How to stop being so dependent on validation from others

April 2021—your girl was living her BEST life in Tel Aviv!

Every morning I’d walk out onto my rooftop overlooking the Mediterranean sea. I’d water my herb garden, then do sun salutations, catching a glimpse of indigo each time I rose up from a forward-fold.

On my way to Hebrew class I’d stop to buy fresh pomegranate juice. And after class dismissed, soak in the waves before seeing clients.

At some point during the afternoon, I’d hear a knock on my door– my sassy neighbor bringing me homemade Yemeni food. And sunset time, I’d drift back to the sea, and watch the sky erupt in orange and purple before fading into starlight.

Just one thing was disturbing my dream life.

Every few days, another “GET BACK HERE” email from my airline would land in my inbox . Explaining how busy they expected the summer 2021 travel season to be. How badly they needed us to return to our bases–now!!

But what if I didn’t want to go back to flying?

As much as I had dreaded losing my flight attendant job in 2020, now that I was furloughed, I wasn’t missing it at all.

I loved my work coaching clients to heal their relationship with food. I adored sleeping 8 hours every NIGHT in my bed. And my body was glowing from cooking fresh meals each time I was hungry. Rather than preparing them 3 days in advance and heating them up in an airplane oven.

Each week, I applied to my airline for a different leave of absence. Maybe they’d grant me an educational leave to improve my Hebrew? Or a health leave to cure my already cured asthma? Denied. Denied. Denied.

Finally I received an email from my manager reading, “ Jenny. You tried. The answer is no. Right now you have two options. You can come back this June and start flying again. Or quit.”

What was I supposed to do? Was I ready to give up flying? To go back to a life where I had to pay for airline tickets?!

I walked down to the sea and asked for guidance. “Hey God. What do you want me to do? I really love my life in Israel. Should I stay here and quit the airline? Or go back home?”

Almost instantly I heard, “Go back to America. You are needed more there. Flight attendants need your help living healthier lifestyles."

Ugh. As tempted as I was to ignore God’s answer, I knew from past experience that I would regret it later. So I started packing up my life in Israel. I turned in the keys to my seaside studio. I hugged my neighbor, family, and friends goodbye. And sobbed my way back to my parents’ house to pick up my flight attendant uniform.

Once I landed in Dallas, I saw why my airline had begged us all to come back to flying IMMEDIATELY! Americans were traveling again with a vengeance!! Every single flight I worked was packed.

On the screens at the terminal, flight after flight showed “CANCELLED” due to lack of available crew members. Many of these absences were caused by COVID. Others were due to the ripple effect in the system, since canceled flights stranded commuting flight attendants from other cities who had really wanted to come to base to work.

And for the rest, I couldn’t blame them for not showing up. Flying that summer was exhausting. The mask policy was still being enforced, and every day felt like another battle.

Chatting with my colleagues who did show up, I often heard, “I wanted to call out sick today sooooo badly. But I already did it twice this month. I have no sick time left!!”

So how often did I call in sick that summer? I definitely thought about it many mornings as I put on my uniform! But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I grew up in a family where unless I had a burning fever, my parents forced me to go to school. My mom accumulated tens of thousands of sick hours in her career as a doctor, because never called out, not even when she had migraines!.

Every day that summer, I commuted 2 hours on public transportation from my cottage in central Dallas to the DFW airport. Not once was I late, which anyone who knows me and my punctuality challenges, knows is quite impressive! And despite being tempted all summer, not once did I call in sick. Gold star for Jenny!

By the time fall came around, I expected some sort of celebratory something from my airline for my perfect attendance. Especially considering they knew I hadn’t wanted to come back in the first place. Maybe a little starbucks gift card? Or a note from my manager with some hearts and butterflies? Nada. I gave them until October, November. Still bupkis.

One fall day, I was chatting with a senior flight attendant in the galley on a flight to Paris. I shared how surprised I was that our airline hadn’t rewarded me anything for my perfect attendance that summer. She set down her diet coke and started howling, “Hahahahah!!! Celebrate us!!! Wouldn’t that be nice!!!”

And then it dawned on me. My airline was not going to celebrate my attendance that summer. No gold star. No Starbucks card. No pat on the back.

If I wanted a celebration, I would have to celebrate myself.

So I did! I gave myself a hug. I bought myself a special box of tea in Paris, and a new succulent for my studio once I returned to Dallas.

You might think celebrating myself comes naturally. Well think again! I come from a family of loving perfectionists where A’s were expected, not praised. My tendency has always been to gloss over my achievements and zoom in on my faults.

Years ago, when I was still teaching high school and at war with my body, I remember so many torturous mornings washing my face. Obsessing over the wrinkles on my forehead, my pimples, the fat on my chin. Hurling insults at myself I wouldn’t wish upon Hitler.

At the end of each school year, I’d read the evaluations my students had written about my class. And fixate on the one that read “Profe your class was “Boring AF!” Discounting the dozens who gushed about how much they had loved it.

It wasn’t until I started healing my relationship with food that I began to be more loving with myself. For 30 years I had critiqued myself left and right, and where had that got me? With a body I hated. Depression. And frankly, a self I couldn’t stand.

So I started learning to treat myself with more kindness. To celebrate my successes. To give myself a hug any time I did something nourishing rather than self destructive. It felt Herculean at first. But over time it became instinctive.

If I felt sad and let myself cry it out rather than binge eating—-Amazing!!! Hugs for you Jenny!!

When anxiety struck and I chose to meditate rather than down a bottle of Merlot? Go Jenny!! Let’s celebrate that!!!

I even started celebrating my thoughts. Each time I told myself I was beautiful, or that I loved my body, I’d give myself a bear hug. Yay Jenny!!! And honor my slow but steady progress towards self acceptance and eventually love.

Fast forward 8 years. I’m soaking up the honey of my healing journey. I never thought I’d say this, but I love myself now, unconditionally. I adore my body, and I’ve reached a place of peace and freedom around food I never dreamed possible.

Getting to this place was so liberating that I felt called to support others through the process!! So I became a food freedom coach 2 years back. Guiding beautiful souls to heal their relationship with food and live their dream life lights me up more than anything in the world!!.

With my food freedom clients, we incorporate celebration into every session. “You sat down and ate a meal with your boyfriend? Rather than lying that you weren’t hungry and binging later?” YES goddess!!! Let’s celebrate!!!

“Your friend texted you to ask if you wanted to do an Herbalife cleanse with her. And you told her no thanks, because you’re done with diets.” You go girl!!!

“You looked in the mirror and thought to yourself ‘I look pretty today.” YESSSS Queen amazing!!!!

During our first session, my clients seem confused when I invite them to celebrate what feel like minor events. But it never takes them long to start loving the celebrations. To realize that with joy and recognition, any “minor” moment can become a milestone. And create the reality that shapes the rest of your life!!!

I invite you today, gorgeous being, to celebrate yourself. Anything about yourself.

It could be something you’ve done. Or something you simply are. Perhaps for being a loving friend. A supportive son or daughter. Or a conscientious citizen of the world.

It could be for a time you listened to a colleague without interrupting. Or a time you showed up with soup for a neighbor who had COVID. Or for always making time to read your kids a bedtime story even when you’re exhausted. Pick anything. Everything. And celebrate it all.

If celebrating yourself is new to you and you’re not sure how to get started, try giving yourself a hug. Tell yourself that you are fabulous. Because it’s true!!

Buy yourself something your soul craves but you haven’t been able to justify. Or treat yourself to a nourishing meal. A walk out in nature. A massage. Or some quality time with loved ones that warm your heart.

But most importantly just say thank you. To yourself. For being the gorgeous being you are. You are amazing and the world is so lucky to have you in it!!

By nourishing ourselves with appreciation, we become less reliant on external validation. Suddenly, not getting that praise from your boss or those 1000 likes on your facebook post become less important. Because you’ve already validated yourself.

And while you’re at it, shower the people around you with celebration too. There’s such a dearth of appreciation these days; your loved ones will soak it up like water on a dry sponge.

If you’re a teacher or a manager, ask yourself “how can I celebrate each of my students or employees this week?”

If you’re in a relationship, consider, “How can I honor my partner?”

Start celebrating everyone around you fearlessly. And watch your world transform.

But most importantly, keep celebrating yourself. Because the more you glow in how amazing you are, the more you inspire others to do the same.

And there’s nothing your fellow humans need right now then reassurance that they are divine, exactly as they are.