee, really, sarcasm? –I’m sure someone is already thinking this (sarcastically).

But yeah–really. Sarcasm is a huge defense that keeps people from getting where they truly want to go.


The Defense

I’m a midwesterner transplanted into all of the California hippy-dippy goodness that I embrace, today. I grew up in a neighborhood that could rightfully be called a ghetto–gunshots, prostitution, pimps, metal detectors when I went to school in the morning, drug houses up the street.

I gave my first police statement when I was in middle school (after witnessing a neighbor who had been turning tricks fighting off her pimp, who was trying to stuff her into the back seat of his car).

I know, I know–you had no idea you were going to read this, did you? That fluffy cutesy picture where I’m standing in the field of bright yellow mustard flowers in wine country with beaded bracelets and flowy hair is pretty at odds with what I’m describing, isn’t it?

The rough neighborhood I grew up in often left me feeling scared, defenses up. It was my first training ground in practicing courage, only this was of the white-knuckling variety. I was taking no bullshit. Anyone tried to mess with me as I was walking down the street, I knew how to give them just the look that would make them back off. I learned how to drop the f-bomb like it was hot, rapid-fire style, just like the people who go nuts on reality television and have to be bleepity-bleeped out in the cutting room.

What came along with that?

Anyone who tried to talk to me about the power of love was, in my mind, a complete idiot. The defenses were that high up.


When Love Isn’t Safe

I turned to sarcasm–and anger–because love wasn’t safe.

Love was too vulnerable.

Look at my neighbors with “love” when they were waging dog fights across the street? Fuck that–I was calling the police on them.

And when one of their dogs staggered onto our porch, heaving, bleeding, and its owner came onto our lawn to retrieve the dog, even as it lay on our porch, in pain?

Even in high school, I wasn’t afraid to say: “You’d better get off this property, bleepity-bleeper.”

Nope, no love–at least not for the crazymakers in my neighborhood. I’d give water in a bowl I ate out of to that injured dog, before I’d let that bleepity-bleeping bleep-bleep step one foot onto my porch to retrieve the dog he’d half killed by putting it in a dog-fight.

And if I was walking down the street and men cat-called to me from their car? Guess which finger I was holding up–I’m sure you already know.

Love and compassion for them? As I learned to say with an appropriately timed eye-roll: “Bitch, please!”

Love for the people buying drugs at the house up the street? Sometimes I thought, in my anger and rage at hazards brought by drugs, “I hope they over-dose; they’ll get what’s coming to them.”

If anyone suggested that I was being sanctimonious, I barely paid them any mind. I knew I was right; the druggies and prostitutes and dog-fighters were wrong.

As long as I never sunk to that kind of low with my own behavior, I reasoned, I had every right to judge people to the point of thinking of them as lesser than me. I was engrossed in what Eckhart Tolle describes as a classic case of the Ego playing a game of “Better Than/ Lesser Than.”


Internal War

But the truth, inside? I was at war with myself. The anger and rage was feeding on itself, on others, on situations, on circumstances. I was seething with blame.

I never went crazy and hit things or destroyed property. I turned it outward with tongue-lashings that left people surprised and friendships destroyed, or I turned it inward with crippling depression. That’s the thing about patterns–they can stick around even when you’ve left the neighborhood and the threat is no longer there.

You don’t have to have grown up in a neighborhood like mine to relate to this–plenty of people reading this right now are stuck in patterns, whether they’re patterns of anger or despair or anxiety or feelings of worthlessness, and they feel utterly lost and stuck. When you’re in that place, the idea that you could ever look at the world differently feels impossible.

I know that feeling.

I was smart enough to know that I was internally at war with myself, and that it wasn’t working. So–I leveraged my skills. I used every over-achiever bone in my body to become A Better Person.

There was just one tiny-big problem: I couldn’t become A Better Person without dealing with all of this…love, compassion, and forgiveness “stuff.”

It became quickly apparent that I couldn’t become A Better Person and still do this sanctimonious routine where I judged other people’s choices to the point of deeming them a “less worthy” human being. I didn’t have to like or agree with behavior, true, but if I wanted to see my own life improve, I couldn’t set up divisions between myself and other people.

I needed to love them, to love me–and in loving me, I’d be loving them.

Those drug users? They were me; I was using the drug of anger and aggression to feel powerful in a world that felt chaotic and unsafe. Those dog-fighters? They were me; I was fighting with my words.

Whatever I saw “out there,” I could find in myself, too–and that’s when I realized that the first person who needed love, compassion, and forgiveness and all the rest of the “fluffy stuff,” was me. That is, if I were to survive, these were my tools.


Sarcasm = Defense

What stood clearly in my way? A pattern of sarcasm.

Oh, you wanted to talk to me about loooove, did you? Kissy-kissy boo-boo loooove? Aw, isn’t that sweet. When you quit being such a Pollyanna and want to come back to the real world, let me know. Until then? Barney and Co could kiss my–

Sarcasm was my defense against love when the talk of love and compassion and forgiveness felt too vulnerable.

Sarcasm helped to keep at bay the vulnerability of opening my heart, truly.

Sarcasm was the equivalent of that person who starts making inappropriate jokes at a funeral, unable to deal with their grief.



Whatever your particular pattern is that keeps you from the connection you want, here’s what I know:

Everything about changing it will feel “all wrong,” especially at first.

Also, you’ll probably feel stupid, or changing will seem like a good idea at first, before it then seems utterly lame. There are lots of lies we tell in order to avoid change.

But if you’re like me, and you see that the patterns in place are parasitic, and destroying the host itself, and that the walls are closing in, and that the old defenses are no longer working, and mostly–

–mostly, that there is no where else left to run–

then I have this to promise you: love, compassion, and forgiveness will be waiting there to welcome you with open arms.

No matter how many times you’ve bashed these concepts, not been in integrity, or turned away, when you’re ready to let the defenses come down, you’ve already got the only three tools you need, just waiting to be used–as soon as you’re ready.

how to love your way right through your own personal tragedy


“Ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there is a crack in everything
that’s how the light gets in.”

–Leonard Cohen


So, you’re…

Struggling with infertility. Someone (with kids) says, “You’ll be okay–you can always adopt.”


You’ve been unemployed for over a year. People (with jobs) keep saying, “The right job is out there, somewhere. Just keep looking. Don’t give up faith.”


You’re reeling from the death of a loved one. Someone (who hasn’t experienced a death, recently) comes up to you at the funeral and says, “Be happy for them. They’re in a better place, now.”

People say these things, and everything in you is thinking, “They don’t get it,” or you’re shaming yourself because you’re having difficulty feeling optimistic, or perhaps you’re even angry (“What the fuck do they know?”).

The sense of isolation in those moments can feel profound. You’re doing your very best to hold on to some sense of not freaking the fuck out, and here’s someone who’s not in your situation, who has no clue, coming up to you and saying something that sounds nice, but doesn’t actually fix the situation.


Breathe + Choices

You have choices, here. How you choose will have a profound effect on your life experience, so take a moment to get present and choose wisely.

Choice #1: You can sit with and in the truth that the person in front of you is saying words that, for someone who is in the midst of profound despair, have no real meaning. You can feel even more isolated.

Choice #2: You can look this person in the eye, pull forth all the love you can muster, and high beam the love on them. You can open your heart, and receive fully the love that they’re trying to give you, even if they don’t “get it” or understand.

Many people choose choice #1, not knowing that there’s an alternative. Too much of choice #1, and you can go through an experience bracing yourself for the hurt.

In the midst of my own personal devastations, I try to be fully in choice #2.

When I’m in the midst of my own personal mess, and someone is saying to me those tired generic lines that are always said and associated with that particular mess, I take a deep breath, I high beam the love, and then I take another deep breath.

I look at this person and the part of my brain that would normally be reserved for hearing their words shuts down, until all I can hear is my own inner thinking voice, saying:

“Look at the miracle of this, this person who stands before you wanting so badly to love you. Let them love you, Kate. Let them offer the words, because they’re doing it from love.”

There’s a rawness that immediately arises for me in this. My armor is down. I’m not defended against the the Story running (they don’t get it they don’t understand they have no idea they just don’t even know…).

But if I keep breathing, and keep myself focused on the miracle of this human being in front of me who’s just trying so hard to love me, something softens and feels less raw.

With that softening, our hearts open.

Receiving the love is the choice. We can focus on the level of words, and that’s where it’s easy to disconnect, or we can focus on the level of what’s intended, and that’s where something can open.

Thank you, you think. Thank you for saying that beautifully imperfect thing, that ends up being perfect because I see that you’re just trying to love me as best you can.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

That’s how you get through.

courageous time management

People ask me–a lot–about “balance.” Time management. Wanting to get their shit together.

They ask me how in the world I do what I do–not in a creepy fan way, but in a simple, “I’d like to get some information on how you manage to rock this out” kind of way.

How do I, on a regular basis, launch successful e-programs, work with amazing clients, consult for other life coaches, teach classes or lead marketing seminars? And interview Brene Brown, or any of these other amazing people?

How did I, in the Fall of 2012, launch The Coaching Blueprint–while planning my wedding? How have I managed to run a business and do all of these things–while training for endurance events? Completing 30-day Bikram yoga marathons?

Do I really meditate…daily?

Do I have no friends? Do I have no life? What has to “give” in order for this to work?


Respecting Time

First things first: my time is important to me. I make no apologies for that. Life is short, and this is the only go-around that I’m conscious of, so it’s going to be used in the way that I want to use it.

That’s it.

Years ago, when my own time management boundaries were skewed, I would read someone’s declaration that their time was important and that they expected the people they did business with to treat it that way, too. I’d think:

“How arrogant. How rigid. As if they’re so perfect they can’t be bothered to reschedule something!”

Now, I get it. I had that reaction as a defense because my own integrity with time and priorities was messed up.

Now, I understand that it’s not the one person or incident who treats your time like it’s as flexible as fresh taffy that will bury you–it’s the fifth or tenth person or situation. On the outside, looking in, you don’t see that about someone’s life until you’re in the same position. People who set time management boundaries aren’t rigid–they’re practicing self-care.

Not a single time management boundary that you put into place will work until you get this:

This is your life. This is your time. That’s it.

As in, finite–that’s IT.

When your time is up, your time is up. So how do you want to live? And are you seriously going to allow people to waste your time by constantly rescheduling things and not delivering what they said they’d deliver, and then saying you’re the arrogant asshole when you (kindly) say that that doesn’t work for you?

Respect your time. That’s how others learn to respect it. They take their cues from you.

Click to tweet that: http://clicktotweet.com/8U9Pu



Once respect for my time is clearly on the table, here are the specific time management strategies that I use.

#1: Batch-processing. This is my favorite, and the most effective. I don’t schedule my life by the hour, but I do look at what absolutely needs to get done, and then I reserve chunks of time for doing it. Two-three hours is about all I need to get several blog posts written.


#2: I work within my strengths. If you’re thinking, “Only two to three hours to write several blog posts?” then writing is probably not your natural strength–but something else is. Do the things that come naturally to you, the things that you enjoy. Do I have a life? Yes. Writing is my life.


#3: I use the “two chance” rule. If I have two interactions with someone that indicate a lack of accountability, I generally suggest that right now isn’t the right time for us to work together. They’re not bad, and I’m not trying to punish them–I’m trying to respect my time. By the time that I’ve had two interactions with someone where agreements or commitments aren’t being kept, it simply isn’t effective to plan more–especially if the experiences indicating a lack of accountability have happened back-to-back.


#4: My phone is on silent, 99.9% of the time. This means that I am rarely interrupted by texts or phone calls. My email application is closed most of the time that I’m working. I’m not logged on to social media or Skype automatically.


#5: Yes, I meditate daily (most days). I don’t call it “meditation,” though. I call it creating stillness, and I start my day with it before anything else can intrude. Creating time to get quiet = clarity and more peace, which equals better time management.


#6: I train for endurance events because I love to do it, and it blows off some of the stress/steam that I would otherwise encounter from what is admittedly a busy, fast-paced life where something’s always going on. Do I have a life? Yes. Training for endurance events is my life.


#7: I schedule days with absolutely nothing going on. I need unscheduled time for rejuvenation. My idea of heaven is a day with no agenda.


#8: I make a point of setting up one dinner date with friends, each month. We might also see one another again, but I prioritize that dinner date the way that Carrie and co. prioritized their weekend brunches on Sex and the City. With that said? I make it clear to my nearest and dearest that if they need me, I’m dropping everything and I’m there–no questions asked.


#9: My man and our life together is one of my biggest priorities. We typically have a “date morning” grabbing coffee together at least once a week, prior to starting work. We almost exclusively reserve Saturdays for spending time together.


#10: I don’t sweat the small stuff. Sure, sometimes I’m behind, but I don’t get into the mental drama of that. Because seriously, what’s more of a waste of time than realizing that you’re behind on something and then stressing out with an internal shit-storm about how you’re behind on something?


#11: I put to-do’s on my calendar–like paying bills, invoicing clients, etc. Otherwise, I forget. Having a day of the month reserved for balancing my checkbook is the only way to ensure that I’ll actually do it.


#12: If I pay for it, I use it. Seriously–this is a time management strategy. If I hire a consultant to teach me something that I need to know for my business, I make sure to invest the time into learning it, so that I can use it. For example, I’ve probably listened to the .mp3s from any consulting sessions I’ve paid for, 5-10 times apiece. I’ve read Tim Ferriss’s “Four Hour Workweek” five times. I don’t buy books, programs, courses, etc., that I won’t use–because it’s a huge waste of my time to buy something that’s supposed to help my business or my life, and then not actually implement it. It’s a good use of my time to review and re-review things I’ve purchased when I can learn more from them and continue to refine what I do.


Speaking of hiring consultants–don’t ever hire someone without a clearly defined objective or goal for the session. When I work with coaching clients or consulting clients, it’s clear from the get-go that there is a focus for our time together, because we’re not hanging out and chatting–we’re making things happen.


Most importantly?

YES–I have my flake out moments, too! I’m imperfect and mess up and forget things, amid this busy life. So here’s what I’ve gotten really good at:

I have zero hesitations about apologizing. Sometimes, I forget to respond to something, take care of something, or deliver something I’ve promised to someone else (eep!). I apologize when that happens and take full ownership and responsibility.

I say how I’ll right the ship–specifically, and directly–because I know how I’ve felt when I’ve been on the receiving end of an apology that ran something like, “Oh, gee. Sorry that didn’t get done. That’s my apology.”

The “righting the ship” part is particularly important to me; it’s an acknowledgment that I understand that when I don’t make good on my commitments, that does affect others, and that I understand that lack of accountability is lack of integrity.


Where You Go From Here

For the people who want to start prioritizing what truly matters? The Courageous Living Program is for you. Sign up on this list to get info when a circle opens up.

For the people who run a business who need direct strategies for saving time? You want–you need–The Coaching Blueprint. There’s an entire module on workflows that gives you the essential tools, software, and organizational practices that will streamline your businesses’s practices.

Speaking of implementing what you pay for–how about implementing something that’s free?

Click here to get started with the most courageous e-letter, around.