It’s 10:30 PM on a Wednesday night. I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed thinking:

“What is wrong with me?” 

I have turned on a calming piano playlist, drunk chamomile tea. I’ve written in my journal. I’ve meditated. I’ve inhaled and exhaled peppermint essential oil while having lavender oil burning in my diffuser. 

I’ve used all my tricks and why the hell am I not calming down? Why am I on the verge of calling the zoo to ask for horse tranquilizer?!

In my chest, that hot heavy black hole feeling of anxiety is throbbing. It’s so unbearable that in silence I desperately begged God to take me out of my body even for just a moment. 

At the same time, I feel extremely lame about all of this. 

So much anxiety, and for what? 

Had I accidentally said yes to captain a giant hot air balloon crew or accompany Keanu Reeves to the Oscar (or to anywhere), this anxiety would have a valid reason. 

Instead, I’m drowning in an anxiety sinkhole over one single email.

To be able to function in the world, we need to learn how to live with expectations. 

I’ve been running a program in which I need to collaborate with other speakers. One of them just emailed me to say she is glad to be part of the program. But instead of stopping right there and making my night easier, she mentioned the E word:

“I Expect a lot about this.”  

So now I’m hugging my legs to my chest in a fetus position, rocking myself back and forth. My forehead collapsed in between my knees. Thank God the neighbors are not seeing this, otherwise, they might call a mental hospital. 

If you share my neighbor’s opinion, allow me to explain myself. 

My relationship with expectations has been like a dog with a ball. Someone throws the ball, and I come running on my four legs.  

The only difference is that dogs seem to genuinely enjoy chasing balls. I, instead, get constipation. (if you don’t know, a side effect of chronic anxiety.) 

You see. A normal baby after being born is placed in a pink crib or whatever. I was placed in the Chamber of Shoulds. 

I think I knew what was expected of me even when I was in my mom’s uterus. Mom kept telling me how easy it was to raise me. I ate anything she gave without making a fuss. I went everywhere she went without crying. Once when I was about 3 years old, she left me alone to go shopping with my auntie. All afternoon, I quietly played with one sapodilla fruit. 

When I was 5, I already knew I was supposed to be a role model for my younger brother, go to university, marry a husband who makes good money, and have children before my 30s. 

That’s what I mean by the Chamber of Shoulds. And I’m telling you, it’s suffocating.  

I followed those shoulds because they were the only things I knew. And ended up in my mid-20s both lost and depressed. 

Like someone who goes through 3 traumatic relationships and vows to never love again, I was determined to run away from all expectations. That was part of the reasons why I went off doing my own thing.

However, at some point, I realized that the only way to escape from all expectations is to 1) make friend with Elon Musk 2) convince him to send me in one of his space ships to an unknown planet.  

I realized that to be able to function in the world, I need to learn how to live with expectations. 

Like the solution to not having more traumatic relationships is to learn to create healthy ones. Not to renounce love forever. Running away from your fear is to be haunted by it.

Still, it’s so much easier said than done. 

The burning and contraction in my chest are getting stronger. I’ve now folded myself down in child pose, yoga-style (except a lot less tranquil and a lot more pathetic.)  

I’m taking a deep breath. Too tired to fight, I let go. 

Suddenly, I remember that this is what I teach others to do: to embrace their emotion instead of rejecting it. Damn…It’s not easy to take your own medicine. 

As I let myself feel the anxiety in my chest, it expands. I breathe. I can feel this. 

I heard a thought at the core of the anxiety:

“This is taking away my freedom.”  

I asked myself a coaching question that I’ve asked many of my clients:

“When was the first time you ever felt this way?” 

My mind flashed the image of a 4-year-old me, sitting alone in her bedroom, looking out through the bars of her window, feeling powerless. 

I asked that little girl what she needs. She says nothing, just clings to my hand. 

I decided to show her my life, all the places I’ve been to, where I’m living now. I showed her my bank account and my credit cards. She was surprised and very impressed. 

I told her that she’s not alone anymore. Because I’m here. I will take care of us. If she wants to go out, I can take both of us out. No problem. 

She smiled and hugged me. 

I’m still in the child yoga pose. I take a long breath, feeling my fingers and toes. I notice now that the black hole in the chest is gone, replaced by a feeling of spring breeze passing through an open window. 

The world needs your sensitivity.

Carl Jung said:

“What is not brought to consciousness, comes to us as fate.” 

When we have pain buried below our consciousness, we build walls around us to keep our wound from being touched. 

But that doesn’t mean our wound is getting healed. 

An emotional trigger is our wounded part saying: help me. 

It’s harder when you are a highly sensitive person like me who feels everything so deeply. 

Sometimes, I doubted whether I was too sensitive or emotional for the path I chose. 

Sometimes, I hated myself for being so easily triggered. 

Sometimes, I wished to hide under a blanket, never be bothered by the world. 

But I’m glad I didn’t carry out that plan of becoming Elon Musk's bestie, didn’t have him send me off to planet B-612. 

Because then maybe many of my wounds would remain unhealed and unheard. 

In the end, I rather be here in this messy human life, reading emails where people use E words, find out how to serve my clients, how to support myself and my team with our business. 

I rather commit to goals that seem a bit crazy. Sometimes I dance my way towards them like a ballerina. Sometimes walking awkwardly like a sumo wrestler who just tried out his brand new loincloth. 

This is how we sensitive people can have both our sensitivity and boldness. We’re not too sensitive or too fragile for this world. 

It is because we are sensitive that the world needs us (It’s us who can write poetry, music, and long-winding articles about our internal mess.) 

And we need the world, too. 

I think that’s part of the reason why we’re here and why we need to struggle sometimes: our Soul’s masterplan to heal us, build us up, and make us whole. 

Milena xo

P.S time to embrace your emotions!

Starting off on a new journey sounds intimidating, but don’t let expectations and stress overshadow your confidence. Embrace them, for you have a purpose to shine!

That’s why I’ve created a gorgeous 15-page workbook to help you do just that: discover your unique purpose.

Download below and enjoy the exploration!

SHARING = LOVING