Natural High Healing

On Midsummer Day, my nephew and I went for a morning stroll through the forest towards a nearby beach. All of a sudden, we stopped in our tracks as an eagle came flying straight towards us. Instinctively, I held out an arm to protect my nephew and we both watched in amazement as the majestic bird changed direction and soared out across the water. 

The eagle is an impressive creature, capable of reaching heights other birds may only dream of. As a spirit animal, it can inspire us to view life from a broader perspective, allow our hearts to guide us, and remain open to unexpected opportunities. While unafraid of the unknown, eagles also have four toes on each foot, which helps them stay grounded and connected to the Earth.

With this in mind, I impulsively accepted an invitation to volunteer and cook vegan food at the Natural High Healing Festival two weeks later, in exchange for a free ticket to the workshops. Even though those guided by the eagle spirit are said to welcome challenges with courage and determination, I had many questions and concerns before the festival. Would I manage to sleep in a tent for four nights? What would I eat? Who would I spend time with? What if I wanted to be alone? 

I had no answers, only questions. Nonetheless, I embarked on a five-day adventure with three strangers who kindly provided transportation and taught me everything I needed to know about food preparation, cooking and serving. They even helped me to set up my tent, and camped right next to me.

Our vegan Peanut Stew was very popular

On Friday morning at eight a.m., I attended a workshop called "Manifesting Money through Kundalini Yoga." I squeezed my mat into a tiny corner of the crowded room, and took a deep breath - several, in fact - as we started with some powerful kriyas (movements) combined with breathwork. As the session progressed, the exercises became increasingly intense, raising our energy to a higher frequency. "Stay true to yourself, and do your best on the path that is yours," our teacher advised when she invited us to lie still for a while. "By resting in between, you teach your nervous system that it is safe to go for it."

My most significant takeaway from this workshop was the mindset that we live in a world of abundance and by vibrating on the same frequency as what we desire, we can attract what is meant for us. 

Later that day, I participated in another workshop called "The Forgiveness Journey." Once again, we began with breathwork and meditation, grounding ourselves in the present moment. After a bit of movement, our teacher invited us to find a partner. The tall blond girl in front of me turned around to ask if I would like to work together, and I nodded. We were instructed to stand close and gaze into each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity, but may have been around fifteen minutes. I don't know my partner's name, but I still remember every detail of her clear blue eyes. In them, I saw love and kindness. There were moments when I could glimpse the hard times she had been through, and other moments when I sensed that she could feel my pain. We quietly repeated: "I forgive you. I love you."

Finally, the teacher encouraged us to step closer and embrace one another. It was the longest hug of my life, but also the most healing. As we leaned in closer, I could feel the other girl's heart beating in the same rhythm as mine. "Allow yourself to relax into this embrace," the teacher said. "Allow yourself to be held and supported. What if there are no mistakes? What if everything happened exactly according to plan, so that you could be here right now? What if you could start over and rewrite your story with courage and authenticity?" I wiped a tear from my cheek, and reached out to touch my partner's hand. "Thank you," we both whispered softly, and then never spoke again.

On Saturday, I worked throughout the morning, and by the time I could join a dance workshop in the afternoon, I felt exhausted. I was not in the mood to observe and be aware of sensations, and I kept looking at my watch and the door. How long would I have to stay? And where would I go if I left? There were people everywhere.

As if sensing my state, the teacher said: "There might be agitation and irritation in your body. What if you stayed anyway?" So I did. Slowly but surely, we started to move. He guided us through a two-hour conscious dance journey, and I have never experienced anything like it. In a hypnotic voice, he spoke to our subconscious minds. 

Tell the truth. Be honest. Be you. Stop caring so much about what others think. If somebody saw you right now and asked why you're moving this way, just tell them that you don't know. Why are you moving? I don't know. Tell the truth. Be honest. Why are you moving? I don't know.

When, at the end, he invited us to lie down on the floor, I was already there, my whole body trembling. The headache was gone. The agitation was gone. Fatigue remained, but so did joy, contentment and bliss.

Closing ceremony and last dance at the Main Stage

On the final day of the festival, a storm swept in, challenging us as we attempted to pack up our belongings and dismantle the tents. The French vendor who had been selling chocolate came to assist us and the Indian chefs prepared refreshing mango lassis for everyone. Instead of competing, we had built camaraderie over the past few days and with big smiles, we shook hands and said "See you next year!"

I wouldn't say that my heart feels full after this experience, but rather that new space has opened up. I am ready to see and be seen, hear and be heard, love and be loved. I feel free, and like the eagle, I am ready to fly, with new questions on my mind. How far can I fly, and how high? And where should I go first?

An Australian Adventure

My whole body trembled and sweat poured down my face as I walked up the stairs at the Stamford Plaza Hotel in Sydney, Australia on 7 March 2024. My head was buzzing with nerves and excitement. It marked the first day of Neuro Transformation Therapy, the training that I had traveled all the way across the world for. At the top of the stairs, 110 unknown faces awaited me, along with one familiar face that I had only seen on Zoom. 

I always said that someday, I would go to Australia to fulfill my lifelong dream of hugging a koala. So when my other plans for this year were suddenly cancelled, I decided to turn "someday" into "now". Only to quickly realise how little I know about Australia. The visa requirements and the sheer vastness of the continent took me by surprise, and much to my dismay, I learned that holding koalas in New South Wales is illegal.

Nevertheless, I happily boarded a long flight to Sydney, arriving one week before the NTT event. As I navigated customs, my sister's warnings about Australia’s strict border control echoed in my mind and when a security guard waved me in a direction where no one else was going, I swallowed loudly. Would I be fined for the chewing gum and aspirin in my bag, or denied entry for some unexpected reason? Luckily, he led me towards an exit, where friendly blokes and sheilas greeted me with "G'day darling." 

Hoping to defy jetlag, I immediately went for a long walk, taking in the large city and strangely feeling at home. With six months of winter behind me, I eagerly soaked up the sunshine, and then finally, I saw it - The Opera House, as white as my skin, shining brightly against the blue sky. I had to pinch myself several times to make sure I was awake. As the sun slowly set, the hustle and bustle continued, with people strolling around and live music filling the air. 

Sydney Opera House

Sydney Harbour Bridge

The next morning, I crossed the Sydney Harbour Bridge, which reminded me a lot a of the Brooklyn Bridge in New York. After the walk, I sat down at a French café to devour a delicious galette, which fuelled me with enough energy to continue my stroll through the beautiful Botanical Garden. Despite my fears, the only "spider" I saw in Australia was the large bronze statue outside the art museum. And I only saw one snake, a live one up in the mountains. I did see many, many bin chickens though (a local name for the Ibis birds that use their long beaks to pick up food from bins).

My third day was one of pure bliss as I finally got to meet the koalas. Not only that, my guide had an arrangement with the family-run farm so we could enter before other visitors to help feed the animals. The biggest smile spread across my face as I saw their cute little eyes and soft leathery noses. We were also allowed to play with the adorable wallabies and kangaroos, who enjoyed a firm belly rub when they weren't too busy munching on grass or surveying something in the distance. 

Koalas

Kangaroos

After the wildlife park, we visited other areas south of Sydney, such as Wollongong and Morton National Park, and despite the windy and foggy weather that day, I fell in love with the coastal towns framed by mountains. Believe it or not, they looked exactly like the places I see when I visualise my dream future! The tour ended with a wine tasting at a local vineyard where I enjoyed meeting and chatting with other travellers. 

Somewhere along the way...

The following day, my friend from Canberra joined me for an exploration of Newtown, where we discovered the stories behind the exquisite murals and tasted food from all over the world. I really enjoyed digging into some vegan gluten-free tacos at a Mexican restaurant, while Mark preferred the meat pies at a local café. Our favourite, however, was a Turkish ice-cream with a sticky bubblegum texture and a strong rosewater flavour. 

In the evening, we were warned about a thunderstorm and considered canceling our tour to the mountains, but fortunately, we didn't as the clouds passed over night and we ended up having a gorgeous day in the Blue Mountains. The smell of the eucalyptus trees reminded me so much of Ecuador and the breathtaking views and cascading waterfalls filled my soul with joy. 

With my friend Mark

The Blue Mountains

Mural in Newtown

As if hiking in the mountains wasn't enough exercise, I embarked on a coastal walk from Bondi to Bronte the next day. Arriving at Bondi beach, Australia's most famous beach, was a surreal moment. Seeing the massive waves rolling in, the suntanned bodies, the surfers, the lifeguards and the warning signs for dangerous currents made me feel like I was in a movie. The coastal walk was extremely picturesque, with spectacular views at every turn. 

Bondi Beach

Coastal walk

Before I knew it, the week had flown by, and it was time to ascend the stairs at the Stamford Plaza, unaware that every other person there was just as nervous as I was. Yet within hours, we were high-fiving and hugging one another, helping each other through transformative exercises and staying side by side for 12 hours a day, taking in every word from our teacher Luke Hawkins.

Towards the end of the last day, I could barely stand nor keep my eyes open. My body was exhausted. But when my name was called, I danced my way up on the stage and my new friends clapped and cheered, just as loudly as I did for them. We made it! We healed ourselves, so that we can go out and heal others. We showed up, daring to be vulnerable and we took risks, desperately craving the rewards.

Two weeks after my Australian adventure, I still catch myself wondering if it was just a dream. The truth is that reality may not always align with our expectations. Reality is a little messier, a lot sweatier, a bit more awkward, more intense, more colourful, and way more fun. If we can overcome our fears, our doubts and our limiting beliefs, then we can unlock the potential for an extraordinary life. Even if it includes encountering a couple of bin chickens along the way.

 

With the legendary Lukes of Australia

Australia's most hated bird?

From black hole to shining star

On June 11th at 11:11 a.m., a stranger messaged me. The universe must have known that, on June 12th, I would have a meltdown, and the one who would help me rise again was the person whose name had just popped up on my phone.

For the first six months of this year, I would wake up every morning wishing I didn’t exist. January 1st brought devastating news that shook my family, and I ended up seeking solace from a situation that had already shattered my confidence for far too long. On top of that, I was juggling two jobs and trying to be an entrepreneur yet somehow, my finances never seemed stable.

As winter crept towards spring, I sank deeper into darkness. Anxiety filled my chest and at an alarming pace, PTSD-symptoms such as panic attacks, flashbacks and nightmares returned to my life. Still, I kept thinking: “If I can just make it for one more day, one more week, one more month, then everything will be alright.” I kept practicing gratitude and feverishly repeated affirmations, but nothing worked.

Then came June 12th, and everything crashed. My spirit was broken, and I knew that something had to change. Fortunately, the summer holidays were just around the corner so I escaped to Madeira, where I hiked to the highest mountain and slowly started picking up the pieces. As the fog of past events lifted, the stranger who had messaged me earlier came into focus.

By now, I knew that his name was Luke and that he lived in Australia. I knew he liked the colour green and shared my passion for hiking. I also learned that he had gone through past struggles not unlike my own. We had a clarity call to see if his coaching would be right for me and despite my initial hesitation, I was struck by his genuine compassion.

I asked the universe for a sign, and for the rest of my holidays, the name Luke rained over me. In every book I read and every movie I watched, there was a character named Luke. If I listened to a podcast, there was a guest named Luke. If I discovered a new song, it would be sung by an artist called Luke (or Luca). I even saw his name written on a lamp post! The message was loud and clear.

Once I returned home, Luke offered me another clarity call and the next day, I sent him all the money I had at the time. My friends were skeptical. “What if he hypnotises you and then switches off the computer and you stay hypnotised forever?” one of them worried. “Don’t give him any information!” another one advised.

But I knew that if this was going to work, I would have to trust Luke completely. I would have to be brave, and vulnerable. My decision was not based on reviews or referrals, or even logic (in hindsight, I could have done more research). It was pure intuition. I was fully committed, ready and desperate to change my life.

And so Luke and I embarked on a 6-week quantum transformation journey, including timeline therapy and reprogramming of the subconscious mind, delving into traumas and underlying blocks. One by one, we cleared out negative emotions such as anger, sadness, fear, hurt and guilt, and rewired my nervous system for positive emotions. We removed negative beliefs and installed new empowered beliefs.

The rapid changes were astonishing, and newfound joy fuelled my motivation. Luke sent me six digital courses to work on in between our sessions and after just a few weeks, I had gone through them all, surprised to discover that I had become extremely interested in neuroscience. Engrossed, I devoured any information I could find and filled notebook after notebook.

About halfway through, I unexpectedly fell back into the black hole that I thought I had expanded from. Only this time, I managed to crawl out of it myself and found that I could stand firmly on my own two feet. That’s when I knew that something fundamental had shifted.

The coaching program was not an easy process for me. There were days when I didn’t show up as my best self and there were days when I wanted to quit because there were past events that I didn’t dare to revisit. There were times when I felt embarrassed, and there were times when I felt lost in between sessions. There were, however, more moments when I felt truly connected, and I experienced profound love and happiness. No matter what, I kept going, knowing Luke would always be there to support me.

Step by step, my spirit began to heal. These days, I wake up excited to do yoga and see what else the day brings. I haven’t had a panic attack in months, and my sleep is no longer interrupted by nightmares. I can breathe more easily, and for the first time in my life, I feel safe and at home in my body. My confidence has improved and I feel more comfortable being myself. I worry less about what other people think and focus more on creating my own path.

I have learned how to set boundaries, proving that I can stand up for myself and make the right decisions. I now understand that it is not my job to protect others from facing the consequences of their own actions. I have found a strength inside myself that I never knew I had.

I have gone from feeling burned out at work to showing up each day full of energy. I feel a lot more comfortable in my teacher role, whether it’s teaching languages, dance or yoga. In January, all my yoga courses were canceled, but when I offered them again in August, they sold out within an hour!

Two years ago, I published my first book, which was followed by imposter syndrome and writer’s block. Now, I’m writing every day again, which feels fantastic. I have set new goals for the future and I’m excitedly taking steps towards them. My motto is “I’m happy in the present moment, and I allow good things to come to me.”

At 42, I feel like life is just beginning. This experience has inspired me so much that I have even decided to study hypnotherapy for a year. Perhaps helping others is the best way to thank the no-longer stranger who popped into my life and changed everything for the better.

Passport Full of Dreams - A travel journal turned into a survival story

It's finally here!

I have put my whole heart into writing this book and I hope that it will bring my readers joy (along with a few tears) and perhaps encourage more people to share their own story. 

My self-help memoir is about traveling, adventure and yoga, falling in love, falling apart, falling down and rising back up.

It would mean the absolute world to me if you wanted to read the book. Part of the royalties will be donated to organisations that support mental health and/or education for young people in Ecuador. 

Please leave a comment or reach out me through social media if you would like to buy a copy.

 

Passport Full of Dreams - A travel journal turned into a story of survival

Waves of change

"Ellie, deja que la vida fluye," my Ecuadorian friend W always says to me. Let life flow. I agree with him but as we all know, it's not so easy to let go of control. Before I left my home in Quito, I wrote a post about feeling like I was drowning and a friend that I met in Thailand many years ago commented: "You will float, you will float, you will float". She wasn't wrong and her comment became my mantra whenever I felt myself sinking again, but I don't think she or anyone else could have imagined that it would take two whole years before I would once again trust the ocean enough to stop treading water and just... float. 

It wasn't until I actually went out into the real ocean a couple of weeks ago that I realized I've finally let go of the fight. I have stopped resisting the natural flow of things.

I was on a tour with a group of hikers and setting off in the beautiful hippie paradise called Caños de Meca, we hiked towards the coastal town of Barbate, stopping several times along the way to cool down with a dip in the ocean. Towards the end of our hike, I walked out into the water alone, distancing myself from the group. Out in the deep blue sea, I stretched out my arms and my legs to float on the waves, something I literally hadn't done for years. I have mostly gone to Finland in the winter and last summer, my only contact with water was freezing my toes off in the Atlantic ocean outside Portugal. The beaches in Ecuador are outstanding but there, the waves were too big to swim.

As I was floating around in the crystal blue water, I noticed that all the spaces in my body that used to be filled with something or someone now somehow seemed hollow. I also felt small, in a good way. We are but tiny drops in a vast ocean of uncertainty, but if we move with the waves of change, we may eventually end up where we are supposed to be. 

Due to the Covid-19 situation around the world, I am currently without a job and need to leave my apartment at the end of this month, without knowing where to go or what to do next. That's the thing about floating - it's basically drifting around with no destination.

What I take with me from Seville is a strong sense of community. I have always found support here, whether it's been in the form of friends, fellow hikers, yogis, colleagues, roommates, partners, or my church family. I have reached out for help and equally so, I have been the one to hold out a hand when someone needed me. For my first yoga class, I created a new mantra for myself and my students: I am safe. I am supported. I am loved. 

At the moment, I feel like circles are closing. I recently bought my last monthly pass at the yoga studio that has been like a second home to me for a year. Two months in Seville turned into twelve as I decided to stay and complete a yoga teacher training here and I have no regrets. Never have I dedicated so much effort into something that turned out to be equally rewarding. During the course, I came to understand that the true essence of yoga has very little to do with asanas; it is more about connecting to the breath, finding balance and recognizing the truth within ourselves. I learned how to awaken my senses, surrender to what is, and perhaps most importantly, to experience joy again. 

Even though there are some things, and some people, that I will probably never be able to let go of, I do feel like I have dropped some heavyweights and let them sink to the bottom. I no longer cling to anything or anyone, instead, I try to let things be and go with the flow. I now understand that acting often comes from a place of kindness whereas reacting is based on hurt. Using our breath to center ourselves can help us make a conscious choice between the two. 

If I wanted to label my experiences over the past three years, I could call them illness, shock, betrayal, anxiety, depression, distorted reality, grief, loss, posttraumatic stress... or I could turn things around and name them lessons in love, vulnerability and fear, overcoming, building courage, improving my health, healing and moving on.

The real question is, what happens if we drop all the labels? What remains? 

Maybe the best all of us can do this year is just to keep our heads above water. If we can remain above the surface and keep breathing, I think that is enough.

Reasons to stay alive

It was a Tuesday night in October last year. I was working late as usual and it was just me and another teacher in the staffroom at our academic center in the North of Madrid. This tall handsome stranger and I had been introduced at the beginning of the school year but we hadn’t really talked since then. We were both tapping away at our computers when he started a conversation. "Do you like reading?" he asked from behind his screen and I looked up. I looked at him, then looked away.

I didn’t know how to say that yes, I used to love books but now the mere thought of reading one was so exhausting that I couldn’t even bring myself to try. Finishing a book seemed like an impossible task to accomplish and I didn’t want to add to my never-ending list of failures. I didn’t know how to explain that when you’re overwhelmed by anxiety, reading two sentences after another is already a major undertaking. It's like reading a text with no punctuation - it makes absolutely no sense. 

"I like writing." My timid voice broke the awkward silence a while later when the part of me that longed for human connection suddenly decided to speak up. The other teacher smiled. "I know a great bookstore. You should go some time." I scribbled down the name and address he gave me and we said goodnight. Desperate literature. That was the name of the bookstore and it made me wonder how much misery my face had given away. 

Three days later, I had a free afternoon and decided to go for it. Now, to a normal person, stepping into unknown territory may not seem like such a big deal, but for someone with panic disorder, it requires careful planning and plenty of courage. So when I arrived only to find the store closed for siesta, I did what no normal person would do. I sat down and waited. For two hours. Because I knew that if I left, I would never come back.

The doors finally opened and a friendly girl with purple hair welcomed me. I entered and literally stumbled over a book called Reasons to stay alive, which had been placed on a small table right in front of the door. I picked it up and read the few lines on the back page, then held the book close to my chest.

Desperate Literature

It was a book written by Matt Haig and it had spoken my name as I was waiting outside. I instinctively knew that this must be why I had been sent here but, unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to buy it. I was still paying off the debts of my hospital bills and wasn’t supposed to spend any money so I put the book down and had a look around.

The shop was small and there were books upon books stacked on the shelves covering the walls all the way up to the ceiling. I took three steps into the back room and found a section of French classics, which I carefully held in my hand before lifting them up to my nose, randomly opening pages and breathing in the smell of words. Sentences. Stories. Sensations. Was this what happiness felt like? I couldn’t quite remember.

I walked in circles around the store and each time I passed the front table I picked up Matt Haig's book again. “We take credit cards!” the cashier cried out the fifth time I came around. My hands shook as I handed her the book along with my card, which was supposed to be for emergencies only. “I’ll take it.”

That night, I didn’t sleep. For the first time in what felt like forever although in reality was only a year, I had someone who understood. Who had been where I was. Who knew what it’s like to stand on the edge, contemplating another step. Matt and I spoke the same language. We talked about insomnia, inability to speak, air too thin to breathe, disconnection, dread, darkness, the weight of guilt, trying to keep afloat, not having a single waking second outside of fear and longing, above all else, to just feel normal.

But not only did Matt understand, he also gave me hope. He didn’t say that it will all be okay because how could it possibly ever be okay. He said it takes time. He said one day, you will see a tiny bit of the blue sky emerge behind the clouds again. You will read one (short) paragraph, then maybe one more and eventually, you will finish a whole chapter. And then start a new one, while leaving an old one behind.

He made me see that depression and anxiety are liars who tell us things that aren’t true. He promised me that even when I feel like I'm sinking, there is a stronger part of me that remains steady. He assured me that pleasure can grow out of the pain and that I will one day feel a joy that matches this sadness. That is the hope that I still live by today and if I forget, I dive into Matt's book to remind myself again. In fact, in the year that has passed since I first visited Desperate Literature, I have read over twenty books and enjoyed every single one of them.

The tall handsome stranger and I never really had a conversation again. We passed by each other in the hallways at work a couple of times, but I never knew how to say thank you. I didn’t know how to tell him how much his words had meant to me. Not just the recommendation but the fact that he saw me when I felt invisible and alone in the world.

We never know what someone is going through, but we also never know who needs to hear what we have to say. Nothing is random and no kind word is ever wasted so don’t be afraid to reach out and break the silence. You might just give someone a reason to live.

Inhale - stay in the present moment. Exhale - it's a wonderful moment.

10 ways to healing

2018 won't exactly go down as the best year of my life. Then again, there is something very special about being able to move your legs de nuevo after having learned the hard way what it feels like when you can't. These days I notice and appreciate the way my feet touch the ground and carry me forward each day, step by step. A new friend in Madrid said he couldn't understand why I always take the stairs in the metro station when standing still on the escalator would give me a chance to rest before catching the next train or teaching the next class. My answer to him was simple: I walk, because I can. 

Here's what I've learned this year about how to keep going when the going gets tough: 

1. Grieve 

A few weeks ago, I had planned a kids class that I expected to be fun. Kids love animals, right? Unfortunately, one of the young girls in my class burst into tears as soon as I brought out the flashcards. Apparently, the fluffy-kitten card reminded her of a cat that she had once had. She continued crying uncontrollably for the next sixty minutes and was still sobbing when I walked her downstairs for her next lesson. 

Neither she nor I could have foreseen the flood of tears coming that day. This is what grief is like. It comes and goes and sometimes, the waves are so strong that we are completely swept away. Inundated. Overwhelmed. What we need to remember is that these waves are just feelings in motion and we must allow them to move through us, releasing anything that is holding us back. So whatever you're grieving, whether it's a pet, a loved one or a long-lost dream - let it flow. 

2. Let it be

We often talk about letting go but honestly, I don't know how to do that. Neither does the adorable little girl in my class. Since the first lesson about animals, she has gone back to being her bubbly self, yet she keeps the kitten flashcard right next to her on the desk. This is what grief eventually turns into. Memories. Love. Letting things be as they are. Holding on to the memories doesn't have to stop us from living in and enjoying the present moment. 

3. Be grateful

One of the pastors at my church lost his wife to cancer this year. Still, with tears in his eyes, he doesn't speak to us about loss. He tells us how grateful he is for the long happy marriage that they had. He sings and dances and cries, showing us how to grieve and be joyous at the same time. He teaches us to be thankful for the food on our plates and the roof above our head. For our families. For the people praying for us. For a God that always hears our prayers, even though sometimes, the answer is no.

4. Medicate with care

I have mixed feelings about the treatment that I received for my reactive arthritis in Ecuador. I have no doubt that the doctors there did what they thought was best, although sometimes I wonder if such an excess of medicine was necessary. I tried to speak up but was told that I don't understand what is happening in my body and that I need to trust the experts or else things will get worse.

Hence, I opened my mouth when they fed me cortisone that made my face swell. I accepted a hard-core chemotherapy drug that cost me my hair. I swallowed sleeping pills and anti-anxiety remedies that provoke suicidal thoughts, plus ten other pharmaceutical substances, five times a day. I'm thankful that they healed my body but I'm resentful about the destructive side-effects. I just finished my last dose and have no intention of taking any more, no matter what the doctors say. Nobody knows my body better than me.

5. Meditate

My Mexican roommate recently came back from a two-week meditation retreat in a Buddhist temple. She returned with a spiritual glow around her and a new-found enthusiasm for life. "There is nothing in this world to be angry about," she said, hugging me. "The peace is within us." One week later, that peace was truly tested when the water tank in our apartment exploded in the middle of the night, leaving us without hot water for days. Finding a plumber so close to Christmas turned out to be a tricky task, although we did succeed in the end.

Meditating doesn't (only) mean sitting crossed-legged in a temple, stilling your mind while closing your eyes to the world outside. It is what gives us the tools to remain calm and deal with reality when things fall apart and we're wading around knee-high in freezing water.

I like to start my day by saying thanks and I usually end it with a guided sleep meditation. This little ritual hasn't transformed my life overnight, but I believe that if I stick with it, it will bring about some positive changes.

6. Forgive to be forgiven

At the beginning of this year, I didn't know how to say sorry, I was unsure about what to apologize and not apologize for and I was clueless about how to forgive those who had hurt me. Then the arthritis hit and broke down all my defenses. Messengers started showing up out of nowhere, talking to me about Jesus and unconditional love.

It took me six months of therapy to finally open up and deal with the traumas of 2017 and even though I have yet to find any meaning or sense in what happened that year, I no longer avoid the unpleasant recollections. I let them be. Through forgiving others, I have arrived to what I really needed, i.e. forgiving myself for the mistakes that I made.

7. Create

One of the best things we can do with a broken heart is turn it into art. For me, that means writing, drawing and taking photographs. For you, it may be something completely different. It doesn't matter. Let's keep creating and making this world a beautiful place to be.

8. Ask for and accept help

This year has certainly taught me how to reach out. Life put me in a position where I had no choice but to depend on others and it made me humble. I no longer care about showing my flaws and imperfections; we all have them anyway.

For example, I let my Italian roommate deal with things around the house since he knows how and I don't. At work, I ask senior teachers for support as I haven't had a lot of training teaching kids and at church, I listen to those who have read the Bible because mine has been resting on a shelf for twenty years.

I'm also completely taken back by the amount of support that I have received from friends, family, co-workers and strangers throughout the year. Humbled, truly. This has been a complicated lesson for me because I like to be independent and do things on my own, but maybe it's true what they say: The universe wants to hold us, we just have to let it.

9. Give back

I may not know much about planning lessons for kids, but I do have ten years of experience teaching teenagers and sharing some of this knowledge with new teachers makes me happy. Earlier this year, I started doubting myself as a teacher and was seriously considering a career change. As it turns out, this was just another side effect of the arthritis. Once my health improved, my passion for teaching returned and now I have the motivation to become an even better teacher.

I still treasure one of the first gratitude cards I got from a student a long time ago. "You're not just a language teacher," she had written. "I can feel that you genuinely care about your students and want us to do well." She was right. This is what God has called me to do and so I will continue.

We don't have to move mountains or save the world in one day. Simply being kind and assisting people around us goes a long way. It may mean the world to someone and in addition, it makes us feel better.

10. Change your mind

Many people have talked to me about the importance of positive thinking. While I appreciate their support, I think it's important to keep in mind that we see things as we are but other people's perspective may be different. It is also a fact that mental health conditions such as depression can physically alter the brain, making it very difficult to have shiny thoughts, no matter how hard one tries. It may therefore be worth remembering that shaming and blaming isn't helpful. That being said, it is possible (and allowed) to change your mind.

The first step towards that is to accept whatever you're feeling in this moment. Frustration, fear, fatigue? Okay, let's start there. The second step is to pay attention to that little voice inside your head. What is it saying? Challenge it. Is it true? Mine has been telling me lies for years. Now, I try to meet it with patience and gentleness, pointing out that harsh words are no longer necessary.

After all, 2018 was not the year I nearly drowned. It was the year I stayed afloat, despite some freakishly huge waves. So I'm thinking maybe 2019 will be the year that I learn how to surf.

Just waiting for the ice to melt...