Alyssa Luboff, PhD

Fallen, but not shattered… My heart can break, And my spirit can still be whole. Exhausted, but not destroyed… My energy can run out, And my spirit can still be strong. Worried, but not hopeless… My mind can see no exit, And my spirit can still find the way. So, I tell you –

I often hear people diminish their own suffering with phrases like: It’s just first-world problems. I have it so much easier than other people. It’s no big deal. I really have no right to complain. Sometimes we say these things because we’re trying to remind ourselves to be grateful for what we do have. Sometimes it’s because we’re ashamed of our own needs and of our own vulnerability. Sometimes it’s because we’re afraid to let ourselves feel what’s really going on.

People often reach out to me and say, “Alyssa, my life is insane. You just can’t imagine.” And I get it. I actually can imagine. I’ve been there. My life has been – and still is, because we’re always learning and growing – everything but simple or easy. And then there are the people I don’t hear from at all. Sometimes they feel like tearing everything apart and giving up instead of reaching out. Sometimes they feel too confused to know where to start to explain.

Many of us were taught as children to hold in our anger and to hide it. We didn’t feel safe to embrace our emotions or to express our truths. Many of us believed – and still do – that our anger is bad and hurts people. So, we hold it in, often to protect those we love. This strategy becomes a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. We hold in our anger as long as we can—like a balloon that we’re filling with more and more hot air—until it just can’t possibly hold any more.

There are times when life is really hard, when it feels like everything is falling apart, like things couldn’t possibly get any worse, until they do. How are you supposed to handle that? How are you supposed to even begin to make your way out of a mess like that? Start by asking yourself just this question:

About a decade ago, while surfing the Internet, I stumbled on a page written by someone who suffers from panic disorder. She was offering a course on how to overcome anxiety. I read her descriptions of not being able to leave her apartment with a complete lack of understanding. What was so hard about going up and down the stairs? Why did normal, everyday activities fill her with fear? Was she just failing to control small worries before they got out of hand?

If you are like me, the very thought of breathwork can leave you gasping for air. No form of mindfulness sounds less relaxing or restoring than being asked to focus on your breath. Your heart starts racing. Your breathing becomes fast and shallow. Or maybe you get a queasy feeling in your stomach. For people who suffer from conditions such as PTSD, anxiety, and chronic pain, the thought of breathwork can bring to mind more panic than peace.

The death of a loved one. The rupture of a relationship. The loss of a job. The failure of a project. The dismantling of a dream. The end of an era. There are many reasons that the heart breaks, that we feel an emptiness in the center of our chests as the world around us seems to cave in. Sometimes, it hits abruptly, out of nowhere, and other times, it crashes down on us only after a long period of foreboding. And yet the anatomy of a broken heart, regardless of the timing or

You may think from the title that this post is about being selfish or taking advantage of people. It’s actually about learning to love more. And it’s not written for sadists or manipulators; it is for caretakers and codependent types. We each have different styles of loving, and with them comes different healing work to do. This work is for those who love so deeply, so selflessly, at times, it seems, that they cannot bear the thought of hurting those they love the most.

As our world grinds to a halt – Flights canceled, production stopped, commutes erased – Our planet, for the first time since the Industrial Revolution, Reverses the flow and begins to breathe. She is healing, shedding, transforming. And this virus, ironically, attacks the human lungs. We gasp for air. What do we do now? Are we doomed? How do we breathe?

My Grandpa Abe almost never set foot in a synagogue, but the one time of the year when he took pride in climbing the steps of the bimah was on Yom Kippur Eve. It was then that he played the mournful melody of the Kol Nidre on his bass for our whole congregation to hear. It was a piece of Judaism that even my grandfather, who spent all of his adult life estranged from the faith, found relatable.

On really hard days, if I’m lucky, the theme song to the children’s show Arthur pops into my head. “Just believe in yourself,” a voice sings, “Well, that’s the place to start…” I smile, feel refreshed, and keep running uphill, ready to face my demons and what felt, just a moment before, like the whole world turned against me. It’s a great message, one I wish I had heard more while I was growing up. Young children are newly building their models of who they are and how the wor

I once read the Tao Te Ching from cover to cover in a single afternoon. Sucked in and mesmerized, I had no words; simply, the truths of the Chinese classic resonated with my soul. This is how it is to flow with the universe. I emerged from my office as if to another world, my head swirling with the poetry of being. Everything felt alive, as if it were speaking to me, as if we were not separate, but deeply interconnected.

Do you crave someone who has all of the answers? A teacher who will step in and tell you what to do? Or, at the very least, someone to offer guidance, to tell you when you have strayed from your path, and when you are back on? – I have often wished I had such a person. Indeed, sometimes in life we find them, at least for a time. It is wonderful to study under someone who has mastered a skill we are just learning, someone who can offer us guidance, who can support us on our pa

Last month, I brought home from my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah reception three plants wrapped in foil. Since our apartment is small, I left them on the balcony. I thought it would be a good way to let Nature take care of the plants and not to have to worry much about them. After a few days, I noticed their leaves were drying out in the summer sun. No amount of water seemed to help. After a few more days, I realized the foil was directing the sun’s rays onto the plants and burning

One day in Tai Chi class, my instructor said something that surprised me. When you’re experiencing a lot of Yang energy and everything is going strong, he said, expect Yin to come along. In other words, when you’ve been flying high for some time, expect to come down. When life is easy, expect it to grow hard. Now, if you’ve ever heard of Yin and Yang, you’re probably wondering why this surprised me. I’m a healer and philosopher; don’t I know this? Life goes up and down. The p

The other day a reader on Facebook contacted me. He wanted to get a professional philosopher’s take on a question. “What do you think…,” he asked, “of the meaning of existence?” “Well, that’s a big question,” I could hear my own advisor answering in my head. In academic philosophy, we are trained to be very careful and precise in our thinking. It’s a great skill, but sometimes it gets in the way of really engaging with life.

This post is for those who feel tortured by a thought. Maybe it is the thought of a person, the memory of an event, or a broken dream. The problem is, you can’t get it off your mind. The harder you try, the more it haunts you. You’d do anything to be free of it, but you just don’t know how. You feel tired and defeated. Here is an insight that can help: You are working too hard to push it out of your mind. Thoughts naturally flow. This is why we speak of consciousness as a str