Free The Secret of the Shadow by Debbie Ford

relationship with a boyfriend. I had spent years hoping it would get better. My hope prevented me from taking responsibility for my own feelings and dealing with the problems at hand. Instead of spending my time looking at my options and learning the lessons that were being presented to me, I spent hour upon hour daydreaming—wishing and hoping that one day, miraculously, everything would be okay. Instead of dealing with reality and going into the pain of recognizing that I’d had yet another failed relationship, I sank into denial—or, if you prefer acronyms, DENIAL (Don’t Even Notice I Am Lying). My perceived hope had put blinders on my eyes and plugs in my ears, which served only to delay the inevitable. Reality is often painful.
    The great paradox and irony of it all is that if we are willing to give up the hope that we can change, fix, or transform our stories, if we are willing to let go and feel the hopelessness of no longer knowing who we are, we will find hope again.
    I have found so often in my coaching practice that people would rather hold on to a grain of hope than deal with reality. Our 68
    w h y y o u h o l d o n t o y o u r s t o r y fear of dealing with loss or pain keeps us tied to our stories and keeps us repeating the same old, same old. Some people get their fix of hope from books, tapes, and lectures. While this type of inspiration can at times be useful, if we use it to justify our current circumstances it will become no more than just another page in our stories. Several years ago I worked with Margaret, a wealthy woman who at first glance appeared to have it all. Margaret traveled all over the world visiting spas and retreat centers and had the means to afford the best advice money could buy. A self-proclaimed self-help junkie, Margaret went from workshop to workshop hoping that spending time with people she considered to be important would give her the recognition she craved. But inside, plagued by insecurity, she felt unseen and unimportant. A seemingly insignificant incident like someone not returning her call would cause her to obsess for days. Margaret spent most of her energy searching for something that would make her feel like she belonged.
    During our third session I noticed that Margaret seemed to be getting weaker: Her body was breaking down, and she appeared more frantic and fearful. I suggested that she detach herself from all the groups and individuals she had been clinging to in the hope that she would one day belong. Knowing that what she sought could be found only inside herself, I gave her the assignment to withdraw from her self-help addiction and turn her attention inward. But Margaret couldn’t do it. She was too terrified of being alone, of being without all the distractions that held the promise of recognition and belonging. She continued in her familiar pattern of behavior, clinging to the hope that one day it would pay off.
    69
    T h e S e c r e t o f t h e S h a d o w Margaret read book after book, searching for a philosophy that would justify her actions, all the while gathering evidence that supported her in staying the same. Whenever I spoke to her about the self-destructive patterns she was displaying, she would quote a line from the latest book she was reading: “Debbie, I just read a book that says we are all doing the best we can. I’m doing the best I can, too.” Margaret was very creative at coming up with ways to justify her behavior. One week she came in and told me she had been mistreated and verbally abused by her family. When I asked her what she wanted to do about it, she replied, “Everything’s perfect exactly the way it is.” I watched as Margaret continued on her painful quest, all the while grasping at the affirmations that held the promise of hope. She was more committed to the path of justification than to exploring the underlying issues that were haunting her.
    I asked Margaret to make a list of all the expressions and inspirational messages