HELP PEOPLE FEEL BETTER: THE POWER OF UNDERSTANDING

“When you judge another, you do not define them. You define yourself.” ~Wayne Dyer
I used to be someone who always gave my opinion, or confronted issues in relationships regardless of whether someone was in the mood for what I had to say.
I always brought up whatever was bothering me or said my opinion, perhaps in not so tactful ways. Needless to say, this led to a lot of emotional confrontations and blowouts with friends and family members, sometimes destroying important relationships.
I justified my actions by thinking that people deserved to hear the truth, no matter what.
Despite my strong opinions, loved ones still came to me for advice or help when they were in need. This might have been because I seemed like a well-grounded person with strong convictions—someone who knew what to do.
When giving my opinion or advice, I would always think to myself, “Well, they are coming to me for the truth, so they deserve to hear it no matter how bad it might sound.”
While I thought my advice came from a place of caring, it would take years before I realized how selfish and thoughtless I was being.

Wanting Meaningful Work Is Not a First World Problem

“I read your latest essay.” Arms crossed, eyes ablaze. “I don’t think you get it. At. All. I really don’t.”
I’d met Sophie, one of my mentees, for what I’d thought was going to be a pleasant chat over good coffee on a perfect autumn day.
“Meaning,” she muttered, staring darkly into her cup. And then glaring at me, continued, “What planet are you on? I’ve got student debt, credit card debt, an underpaid so-called job that makes me nauseous, a broken car, and a failing relationship.”
“Meaning,” she said again. This time, with scorn and a sneer. “Is a luxury. One that I can’t afford — and probably never will be able to. That’s reality outside the gilded cage and ivory tower. Get it?”.
Many of us, I’d bet, feel like this: in a hardscrabble age of austerity, the search for meaning is an unaffordable self-indulgence, the torrid affair that painfully breaks up the quietly satisfying marriage, an idly romantic daydream, the jackpot whose price is misfortune; that if one is to survive another lost decade, searching for meaning is something like mining the fools’ gold of life.