​“One can begin so many things with a new person – even begin to be a better man.” George Eliot, Middlemarch

“How do I open up from a point of being authentic me rather than living life through a defensive attitude?” This was a question posed to me after I had written about embracing your sensitivity.

It was an opportune question as I had just met someone the day before who had challenged me on this very subject. She didn’t know she was challenging me; she was just innocently going through a fairly standard process of meeting someone new. And, of course, meeting a new person is a perfect chance to portray the authentic me…. except….

Except authentic me is still in infancy in comparative terms to the more practiced version who has operated in the world for many more years. In truth, making the switch to authentic requires determination and persistence.

Each time I catch myself not acting in my own best interests, and dropping into the more comfortable learned behavioural patterns and coping mechanisms from my life to date, I have to take a deep breath and choose to be uncomfortable for a time.

I had, overall, a lovely conversation with this new person I met. Yet it all felt rather awkward and bungled from my inner perspective. We met through our respective parents-in-law, who are old friends, and we started up a side-conversation as the others caught up on their news.

It was the sort of conversation that took a natural course. We each have foreign accents, so the aspects of what brought us to New Zealand and how long ago and how we like it etc were discussed. Then the conversation turned to the traditional “and what do you do?”

The answer I wanted to give is “I be me”, but that tells her nothing and everything at the same time. Based on what she’d shared about what she did and was interested in, I made a judgment (a mistake) that she probably wouldn’t be interested in my world – the deep ‘meaning of life’ world.

So, instead, I just said “I write about personal growth stuff and I give people advice, a perspective, on things they are tussling with.” That’s at least one hurdle I have overcome in the introduction of my authentic self, not too bad an opener in terms of describing where I’m at, but there have been many more bungled attempts in days no so long ago.

When someone asks what I do, I could go ahead and describe the things that take up most of my time, like looking after the kids and the various roles involved in supporting my partner’s business. Those are the more ‘ordinary’ answers but not my authentic answer. It was however – as I discovered – the tact she had taken in her answer, which is why my judgment was incorrect.

“Oh, so do you mean like a life coach?” she asked. And that, while taking me down a less practiced route, was what opened the conversation up. I tried to explain that I don’t use that term as I don’t have any expectations on what people do with my perspective.

She then asked about what qualifications that requires and whether there is money to be made. That all felt a bit harder to explain on the spot, especially compared to the previously well-versed and practiced responses I had grounded myself in days gone past when I worked in the corporate arena and was used to explaining who I was and what I did.

Certainly my breadth and depth of experience, objectivity and intuitive sense usually equate to a perspective that is helpful to others, but right now I’m in exploration mode, I haven’t settled on a label or a career, nor do I particularly want to; I’m simply answering a calling.

This was not the smooth answer I gave though (having now had time to reflect on it), in truth I can’t remember what I said. I became aware my ego was itching to step in and boost my credibility by explaining that I used to have a successful corporate career, but my awareness of that stopped it in its tracks and so my explanations felt faltering.

But we bungled on anyway. She shared that she liked to read Oprah and other personal growth perspectives, and she was wondering whether I wrote similar kind of stuff. Then she surprised me by asking what I thought about the shift in human consciousness that is purported to be occurring and whether I agreed.

This took us to the deeper stuff, having established that area of common interest in what’s happening in the world as people seem to be awakening to the broader part of themselves. It was a wonderful conversation in all, diving into the kinds of questions that fill my soul while, at the same time, filling my tummy with the delicious homemade cheese scones that had been placed in front of us.

I was aware of the conversation being a learning ground at the time, and wasn’t thrilled about the initial awkward feelings it gave me inside. But that is part of growth. I could continue in my not-so-comfortable rut with it’s more socially acceptable and comfortable labels for things, or I can strive for authenticity and revealing the authentic me.

A friend of mine, who has been studying psychologist and anthropologist Alberto Villoldo’s discoveries on ancient Shaman wisdom, was talking about this very issue of authenticity and labels. While the shamanic practices that she loves will be an integral part of whatever she does, she is also finishing off a diploma that will allow her to anchor herself into something more widely understood.

While there is nothing wrong in that, it just highlights to me that the labels we have no longer really fit and we are trying to credibly create bridges to a future, more enlightened, world. As more of us are recognizing our desire to discover and reveal our authentic selves, I have no doubt that the things we are grappling with today will get quickly forgotten in the future we create.

It all starts as we bring more of who we authentically are into the world. As George Eliot said, with new people you can be a better human, but really – whether with new people or those who know us best -
introducing the authentic you will lead not only to a better future for you, but a better future for our world.

​If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

Don’t Let a Label Be a Limitation – Use it as a Jumping off Point

A quick scan tells me that there is a whole host of online communities and self help groups out there for highly sensitive people, which, in itself is not a bad thing. But when I pick up words like “protecting yourself” and “fragile”, I want to scream from the roof tops.

I have to admit, I’ve always been pretty sensitive about being called sensitive. The term implies weakness, yet I’ve survived this world and - determined to prove people wrong - have even thrived to outside eyes.
 
Sadly that required building a hard shell around me in a bid to ‘protect’ myself. While it didn’t succeed in obliterating the essence of who I am, it completely obscured it even to my eyes; to the point of not knowing me.
 
Over the last few years I’ve set about quite deliberately dismantling the protective armour to discover what lay beneath. Layer after layer unveiled, I am now rebuilding my relationship with the world from my internal core and am truly starting to see how authentic thriving is possible.

I have discovered my body is like a finely tuned instrument, apparently more so than most, every sense I have is sensitive to all that is around it and reverberates within.

I have a deep and rich inner world that I explore asking myself all sorts of questions about life and purpose. I sense other people’s emotions and can tell if someone says “I’m alright” when they are not, I viscerally feel others’ pain and passion – even if it’s only watched on a TV screen, and I sense the same through music and art. When I spend time in nature I appreciate the intricate intelligent design of it all, and marvel at all creation.

I wouldn’t swap any of that because it is the essence of who I am and, frankly, the only experience of the world I would relish. But it does come with another side. With every sense heightened, sensory overload needs to be managed.

For example, the first thing I was aware of this morning was my partner’s rhythmical breathing as I lay contentedly amid that state between dreaming and waking up. This instantly changed as he awakened. Just as my cat’s ears prick up, my body is also on high alert, quickly tuning in to more of the sounds around; a car starting up and our neighbours putting out their bins. I’m awaiting the loud and insistent “mum!” requiring a more hastened arising than I would like.

It is mid-winter here in the southern hemisphere and the days are short, so getting up in the dark is par for the course at the moment. My ideal entry back into consciousness each day would be a gradual and steady awakening of the senses.

I like to open the curtains to slowly let in natural light and let my eyes adjust, instead I open the door to the lounge where my partner had already turned on every electrical light in the place and my world is suddenly ablaze with bright lights, my eyes scrunch in defence; it makes my insides churn and creates a viselike grip between my temples.

That is before I even talk about the smell of coffee or the mood of the other people around me or the list of tasks that require completion before we can get out the door. And because it is winter, my partner had started up the van to heat it up before setting off, so I could smell exhaust.

Suffice to say, by the time I drop off the kids each morning, I feel like I’ve survived something. Just the very fact of living with other people creates sensory overload. It wasn’t so bad when I was growing up, my parents liked things low key too, and we didn’t have 55” TV screens and 24 hours a day of streaming content to contend with.

Yet there were some highlights this morning. In taking the garbage out for collection, I stopped to smell the White Michaela blossoms on the scratty tree at the top of our driveway. I forgive that tree all it’s scratty looks with its half shed leaves, because the scent of the blossoms are just so blissful and were a welcome escape from the exhaust fumes.

Then there was the beautiful conversation with my younger daughter who, in the absence of her older sibling (who is visiting nana) was rather more grounded and calm than can be the case with her sister around. I had this lovely swell of appreciation and deep sense of love flood over me.

Funnily enough I didn’t realise there was a label for the way I am wired and some of the things I’ve found difficult until recently. While I hate labels, this one may serve a purpose, if only to have those I love understand how I experience the world and, hopefully, help others who are wired this way begin to thrive rather than just survive. 

Back in the 1990’s a psychologist called Elaine Aaron coined the terms Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) and Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). Personally I’d rather embrace the trait than label my persona, I feel we are all a bit too multidimensional for that.

“Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS) is characterized by a high level of sensitivity to stimuli and reflects an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system” says Botenburg et al. “It also correlates with a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli.”

Elaine Aaron says “Inevitably HSPs are more easily overwhelmed. When the noise or stuff going on is about right and interesting for others, it’s too much for HSPs. And keeping an optimal level of stimulation – not too much, not too little – is very, very important to every creature. The sensitive ones just need ‘less’ to be comfortable.”

It’s the ‘less’ that is often not accepted or appreciated in a world that is increasingly vying for our attention though, with an acceleration of information and stimulus available. And it’s that social unacceptability that often creates low self esteem and self doubt, or even depression, anxiety, symptoms of autism, sleep problems and more physical health problems.

While sensory overload wasn’t generally an issue for me in my early home life, as soon as I entered the realms of dealing with other people and of the working world, it was often hard to feel good about myself. I remember starting a job in a recruitment office, and being seated right next to the owner of the place who was a chain smoker and sat there puffing away at his cigarettes all day. It made me feel so wretched that the first thing I did was buy a rather large extractor fan and sat it on the desk between us.

Being called things like too sensitive, whiny, anxious, unhappy and even neurotic, and having people tell me to “toughen up” or “just relax, you’re making a big deal out of nothing” was devastating. In fact it led to a whole period in my early twenties where I was diagnosed with “general anxiety and panic attacks.”

This was a defining moment in my life, and one that lies at the root of my distaste for words like fragile and protection. It taught me how my reality was controlled by my reactions. Now, while I can’t readily control the involuntary reactions of my senses, just having an awareness of what is happening makes all the difference, it helps me to control how my body is responding.

While I did not know about SPS back then, there have been moments along the way that have helped me understand that what I was experiencing was not a result of some neurosis.

For example, blue eyes are more sensitive to light than other eye colours. This helped me made sense of the migraines that – since the age of twelve – have often been triggered by bright lights. Yet, without  awareness of sensory sensitivity,  it can come across to others as whiny when I complain about all the lights getting turned on in the morning rather than the curtains being opened.

I also know my body is sensitive to all the popular stimulants like caffeine and alcohol and does not appreciate any medication stronger than Panadol, it can feel awkward to refuse such things on social occasions, especially in the face of people saying “you just need to lighten up”.

Living with others has taught me that some people need noise to drown out their thoughts so they can concentrate, but I know I need quiet so I can hear my thoughts before I can concentrate. So having music on in the house or car can be a point of contention.

Open plan office areas taught me about the perils of horrid fluorescent lighting, uncomfortable chairs, and the soup of human emotions that I was required to swim in just to say I had turned up. That is before we even talk about the endless meetings and having to look in one direction (and look interested) for long, boring sustained periods.

Literally every sense is more finely tuned. I can even get touched-out (I learned that is ‘a thing’) especially when I have kids haranguing me and wanting to cuddle up or have ‘one more hug’ at bedtime after a day of constantly giving my attention out.

Scary or violent movies and documentaries are too visceral to contemplate, and I get overwhelmed at parties, conferences (I have a strong aversion for the superficial) and at shopping malls and definitely kids indoor playgrounds.

These are all things I have known from the inside are not a result of my imagination, yet without being able to educate people more objectively about Sensory Processing Sensitvity, it has often invited many unwelcome comments and been the basis of arguments. It is true to say I was pretty defensive about the issues.

Feeling pain more acutely is another common symptom of SPS. I hesitated when I had to answer a question about that, as dealing with pain is just another part of the armour I’ve worn. I do feel pain but, just as I determinedly focused on not reacting to being tickled when I was younger, I also focused on not reacting to pain.

The reality was that I used to absorb the shock in order to not react to it, internalize it, which is just setting myself up for sickness. When I birthed my second child, I learned how to work with my body in order to feel into and release the pain.  

I just feel so much, on so many levels, and it can be draining. The world we live in can feel like a smorgasbord of stimuli set to frazzle the nerves.

Arguments that others might consider a spat or insignificant, or even just a differing of opinion, are often huge for me. When I left home my mum said “I’ll even miss our arguments”. Not me, I like things to be peaceful.

Yet I was determined not to become a victim so was always asserting my needs, and am quick to stand guard if I sense an injustice.

Then there is the dynamic in relationship with my partner who has Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) which, while sharing some similarities with SPS, also has some diametrically opposite issues to contend with. Each of those has the potential to be the source of the others’ stress, and requires us to each have understanding and respect the others needs in order for us to make the relationship work.

And, of course, there is the grand slam of challenges for someone with any kind of sensory sensitivity: parenting.

With the constant over stimulation involved, sensory overload abounds. I heard another say “I don’t like surprises and I don’t like change, and since parenting is largely comprised of just that many times in each day I get overwhelmed”. While I relate to that, just having to give my attention constantly outward rather than nurturing my inner life is the key factor in energy drain for me.

That said, when I turn back to the amazingly positive aspects of having SPS, I know it also makes me a better parent as I am more aware of my children’s needs. My ability to empathise, my intuition, my creativity, my deep appreciation of little things, and even my visceral awareness of others’ pain and passion. All of it – and more – are the essence of who I am and the key to joy in my life.

I understand why there is a lot of advice out there about protecting our energy, as overwhelm surely drains it. But it is really more about asserting our needs than protecting ourselves. It’s subtle, but it is different. One is about operating from a strong centre core, an inner knowing and honouring of your true self, the other is about defense and armour.

My desire to help others can mean I have often put others needs before my own. But learning to put my needs first gives me more energy to give to others, using the special talents and gifts that being sensitive gives, which makes me happier and healthier.

I read that our authenticity and desire for deep, meaningful relationships, also makes those of us with sensory sensitivity more attractive to others. But the key thing to remember is that good relationships are not about giving more to others, it is about giving more to ourselves. A healthy relationship is one where both people value themselves enough to make sure their own needs are met, just as I wrote about recently in Great Relationships Happen When You Put You First.

Since writing about this journey to me I’ve been on, most of my articles speak to this issue on some level. Some of the relevant ones that spring to mind are Taking Your Own Space, Taking a Break from all that Mental Activity (which talks about strategies for dealing with stress), Step out to reach in, Meditation – the Cornerstone to Your Success, Life is in the Little Things – Finding the Extra in the Ordinary, among many more.

My daughter also has Sensory Processing Sensitivity, and I have learned it is wise to manage her activities carefully. In her first year at school her teacher wrote “she appears to move between being a very young wisp of a child to a rather demanding princess.” Even now at 7 years old, she is not capable of having play dates or doing any extracurricular activity on school days without getting completely overwhelmed and tuning out or melting down (spectacularly).

But I would hate for her to see herself as fragile, despite all that I have written in here about what it feels like to have SPS.

I’d rather she embraced her sensitivities, anchor herself from within and thrive from her centre core rather than create armour on the outside to deal with it. Just as I too now embrace it as I rise from the ashes of my previously burnt out life.

Having a strong sense of who you are, and embracing and honouring that, gives you that inner anchor. Once you have this, you don’t need the hard shell on the outside anymore, you can let it go. You don’t have to protect yourself from the world. Just prioritize your own needs and you will flourish.

If you want to find out more about SPS there’s a whole raft of information available online. Here’s a great introductory video, an overview and a test. If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

Years ago I heard the observation “People don’t do things to you, they do things for themselves.” This means if someone is trying to take my power, it’s because they feel powerless. If they are striking out to hurt me, it’s because they feel wounded.

Thinking “poor wee me” is not an attitude that has ever served me well. Nor I believe does it serve anyone else, other than to elicit a bit of sympathy. Casting me as a victim is not just unhelpful, it’s harmful.

I don’t need to condone what another has done, or analyze why I find myself in trying circumstances, I just need to focus on what I can take out of it. Any challenge I meet is not uninvited. By that, I’m not saying I’m sitting around asking people to take a shot at me or have life serve up some stressful situations; it’s more that I’ve held fears that open up the possibility to these challenges actually occurring.

I remember many years ago being on a long-awaited beach holiday; work had been really stressful. A change in CEO had resulted in a dramatic change in my working environment, one where I felt I’d gone from being valued and included in strategic issues, to being marginalized and pushed out. So this holiday was one where I’d resolved to unwind.

I was doing a pretty good job of it - lying on the beach each day, only taking a break to go and splash around in the waves or get an ice cream - until I received a text from a number I didn’t recognise. It said something like “Heads up the boss is on the war path, someone has made a complaint about you and everyone is talking about it.”

This was in the days before devices, my little Nokia phone did texts and calls only and not from foreign lands.
Now my boss, since the CEO had put a new senior management structure in place, was someone who had previously been my peer. He was someone I regarded as having less experience than me as a people manager, and someone that I felt would be a ‘yes man’ to the CEO, rather than someone who would
advocate at the executive table for the customer experience.

I hadn’t adjusted well to this new arrangement emotionally, but had acted professionally. And now here was an accusation that put me in a position of weakness and I had absolutely no clue what was at its basis or if it was even true.

When I finally managed to get to an internet café and email my boss to ask if this was in fact true, he emailed back to say no one had spoken to him and, as far as he was aware, all was well; I should just focus on enjoying my holiday. This was easier said than done as I had, by then, had several other texts from this anonymous number purporting to be ‘an ally’ and weaving tales of gossip and treachery.

Suffice to say the rest of the holiday was a bust. I was totally consumed with what had happened. On the one hand I was worrying that there may be some basis to it, though couldn’t think of a single thing anyone would have to complain about (it was a bit like when you see a policeman and feel guilty even though you haven’t done anything). Then again, if there was nothing going on, I wanted to know who was behind the malicious texts and why they had targeted me.

There was nothing for me to do but wonder and fret and create all sorts of stories in my head and my anger grew. The holiday spiraled into chaos, a signature moment being the process of bartering for a new camera and literally screaming at the salesperson in frustration (such that it cleared the shop) as he kept changing the ballgame.

Using internet cafes, I was able to uncover that the number the text had been sent from was untraceable as it had been set up via an internet site using false details and hadn’t actually been sent from a phone. The company who facilitated this site cut off the number at once.

On return from my holiday I was relieved to find out that there had been no complaint to my boss, but I was still determined to find out who was behind it and went to the police. Ironically if I hadn’t had the number cut off from sending me further texts, the police could have investigated it more but, as it was, they could do nothing.

So paranoia abounded. It was something I inevitably discussed in confidence with my management team, each of whom was clueless as to whom it might be. But my paranoia sparked more paranoia as one of the Team Leaders then thought I suspected her and was devastated by this.

In the ensuing months a couple of staff issues came up that, having previously trusted me to deal with, my boss was now intervening. He and I were spending increasing hours discussing my actions and decisions when it came to our staff.

The whole thing had snowballed from my original reaction to the unsolicited text.

I never did find out for sure who the perpetrator was, though it was commonly believed to be someone who had been seconded to my team for a while. Even that was of no help because, as much as I racked my brains, I have absolutely no clue as to why she would have taken that action. To the contrary, the suspect was someone I valued and seemed to have a good rapport with.

In the end I could only imagine she had overheard something or other and taken it out of context, putting two and two together to get five. Even then, I have no idea what.

As I look back on this whole story as it unfolded, I can see that it was my initial resistance to ‘what is’ (in terms of the restructure and new CEO), that created my vulnerability. For whatever reason - though it will have been more to do with them than me - the perpetrator sensed that and things just spiraled from there.

While I didn’t immediately cut my losses and run, I knew it was time to move on. I could not rewind the clock back to the days I had been working with a senior team whose goals and values aligned with mine.

I had felt things had happened to me rather than being orchestrated by me, and I would think “I am a good person, why is this happening to me? I don’t deserve this.” That was indicative of my thoughts any time a change would happen that as not of my own doing- that was if I even acknowledged what was happening, often I would be too busy telling myself “this can’t happen right now.”

Out of that challenge, when I faced corporate restructures in my later career (and there were many), they no longer knocked me sideward as that first one had.

That whole challenge with the malicious texts taught me to go with the flow more, and to begin to let go of the impossible - controlling other people and controlling all circumstances. Now instead of trying to psychoanalyze each person or situations that upset me in some way, I look for what each challenge is trying to teach me; it puts me in the driving seat.

So when people come to me with their challenges I often think “What does this person need to hear right now that will be helpful?” I know it’s these moments of challenge that are the making of any one of us. Whether it’s for the better or worse is for each to determine, since it’s how we meet life’s challenges that will shape the outcome.

What is challenging you right now? And how will you meet that challenge in a way that helps you to learn and grow from it? 

​If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective (and only that, it’s not advice you have to take or act upon) on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me or click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog.

Lately the phrase “let your light shine” has crossed my path several times. While I know the wisdom of those words, lately it’s evoked the question “what is my light exactly?”

It’s not that I’m lacking awareness around my strengths, it’s more that I’ve been feeling a lack of passion for anything in particular to pursue. I’ve always envied those people who knew from early on that they wanted to be or do a particular thing, whether it’s rock climbing or wrestling with the physical laws of the universe.

There have been many things in my life I’ve pursued with vigor, some successfully, some less so, but there has always come a point where flame died out, lacking any desire to keep burning.

I remember back in the early millennium, I had an industry article published about a national award I had won three years in a row for my contributions in the field of customer service (within the transport sector in the UK); it said something like “Shona Shines”. While it created many opportunities I was acutely aware that I didn’t want to claim the label of customer service strategist as ‘my passion’.

Having gone down this path, uncovering root causes for poor service, I discovered there were bigger issues to tackle. This led to the wider field of the customer experience as a whole, which in turn led to bigger issues around corporate cultures and structures and the role of the individual within those. This in its turn led to bigger questions about society’s systems and structures as a whole.

When I decided to start focusing my questions and thoughts through these articles over three years ago, my conclusion was that any change begins within each one of us. We are the ones with the power to change the world, when we change who we are being within it.

So it seems strange, having embarked on this ‘journey to me’ as I call it, while I am much clearer on who I am, I still struggle with this issue of my ‘light’ or passion.

What unlocked this question for me was rephrasing it from “what is my light?” to “what lights me up?”

That is a much easier question. In fact, when I made a list of my heart’s desires, it became obvious why I struggle with the question. The things that light me up are not activities per se, they are more subjective experiences.

What I am passionate about are things like:

• having an ‘ah ha’ moment in each day
• catching a wave of inspiration and riding it
• helping others feel into their own intuitive guidance
• assisting my children’s desire to feel their freedom and express who they are in the world
• expanding my horizons through travel and connecting in with people who live in quite different places and circumstances to mine,
• letting each person have their own truth
• having enough space to feel the inner stillness within me on a regular basis (if not consistently)
• and advocating for transparent communications, more evolved leadership and healthcare, education, government and economic systems.

Looking back, while I didn’t always have this one burning thing I wanted to pursue, I have always pursued whatever felt like the most interesting and enticing of the things before me at the time. When I look now at my list of passions, I can see why I’ve not been able to give it a label. The list, like me, is subjective and always evolving.

I think perhaps that is the most important thing, to go after the things that appeal and beckon, rather than leave them on the dusty shelves within our cluttered minds somewhere.  It really doesn’t matter if what you want to pursue is an activity or simply something that starts as a question in your head, it’s being courageous enough to go after it that is important.

So what is your list? What are you passionate about?

Once you have your list, keep pursuing those things you are passionate about. Take any opportunities that come your way to expand within them and upon them, then you will have found your light and are letting it shine. Keep following and growing the light and it will lead you through your best life.

 If what you read here resonates and you’d like a fresh perspective on a situation in your own life, feel free to contact me. There’s no strings attached, I simply and truly enjoy helping where I can, click here for further information. To be the first to receive these posts, you can also opt to subscribe to my blog

It has taken me a while to pay attention to my dreams – 46 years to be precise. I’ve always felt there must be something useful in there, some point to them, but as they are generally symbolic rather than literal I hadn’t really taken much time to try and figure it out.

Given the momentary lingering of our dreams, mixed with the often harried start to the day and the lack of understanding of the symbolism, I just haven’t focused much on it until now. It seems to me, though, that dreams are a valid form of communication; a way for us to unpack (and make sense of) the experiences we’re having, if only we would pay attention.

Dreams are an unadulterated expression of how we are feeling and devoid of judgment, which makes them a particularly useful form of feedback.

Years back I remember buying a book on dreams in a vague attempt to understand them, but it felt wishy-washy and didn’t really capture the sorts of dreams I was having. At the time I was working in a career I found stressful, so it is no surprise that I used to have recurring dreams that were like various versions of The Hunger Games playing in my mind.

These were dreams of a death chase, with some form or forms of heinous creatures pursuing me in a relentless way. It is sad to say that was not unlike the wakened version of my life at the time, with corporate politics and egos at play. Of course, in my awakened state I’d tell myself all sorts of rubbish to play down the constant frustrations and feel better about my situation, but the dreams didn’t hide from the truth.

These days, thankfully, dreams like that are rare. Though with two young children to contend with, not all dreams are devoid of symbolic incarnations of something stressful!

Wide awake, in the throes of ‘life’, it is too easy to quash down how I am really feeling and just plough on from task to task. I have discovered this is no way to live though and wrote about it, most recently, in What Are Our Thought Patterns Really Doing for Us.

Ignoring how I feel about things comes at a cost, my health. From early warning signs like headaches, aches and pains, colds and chesty coughs, to full blown wake up calls like accidents and serious illness, it appears to me the way we feel about things in our life will keep percolating until we pay attention.

That’s what makes dreams useful; they give us another angle of awareness. With so many explanations for pretty much any and every kind of dream at our fingertips these days, I find there is great satisfaction in being able to quickly scan the results of a Google search to see what comes up and find something that feels right to me; message received.

There is another recurring dream I have had since childhood, though not so much these days, where I’m trying to dial a phone number and keep misdialing. An instant search on “misdialing dreams” and, voila, I have some sensible answers. It could mean I’m feeling:

• frustrated in communicating something
• isolated or cut off from others
• the need to reach out for help
• a fear of needing help and not being able to get it.

As someone who has often seemed to think a little differently to others, the top two definitely resonate with me. Though, while these dreams have stayed with me – emblazoned in my memory by the accompanying feelings of anxiety – the situations that elicited these dreams are long since forgotten.

Had I of being paying attention a bit more at the time, no doubt the self awareness would have helped to resolve issues a bit quicker.

Not all dreams are bad of course, the nicer ones are just as insightful and, even better, the good feelings they evoke stay with me long after waking up.

Last week, for example, I was dreaming that I was in my house (though it wasn’t my actual house I live in, just one I thought of as my house in the dream) and then I discovered a whole new room I’d never known was there before.

Symbolically house dreams relate to the place in which your spirit dwells (i.e. you) and new rooms indicate areas of ourselves we hadn’t noticed before; in short it’s about self-exploration and personal growth. This was interesting because – in the dream – the new room I happened upon was large and fairly empty, a drawing room that led down into a huge palatial dining room.

I recall fleetingly feeling overwhelmed as I looked into the dining room, since no end could be seen to it, so by the time I stepped into the drawing room to go and have a closer look, the entrance to the dining area was encased in glass as if to say “let’s deal with one thing at a time”.

There were many other things going on in that same dream, before stepping into the new room, I was aware the kids were running amok and – simultaneously – this huge crocodile-like creature was also on the loose. I was afraid it was going to eat my youngest child but then realised it had flat rather than sharp teeth so would probably be more interested in the house plants.

Without even looking it up, it felt like a message to me to ease up on my fears (my youngest is very impulsive and I often notice the angst I feel in relation to that).

In the past I also used to have dreams about forgotten rooms – in fact there was a recurring dream about an entire wing of the house that I kept rediscovering, which was all locked up. There was a feeling of dread that the door, once unlocked, would unleash all sorts of unwanted terror in my life.

When I had the more welcome and much nicer version of the undiscovered rooms last week, I realised I must now have cleared any fear about who I am or what could be lurking in my depths, and have cleared the space to grow.

Sometimes dreams can be multi-faceted, and may require several lines of interpretation woven together. Just take each symbol, and the prevalent feelings that stick with you, and check what each means in a way that makes sense for you.

There is no right and wrong answers when it comes to dream interpretation, each of us places different meanings on different symbols, so while a Google search will bring a variety of answers, it’s important to go with an answer that feels right to you.

The important thing is to start noticing our dreams as one of the most valid and honest forms of feedback we have at our disposal.

Over time I have come to believe that dreams are my best litmus test for what is truly going on in my life. While I have a goal to find more happiness in a day than frustration, in a waking state I am often too distracted to pay much heed to what I’m thinking or feeling. But my dreams don’t lie; they often tell me that I’m still sweating the small stuff.  

It’s a bit like if I were on a diet, and I kept snacking on things I shouldn’t and telling myself it didn’t matter it was “only a few chips”, or a “bite of chocolate”; at the end of the day, the scales wouldn’t lie. Neither will my dreams. If I am frequently doing and thinking things that are not making me happy, my dreams reflect this whether I am consciously aware of my overall emotional state or not.

So it makes good sense to me to use my dreams as a way to check in on my goals and progress towards them. They are quick to tell me when I’m heading the wrong way, and when I’m on track.

If you are like me and on quest for growth, a truth seeker (your own truths), you might just find the answers are right under your eyes – literally - when you are sound asleep. Your dreams are waiting to guide you to your best life.

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